Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rye Lowway was a small 12-year-old girl with almost nothing to her name. She lived with her frail, wheelchair-bound Aunt Lilibeth who looked like she could blow away in the wind in just a single gust. Living in District 9 she worked in the fields most of the day, in the peak hours of sun though she would make her way along the dusty roads to the stuffy little schoolhouse, just to gaze out the small window at the sea of wheat. She never really paid attention, and no one really bothered her. With one teacher to 85 kids, she could sit in the back and crunch her little head down and she would disappear. In the mass of District 9 lay small little villages, because of the sheer masses of fields, everything was spread out. Her District was large in population but she only ever saw the little group of kids every day, and even though the other towns and schools were only a few miles away, she would only see most of them at the grain silos or at the Reapings. She never thought of the reapings much growing up, she was young and had nothing much on her mind. She was a girl of few words and would doze off now and then into her little space where nothing would matter. She liked it there. Nothing happening, just miles and miles of wheat rows and the emptiness she adored. 

Her family was poor, but it wasn’t much of a family, to begin with. Her aunt was frail and skinny no matter what she ate. She had some health problems and couldn’t work in the fields like the rest of the community. But, her mother had left Rye with everything that she had worked for, and it enabled Rye and her sickly aunt to survive the winters and bear the summers as they went by. Rye never wanted to take tessera since it seemed like the ticket to death, in disguise to survival. A sick way for the Capitol to pray for the poor families of Panem. Rye decided for her aunt's sake to take tessera that year, and although she was 12, she would have her name in the bundle 3 times. This seemed far too much for Rye, but again, as she had never formally watched the reaping in person, she didn’t understand what it was really like. She would stand in the town square but be in her own space at the time, and she never watched it on TV as it was hard to project it in District 9. The fields and fields made the Capitol simply give up on their efforts to showcase it, District 9 always only got the slivers at the end when they would send the drones down to project it into the sky. 

The Reaping though happened to be tomorrow, when Rye glanced at the small Capitol-issued calendars on the dinner table, given to all of Panem to make sure we didn’t miss the important day. It wasn’t like anyone had a choice or not. If you didn’t come, they would simply track you down, but not in the way you would think. The Reaping she would be in and have a chance at being chosen. It didn’t seem fair that it was tomorrow, what happened to her childhood? Rye’s aunt Lilibeth Lowway, didn’t even seem at all nervous about this event. She had some mental health issues, and as she wasn’t exactly verbal, Rye thought at least she would show some emotion. Lilibeth didn’t have to attend the Reaping because of her disability, but Rye sure did.  She made her way into her small dusty room in the attic of the small cabin she called home and lay down on the hay mattress that was her bed. She often lay here to ponder her thoughts, but today was different. It wasn’t so much thinking as it was worrying. She stared at the splintery ceiling of her bedroom and closed her eyes hoping when she woke up the next day would already be over. 

Chapter Text

Sooner than expected, the rooster crowed from the farm next door, and the sunlight came streaming in through the attic window. It was the day of the Reaping. Rye crawled out of bed, as she heard the buzzing of the drones outside, it was the sign that the people needed to get ready. 

She scrubbed herself off in the metal tub that sat in the middle of the kitchen, wincing with pain as the water was ice cold. She dried herself off with a rag and laid out her best clothes. They were Rye’s mother’s as a girl, and they were worn in the fabric, but it made her feel closer to her. The soft, worn fabrics felt so nice against her skin compared to the burlap sack-like clothes she normally wore. The dress she had on was light blue, and she squeezed her feet to fit into a pair of black Mary Jane dress shoes from 2 years ago. Rye’s feet had grown 2 sizes since then, but the family's wallets had not, so her foot would just have to be jammed for the day.

As she gulped down her porridge, but it would have been right to call it gruel, and then she made her way along the dusty trail to the town centre. It was only a 4-mile walk but in the tight Mary Janes, it could have felt like a 100. Rye’s feet would be blistered for days but she couldn’t just take them off, the rough gravel would cut her feet if she did that, so she bit through the pain, for just a little while.

Rye walked towards the herd of people gathered at the check-in desks and had her finger pricked for a blood sample. The Capitol really did want every single child. It’s like they were precious cargo of animals ready to be slaughtered. She stood at the very front of the crowd, as the 12-year-olds were supposed to be closest to the stage.

As the morning came to an end and the sun reached its peak, the shiny black convertible pulled up and a heinous green lady stepped out. You could tell from the look on her face, she was not happy to be here. Rye recognized her from the Capitol. She would always be on the main news channel, talking about the games and how all she wanted in the world was to represent District 1. Atilia Skyberry was her name, and you could tell from just the way she was standing that District 9 was not her first choice. She staggered up the stage in her 9-inch electric green heels and adjusted her obnoxious feather hat with fat pearls and velvet straps adorning its pear-shaped body. It was the type of hat that one could look at from afar and just wish for the wind to blow it away, out of existence. 

“Ahem. Ummm. My name is Atilia Skyberry of the Capitol, I have been, umm, unfortunately, assigned to your district for the 72nd Hunger Games. What a pity, what a pity.” She blurted out all of a sudden.

“ So I know you all are just thrilled for this exciting event to begin so the Peacekeepers have given me the okay that everyone is here, and we can begin.”

She started to scan the sorry crowd, the sea of grey. Next to her were 2 large fish bowls filled to the brim with paper slips. Rye knew her name was in there 3 times, but the bowl was so overflowed, it seemed nearly impossible to get picked. 

“Umm, ladies first as usual.” She hissed.

She dipped her bony hand into the pool of slips and ruffled around for a moment until she grabbed a flimsy piece of paper. The sun shone through it and you could see almost the writing underneath. 

She pursed her lips and spoke, “ Rye Lowway”

The crowd glanced around looking around for the sorry victim. Rye’s feet were bolted to the ground, and her tight Mary Janes seemed like they had melted to the gravel. Rye recognized the girl next to her from school, Delta Flatwing, she was 15.

“Rye, I’m so sorry” she mumbled.

Rye was still stuck to the ground, unable to move.

“Rye Lowway, please come up to the stage.” Atilia roared with her croaky voice.

Rye slowly, at a snail's pace inched up to the stage, chomping on her nails in the process. She only did this in dire situations, like when her mother died, it was a coping mechanism. 

Rye dragged her feet up the stairs, and Atilia met her by grabbing her arm with her icy hand and pulling her to the centre of the stage. 

“Ugh, that took too long!” She remarked. “Give it up for Rye Lowway as the female District 9 tribute for the 72nd Hunger Games’’.

“ Now the boys.” She muttered in disgust.

Rye stood there with open eyes and as pale as snow in shock. She didn’t even notice Atilia dig her hand in the bowl next to her until she barked, “ Collort Snowroot”

A lanky, blonde-haired boy made his way up from the crowd. He didn’t look like he weighed more than 100 pounds tops, and from what Rye guessed, he was most likely 14-15. He had a sallow, sunken face that defined his hollow cheekbones. His bones were so prominent that one could mistake him for a skeleton from a few feet away. He slowly walked up the staircases and stood next to Rye. Rye was tall for her age, about 5,5” but Collort stood towering around 6 feet, which was odd around District 9 since most of the kids were short from malnutrition. 

Atilia groaned as she said “Please shake hands”

Rye met this skeleton of a boy in the middle of the stage and held her hand out to him, shaking a bit as she did so. His hand was even bonier than expected and it made Rye jump when she saw it rise. She grabbed the cold, sharp hand and quickly shook to be able to let go. 

“Well happy Hunger Games District 9, I must be off with our tributes to catch the train. This year there will be no goodbyes, as they’re just simply isn’t time.”

Rye had no one waiting to say goodbye to her, as Aunt Lilibeth was at home sleeping, and she didn’t really have many friends. Maybe Delta, or her old friend Scone, but other than that the sea of people lying before her looked like distant memories. People you recognize, but don’t truly know.

She was shoved by several Peacekeepers into a dark hallway exiting the stage, and there a sleek, silver training resembling a bullet was waiting for her. Atilia led the way, followed by a man in a scruffy brown suit, and Collort, lagging behind. Rye didn’t walk as much as getting pushed as a line of 4 Peacekeepers were guarding the exits. She sighed and pushed on through the doors. It wasn’t until she finally sat down in an emerald-coloured velvet armchair, that she noticed how much her feet hurt. The M ary Janes had created a ring of red around her ankles and her feet looked like puffy pillows of pink due to the swelling. Not looking around to check if anyone was watching, she removed the shoes from her caged feet and moved them around to get the circulation back. But then, a second later, a gnarly voice came from behind.

“Now what are you doing? Don’t you know how disrespectful that is? Ugh, I’m disgusted by you District leeches!” the familiar Atilia screech, chimed.

Rye whipped her head around, to face the beetle resembling Atilia Skyberry in her full glory.

“I’m sorry, I’ve had a rough day. My shoes are a tad too small.” Rye answered innocently.

“Well, then you shouldn’t have worn them then! Go find something in the closet in your room, and just get out of my sight.” Atilia snapped.

Rye hurried off, following the maze of velvet, and the sea of green that adorned the capsule like train. 

Rye had grown up knowing nothing but dust, and seas of wheat, so one look at the marvellous sight, had her wonderstruck. Every passageway and the new room was even more luxurious than the last, and she finally found her way to a door that said “District 9 Female” on it, and she opened it. Inside was a cerulean silk sleigh bed, with a dark oak carved headboard. Next to the bed was a magnificently carved wardrobe made from what looked like maple, and when Rye opened it, a sea of silks and colours and patterns spilt out, pouring all over the floor in a pool. Rye picked up a cashmere pink dress with bows adorning the sleeves and slipped it on over her clothes. She searched around the bottom of the wardrobe for some practical shoes to replace the demon shoes she had been wearing before. She found some practical white boots in the back of the wardrobe and slipped them on over her ratty socks. They were a tad big, but the ability to move her toes felt heavenly. She turned to face the armoire, and what stood in the beautifully carved mirror frightened her. She looked sallow and pale, and the pink dress hung unflatteringly over her blue dress, and she couldn't recognize the reflection. She took the pink cashmere dress off and adjusted the belt on her mother’s dress. Just the scent of it brought her back to the reality of what was to come of her. She was a tribute in the Hunger Games. Instead of being taken to salvation, she was taken to her doom. The nerves were eating her alive, so she shoved all the clothes back in the dresser, as they just reminded her of the pain, and slipped out of her cabin. She didn’t realize that it had been several hours since she last made an appearance, and figured they would be close to the Capitol by now. She made her way down the various hallways and winding paths of the train and found her way to the front of the train. There was no conductor, the train was a self-driving bullet designed by District 3, 5 years ago. Built during the District 6 uprisings, 200 workers went on strike, and all 200 were shot down by Peacekeepers. It was a beautiful train, with such a dark history. The front of the train had beautiful clear windows looking out to the vast and rich landscape that was Panem. Panem was a beautiful country, not like Rye had seen any other ones, but she just knew that it was special. If it wasn’t for the dictatorship and horrible district system it would most likely have been a safe haven. After scoring the plains and trees, Rye decided to make her way back to the main cabin, having to face Atilia and maybe even Collort, but it was for the best, she couldn’t keep wandering the halls, trying to escape reality. 

When she made her way back to the main cabin, Atilia was gone, and there was only Collort and that strange man in the brown suit. He was crouched down on the ground, whispering what seemed like gibberish to himself. Collort was slouching in an armchair, hunched over looking at his feet. As Rye paced around the cabin, they both turned their heads and stared at her with wide eyes, like she was some sort of alien. 

After several seconds, Rye finally decided to break the silence.

“Umm. Do you know how far we are from the Capitol?” She murmured.

Collort turned his head away quickly, but the scruffy man, now lying on the floor groaned, “Too close”.

“What's that supposed to mean, pardon me for asking,” Rye asked.

“How old are you?” He grumbled.

“12. Why?” Rye answered.

“Ugh! Slimy Capitol leeches! Look, I’m sorry that you're in this situation, kid, but if I could give you any advice, it would be to accept your imminent death.” He coughed.

Collort after that jumped up and stormed out of the room, unexpectedly. The brown-suited man chuckled and went back to laying on the ground as if nothing had happened. 

Rye stormed out of the room, unable to comprehend what had just happened. I should have just stayed in my room She thought as she tried to make her way back to somewhere with a bit more comfort. She decided the windows were the best place so far, as she walked to the end of the train, the train slowly began to slow down. We were here already ? She wondered.

It was indeed the truth, as the windows began to show black and then seas of colour in waves of feather hats, boas, and brightly coloured wigs. Was this the Capitol? 

The sheer brightness was blinding, and everything was so hard to take in. The bustles of people, the faces painted blue and wigs the colour of emerald, and magenta. The buildings were as tall as mountains, and the glass shone a reflection of the sea in the bay of the harbour. Rye of course had never even left her scrumpy district before in her entire life, so this array of glamour and shining skyscrapers taller than anything Rye had ever set her eyes on, shone waves through her pupils. The train slowed to a halt, and hoards of Capitol citizens pressed their faces upon the glass that was the train, trying to catch a glimpse of the tributes. Rye just stared in shock at their wild appearances, and Collort of course was nowhere to be seen. After staring and screaming the train finally pulled into the station, to be met with even more people. Rye could hear Atilia screaming,” It’s time everyone! Gather your things, we can’t be late!”.

Rye stumbled through the hallways, banging around in her boots until she met Atilia’s eyes at the opening of the train. Her face looked like a sour lemon, and her outfit had changed from the electric green eyesore to a white feather do that looked like a bunch of birds had swallowed her whole. 

“ Out, now!” she hissed through her pearly white teeth.

Rye scampered around the cabin until she almost fell into Atilia’s goose feather ensemble, but saved herself before the damage would have been done. 

“2 more hours, Atlilia, 2 more hours” Rye heard her bark.

Rye and a suddenly appeared Collort and the rude man followed the goose feathers and soldiers as they walked through huge double doors with golden handles. Then they walked through hallways and hallways until they were taken into a salon-like room with curtains covering little cubicles. As Rye took it all in in a gaze, Atilia stopped her focus and said,” It may be a while, I suggest you wait here and look at all the other tributes you will be competing against.

Rye completely forgot again that she was going to compete in the Hunger Games, and she glanced at the TV which presented a dirty-looking boy with the number 5, shimmering on the screen. Rye tried to look through the entire broadcast to put a name to the faces that she would see tonight, she memorized them into her skull, remembering the body language, the smug look on their face, or the frightened cry as the name was plucked from the fishbowl. As Rye only remembered all of their first names, but some of them had memorable last names as she ingrained them in her brain, most of them just went through the other ear. Their names included:

District 1 F: Twinkle                                  District 1 M: Neptune

District 2 F: Nettle Kentwell                    District 2 M: Paxton

District 3 F: Gadget                                  District 3 M: Mac

District 4 F: Shell                                      District 4 M: Anchor Dawnworth

District 5 F: Dolly                                   District 5 M: Cliff Farhill

District 6 F: Raven                                 District 6 M: Kinnik

District 7 F: Libra Mason                       District  7 M: Cinder Steelburg

District 8 F: Mauve                                 District 8 M: Merlin

District 9 F: Rye Lowway                        District 9 M: Collort Snowroot

District 10 F: Milly                                  District 10 M: Ronan 

District 11 F: Fern                                   District 11 M:   Ax          

District 12 F: Freesia                               District 12 M: Orion           

Chapter Text

Rye remembered seeing a boy named Anchor, volunteer as he pushed another boy down to the ground until he bled. He was spilling blood before even getting to the arena. It was like the Hunger Games had already started before he even got on the train. Rye shivered at the thought of the other tributes. Some were young like Rye, but others were much older, they looked like they were 20, even though the age limit was 18. Rye had forgotten most of their ages, but she remembered the other 12-year-olds, Libra and Dolly and a 13-year-old, Kinnik. The rest were around 14-17 and the giant 18-year-olds of the bunch were Anchor, Paxton, and Milly. Rye shuddered at the thought of them smashing her face into a rock, or cutting her throat open with a knife as she had seen on TV. 

She was taken back to reality when she heard a curtain open and a tall pointy lady walkout, “ Hi, young one, I’m Crispin Templesmith! Ahh, you are so cute! I can’t wait to design for you!” She chirped.

Crispin had long dark brown hair and violet-coloured eyes, that you could easily tell were coloured contacts. She was extremely tall and lanky, wearing an ocean-themed velvet mini dress with pom pom earrings larger than apples. Her high heels had thin, metal spikes on the bottoms of them that looked like they could poke your eye out. She grabbed Rye’s hand and led her into a cubicle-like room. 

“You are filthy, young one! Don’t you have showers in the District, Ummm, what's it again? With the grain!” She exclaimed.

“Nine?” Rye answered, wondering how this lady couldn’t have known.

“Ahh yes! At first, I was sad I didn’t get District 2 this year, but the wheat dress will be nice! Oops, I gave it away. Hehe.” She chatted. 

Rye just stared into her bulging eyes, caked with a powder-like substance, with lashes so long they could have doubled as feathers.

“Anyway, I’m going to give you to the team and get you cleaned up, and we’ll show you the fabulous chariot dress you are going to be flaunting.!” She babbled.

A team of hospital-gowned, pink-haired figures emerged into the room suddenly, and off Crispin went. They then proceeded to strip her naked, douse her with ice-cold water, and scrub her with an awful bristly brush. Rye squirmed and rustled but their grip was too strong and she was glued to the floor. As quick as it had started though, it was over, and Rye’s skin felt so soft, and she smelled like the peppermint soap her mother made when she was a child. She was given soft lounge clothes, and her hair was wrapped in a thick turban made of towel. She was handed a cup of something warm and as she sipped it her muscles started to relax and the tension from earlier had faded. 

Crispin then interrupted her relaxation with a peppy, “I’m so excited for you to see this dress, Kai!”

“Umm, it’s Rye,” Rye answered in embarrassment.

Crispin had already moved on, and Crispin was over at another booth, most likely talking to Collort. Rye closed her eyes shut, and curled into a little ball, until that familiar peppy cackle hovered over her and yelled, “Rye! It’s nearly time for the chariot ceremony! I need you to get in your dress and ugh I forgot about the makeup too!” 

She yanked on Rye’s arm and pulled her to a little changing room. Then she opened the doors of a huge closet and inside revealed a strapless gown made entirely of wheat. It smelled like the fields of home, and Rye could just tell that it was going to be itchy. 

“Well! What do you think?” She blurted out and Rye was just taking it all in.

“It's… pretty.” Rye managed to squeak as the dress was already being taken off the mannequin and plopped onto her. The dress was incredibly unflattering on her child’s figure, and the wheat pieces were scratching against her skin. The dress was overall pretty and had artistic qualities, but Rye knew she would just blend into the haze with it, and all it would be was dry grass rubbing against her skin all night. She wondered what Collort’s costume looked like, it couldn’t be much better than the wheat sack scrubbing her right now. Crispin turned her body towards Rye and patted her dress down to smooth out the wheat heads. 

“Ahh, absolutely fabulous!” She gushed. “You will be the star of the show!” I’ll tell my father to mention you during the parade! Ahhh!”

“Father?” Rye piped in.

“Claudius Templesmith? You don’t know him? My father is the one who introduces you to the crowd! I honestly can’t believe this. You District people really don’t care, do you!” She exclaimed storming out of the room.

Rye just stood in shock at the extreme mood swing she just witnessed by a human pencil.

Before she could ponder over it for much longer, she was ushered by a bunch of cloaked, ghost-like people who pushed her towards a courtyard with 12 horse-drawn carriages. Each of them had a number on the side, painted in shimmering gold paint, that corresponded to each of the Districts. 

Rye waddled over to the chariot with a gleaming 9 on the side of it and hopped up to the best of her abilities, weighed down by the mound of wheat bound around her. She stood to the right of the chariot, placing her stiff arms at the handle. She then whipped her head around to see Collort in a scarecrow-like costume with wheat bits sticking out of the top right by his ears. Rye tried to hold back laughter at this stuffed wheat boy standing next to her. She could tell that he was embarrassed and quickly changed her expression to a plain face. He hopped up on the chariot, but with much more ease than Rye because he wasn’t fully encased in wheat. He didn’t say anything as he hopped up onto the chariot, and sat down uncomfortably as he waited. Rye couldn’t physically sit down, as her dress was pulling her up, no matter how much she struggled. She glanced over at the other chariots to see bright blue colours, jewel-adorned dresses, suits made of gold, and an odd pair of coal miner-like people, who looked a bit sad amongst the gleam of the crowd. Rye felt misplaced and a bit camouflaged in her beigey yellow wheat encasing and pondered over how many of the spectators were really going to pay attention to a scarecrow and a hay bale. She saw a pair of ocean-inspired gods standing triumphantly in the chariot next to her and the girl, Shell, stood up tall, wearing a practically see-through blue gown, with glitter covering the bodice, and a sea urchin sitting on the top of her head like a crown. Her long wavy blonde hair draped over her shoulders like a scarf, and her bright blue eyes complemented her dress so well, Rye felt a drab of pain in her abdomen remembering her state of wheat disaster at the moment. Anchor was holding a gold trident that gleamed in the sun and wearing a toga like-piece with moon-colored starfish scattered around the fabric. He looked mighty and tall and knew it. Rye could tell even at this moment that he would be out for blood. The perfect blonde pair could pass as twins, as they were both conventionally beautiful in every way. Rye looked back at a zombie-like Collort, who never really broke his half-dead demeanor, and was a boy of few words who focused his eyes mostly on his feet. She sighed as she looked amongst the other tributes in the crowd of chariots. She saw a few pairs of “weaklings” in Capitol terms, but no one looked truly beatable. Rye never wanted to kill and never wanted to hurt anyone, but she knew that wasn’t the way most of the people in this crowd thought, and in order to even think about surviving, she would have to face the inevitable fate that she would have to kill.

Chapter Text

Rye tried to shake off the thoughts and focused on the shining crowd of Capitol citizens gleaming in the stadium lights, melting into a colourful haze. This was never what she expected. How could people live so differently here? People were starving back in District 9 and here they were going to glamorous events and dining on the finest delicacies in Panem. Rye was never close to starving, she was lucky, but she knew people who had lost brothers, sisters, and mothers to the lack of food, and even worse if they stole from what was to be harvested for the Capitol they either got executed or publicly beaten. She’d seen it happen on her way to school, and in their section of 9, in their small village centre, she’d seen someone being hanged. Then, suddenly the embers in the background set aflame, and the chariots were ushered to start. Rye didn’t notice this until the horse-drawn carriage she was in, jolted forward, and she almost fell off. To die now, or die later. What does it matter? She muttered internally. Her sturdy wheat dress and an unlikely firm hand from Collort caught her fall and she couldn’t even muster the words to “thank you” before a rose whipped past her, landing in her hair. It was de-thorned but the remnants of spikes stuck to her hair like glue, giving her a new hairpiece. The crowd giggled a little around her, but she went mostly unnoticed after this. Collort strangely started to wave. He still looked like a zombie, but the colour of his face slightly improved with the fiery lights, and he grinned a toothy smile at the audience. As her chariot eased its way forward to meet centre stage with President Snow and his family, she finally got to get a really good look at the other tributes in person. The two chariots beside her were 10 and 8, with District 8’s tributes wearing bright red gowns with matching capes and gold armbands. The girl, Mauve, was a simple girl with 2 brown plaits and spotty freckles all over her face. She didn’t look over 15, and the boy next to her of similar features, but a much bulkier build. He looked petrified, and his eyes seemed to be watering under the bright lights of the stadium. On the other side, from 10, the boy and girl were wearing matching gold cowboy hats, with painted fake lassos. They looked quite tacky compared to other years, and Rye was certain they wouldn’t win best dressed. The girl was very bony in the cheeks with thin mousy hair cut very short up to her chin, and the boy seemed to be young like Rye, but he looked angry. His teeth grinding at the sight of everything. Rye turned her head back to the stage. The lights flushed her face, and with the dry wheaty grass brushing against her neck she felt her skin start to itch and puff up. Of course, she was having an allergic reaction now! She tried to cover her spotty neck with clumps of her hair, but the cameras had caught it. Luckily no one cared much, but she couldn't help but feel embarrassed that this was the depiction of District 9. Small, red and blotchy. Rye couldn’t wait for the ceremony to be over so she could maybe crawl under some blanket and disappear for a bit. Even if it was just temporary. 

The rest of the night went as usual, the tributes wheeled their way back into the carriage and were escorted by the lovely company of dozens of peacekeepers to the apartments. Rye followed Atilia into a clear glass room which seemed to lift her through the air, Rye was stunned, holding her breath as the room rose hundreds of feet into the air. Atilia looked confused. “It’s just an elevator, little girl,” she said as she rolled her feathery eyes, tapping her purple pointed heel. Rye held her breath until the movement stopped and the doors opened. Following Atilia and Collort she entered a magical glass palace of a room. The chandeliers looked like tiny moons, and the emerald green carpet smelled of daisies and vanilla. Rows of plain-looking women in red robes lined up at every exit, holding various items such as glasses of water, plates of cheeses and fancy fruits, as well as one with an entire roast chicken. Rye licked her lips even looking at the delicious spreads. As she walked over to take some, Atilia yapped, “Rye manners, please! Dinner is in any minute!”

She means this isn’t dinner? Rye thought, gazing at the now glowing dining table just further in the room. There lay the most delectable feast she had ever set her eyes upon.