Heartstrings and Hatchets

In the dim, early morning light, Johanna Mason, stood at the edge of the forest, an axe gripped tightly in her calloused hands. The air was crisp, her breath visible in the cold dawn. Her muscles, honed by years of toil, tensed as she raised the axe high above her head. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze — the birds paused their song, the wind held its breath.

With a powerful, swift motion, she brought the axe down with a force that seemed to reverberate through the very ground beneath her feet. The blade split the wood with a satisfying crack, the sound echoing through the silent trees. Splinters flew, scattering like stars in the faint light. She didn't pause; she was a relentless force, rhythmically lifting and swinging, each strike splitting the block of wood further.

Sweat began to bead on her forehead despite the chill, her breath coming in steady, determined puffs. Each piece of wood that fell was a small victory, adding to the growing pile at her feet.

She drew in a refreshing breath as she propped her axe at the base of a nearby tree, grabbing yet another hefty block of wood from a nearby stack, before picking up her axe once again. She tossed it between her hands a couple times, before firming her grip. Tensing and un-tensing her fingers around the handle. She took another sharp breath as she brought it up overhead, and promptly back down again, splitting the wood clean in half. Propping up one of the two pieces, she brought the axe down again, splitting it into another smaller half.

Her head snapped up at the sound of a nearby whistle, her long hair falling to her shoulder. Her father stood just beyond the line of trees surrounding her, an entertained look playing across his face. He had his usual work clothes on, faded brown coveralls and sturdy boots, same as her, and he held an axe limply in one hand. His dark brown beard was ruffled, with his hair sticking in all directions, no doubt he had just woken up. His thick eyebrows were raised looking at her. As soon as she saw his face, her eyes lit up as well and she couldn't help but grin, feeling proud.

"You did all that?" He remarked, gesturing to the pile of chopped wood surrounding her.

She stood up a little straighter and let out with satisfaction, "you bet. Came out here at the crack of dawn this morning, figured I'd get some work in before the reaping."

His smile wavered as she mentioned the reaping.

The reaping was held annually to pick one boy and one girl at random, between the ages of 12-18, from each district, to compete in a vicious competition called "The Hunger Games", where all 24 "tributes" would fight to the death on live tv. It was universally hated, except for in the capitol, where they watched it for kicks, even placing bets on the children. Each year as you got older you had your name put in one more time than last, making the chances to be picked, even higher. If you opted in to get tesserae, a meager years supply of grain and oil, suitable for one person, your name was put in another extra time.

Some people had their names in more than they could keep track of. Johanna only had her name in 7 times, seeing that she was 17 and had taken tesserae once, the first time being this year. Her father always insisted in not risking a tesserae, but stubborn as he was, he eventually caved, due to more recent financial struggles. Johanna's little sister, Quinn, who was only 15, had her name in 4 times. Her father still refused to let her get tesserae, which Johanna wouldn't have ever let happen either way.

"Well, you've done a great job, I can see you're getting even better," he praised.

She beamed with pride. Her father's approval was held in highest regards to her. She had only ever tried to please him.

Johanna's mother had passed when she was young, due to disease, but he never let that stop him from raising her and Quinn the best he could.

He could be stubborn and hot-tempered at times, along with an awkward lack of affection pretty much most of the time, which he passed on to Johanna. But funny enough, her little sister, Quinn, was the stark opposite, being the sweetest, most caring girl she knew. Other than Ellowen, Johanna's best, and probably only, friend.