All in a Day's Work {Morgana}

The pungent and bitter smell of herbs wafted up Harvest's nose as she pushed open the old, creaky door to the healer's. She was exhausted from school, what with tests in nearly every class, and babysitting Miller, but the musty smell of the small building and the dimly lit sight of the place instantly reenergized her. It always had. This was her dream job, after all, and having an apprenticeship here was nearly a wish come true.

Unfortunately, the healer, an old but healthy-looking woman of 84 with a bit of a hobble, instantly quieted Harvest's energy down. "There hasn't been many--" cough "patients today," the old womsn said, her voice scratched from age. "You can have the day off, Harvest."

Harvest sighed in disappointment. "Thank you," she called, walking out the door, out of politeness rather than from real gratitude. As she stepped outside, the cool air blew across her face and she instantly remembered her sister, Heather. She never knew her, but according to her parents, Heather would run barefoot in the meadows, with the wind in her hair and her eyes closed lightly as if she were dreaming. And as the soft breeze blew right now, Harvest could almost imagine Heather dancing in the wind.

Harvest shook herself out of her trance. Every day, she would go into flashback, thinking of the sister who was murdered the day she was born. She hated it. She hated the Capitol, she hated the Gamemakers, and she hated the Games. They took away her sister, who she saw for only twenty minutes, bloodied and weak, dying at the hands of a Career. And Harvest couldn't even remember.

This time, Harvest realized she was in a trance too late. She had unconsciously started walking, and as she snapped back to reality, she had crashed into another girl. "Oh!" Harvest exclaimed as they both tumbled to the ground, "I'm so sorry!"