Sorrel Knoxs, D7 {Finished!}

I never take much notice of myself, so this might be hard. My older brother, Mace, is always saying I need to take better care of myself. But what does he know about looks? The answer is: nothing.

I have black hair that reaches to my lower back. I've never been able to put it up in anyway. One strand of hair on my left side always falls out. I do take care of my hair, though. It's not quite glossy, but I think it's just fine the way it is.

My eyes are a dark hazel color. Mother says they have a determined, eager glint about them. I like the sound of that. She thinks it's from the experience of losing my brother, and the comeback I made, that brought me this look. My skin is a nice olive color. Many think I have a tan, but it's just my natural color.

I'm of average height, probably 5" 8'. Mace towers over me, standing at 6" 5'. Oh well. I'm built for the hard work of District 7, chopping up trees and carving them into chairs, beds and tables. I started work at the age of 7, and over the years, I've built up quite a bit of muscle.

I am excellant with an axe. If I were ever in the games, this is the first weapon I would go for. I know it's advantages and disadvantages, and I can swing it with ease. I can run, too. I had a side job in the lumber yards: running messages around the District. I've saved lives before. My uncle was cutting down a tree, and it fell on his leg. I had to run for help. His leg was permi aptly twisted, but he was still alive.

I suppose I have to be honest with this. Mother says I'm sweet. Father says I'm sarcastic. Mace says I'm a pain in the neck, or a good friend. He's never been able to pick one or the other.

What do I think of myself? All of the above, withe few other traits. I'm sweet, sarcastic, annoying, friendly, and smart. I have a soft spot for little kids that I try not to show, but it comes out anyway.

I hate when a child is upset or hurting. I hate bullies. I hate the Capitol. Of course, I never say that out loud. Only to Mace. He is the only one I have put all my trust in. I can tell him anything, and he will keep it a secret. Except for that time when I was eight and I stole his cookie. He didn't talk to me for a week after that.

I don't particularly enjoy the work they give us here in District 7. It took me years to stop feeling the pain of splinters and sunburns. The one thing I do like, is the smell. Our District has a nice, woody smell about it, sometimes mixed with scents of maple syrup. Father taps the trees in winter, and mother makes that sweet, brown liquid they call syrup. Some times we even get taffy and maple sugar. Mace and I always split it evenly. It's the most delicious thing in District 7, aside from mother's roast turkey. We can't afford chicken, so every holiday we have turkey.

Now let's see...how will these things help me if I were a tribute? My skill with an axe would definatly be an advantage, but my soft spot for young children would be of no help at all. I would likely cry for every one of their deaths. They remind me too much of my younger brother.

My history...I was born in the heat of July, seventeen years ago. My father was known as Mason, and my mother was Sadie. They had both grown up in District 7. We lived with my Aunt Jen and Uncle Harry. Yes, the uncle who's life I saved. Two years later, Samuel was born. I loved him so much. He had light brown hair and hazel eyes, like mine. We both started working in the wood yards just a year after Mace.

It was then that he died. I was six, and Samuel was four. So young, and yet he was already fiddling with tools. I sat only a few feet away when it happened. I heard a creak, a child's scream, and a sickening thud. A tree had landed on my brother. I was too you g to understand it then, but now I am. I get flashbacks, and I will unexpectedly burst into tears.

Mace is the only one who has ever been able to comfort me. I try to ignore it, but I can't. That scream, the thud. It makes me sick. I've woken up screaming in the night, telling Samuel to run. But I can't rid myself of the image: his little body under the trunk, gripping a carving tool. Mace often comes into my room and sits with me until I fall asleep. That's about the only way I ever calm down.