Sleep was the last thing on my mind. Sleep was the last thing on everypony’s mind today. But that’s because today was a very special day in Equestria. Although it was special for all the wrong reasons. Today was the last happy day for some. Today was the day of the reaping.

I stood myself up in my small, creaky old bed. It was barely big enough to hold me, yet I shared it with my younger sister, Posy. She was not there this morning, however, And who can blame her? She’s been frightened about this day for months. She had clearly moved to our mother’s room, she always did when she had a nightmare. As I propped myself up on all fours, I was surprised to find I was still awake, despite a lack of a decent night’s sleep.

Our house (or whatever you may call it) is by no means a luxury. Not by a longshot. On a quiet night, you can hear the rats skitter across the wood floor, the sound of the drunks who pass by every night, haggling passersby for any spare change. I slipped myself into my only pair of socks, and headed towards the kitchen. As I passed by my mother’s room, I see her with Posy to her left. She was always a silent sleeper, and almost never stirred in her sleep. I could bring the entire house down in my sleep if I felt up to it. As I watch the two of them, the moment gets ruined when Posy’s cat reveals herself from behind a drawer. That cat really is a sight to see. Unfortunately, not a pleasant sight to see. She was very dirty, messy, and hissed more than any cat i’ve ever seen. She hates me too. She’s been more trouble then help ever since Posy brought her home in her mouth, insisting that we help the “poor little kitty”. I believe that the only reason we keep her around is that she rids of the vermin quite effectively. She hisses in my direction as she hops herself up in between Posy’s sleeping body. How that creature could love anything was beyond me.

I continued my short walk to the kitchen, where a well wrapped present was waiting for me. It was shaped in a small square, wrapped in an assortment of newspapers. Something was written on a slip of clear newspaper, in a faded ink...

To Kainda, Happy Reaping. Love, Posy

I lifted the package up with my horn, and began to gently unwrap the package, revealing a rather large chunk of goat’s cheese. I smiled, as I grabbed my pack from the side of the door, placing it in a empty pocket as I stepped outside.

The streets are deathly silent, for nopony works on the day of the reaping. We usually don’t get days off from our work in the gem mines, but everypony gets off work today, perhaps to make themselves look presentable, in case they get shown on camera. To give you an idea of how much of a slum we live in, the streets arn’t sanitary, many covered in the garbage carelessly thrown about across them. We never get cleaned out in District 12, many wallow in disease and filth you wouldn’t even think was possible. None of the houses are more than one story, and many look on the verge of collapsing. This is the case for almost the entire district, except near the middle, where the mayor’s office can be found. The entire district is surrounded by a large fence, at the top featuring a barbed wire finish. The fence is said to be active at all times, with electricity. Anyone who lives in District 12 knows that it almost never is, however. In a few hours of the day, you can hear the silent hum of electricity flowing through it, but for the most part, it’s never active. The fence isn’t well built, either. I can slip right under it’s foundation at multiple spots, and like clockwork every morning, I crawl under it and make my way into the woods with my pack. My reason for doing so? My family has to eat.

I’ve heard that the ponies of the Old Age were all vegetarian. I wouldn’t have been able to stand that. We all eat meat, along with the other standard delicacies. My family couldn’t survive without my game that I bring home. I have gotten good with my magic, mainly at lifting things, from my time hunting in the outer forests. I lift myself up onto a nearby branch, as I unsheathed my bow and arrow from my pack. Hunting is very much a waiting game, and today I didn’t have all day to hunt like on most, hence the reaping today.

Going beyond the boundaries of your assigned District is forbidden and punishable, and poaching carries an even bigger charge. But the few of us that do venture out into the wilderness are usually overseen by the officials in our District, simply because they’re just as hungry as we are, and appreciate the food we catch and bring them. They’re some of our best customers. My father had taught me how to hunt when I was young, before he was caved in deep in the mines. This was 5 years ago. Posy and I still have nightmares about that day, and how devastating it was. He also hand fashioned the bow I am levitating now, as I wait. Sometimes, in the fall, ponies come apple harvesting, but they don’t go anywhere near as far as we go.

When I say “we”, I mean me and my hunting partner, Neron. We are best friends of sort, and we always meet on the same spot on the same hill every day. He was much bigger than I was, his body a dirty white color, while his mane was as always a long, black mess. Neron is also a good 2 years older than I am, as he sports a multicolor maple leaf as his cutie mark, something I always joke to him about. He hates it too, if he got caught by an respectable official, he would be dead meat. Nopony gets a maple leaf as a cutie mark working in the gem mines, which is a dead giveaway that he spends much of his time in the forest, which in itself is a crime. His best attempts to cover it up have usually been failures, and rather funny ones at that. As I approach the hill, he is sitting on a rock, as he checks his hooves, acting like I kept him waiting.

“Am I late, your majesty?” I asked him with fake concern.

“A little. I won’t execute you this time, but consider this your first warning,” he said, not looking up from his hoof he was inspecting. He finally laughs, and gets up on all fours and pulls something from his own pack. “Check it out! I got this this morning, and all I paid for it was two rabbit. Quite the deal, no?” He pulls out 2 cupcakes, something I had always seen as I passed the bakery, but I’ve never tried one myself.

“Just two? Mrs. Pie must have been feeling generous today,” I hover one over to me, as I twist and turn it, inspecting all the ridges and designs. The frosting seemed nothing less then an art design, as I licked some off the top. It tasted of a sweet berry, but none I had ever tasted. It was very sweet, and it was honestly nice to have something to eat other than the game I brought home, or the occasional soup. We could never afford these, we live on little to begin with. “Thank you. But you didn’t think I came empty-handed, did you?” I reveal the cheese Posy gifted me this morning. I knew this didn’t compare, but it was something.

“Hmmmm. It’s no snack, but it’ll do,” he said jokingly. He laid it on the ground, putting on hoof on top as he split it in half with his other, taking his own piece. Neron had been unfortunate enough to be an earth pony, as was his whole family. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be without magic, but somehow they always make it without complaining. They hold pickaxes with ease like all the other ponies in the mine. The real losers are the pegasuses, who should be flying in the sky, being crammed in the depths of the earth. Flying was always banned unless pardoned by an official, for fear of escape to the forests.

Neither of us are very talkative, but we do enjoy each other’s company. We ate the cheese silently, as he ate his cupcake afterwards. I placed mine in my pack, intending to give it to Posy later that day. If anyone needed it most, it would be her. I can feed myself, but she needs all the help she can get to survive.

“What are we going to do today?” I inquire.

“I say we go fishing. We’ll need lots of food for the celebrations tonight, and the fishing is better around this time of year. There’s also some berry bushes we can pick near the lake we can pick too,” he answered.

So we did. We had fished for the good part of the day, but because of the reaping, our time was cut short. We headed home with a good amount of fish, along with a number of berries. We headed over to the Plaza, a black market of sorts that operated inside an old storage facility on the outskirts of town. We sold most everything there, the stuff we couldn’t fetch for higher prices from one of the higher officials in town. That, and while most businesses were closed on reaping day, the Plaza stayed open for all your shopping needs. We traded the fish for some loaves of bread and some salt to an elderly pony. We here in District 12 also have the lowest life expectancy of any other District, if that came as any surprise, seeing as we get the worst care. Neron always complained about this, saying it’s unfair to treat some like royalty and others nothing more than a pile of manure. But that’s our government for you. Our great, fair government...

After we make our way from the Plaza, we set off towards the richest part of town, near the center of District 12. We were headed for the Mayor’s house to sell our strawberries. He loves our strawberries, and pays us the most for them. Except he did not greet us at the door, but his daughter greeted us instead. We were in the same grade, and were actually very much alike in character. We were good friends, and usually did everything in school together. Her name was Glisten, and she was tall and skinny much like me. Her blonde mane usually draped over her eyes, but today was done up in a large bushel of hair, no doubt for the reaping. She wore an expensive white dress with many gems covering the sides. She smiled as she saw us, but only at me.

“Good to see all the gems are going to good use,” Neron muttered, just loud enough so we could both hear. She shot him an irritated glance.

I broke the silence. “Hello Glisten. We just stopped by to deliver some berries to your father. Is he around?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. But he’s rather busy. You know, getting prepared for today. It is the biggest day of the year. I can pay for it myself,” she retreats in the house and comes back with a few bits in mouth. She places them in my bag, and takes the basket in her mouth. She sets it down to the side. “So, shouldn’t you two be getting ready? The event starts in a couple hours, and everypony is supposed to act somewhat presentable,” she said.

“Oh, we were just about to get ready, actually. I don’t have much to wear, so I probably don’t need much time,” I said for Neron and myself.

“Oh, well that’s good. Don’t want to make yourself look a mess. Well, i’ll let you two get to it then. Goodbye, Kainda. Neron,” she backed off and shut the door on us.

Neron gave me a disappointed look. “What’s her deal? Thinking she can wear the gems those ponies work so hard to obtain,” he begins to walk away.

I attempt to catch up to him. “I’m sure she’s just as uncomfortable in them as you are looking at them. Don’t let it get to you,” I attempted to smile, but it came off as more of a smirk.

We go our separate ways. He lives in the same area as I do, but he has it much worse. He can barely keep food on his table, even more so than me, for his family is much bigger than mine. As I step through the door, I see Posy is already dressed up for the day. Her blond mane was combed, and she was dressed up in my old dress, a dark green blouse that still looks a little small on her. My mother is in the same outfit as she is every year, a light blue dress with sparkly blue shoes. I looked at myself. Still a controlled mess, I walk into Posy’s hooves, as she hugs me tightly.

I don’t take much work to be looking decent. Everything we wear has been passed down from generations, we could never afford completely new dresses these days. My mother began to braid my thin, black mane. If there was one thing she was good at, it was hair. She knew how to style it, and knew how it flowed. In minutes, she transformed my mane from somepony who looked like they ate rats to somepony that could pass as if she was in District 1. I then got fitted to my dress, another blue dress, except lighter then my mothers. We brushed some of the dirt still lingering from the forest and slipped it on. A perfect fit. For once in my life, something was perfect. Posy looked up at me, as if I was a new pony.

“You look....stunning,” she said with curiosity.

“No better than you, my little flower,” I retorted, and pushed her shoulder.

She smiles. The little interactions between us help keep our minds off the reaping. But we can’t avoid it. In an hour or so, we are out the door heading to the town square. The reaping is held every year, but nopony enjoys it. It will always be a day in gloom for District 12 every year. That will never change.

The reaping is a drawing, much like a raffle, but you’re names are on the slips. Everypony between the ages of 12-18 are required by law to enter. The names are separated into two groups: the colts and the mares. Your name is entered 1 time for every year, so if you are 12, your name is only entered once. If you are 18, you name is entered 7 times. But here’s the catch: you can add another slip with your name on it in exchange for free hay and oil for a year. We call these tesserae. I do so every year, adding 3 more slips that say Kainda to the drawing, one for each family member. You can infer, seeing as how i’m 16, my name will be entered 20 times, 4 for each year. Neron has it the worst, seeing as his family of 7 all depend on him, his name will be entered 42 times. This is Posy’s first year in the drawing, but I refused for her to add another slip, insisting I do it instead. She’s lucky, her name is only 1 in 8000. Very slim chances for her, not impossible, but virtually.

You do not win if your name is picked. In fact, it seems like a polar opposite if your name is picked. For if it is, you have to compete in The Pony Games. The Pony Games are the most dreaded event of the year. At least for District 12 standards. The Pony Games are an event that Canterlot has held every year since the war. It’s their way of telling you that they are your masters, and that you are merely their puppet.

The Pony Games are a death battle, plain and simple. If your name is drawn from the reaping, you’re off to Canterlot to compete in the games. From then on, you can basically call yourself dead, at least in District 12. One boy and one girl from each of the 12 Districts are selected to compete, and is meant to be treated like a sporting event. Some ponies from the richer districts train their whole lives to compete, giving an unfair advantage to districts like ours. They are much taller and well fed then we are, and they usually win. We call them Career ponies. During the games, all 24 ponies from the 12 districts are placed inside an arena. The arena is always different every year. Sometimes you can get a forest, others a vast desert, but it always changes. From there, it is a killing fest, everypony for themselves. It’s despicable. Many die from hunger, others from disease, but most die by the hands of their competators. In the end, everypony fights until there is one standing, and he/she is declared winner of the Pony Games. All participants who didn’t survive the fight are shipped home in a box for burial. Sounds fun? I didn’t think so.

We filed into the town square, one by one, checking in with one of the officials before standing in rows with our gender and age group. The stage is a large, decorated piece of work, one that is used every year. Sitting on two of the three chairs is our mayor, Mayor Oversee, and the person who decided our fate next to him, a tall beaming mare by the name of Crystal Shine. I always thought that the ponies from Canterlot were always given the oddest names. We all have names with meanings. My name, Kainda, meant hunter’s daughter. Neron’s name meant strong, he had told me that himself. Most Canterlot-born ponies however were given silly names, like Crystal Shine.

As the clock begins to strike, Mayor Oversee steps on the edge of the stage and begins to talk. He made the same speech on every reaping day, the story of our country, Equestria. A land once prosperous, defiled by drought and famine at the death of the Elements of Harmony, or the bearers of them. That is where the New Republic of Equestria was made, but it was much different then olden times. We were treated poorly, and many were left to die with what they could live with. This sparked a rebellion, which snowballed into the Great War, our last hope for salvation. It failed. Our punishment was the Pony Games, not to mention the many left dead in the struggle.

I tuned it out. I’ve heard this story too much to care. After he was done, Crystal Shine stepped up to the stage, shaking her green mane at the audience, which released a deluge of sparkle onto the crowd. “Hello, my little ponies! I come to you today to choose the two lucky contestants to participate in this year’s Pony Games!” she said with an excited tone.

Lucky would hardly be the word to describe it.

An earth pony brought up a large stick, buckets on both end, to the stage. One reads “mares” the other “colts” He sets it down on the ground with his mouth, as he slowly backs up with a forced smile. Crystal inspects the buckets.

“Ladies first, I suppose!” she magically picked up one of the slips from the bucket labeled “mare”. Everypony got hushed. I made a loud gulping sound, loud enough for the whole District to hear it. I pray that it not be my name. And it wasn’t.

It was Posy’s.