the tape clicks into place, words flash for only a moment. "Reaping Day – District 3.." then the images flash onto the television. __________________________ The square is restless; tails twitching, pelts brushing, whispers rippling like wind through grass. Wheels stands pressed between two of his littermates, his brace fitting snugly beneath him. Every shift of his weight makes the metal give a soft click, but no one seems to notice over the noise. He knows no one is safe. He’s been lucky so far, nothing more. Near the edge of the older cats, a familiar face stands with a small cluster of their friends. His dark, dust-colored pelt is sleek despite the heat, his expression tight with worry. When Wheels catches his teal eyes, the tom gives a small nod, steadying, gentle. Wheels’ chest eases a little. The official steps up to the bowl. Their colorful pelt shining against the midday sun. The crowd quiets. A paw dips in. Wheels forces himself to breathe. The slip is drawn. And a name is spoken, one everyone around knows very well. “Wheels (redacted)!” Those teal eyes that left him for only a second snap toward him instantly. His siblings stiffen on either side. A hush swallows the square. Wheels swallows, feeling strangely hollow. Not shocked, just hit by the reality that his luck finally broke. “Wheels (redacted), where are you hun?” Cats shift out of the way, opening a narrow path. Wheels’ brace clicks as he moves, each step feeling both too heavy and too light at once. He’s halfway down the aisle when, “Wheels!” The dark tom shoves forward, breaking from his group of friends with an almost frantic surge. His tail is puffed out, ears pinned, voice cracking as he forces his way toward the path. But his friends react fast. The oldest of them braces a paw in front of him to block the way. He thrashes, claws digging trenches in the dirt. “No, let me go! Let me- he can’t.. please!” Wheels stops mid-step, heart seizing. That teal gaze locks with his. A memory flashes, not long, not detailed, just a warm flicker: Moons ago, when Wheels was struggling to adjust his new brace, stuck on a patch of uneven ground in an empty stretch of grass. His legs trembled, breath tight. A soft voice behind him suddenly said, “Here… careful.” nudged the brace into place with a gentle paw, steadying him. Those teal eyes still shown just as brightly when he had first introduced himself, “hi, im Fin.. you go by wheels right?” No pity. No staring. Just quiet help. Wheels remembered thinking, “I want to stay beside him forever.” .. though of course in this cruel world forever doesnt last. Finney lunges again, hard enough to slip from the pinning grasp; but another friend yanks him back, pinning him with their weight. “I volun-!” He tries to scream it, but someone clamps their tail over his muzzle. “Stop- you’ll die!” “Don’t be stupid!” “You can’t save him.” Wheels’ breath shudders. The officials ears perk, a grim smile still on their maw but they dont intervene. He forces himself forward. A large peacekeeper guides him toward the ramp, a new construction beside the stairs. It’s smooth, reinforced with scrap metal, clearly built with him in mind. Wheels hesitates only a heartbeat before climbing. Step. Click. Step. Click. Every sound feels impossibly loud. At the top, he turns back. The tom he’d planned his life around is pinned to the dirt by his friends, chest heaving, eyes bright with helpless grief. His paws reach out toward Wheels, futile against the cats holding him down. Wheels lifts his chin, though his legs tremble beneath him. He mouths, softly but clearly: “I’m okay.” Fin shakes his head violently, tears sliding down his muzzle. Wheels stands anyway. Because Fin needs him to look steady. Because this might be their last moment. Because if Fin can’t save him .. He can at least save his lover from watching him break. The wind ruffles his fur. The crowd watches in tense silence. And the Games draw one step closer.
