//------------------------------//
// The Reaping 
// Story: The Equestria Games 
// by Sparkers16 
//------------------------------//

	
District 12

I lie on my scruffy hay bed, refusing to open my eyes. Opening my eyes would mean that I have to acknowledge that it's a new day. I'm not a lazy pony, no, but today is not a day I want to start. The reaping. 
"Up and at 'em, Firespell," I hear my big brother, Treetop's voice. Instead of his usual pep, my older brother and caretaker sounds anxious. But how could he not be? Today, my name will be written four times, for my fifteen years of age, on slips of paper in the glass reaping ball. Treetop is lucky. He's twenty years old, so he can't be drawn. But ever since our parents died in a cart accident two years ago, and he was legally assigned as my guardian, I know that I've become the world to Treetop. I...I just don't know what I'll do if my name is chosen, let alone what he'll do. 
"Don't call me Firespell," I mutter, rolling over in bed. "You know my new name is Maple Leaf." I probably owe you an explanation. I'm a unicorn. You wouldn't know by looking at me; I've styled my long, red-and-green mane to hide my horn. I don't want any attention. Unicorns are extremely rare, and magic is illegal. Hence the reason why I changed my name from Firespell to Maple Leaf. The hard part is hiding my cutie mark, a flaming star. I hate attention more than anything, so I always sit alone at school, always walk home by myself, always make conversations brief at the market when I go out to buy food and other necessities. 
"Whatever," Treetop chuckles, ripping off my ragged blanket. We're poor, I won't deny it. We barely get by. 
I open my eyes and see Treetop smiling at me, but I can tell he's just trying to reassure me about the reaping. He has a brown-ish coat, darker than my orange one, and a curly green mane. 
We have a meager breakfast of apples and oats. Treetop works at the massive apple orchard, like almost every other pony in District 12. I've heard District 12 is located in a place that used to be called Ponyville. And there was a huge apple industry called Sweet Apple Acres, which left so many apple trees after the rebellion that District 12 became Equestria's main apple producer. 
I poke at my breakfast, unable to eat. What if I get picked? There will be thousands of slips. My name will be four out of those. It's highly unlikely, but I can't just dismiss the possibility. 
"Firespell," Treetop says loudly, jolting me out of my fear-induced paralysis. 
"Yeah?" I don't bother to correct him. I've never understood why my parents named me Firespell. Sure, I have a talent for magic, it's clear as day, but having a name directly correlating to magic is very, very suspicious.
"I...I know you're really worried about the reaping. I am, too. But...you won't get picked. I promise." 
I feel myself tearing up. I'm not an emotional pony, but my brother always brings out the touchy-feely side of me. "You can't promise that." 
Treetop looks away. He can't. 

The two of us trudge to town square, where the reaping is being held. Oh, wouldn't it be great if we could just skip the reaping, run into the woods and never return. But the Everfree Forest is filled to the brim with horrible monsters: Manticores, cockatrices, parasprites, chimeras, dragons, diamond dogs...the list goes on and on. Just another reason to stay trapped under Sun-Butt's rule, I think to myself bitterly, using the funny name we sometimes use to call President Celestia. 
Or, used to use. The name lost it's hilarity after ponies who said it started disappearing. 
We arrive at the center of town, and it's jam-packed. Adults and small foals crowd around the outside, crying as their children are taken into the center. Up ahead is the makeshift gate to separate parents from children. Treetop and I embrace. No words need to be said. 
I trot over to the gate, where a Peacekeeper, one of Celestia's army, is taking blood samples to identify each mare and stallion. I walk up to him, and wince as he jabs a needle into my foreleg and uses a machine to examine the blood. He immediately frowns in confusion. I know that unicorns have different blood than earth ponies and pegasi. 
"Part your mane," he says gruffly. I reluctantly use my hooves to split my mane, showing my horn in all it's glory. The ponies around me gasp; they have either never seen a unicorn before or are shocked that I'm one. 
The Peacekeeper scowls. He has to make sure my horn isn't a fake. It's the same deal every year. "Show us magic," he growls. 
I'd love more than anything to give them all a show. I could levitate ten ponies, or produce fireworks, or summon a column of flame (my special talent!). But showing that I have magical abilities that powerful would get me executed. So instead, I just produce a small shower of sparks out of the tip of my horn, and act as if that takes me a great deal of effort. Still, just that earns me gazes of awe and disgust from all the ponies around me. 
The Peacekeeper nods. "Your name's Maple Leaf?" 
"Yep," I say, rocking back and forth on my hooves nervously. 
He opens the gate, and I walk through. I find the area for fifteen-year olds, and stand by myself. I can see other ponies grouping with their friends, crying and reassuring one another. Sometimes, I wish I have friends. But it's always just a fleeting thought. In this hell of life in District 12, it's everypony for themselves. At least in my opinion. Besides...who needs friends when you've got the best brother in the whole wide world? 
The minutes tick by as the fifteen-year-olds fill up the section, their flanks pressing into mine uncomfortably. I pity anypony with claustrophobia. I take the time to carefully put my mane back in place so it completely covers my horn. 
Finally, a horn sounds, silencing us all. We all look toward the giant stage set up on one side of the plaza. A giant TV screen is being lowered so we can all see. Oh, pony feathers. Here comes that history movie, once again. They show it every year, detailing a highly biased account of the rebellion. 
I don't really know what happened in that rebellion almost a thousand years ago. But according to the Capitol, ponies were upset because some were beginning to worship President Celestia as a god, and the immortal alicorn wasn't protesting against this. So a group of ponies tried to assassinate her. The movie skims over the details, but as I can see, a rebellion against Celestia's rule ensued. Of course, the movie mentions how this rebellion was a horrible occurrence, showing all the gory details and saying how much destruction a rebellion causes. Um, yeah, there's going to be dead bodies in a war, I think, rolling my eyes like I always do at this part. Then, of course, they show the forming of the districts, "a group of provinces that positively contribute to all of Equestria." Do they show the starvation in the districts, the over-worked ponies, the homeless, dead in the street? Nope. The movie ends with an explanation of the Equestria Games, which used to be a contest of sporting events. After the rebellion, to punish the districts for rising up against the Capitol, the Equestria Games were changed so that each district would send a young mare and stallion to the Capitol, where they would be shipped to an arena to fight to the death. The winner would go home with riches of plenty, and their district would be showered with gifts of food. 
In nine hundred ninety-nine years, we've had exactly fourteen victors. Only one is alive now. His name is Appleseed.
As soon as the film's over, the mayor and District 12's tribute escort, Frilly Lace, come onto the stage, the latter hobbling in her ridiculously high heels. Frilly Lace is a white pony with a crazily styled pink mane, but the most eye-catching thing about her is her outfit. She's wearing this huge, layered, sequined, yellow dress. But it's not ordinary yellow; her dress is so neon it hurts my eyes. She's also wearing generous amounts of makeup, and her ears and nose are pierced with diamonds. I'll never be able to understand Capitol fashions, how this deformed monstrosity of an outfit can be considered "beautiful." And Frilly Lace looks boring compared to some of the grotesque fashion statements I've seen Canterlot ponies wearing. Fur dyed in spiraling patterns, eyes enlarged to take up somepony's entire face, holes punched in hooves, ears carved in different shapes...the list goes on and on. Frilly and the mayor exchange worried looks. Appleseed isn't here yet. Frilly hops up on the podium anyway. 
"Welcome, everypony, to the nine hundred ninety-ninth annual Equestria Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Frilly Lace pipes in her weird Capitol accent. "Don't you just love that movie?" 
No, every pony in the plaza thinks. 
A bit put off by the lack of an answer, she moves things along. "Okay then, let's get to the name-picking! Ladies first!" Frilly Lace practically skips over to the glass ball holding the mares' names and sticks her hoof in. I bite my lip, and hope it's not me, it's not me, it's not me...



Frilly Lace sticks her hoof in and pokes around the slips of paper containing names. Oh, where is it, where is it, where is it? she thinks to herself. She was told by President Celestia's advisors that she NEEDED to pick the slip that made her hoof tingle when she touched it. It supposedly is enchanted, and Frilly knows magic is illegal, but she trusts the government. 
Aha! she thinks as her hoof closes around a slip of paper that makes it tingle as if it were asleep. Frilly picks up the paper without hesitation and takes it with her to the podium. "And the lucky mare is..." She opens up the carefully folded slip and reads the name on it over and over in her head before announcing it. 
"Maple Leaf!"