Chaff Hunger Games Novels & Stories

If he wanted to die, he would rather die on the battlefield than starve. Clause Chen gritted his teeth and started moving his chopsticks. He really doesn't want to eat, and he doesn't want to taste these dishes at all because more than anyone else, he knows what his mother's minions have put in here. Although he knew his mother wouldn't tell them to do it, for them, he was a thorn in the eye. I don't know who it is, where it comes from, or what kind of body it is that is so biased by its mother. It's sure they just regret not being able to make it go away. Chat.

Not from home. The rest of the journey was a silent one. _______________ 5:45pm Winsburg city, The abandoned warehouse. Freya's P.O.V _______________ My eyes slowly went through the paper Kendrick had handed to me. "What do you think, babe?". He had a mischievous grin at his lips. The whole room was silent as I popped the gum in my mouth, still thinking.... Out of our five members, four were mentioned to go for this silly sports festival.... Two of which had no skill in it. Myself and Anna for example...

CHAPTER 70 CHERRY'S POV *flash back** I felt extremely weak, my hands and legs were really sore from being tied up for far too long. My stomach rumbling in hunger since I have had to survive only on food crumbs. I just wanted out, but I didn't exactly have the chance to do that.

The weeks that followed our trip to the warehouse felt like a dream and a nightmare all at once. We moved through our days with a purpose, but each step brought us closer to something we couldn’t fully prepare for. Langford’s network was expanding, pulling us deeper into a world that was still full of ghosts and enemies. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore—it was about taking back control of our lives.

Channon’s POV I’m tired and hungry. ‘Uncle, where is good to eat around here?’ I ask him over mindlink. My stomach and inner wolf growl at the same time. ‘Depends on if its deer your after or some pancakes. The pancakes I can help you with, the deer you will have to hunt yourself.’ Canagan chuckles in my head. Pancakes it is then, I’m far too tired to hunt this morning. I turn and pull myself away from watching her. My wolfs makes me turn back and resume my position in the woods, he wants to watch her for a short time more. My body and my wolf ache for her. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

He looked up, expecting others to be equally as disgusted, but he was stunned to see the men digging in like they were having a gourmet meal, the moment the short prayer ended. Christ. What kind of hunger Games shit was this? Eli poked at the food with his fork. There was no way he was eating this. Thank God he’d packed like a dozen protein bars, a stash of chocolates, and one emergency sour gummy belt. He was set so he didn’t have to punish himself by eating this shit. He moved his fork around, faking it. Maybe if he stirred it enough, it’d look eaten. “Young man.” Eli’s heart thudded. Prior Dominic was looking directly at him.

She lifted her head, letting it roll back as she took a shaky breath, repeated herself, and then slumped forward from the malnourishment that was evident by her sunken cheeks. "Don’t come for me.”

[The Hunger of 7.0] The scream wasn't coming from my throat, but it was vibrating through my teeth. It was a sound like grinding glass and dying stars, a digital hunger that felt like a swarm of insects crawling beneath my skin. The Heir wasn't just a voice anymore; it was a ghost trying to claw its way out of my chest to take its first real breath.

He seemed to comprehend the exact thoughts whirling inside my head, stepping closer to wrap his hand securely around mine. "Hazel, let's head back then," he murmured. The moment I granted Chloe my agreement, she let out a massive sigh of relief. "Sister, do you possess any food?" she quickly inquired. The ravenous manner in which she devoured the food made it seem as though she hadn't eaten a single bite in hundreds of years. Her stomach was remarkably large, yet her limbs were completely emaciated; she had clearly endured a significant amount of suffering during this recent period.

"You've been gone nine years, Mama. You couldn't come to the funeral. You couldn't send a card. How do you know how my father died? How do you know one single thing about Malik St. James?" And there, right there, I saw it. The smallest hitch. A half-second where her rehearsed grief bumped into a question it hadn't prepared for, and Tasha's eyes flicked down and to the left before she answered, the exact tell I'd learned to read in first-year trial advocacy, the classic construction glance, the thing a witness does when she's reaching for an answer instead of remembering one. "I still have people," Tasha said. "From the old life. People who talk to me. People who felt sorry for me, watching m