Treech Hunger Games Novels & Stories

He came in like a hurricane and rocked my world—I fell in love, hard, without even noticing. The grief in my chest spreads and wraps around me, and I pant into the air, watching my breath evaporate as I stare at the tree of life before me. The branches still hold colorful leaves, but they are rapidly turning grey as if the tree of life is dying. I take the shape of a human, crying as I place my shaking palm on the trunk. "You got to help me..." The tree doesn't reply. The shadow creepers are making strange gurgling noises in the background, and I close my eyes shut.

I am determined to prove myself. Perhaps if I show my strength, they will see I am a luna. The thought gives me strength. I just need to prove myself as a hunter. Then I can claim my rightful position. The walk to the hunting grounds is long. I have never heard so much silence. There is no sound of birds. There is no sound of animals. Even the trees are decaying. This is a horrible place. They are like a graveyard. They are corpses of trees. "What happened to these trees?" I ask.

he says, his voice hard and flat. “You are more Lycan than you know,” my mother says, her mouth tight. "Just enough for the bond to pick him and just enough for the tree to want him." She points at the black throne behind us, its roots crawling under the ice like black veins pulsing slowly. "The First Tree feeds on royal blood. It has been starving since I left, and it calls to its own blood." The lord in blue pushes forward, his wine breath sour. "Give us the human boy," he shouts. "Let the tree drink his blood instead of our King and save the North!"

And right now, the mountain was screaming. ​It was not a scream of pain, but a scream of hunger. The Obsidian Tree had tasted the golden light of the Sun Weaver, and it wanted more. It was pushing its roots deeper into the crust of the earth, searching for a way to anchor itself against the artificial chill that was still drifting from the West.

My own voice rang out, sounding like a thousand bells in a slaughterhouse. I didn't move toward my son as a warrior. I moved toward him as a Mirror. I stood on the quivering moss floor, my bare feet leaving prints of Black-Emerald-Gold Dirt that refused to be digested. I wasn't fighting the Cannibal; I was Invalidating the Hunger. "The Hunger isn't a secret, Leo! It’s a Shadow of the First Day!" I cried out. "The World-Tree doesn't just grow in the light—it grows in the Decision to Starve together instead of Eating the World alone!".

As I delved deeper into the dense woods, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of woodland creatures surrounded me. The cool autumn breeze filled my lungs as I moved with the grace of a seasoned hunter. Hunger gnawed at my belly, and my arms ached from carrying my bow in search of sustenance, akin to a famished predator. The truth is, hunger grips not just me but all of us in Ferngrove.

Somewhere in the distance, wolves howled,a chorus of territory and warning. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My body ached, my stomach burned with hunger, and I was still naked. ‘We need to find something to eat,’ I murmured through the mindlink, dragging myself up slowly. We kept moving, deeper into the thick, tangled woods. Hours passed, my limb heavy and my breath shallow, until the sweet, unexpected sight of a banana tree came into view. Relief flooded me. I devoured the fruit with shaking hands, not caring about manners or appearances. I ate like the starving creature I was, until my stomach could take no more.

She smiled, but it was a mirror’s smile, not her own. Esi reached out to stop her. The child whispered: “You’re new here.” Her voice shifted mid-sentence — changing pitch, age, even accent. Tano pulled Esi back. “She’s already been rewritten.” --- At the center of the village stood a Tree of Paper — bark made of woven scrolls, roots made of black thread. The wind didn’t rustle it. It read itself. Constantly. Pages rising and falling like breath. Esi stepped close. One page fluttered loose and hovered in the air before her eyes.

Lena pulled her hood over her head, the night swallowing them as they moved. The road to the capital had begun. The dense forest loomed around them, its towering trees casting long, jagged shadows under the sliver of moonlight. The path ahead was narrow, winding through the undergrowth in twisting, unpredictable patterns. Lena moved swiftly, keeping pace with Cassian, her senses attuned to every shift in the wind, every rustle in the leaves. The Rift’s presence within her wasn’t just lingering—it was humming, a quiet vibration under her skin. It made her uneasy.

She hoped he couldn't hear the growling. He walked over to a rotting tree trunk. "Well, little Miss Squeamish, either eat or starve. I would prefer it if you don't starve. I'm kinda used to you." He took a twig and started rummaging in a hole in the trunk. Fat grubs came out of it. Chase picked one up and put it in his mouth, chewing quickly. Christine gagged. "You're insane." He ate another one. Christine's empty stomach lurched. She turned her head away.