Finch Farran

## bio

*Finch Farran (she/her). District Twelve Tribute. Twenty. Milly Alcock.*

* What was their childhood like?

When people thought of District Twelve, they thought of coal. The soot of coal covered everything. It covered the men who descended into the mines. It rose into the air in billows of smoke, and it fell back to the earth like blackened snow. It settled in the lungs of the people. It made a whole district into a dirty thing no one wanted to see.

But when Finch Farran thought of home, what she thought of was iron– the iron of mines long abandoned that leached into the water and turned rivers to rust. The iron of blood. The metallic taste of it on cracked winter lips in the months of brutal cold. How it covered her knuckles before she learned how to throw a real punch. The way it ran through her veins, and with every heartbeat, defied odds that would make the world believe that people shouldn’t be able to survive this. Coal was a dirty thing that people didn’t want to see, but iron was resilient. Iron was in the water and the soil, in the mountains of Twelve that were older than bone, and it ran through the hearts of a people. Iron survived.

Finch knew what it meant to survive. Her story wasn’t so different from many of the children born in Twelve. Her parents were too young and too poor to properly provide for their baby. Finch’s dad spent whatever money they did have making sure he always had a bottle of booze around. Finch’s mom came and went. Sometimes, Finch went with her, and they stayed with kin for a while. Mostly, Finch got left behind, and she figured out how to get a little food in her belly and made sure her daddy fell asleep on his side. Finch’s mother always came home again, and they all kept surviving another day.

When Finch was fourteen she left home with the thought that she’d be better on her own. Maybe her mother would finally leave for good without the burden of bringing along another mouth that needed feeding. Maybe her dad would finally drink himself to death, or maybe he wouldn’t, but Finch wouldn’t be there to watch it happen.

Finch made it a few weeks by herself, but she found that the world was not a kind place to girls on their own, and people’s sympathies only extended so far when their own children were starving. As fall crept toward winter, and the nights took on a cold that sent a chill all the way down to Finch’s bones, she knew she needed a place to stay. Sometimes, there were dilapidated houses on the outskirts of town that were officially marked as abandoned and left to rot. No one was supposed to live in them, but peacekeepers rarely had the time or the care to keep them empty, and so, people laid claim to them. There was no ownership anyone could find on paper, but people defended them with their lives. Finch knew it was a risk to try and take one for herself. She knew it was too good to be true to find one empty. So, she wasn’t surprised when it was only hours before Sawmill showed up, angry to see someone squatting in territory he’d already claimed.

Sawmill was a name people knew. He was a few years older than Finch, and he led a small group of street boys. Other gangs of street kids, and street kids trying to go it on their own, knew well to avoid Sawmill’s group. They were tough, and they’d each earned a spot by making themselves useful to the group. No one made it in without first proving that they belonged, and they absolutely did not take pity on anyone. But Finch was a stubborn thing, and she didn’t need their pity. What Finch needed was a place to crash and maybe a few people to stand by her when things got tough, so she’d earn her way in the same as every other kid who worked with Sawmill.

No one in the group was eager to let some girl in, and no one thought Finch could pull her own weight. In an effort to get her to leave, Sawmill picked up a plate and threw it at the wall not far from Finch’s head. The plate hit the wall and shattered, and although not one piece of it nicked Finch, her whole body recoiled instinctively. “Flichy Finchy” they laughed together, but still, Finch didn’t leave. Instead, she followed a few of the boys to the Hob, helping them steal and barter. What they couldn’t have known then is that a group of peacekeepers were in a particularly bad mood that day, and on a day like that it didn’t matter what you were doing, it was enough just to get in their way. Finch was caught stealing with a few of the boys, and while the other boys managed to get away, Finch got the wrong end of a baton to the back. She could’ve ratted them all out and been given a lesser punishment, but she didn’t. Flinchy Finchy didn’t even flinch.

After that day, she was a part of the crew just as much as everyone else, and a crew of six became a crew of seven. She forgot the sound of her own name, because everyone there just called her Flinch. Alongside her, there was Sawmill, leader of the pack. Then there was Ace, best in the group at hustling a card game or pickpocketing a peacekeeper. Kazoo wheezed with every breath he took. Teacup was the smallest. Mouse had eyes and facial features that all pinched into the middle. Cricket never stopped talking.

For the first time, Finch knew what it was like to have an actual family. It didn’t matter that none of them shared the blood of their parents; they shared the blood of their district. They’d steal for each other, lie for each other, do anything to protect each other. Finch could count on her boys in a way that she’d never be able to count on anybody, and that made them her home.

The years weren’t always easy on them. They lost Kazoo one unbearably hot summer when the wheeze in his lungs was just too much. Ace got a girl pregnant, and he decided to do the honorable thing– marry her and give his life to the mines. Winters were harsh. Sometimes, food was scarce. And then, one summer rolled around just like any other. Except this summer wasn’t like any other at all. There was talk in the streets of rebellion. A street kid from Twelve won the Games, and as a gift, the President dropped bombs on their homes and their markets. Mouse didn’t make it. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Teacup and Cricket fled the district, heading to Eleven to change the world. But Sawmill stayed, and Finch stayed with him.

All that smoke from all those burning buildings. All that ash that settled into people’s skin, and in their hair, and in their lungs.  It made a whole district into a dirty thing no one wanted to see, even as it burned to the ground. But when Finch thought of home, she didn’t think of smoke and ash, she thought of iron. Iron was in the water and the soil, and it was in the blood of a people, even as that blood ran in the streets. Iron was in the mountains that were older than bone. And even as Finch’s name was called out on Reaping Day, she bit her tongue until she tasted iron, and she knew that iron survived.

* How do they feel about the Games

Finch hates the Games. She hates everything they stand for and everything they take. However, Finch is determined to win them. Snow has taken her home from her, and Finch has no interest in giving Snow that satisfaction of taking her life too. No, Finch plans on winning. She plans on winning, and she plans on making them rebuild her the big house and giving her the money, and she plans on doing something that matters with it.

* What is their personality like?

Finch has a tendency to react to what she’s given. She’s stubborn and determined, and she doesn’t like to be underestimated. She’s tough from having survived on her own for so long, and she’s proud of her life and her home. However, she’s usually looking to make a friend before she’s looking to make an enemy, and she is generally pretty easy-going and social.

* What is their district token?

Finch’s token is a wrist watch. Ace stole it from a peacekeeper in Twelve, and he gave it to her the first night she stayed with the boys. He felt bad about all the pain she was in, and thought she deserved it for not ratting them out. When she asked him why he never sold it, he answered, “Everyone should get to have one nice thing in their life. Plus, who around here is gonna buy it? And anyway, fuck those peacekeepers. I like knowing I have it and they don’t.”

* Three strengths and three weaknesses.

+Loyal, courageous, determined -temperamental, smug, immature

PENNED BY: HAIR