Alder Reid

## Bio

Alder was born in a small, Northern settlement in District 7, a place where everyone knew each other, and a thick, white cloak of misty rain shrouded the woods from September to May. He grew up like most children did in Seven– shuttling between school and, once he was old enough, helping work for a little extra money. It was expected he’d be built like his father, Rowan Reid, a gentle yet broad man from a long line of lumberjacks that would put Paul Bunyan to shame. Instead, Alder stayed small, barely able to help beyond stripping felled trees of some branches. Even as he reached his teenage years, he only grew taller and more knobbly– while many of the other boys his age were beginning to do heavier work, Alder remained on twig duty.

He wasn’t much more imposing at school. He was an anxious, quiet, observant child, though prone to the occasional outburst when provoked. Even from a young age, the Games loomed, dark like the heavy, gray January clouds, threatening a downpour at any moment. It wasn’t just the whispers and playground games about it that affected him, though– it was his parents, too, always speaking in hushed whispers about it. About injustice. About what might be done.

Twelve came and went without his name being pulled from the Reaping Bowl. Then thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. About a month prior to the 119th Games, he rushed out the door for school, groggy, late, brushing off his mother’s kisses and his father’s kind words in a fit of teenage brooding. He never saw them again. A large portion of the settlement organized a demonstration in protest of the Games. It was supposed to be larger, District-wide, but in the end it simply was not enough. The Capitol took care of it quickly. There wasn’t anything left to bury. He lived alone. He was sixteen, seventeen, old enough to take care of himself. He was able to pick up more hours after his mandatory school time and spent most nights in the cold, two-room house with only the fire to keep him company.

About a week before his eighteenth birthday, Alder was Reaped for the 122nd Biannual Hunger Games. He spent most of his days leading up to the launch nauseous, nervous, and angry. These were the people who had killed his parents, and now they were going to finish the job with him too. An outburst during his interview landed him in a jail cell the night before the Games began, but the anger only grew. What was there to lose when he was going to die? The Arena was a preshistoric earth, complete with continental shifts, ice ages, and bizarre, unrecognizable muttations. The only weapons available were rudimentary, which he barely used, until he was gifted an axe via parachute. He ended up teaming up with a few other tributes, but one by one, tragedy after tragedy, they fell away. The worst was Memphis, a boy from District Nine, who had quickly become the closest thing to a real friend he’d had in years. Alder spent his eighteenth birthday alone in the Arena, counting and recounting the tributes left in his head, until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. If he was going to die, he was going to die. Let it be over.

The Cornucopia was a cobbled together creation of mud and wood– perfect for lighting on fire. And so he did, drawing out the last of the survivors, including another friend, Marino, from Eight, and Everett Cannon in the end. Everett got Marino first with poison, then Alder with a knife to his stomach, thinking it was the last of them. With Alder’s last push of energy, he launched the axe at Everett’s retreating back. He didn’t see what happened next. He passed out.

Alder awoke an unwilling Victor. Over the past years, he’s been involved in rebel activities, but has been put back in his place time and again with various punishments handed down by the Capitol. Fortunately (or unfortunately), being a Victor afforded him some protections from the worst of sentences, but he couldn’t help himself. After seeing tribute after tribute die year after year, when so many should have survived instead of him, so long as his parents died in vain, what else could he do but push back? Alder tries to be an involved mentor, but he’s quite awkward and an overthinker, which can get in the way of instilling full confidence into his tributes. However, he refuses to give up on tributes, even when it feels like it might be easier. With other members of the Tower, he is cautious of people’s loyalties, but bonds with those who have earned his trust.

Alder is loyal, selfless, and righteous, but can also be obstinate, cynical, and anxious.