Fantasy Audiobook Introduction: General Northern American Dialect
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
The Hunger Games Chapter one. When I wake up the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking primes warmth, but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with her mother. Of course she did. This is the day of the reaping. I brought myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister prim curled up on our side, cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together in sleep. My mother looks younger, still worn, but not so beaten down. Prime's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once too, or so they tell me sitting at primm sneeze guarding her is the world's ugliest cat Mashed in knows half of one ear, missing eyes the color of rotting squash. Prime named him buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower he hates me or at least distrust me, even though it was years ago. I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket. When prem brought him home, scrawny kitten belly swollen with worms crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed, but prospects so hard cried even I had to let him stay. It turned out okay, my mother got rid of the vermin and he's a born Mauser, even catches the occasional right sometimes when I clean a kill I feed buttercup the entrails he has stopped hissing at me and trails no hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love. I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers a shirt tucked my long dark braid up into a cap and grab my forage bag on the table under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cattle. Like it's a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves Prince gift to me. On reaping day, I put the cheese carefully in my pocket as I slept outside.