Future of the mockingjay

Chapter four: The Comfort Of The Forest

There is still a gate there, but only to protect us from the wild, not to restrain us from it. On the gate there is now a door, outlined with steel poles. I do not pause to listen for the hum; there is no electrified fence anymore.

I kick open the gate and run into the forest, ignoring the leaves and branches that whip my face as I speed by. It is fall now, slowly approaching winter, and the leaves are scattered on the floor, a beautiful mess of orange, brown, and gold.

I run towards the familiar rocky ledge, where Gale and I had sat so long ago, back when things were normal. We had mocked Effie Trinket's ridiculous Capitol accent, and eaten Gale's bread and cheese from Prim's goat, lady.

Prim.

My innocent little sister; her undying love to protect and heal had led to her own death. I still remembered everything so clearly; the colors were still so vivid in my mind. The little children, used as a human barrier to protect the rebels from President Snow; the little children, who received the little silver parachutes floating down towards them. Ironically enough, those were the parachutes from the Hunger Games, and signified hope. Usually it would be filled with something the tribute needed: medicine, food, or weapons. That time, it was filled with bombs. These bombs would go off not once, but twice. Exploding fireballs that incinerated the children.

After the first explosion went off, I still remembered how the rebel hospital workers had rushed to the scene. I remembered the little figure with the piece of fabric sticking out; her little duck tail.

And then the second explosion came.

I clasp my hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to cry for the third time that day; some memories are not easy to bear. She was so young, so fragile.

And I remembered the conversation with Gale that had ended our friendship. I had asked him squarely if it had been his parachutes that killed Prim.

And suddenly Gale was in my head, the memory of him so real that I expected to see him in front of me right then.

"You didn't come see me in the hospital." He doesn't answer, so finally I just say it. "Was it your bomb?"

"I don't know. Neither does Beetee," he says. "Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it."

I remember how he waited for my to deny it, and how I didn't. How my only answer was silence. I wanted to reassure him, to resolve it somehow, but I just stood there like a deer in the headlights.

"You stupid girl," I mutter to myself.

I shrug off my sheath and watch as the arrows, all in their neat rows, start rolling out.

Just look at me, I'm pathetic.

I grab all my arrows again and stand up. Might as well make myself useful.

So I start out into the silent forest, listening for sounds of nearby life. A flash of chocolate brown stands out from the leaves to my left, and I raise my bow, placing an arrow in it. I aim it at the unsuspecting rabbit, closing an eye. Almost instantly after I release it, the rabbit is on its side, an elongated, thin arrow sticking out from its eye. My specialty had always been killing smoothly and neatly.

I caught a couple more rabbits, and then decided to head out to the Seam, which had been quickly repopulated after the war ended.

As I made my way over to Greasy Sae's, I smile and greet the familiar faces that past. One familiar face, stumbling amongst the crowd with a bottle in his had, stands out from the rest. I sigh, making my way towards the drunken man.

"Haymitch, stop drinking yourself dizzy or you'll end up barfing on someone," I say, taking the bottle from my mentor.

"Hey! Look, it's Katniss Everdeen! How you doin' sweetheart?" he asks, leaning to me. I gag at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath.

"I'm fine Haymitch, and you?" I reply, leaning away.

"Well aren't you the polite one? I remember back in the day when you were all spunky and fierce," he drabbles.

"Yeah, yeah, you're glory days are long gone too old man," I say.

"Watch it sweetheart. You off to Greasy Sae's?" he asks, looking at the bundle of rabbits on my back.

"Yes, and speaking of which, I better get going. Do me a favor and try not to fall asleep in a bar again, Haymitch."

He chuckled, turning around in the direction of his favorite bar. "No guarantees, sweetheart, no guarantees!" he calls, waving his hand and disappearing around the corner.