Future of the mockingjay

Chapter nineteen: Behind

I open the closet, taking my bow out. Slowly, I run my fingers over the wood, trying to absorb all the memories captured in it. I picture silently stalking through the forest, my senses alert for prey. I remember the smell of the trees, the rough bark mixing with the tangy leaves.

But it's been months since my last hunting trip. And I know exactly why.

It's because of these memories. Not these memories exactly, but just one. One specific memory that tortures me every time I pick up my bow. Rather, one specific person.

"Oh, Gale," I sigh, remembering how our last visit had worked out.

The bow lingered in my hand, wobbling unsteadily. I stood there, holding my breath, trying to decide what to do.

Come on, Katniss. This is what you were born to do! This is how you've learned to survive.

I gulp, grasping it tighter. I smile; the bow feels so right in my hand. Like it's always belonged there.

This is what your father gave you. It was true. My father had passed on the gift of hunting, which I intended to teach Rue and Finnick later on.

I reach into the closet and slide my sheath filled with arrows over my shoulder. My long hair is braided down my back.

"This is you, Katniss. This is who you're meant to be," I assure myself, looking at my reflection in the mirror. "Peeta is right. Don't torture yourself with the past, live in the present."

I open the door, inhaling the fresh air as if it was my first time. Stepping outside, I find myself running towards the meadow, instead of walking. I freeze at the gate, staring longingly at the green wilderness ahead.

"This is it, Katniss," I tell myself, tentatively holding the handle. I throw open the gate and take a step in. The second the gate closes behind me with a soft click, I run off towards the lake, leaving my past behind.