𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐋𝐋 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐏 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑.
What District 2 victor, Saffron Creek, and prodigy, Finnick Odair, share is the very antithesis of what has been stolen from them. They test the edges of the rules that construct t...
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the bees in the shadows . . . . .
Sleep is avoiding Saffron.
Ever since she arrived in the Capitol, she has been plagued by this persistent, almost throbbing fear. Her nerves feel like they are moments away from short-circuiting and she almost desires the single mindedness of the Careers.
But now, something even more lethal festers beneath her skin.
"A revolution is imminent," Haymitch Abernathy had said to her. That was the first time she had ever spoken to him. "And I would like you to join it."
She doesn't think she breathed then, in that dark hallway that he had pulled her into, as if she was testing the validity of it. If that proposition was real, or if it was just a delusion conjured by an exhausted mind. But he had continued in hushed whispers like they were moments from being dragged away for treason. Suspicion ducked his head and he glanced repeatedly over her shoulder.
Saffron felt this peculiar sensation that something far greater than herself was looming over a futuristic horizon. Like a storm cloud, or maybe a sun approaching to vanquish the rain clouds.
What he told her bordered on heresy. A skeleton of a plan to get Katniss Everdeen out of the arena, one involving nearly half of the other tributes and the Head Gamemaker? Absurd.
"Can we count on you?"
She had not answered immediately, but now as she lays in the dark, she almost regrets it. But she had paused to consider everything she would be putting at risk. Her family, of course, and Finnick and Johanna and Annie and Mags. Then again, most of the people she loved were going into the arena, too. What did she truly have to lose?
She is not a revolutionary, she had told herself. Yet, she doesn't have to stage a rebellion on her own, she is learning.
"Of course," she replied.
He pressed a small black box into her palm. He then looked at her with surprising sobriety, given his reputation.
"She makes it out."
Saffron nodded.
Within the box were twin cartilage cuffs, gold, laying on velvet. "To allies," the note read.
Anticipation or something like it buzzes in Saffron's head all night. At points, she feels dizzy like she is drunk from the chances she has been given. I will not hesitate, she tells herself. Ten times. A dozen times. As many times as it takes until she believes it.
She wonders who else Haymitch pulled into dark corners.
