Timber

Chapter Six: Snow's Announcement

Hazel's heart thundered in her chest as the Peacekeeper's commanding voice pierced her bloodstream. "All citizens are required to be off the streets. Orders from the Capitol. What are you doing out? It's past curfew," he demanded.

The man was more imposing in the golden light of the setting sun, his fingers tapping against the weapon at his belt.

Hazel managed a faint, nervous grimace, glancing down at her wrist, "Just running a bit late, officer. Watch must be slow."

She gestured towards her home, the porch light painfully close. "House is right there. Just lost track of time; you know how it is."

The Peacekeeper's attention didn't waver in the slightest. His posture remained rigid. "There are no exceptions to the rules."

Her heart battered her ribcage, each beat hammering in her ears.

Hazel smiled weakly, "I guess my time management could use some work, huh?"

A slight stiff tilt of his head was the only sign he had even heard her.

"Let me see your identification."

She hastened to comply, her fingers trembling as they rummaged through her pockets. Extracting her identification card, she extended it towards him.

"My name is Hazel Marlowe. I swear I live right there, sir."

The Peacekeeper accepted the card, examining it with excruciating scrutiny.

The growing chill of approaching nightfall seeped deeper into her bones.

His eyes lifted from the card to meet Hazel's. "Well, Miss Marlowe, it is past curfew, and the Capitol was clear. It is non-negotiable, even for Oren Starling's daughter."

Hazel's heart sank at his words, simmering dread settling over her.

The Peacekeeper reached up to his shoulder without breaking eye contact, barking into his radio. Hazel's ears picked up the static crackle as he requested backup.

Over the officer's shoulder, two more Peacekeepers closed in.

"Sir, I apologize. I'm not trying to break the rules. My home is just right there." Hazel pleaded.

As the two additional Peacekeepers joined them, Hazel's heart sank as she noticed one loosening a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Panic-laden goosebumps prickled over her exposed skin.

This can't be happening.

The sound of her home's front door swinging open and slamming shut snapped their attention away.

Oren strode toward them with his characteristic smooth, unhurried gait. Her mother, Fern, huddled on the porch, chewing her nails.

"Good evening, officers," Oren greeted. His tone was calm and completely controlled. "I see our Hazel has caused a bit of a stir."

The lead Peacekeeper seemed to soften slightly under Oren's charismatic approach. "Mr. Starling," he acknowledged, a hint of respect in his tone. "Curfew is curfew."

"You know how young people are with time. And our Hazel struggles more than most." Oren chuckled lightly, clamping a firm hand on her shoulder. "Isn't that right?"

"Uh yeah," she squeaked in agreement.

Oren squeezed her shoulder in response. "I understand she is cutting it awfully close. But as I see it, she still has two minutes to spare before the curfew officially begins. "

Hazel risked a glance at her watch.

6:58 PM.

Two minutes left, indeed.