Hazel paused at the threshold of their room, already bracing for the reaction. The room, once orderly and neat, now resembled the aftermath of a tornado. Not that she would know what those living in the mountains were like; they rarely had to worry about such issues. Bed sheets were strewn about, pillows had been tossed aside, and various items were upended in a frantic search.

"Oh, yeah... about that," Hazel sent Silus an apologetic grimace.

Stepping into the chaos, Silus looked around with disbelief and amusement. "You looked under our sheets?" he asked, lifting a pillow.

Before Hazel could respond, Leo's voice chimed in from behind them, "What in the world happened here?" he asked, surveying the scene.

In the disheveled room, Hazel and Silus stood surrounded by the evidence of her frantic search.

Hazel addressed Leo, who was visibly perplexed by the state of the room. "Leo, there's something we need to discuss," she said, her tone serious. She closed the door behind him, motioning for him to step further inside.

Once enclosed in the room, Leo's expression shifted from confusion to concern. "You two had better start explaining what all this is about," he demanded, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic scene before landing on them.

Hazel took a deep breath, "The suture kit you gave us... it's missing."

Hazel, standing amidst the disarray, took a moment to compose herself before explaining the situation to Leo. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the jumbled mess that now characterized their living space. "I completely forgot about the suture kit until just before we were set to leave for the Pantheon," she began, her voice tinged with regret. "But when I came back up here to grab it, it was nowhere to be found. The last time we checked, it was in the bathroom." She paused, noting the change in Leo's expression. His face, which had been a canvas of confusion and concern, had shifted to something more mysterious.

"I've torn apart this room, as you can clearly see," Hazel continued, gesturing around them. "But I can't find it anywhere."

Leo scanned the room, taking in the overturned furniture, scattered clothes, and various personal items strewn about. He remained silent for a few seconds before finally turning back to face them. His eyes bore into Hazel’s, "How can I believe you're telling me the truth?"

She exchanged a worried glance with Silus, "I swear, I'm not lying.”

Silus, standing beside her, added his voice to the defense. "Why would we lie about this?" he asked, his tone echoing Hazel's concern. "It doesn't make any sense. Getting caught with that kit could get all of us in serious trouble."

Leo, however, appeared unconvinced. He shook his head, a mixture of disappointment and frustration evident in his sharp gray eyes. "I should've known better," he muttered, more to himself than to them. "I should have been more cautious about trusting people who are district."

Hazel's exasperation grew. "Leo, please, you have to believe us," she pleaded, her voice laced with frustration. "We wouldn't risk getting caught like this."

Leo regarded them, his inner struggle evident in the furrowed lines on his brow and the uncertainty that flickered in his gaze. "Why wouldn't you take any advantage you can get?" His question held a bitter edge. "You're running out of time, aren't you? What do you have to lose? If they find out the kit came from me, they will cut out my tongue."

Silus, his resolve unwavering, stepped forward, emphasizing his point. "That's not who we are," his voice like stone. "Yes, we're district, but that doesn't mean we lack decency. Our father raised us to be better than that."

Leo searched each of their faces, his own stoic and masked. "We'll see," he finally said.

He moved towards the door, his steps measured. "I'll be replaced shortly. We'll talk more about this in the morning," Leo said, turning back to glance at the pair. "In the meantime, get this room back in order."

With that, Leo opened the door and stepped out. He pulled it closed behind him, the lock clicking into place, echoing in the now quiet room.

After Leo's departure, Hazel and Silus were left in the echoing silence of their room, punctuated only by the muffled sounds of peacekeepers changing shifts outside their door. Hazel slumped onto her bed, still clad in her elegant emerald dress. Her gaze swept over the room.

"What are we going to do?" she voiced aloud, her tone laced with worry. "Someone must have taken it," she concluded, her eyes scanning the disordered room.

Silus, taking on the task of tidying up, began restoring order to his bed. He straightened the creased sheets with careful motions and shifted the mattress back into its rightful position. "Who else could've known about the kit besides us?" he mused aloud, his actions reflecting his thoughtful state.

Hazel sighed, her mind racing through possibilities. "I can't think of anyone else who would know," she said, her frustration evident. "Unless... do you think Leo might have taken it back when we weren't here? And now he's just playing some sort of game with us?"

Silus paused in his efforts, considering Hazel's suggestion. "I don't think so, Haze," he finally responded, his voice carrying a note of conviction. "He seemed genuinely scared. And he has every reason to be."

Hazel and Silus set about restoring some semblance of order to their chaotic room. They moved around the room, each absorbed in their own troubled thoughts. After about an hour, their efforts had transformed the room back to its original state, albeit with a lingering sense of unease.

Exhausted from the evening's events, they exchanged their banquet attire for the soft, comfortable pajamas thoughtfully provided by Indira. As they settled into their respective beds, the room enveloped them in darkness, with only the sporadic shifts of the peacekeeper stationed outside their door disrupting the silence.

Breaking the peaceful stillness of the room, Silus's soft-spoken voice emerged, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Hazel?" he ventured, dispelling the silence that had taken hold of their surroundings.

"Yeah?" Haze whispered. She lay in a bed that offered more comfort than she had ever experienced, yet the luxury did little to calm her restless mind.

Silus's next question was weighted with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What did Aaron Shepherd say to you tonight?"

Hazel took a deep breath, her mind replaying the evening's events. She rolled onto her side, facing Silus in the dimly lit room, the moonlight casting soft shadows across their faces. She took a moment, gathering her thoughts in the silence. "He told me that I need to get my dad to stop." The words were surreal even as she spoke them.

Silus turned to face Hazel. His face was illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. "What?" he asked, a crease forming on his forehead.

"He said that one of us is likely to win the Games and that we need to 'make him stop.'" Holding her hands up and making quotation symbols. She paused, a heavy silence enveloping them as she added, "And the weird thing is, he wasn't referring to Oren."

"Heath?" he questioned, the name sounding almost foreign in the context of their current predicament.

The possibility of their father being involved in something significant enough to be mentioned by Aaron was both baffling and alarming.

"What did he say Heath is doing?" Silus wondered aloud, his voice low but filled with uncertainty.

"He didn't. Aaron didn't have much time to explain," she admitted, her thoughts drifting to her unsettling dance with Snow. "It's hard to believe he could be involved in anything serious. I mean, he hasn't been consistently sober in over ten years."

Silus's noncommittal "Hmmm" response struck Hazel as odd. She studied his face, trying to read his expression in the shadows. His usual openness was replaced by something else she couldn't quite place.

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"Do you know something about what Aaron meant?" she asked.

"No idea," he replied, but his words lacked conviction.

Hazel pressed further, searching for the truth. "If you know something, you have to tell me. We can't have secrets between us, not now."

Silus took a long, deep breath, letting it out before answering, "I swear I don't. I just know Heath likes to stir up trouble, and he doesn't care who he hurts in the process."

She chose not to push further. "He is very talented in that way. Sounds like more than I even know." The room fell into a heavy silence, filled with the weight of lingering doubts. "And to think I was sure Aaron was going to mention something about Oren and Mayor Shepherd. It seems that's common knowledge everywhere, even here."

Silus furrowed his brow, "What makes you say that?"

Hazel paused, the memory of the dance causing a lump in her throat. "Snow confirmed as much when we were," she hesitated, "dancing together." Her voice trailed off.

"So, Dad's efforts to help other districts weren't as covert as he believed. If Snow is aware..." He trailed off, rubbing his hand down his face in a gesture of frustration and dread. "Did Snow say anything else?"

Hazel turned onto her back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling where moonlight cast eerie shapes across the surface. "Not much more," she admitted. "He mentioned being aware of prominent figures across the districts, among other things. Which is comforting, of course."

"Figures," Silus's expression was etched with concern, and his voice tinged with unease. I couldn't quite figure out why Snow was dancing with you," he remarked.

Hazel shifted, her shoulders rising in a light shrug. "Well, Snow's a Gamemaker, right? Playing games is practically in his job description, along with being a senator," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of irony. "I can't quite figure out how he balances both roles, but messing with people is his forte," she added. "Even though he tried to convince me otherwise in the rose garden, claiming he doesn't appreciate tricks or games. It seemed pretty ironic, coming from him."

Silus appeared surprised. "You were in the rose garden with Snow?" he inquired.

Hazel nodded. "Yeah," she confirmed, her voice tinged with distant memory. "He was giving me a strange botany lesson, and we discussed the color of roses. And I'm pretty sure Lucy Gray Baird and the Castellans are dead."

"What?" His voice rose, causing them both to pause and listen for any response from their peacekeepers. When none came, he continued in a hushed tone, "He told you that?"

"Not explicitly." Hazel admitted, "But he didn't exactly deny it either."

"Haze," Silus said, his voice quiet. You need to be more careful. Engaging Snow at all, let alone in such conversations, is risky."

Hazel let out a small, tired sigh. "Believe me, it is not like I am trying to seek them out."

Silus sat up, his silhouette outlined by the moonlight streaming through the window. His voice tinged with concern. "And since we're on the subject..." He paused, seeming to grapple with his next words. "When you were dancing with Snow... how he looked at you. It wasn't right."

Hazel turned to face him; her expression puzzled in the dim light. "What do you mean?" she asked, her frown deepening.

"Haze." Silus hesitated, searching for the right words, "I just know it was not normal."

"What is a 'non-normal' way of looking at someone?" she asked, not taking him seriously.

"I'm being serious." He was quiet for a long time before continuing, "It was...intense, too focused. As if he had a deeper interest in you, beyond just being a tribute in his Games," he explained.

Hazel rolled her eyes, "I think you're way off base here," she countered, trying to inject some reason into the conversation. "Snow even told me he's betting on you winning, not me."

But Silus remained steadfast in his belief. "I doubt that," he said, skepticism coloring his tone. "He wasn't looking at me the way he was looking at you during that dance. It took everything in me not to go over there, but I know that would only make things worse for both of us."

Hazel let out a soft, humorless laugh. "You're probably just seeing things, Silus. Snow's a politician and a Gamemaker. He's supposed to be observant; it's part of his job." She was being somewhat disingenuous.

Silus, however, remained resolute, his tone growing firmer. "It's more than that, Hazel. I've watched him all evening. The way he interacted with you was different. It's not just me who noticed it."

Sitting up, Hazel ran a hand through her hair, trying to make sense of Silus's words. "So, what are you suggesting? That Snow has some... personal interest in me? That's ridiculous."

"Maybe it is," Silus acknowledged, "but with Snow, you can never be too careful. He's the most powerful man in Panem, second only to President Ravinstill. You need to be cautious around him, and ideally, avoid him altogether," his tone growing more adamant.

Hazel nodded, though skepticism still lingered. "Of course, I'll be careful. But I think you're worrying over nothing. Snow has bigger things to focus on than one tribute. And I'm not saying I agree, but even if you are right, there's not much I can do about it," she conceded, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "It's not like I can hide. Avoiding him isn't exactly an option when you're a tribute in his Games," she added, the helplessness evident in her tone.

"That's what worries me." His voice was laced with concern, echoing in the quiet of their room. After their exchange, neither of them spoke further, each succumbing to the embrace of sleep.

Hazel eventually drifted into a fitful slumber. In her dreams, eerie birds chirped a haunting melody while the wind rustled through the trees. The setting sun cast golden light through the branches of tall redwood trees. The scent of a recent rain lingered in the air, and Hazel inhaled, allowing the cool air to cleanse her lungs and soothe her restless soul.

Instead of silence, there was a gentle swaying song as the wind weaved its way through the trees. The soft sounds of branches and leaves caressing each other filled the air. Overhead, little songbirds practiced their duets, their melodic chirping intertwining in a soothing harmony.

Hazel absorbed the scene around her, tilting her head back to take in the towering redwoods. These ancient giants were among her favorite trees, the rulers of the forest. They held a unique beauty and an air of quiet majesty, simultaneously awe-inspiring and intimidating. Some of these colossal trees could easily weigh over 20,000 pounds, depending on their height. In the Capitol, they were highly sought after, often harvested for their burls, which fetched a high price. But it meant the sacrifice of trees older than anyone could fathom. She ran a hand over the rough bark of one of the trees, savoring the tactile sensation under her fingertips.

Twigs snapped behind her. Hazel spun around with a start, her heart racing. The figure she saw this time was clearer and more distinct than before. She squinted, trying to make out the details in the dim light filtering through the canopy above.

The figure was clad in a dark green coat that covered most of his body and head, but his eyes were visible as he stared at something behind her. "Cedar, please don't run," she pleaded with him. Cedar turned to her, a strand of his red hair falling over his face. His eyes were then again focused on something behind her. He didn't flee, but Hazel sensed a tension in the air.

As she approached him, she heard a sound that had been a familiar part of her life – the crack of wood splintering and trees falling. It could be thrilling, but it could also send chills down one's spine. Behind her, the colossal redwoods were breaking at their bases as if they had been prepared for felling. Just moments ago, they had been whole, pristine giants.

Hazel's heart pounded in her chest, and adrenaline surged through her veins. She spun around to witness the massive redwoods beginning their descent, their fall accompanied by thunderous roars echoing through the forest. The ground trembled with each impact, sending shockwaves through her body. She started running, but her movements were sluggish and delayed as if defying a reasonable response to the peril surrounding her. Trees crashed to the ground all around her, their branches splintering like shrapnel.

One branch caught her foot, causing her to stumble and fall to the forest floor. A colossal redwood, its shadow looming, bore down upon her. The branches lashed at her skin as the tree's immense weight pressed down. In a reflexive act, she raised her arms overhead, bracing for the impending impact.

The rush of air and the sensation of branches scraping against her skin were the last things she awoke, jolting upright in her bed, gasping for air, her heart pounding in her chest. The vivid nightmare had left her breathless and disoriented in the stillness of the room.

Hazel lay in bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. She could still feel the remnants of the nightmare clinging to her, as vivid and terrifying as if it had just happened. Raindrops splattered against the windowpane, their sound echoing in her ears, and she shivered. Her arms bore the phantom sensation of scratches, though there were no marks to be found. She glanced down at herself, still dressed in the pajamas Indira had provided.

Silus lay in his bed, his sleep undisturbed by the torment of his dreams. An arm thrown over his eyes obscured his face, and the discarded blankets lay in disarray on the floor beside him. He, too, was grappling with his own demons.

Hazel rose from her bed and crossed the room to Silus. She picked up his blankets and tucked them in around him. Her attention skimmed the stitches along his palm, their color deepening in the moonlight. Her trembling finger traced the pattern of the stitches, and tears welled up in her eyes.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave – they only had two more days together, two days before they would be torn apart. The pain was almost too much to bear, a sensation akin to panic gripping her heart. Warm tears streamed down her face as she stared at Silus, his features serene in slumber, a reminder of the little boy she had known and cherished for so long.

As she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her tears mingled with the touch of her lips against his skin. In a whisper, a promise formed in her trembling voice, "You're going home, little brother, even if it's the last thing I do." The weight of that pledge settled upon her shoulders as she crawled back into her bed. It most likely will be.