"Kai!" Ruby's shout sliced through the salty sea air, startling Hazel as she trudged through the damp, coarse sand. The ocean's incessant roar muted the quieter sounds of the island, but Ruby's voice was clear and sharp, filled with relief and desperation.
"You're still alive!" Ruby exclaimed, wrapping her good arm around him in a tight embrace.
Kai's eyes widened slightly as he took in Ruby's drenched appearance. "You're soaked and you smell like smoke," he remarked, his voice tinged with surprise and concern.
Ruby released him abruptly. "Sorry," she muttered, beginning to wring the water from her clothing with her uninjured hand.
Kai shook his head, "Don't worry, It's ok."
Kai wasn't wrong in his observation. The group was like a collection of drowned rats. The scent of sea mixed with the lingering smokiness from their scorched escape clung to their clothes. Damp, salty air clung to Hazel like a second skin, and as he spoke, a brisk sea breeze whisked through, making her wet outfit cling even tighter.
Hazel observed the exchange thoughtfully. Kai had always struck her as a kind, sweet, and unassuming boy, much like Linden. Only a few years older, Kai did not seem like much of a fighter, yet here he was, seemingly unscathed at least physically.
"How'd you guys know I was here?" Kai asked, looking from Ruby to the rest of the group, eyebrows raised a slight tremble in his hands.
"Just a lucky accident" Ethan commented as he squeezed the edges of his soaked shirt, and little streams of water flowed out of the material between his fingers. Aaron and Silus were following suit, wringing their clothing in their hands.
Kai motioned towards the darkening sky, tainted by the lingering scent of burnt corn. "Was that you?"
Ruby was the first to respond, shrugging nonchalantly before grimacing as she moved her injured arm too quickly, "Yeah."
Kai's dark brown eyes widened as he absorbed the information and then turned his head back to the field. For a while he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts as he stared without speaking.
Hazel observed the aftermath of their desperate escape in the now ravaged tract. Rubbing her forehead awkwardly, "We kind of burned down the district 11 tract. We had to light the corn on fire to escape Districts One and Two. We didn't really have many options." Even from afar, the weight of what they had done—what she had ignited—pressed down on her, a mix of guilt and grim satisfaction.
Kai nodded, still gazing out at the scorched corn and smoke-stained sky. His hands still subtly trembled as he continued to stare for several more moments before finally commenting, "It's probably just as well." His voice was strained and hollow, his eyebrows lifting briefly in a flash of sadness.
Hazel tried to imagine her feelings if the district seven tract were to burn to the ground. On one hand, it was the closest thing to home, and watching it burn would be a painful reminder of what she might never return to. On the other hand, it was merely the Capitol's interpretation of the woodland she cherished. Snow had certainly tried his best, but his efforts were tainted by Mia's blood, Gaul's beasts and his own arrogance. She scoffed at the memory of the weak roots of the fallen redwoods. He had attempted to recreate centuries of nature's work in a fraction of the time, and it showed. And then there was the inclusion of Sapphire's Breath; he probably thought it a stroke of genius, but she was resolved to prove him wrong, even though the blooms were currently sopping in the bottom of her soggy backpack.
Kai's muffled sniff and a nearly concealed swipe of his sleeve across his eyelids snapped Hazel back to the present. She gave Kai a sympathetic look. Though only a few years older than the twins, he seemed to have aged decades in just a few days. The profound sadness etched into his features spoke of a loss greater than just a scorched cornfield. Hazel realized he had not mentioned his district partner.
"Where's Iris?" Hazel asked as she stepped closer to Kai, her gaze probed the young boy's face and then scanned the beach and the dense palms over his shoulder but saw no sign of the girl.
Kai's scrutiny remained fixed on the smoldering cornfield, its vague shapes barely visible under the deep red glow of the dying embers, "She's still there somewhere," he murmured.
Hazel observed him silently for a moment before looking over at her companions, who were all busy wringing seawater from their clothes. Aaron, Ethan, and Silus paused and looked up, their attention shifting to the boy.
Silus took in a sharp breath next to her, his attention snapping to the faraway cornfield. Aaron also shifted uncomfortably, his face growing paler in the moonlight.
Hazel felt her stomach lurch. She turned back to the burnt field. Was Iris still in the corn? Had they unknowingly set the fire around their own alliance partner?
"She's still in the field?" Ruby asked next to him, her voice cracking with emotion.
Kai shook his head slowly. "No, she's gone," he replied, wiping his eyes again with his tremor-filled palms.
Ruby stepped closer to Kai and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice was low and comforting, "I'm sorry."
"What happened?" Silus asked as the group gathered closer, the light from the setting sun fading fast.
"Crows," Kai sighed, glancing back at the group, "well, if you can even call them that. They were huge and had.... like fangs or something..." He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably as he surveyed the darkening sky above them, "They got her the first night, came out of nowhere."
"Man, the name Iris is not lucky in this arena, is it?" Ethan remarked, shaking water out of his boots as he glanced at Ian.
Kai's gaze turned to Ethan briefly, a look of surprise filtering over his features.
Aaron gave Ethan a sharp elbow nudge and Ethan raised his hands in a placating gesture, "Sorry."
Ian's expression remained stoic, unflinching but his bound hands clenched, his knuckles turning pale.
Hazel shivered and shifted her drenched feet inside her boots, the image of the ominous bag lying at her feet in the helicopter's bed vivid in her mind. She shook her head, recalling the stories shared during the last supper about poor Iris Overstreet. Being from the Capitol didn't make her any more deserving of death in the arena than them or young Iris from District 11.
"Both were killed by monsters," Hazel murmured quietly before she could stop herself.
Ian's head snapped up, his gaze locking with Hazel's. His surprise was evident, though he remained silent. Hazel refused to let Ian's intense stare intimidate her. Beside her, Silus moved subtly closer, his presence reassuring. Hazel held Ian's gaze a moment longer until Ruby's voice cut through the tension.
"How did you get away?"
"I buried myself in broken stalks and dirt, then escaped here once it was light enough," Kai explained, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I've been too scared to leave ever since." His focus grew distant, his expression clouded with a faraway look. "Didn't think anyone would come looking for me."
"We've been searching for you all day, until we ran into some trouble," Ruby responded, her warm tone easing the tension in Kai's demeanor.
Kai's attention shifted back to Ruby, his eyes briefly scanning her injured arm. "Looks like you found quite a bit of trouble."
"Nothing we couldn't handle," Ruby replied with a glance back at her group, offering a reassuring smile.
"At least not without a little fire." Ethan replied, scanning Kai.
Kai then cast a confused look at Ian, who stood dripping on the sand, his hands still bound. "You allied with him?"
An uncomfortable feeling lingered along Hazel's spine, she had just called him a monster and yet they were dragging him around with them. She would never align with someone like Ian, but they also would need to decide how to handle him going forward. Hazel sighed, exchanging a glance with Silus. "Not exactly."
"It's complicated," Ethan affirmed, setting down his bow and pulling off his waterlogged shirt altogether to wring it out.
"Speaking of which, let's get those foot cuffs back on you," Silus said, pulling out the restraints and approaching Ian. Ian let out a resigned sigh, casting a brief look toward Hazel before his gaze settled on Silus.
"Good call in my book," Ethan commented dryly, removing his boots and socks.
Silus guided Ian to a nearby palm tree. His long black hair, braided tightly, swung slightly as he moved. Despite the grime and the disarray of his clothing, Ian's presence still emanated a dangerous aura. Silus knelt to secure the shackles tightly around Ian's feet, making sure they were firmly attached before wrapping the chains around the sturdy trunk of the palm. Each click of the lock resonated in the quiet of the evening.
"What do I do if I need to piss?' Ian asked, his voice calm, observing Silus's meticulous work.
"Get creative," Silus responded gruffly, without looking up from his task. His hands worked methodically, ensuring that the restraints were secure. Ian watched silently, his bound hands resting lightly on his lap, his expression giving nothing away.
Once Ian was securely shackled, Silus returned to the group. They were all busy wringing water from their supplies and apparel. Goosebumps peppered their exposed skin as the chill of the night began to settle in.
"What can you tell us about this island, Kai?" Aaron asked, glancing around as he emptied his backpack. Rope, a dampened Firestarter, and a large puddle of sand and water spilled onto the beach.
Kai replied, "It gets warm during the day and at night the waves get rough. It's like the fish come out when it's cooler because I haven't seen any during the day. I also didn't really see anyone until you all showed up. But I've been hiding most of the time too."
"And district four?" Hazel asked, scanning their surroundings for good measure.
Kai shook his head in the negative, "Don't know where they are, but I haven't seen them."
It was odd that the district 4 tributes hadn't come across Kai or vice versa. Highly adept at swimming and anything water-related, they definitely had the home court advantage in this tract. It was peculiar they were not there taking advantage of it. "That's odd," Hazel murmured, her voice trailing off.
"Maybe they're part of Caleb's pack," Aaron suggested as he dropped his short sword with a muted thud in the sand and continued to wring out his clothing.
"Maybe..." Hazel acknowledged, still pondering the implications.
"Well, I for one have had enough of worrying about Caleb and his alliances for today," Silus replied, his jaw tight as he gazed over the ocean. "They wouldn't have limped away like kicked dogs after the fire if they were planning to hunt us down tonight. Let's try to get dry, rest, and set up a night watch, somewhere out of the open."
"Way ahead of you, brother," Ethan's voice came from the near total darkness, the only light provided by the silvery moon above. Hazel's gaze shifted from the perpetual full moon to the figure of Ethan standing on the beach. But something had changed during the short exchange. Ethan's wardrobe had been completely discarded and he stood proudly on the beach, completely naked. Immediately, her face warmed and she hid her eyes to avoid seeing more of Ethan than she ever intended.
"Eww, Ethan!" Ruby shrieked, quickly turning her own head and covering her eyes with her good hand.
"Seriously?" Silus grumbled, rolling his eyes in clear disapproval.
Hazel kept her stare firmly on the ground as Ethan's voice rang out, "Come on, It's the quickest way to dry off, everyone. If you all had ever spent any time in the winters of District 12 you would know, wet clothes can be a death sentence. "
A collective groan echoed through the group.
"I'd rather freeze," Hazel muttered, she could feel her skin flushing a deeper shade of red. The darkness of the arena would most likely shield the color of her cheeks, but it was unlikely the dark would hide much of Ethan's nude form from the cameras. The thought of stripping down with all Panem possibly watching was more than a little horrifying.
"Suit yourselves," Ethan chuckled, clearly amused by the group's discomfort. Hazel was sure he was grinning, but she refused to look his way.
Hazel huffed without looking up, "Seems like you're suited—or unsuited—enough for the rest of us."
"Don't egg him on," Silus murmured beside her.
"Ethan doesn't need any egging," Hazel countered with a slight shake of her head.
"That's right," Ethan called from behind her, "Hazel's on my side, right?"
"Definitely not. I'm not helping you turn this into a nude beach." Hazel shot back still not looking at him, her voice tinged with mock severity. "But hey, I guess we've just found our volunteer for the first shift of night watch."
"Oh, come on," Ethan protested, his voice fading slightly with the rising sound of the ocean waves.
"That's only fair," Aaron chimed in, clearly amused by the turn of events.
"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you all get hypothermia in those wet clothes tonight. I'll be comfortably dry," Ethan retorted as the group started moving up the beach, distancing themselves from his disrobed display.
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Feeling the weight of her own soaked attire, Hazel noticed the chill setting into her bones as the moon began to rise. Her limbs felt dense and waterlogged. Her nose prickled with the scent of salt and brine and her mouth felt like it was coated in soot and sand. She wanted nothing more than to wash the day from her body. She closed her eyes, longing for the scalding hot shower of the manor.
Methodically, Hazel started squeezing the water from her clothes, her movements careful around the tender spots where the saltwater had irritated her wounds. The chill of the evening air was a welcome relief after the sting of the salt.
With their gear slightly less heavy from their efforts to wring out the seawater, the group trudged toward the palm-covered center of the island. Collectively, the group insisted Ethan don some pants before rejoining them, a condition he accepted with a grumble. The night air was cool and moist, carrying the relentless sound of crashing waves mixed with the rustle of palm leaves. The pervasive smell of brine and palm fronds was occasionally overpowered by the smoky remnants of their earlier fire.
As they prepared for the night watch, the cool sand beneath Hazel's feet contrasted sharply with the warm night air that wrapped around her. The rhythmic sound of the ocean waves provided a calming backdrop to their preparations. Every so often, a gust of wind would carry the faint, residual smell of smoke and sea spray.
As they settled into a circle on the sandy ground, Hazel noticed the soft yet gritty texture beneath her. It was an improvement over the rough timber-lined floor of District 7, but she doubted she would ever grow to enjoy the sensation of sand against her skin. 'I'm taking watch with Ethan tonight,' Silus announced, his expression unreadable in the moonlight as he sat down next to her on the sand.
Hazel, too tired to push back simply nodded. "Okay, but what about your back?"
Silus adjusted his shoulders, "It's not bleeding, nothing that can't wait for the light of day."
"You are probably right." Hazel knew she could barely see Silus face and assessing any wound in the darkness would be difficult, not to mention they were drastically low on wound care supplies and what they did have was thoroughly ruined by the salt water. They would need more help from Festus. But Hazel's thoughts drifted to the events of the day, and she couldn't help adding, "We need to talk."
Silus exhaled through his nose, as if he'd anticipated this answer. "You're right, we do." Silus's eyes were pools of chocolate obsidian in the poor light. They both had different topics they needed to discuss. She wanted to scold him for running away in the field. While Hazel knew he wanted to discuss the card from Snow. She clenched her teeth thinking of the conversation, but it would be immensely difficult to have with the world watching. After a brief pause, Silus's expression softened. "But let's have that talk in the morning, Haze."
"In the morning," she agreed, finding a spot on the sandy ground, laying on her uninjured side. She tucked her good arm under her head as her damp clothes clung uncomfortably to her and the sand. The cold was biting. Maybe Ethan wasn't so misguided after all if it meant he was somewhat dry, and warm. If I wasn't so exhausted there would be no way I could sleep this wet and cold. Yet, as Hazel's thoughts began to fade and unconsciousness began to tempt her, she realized she might just manage to doze off despite the discomfort.
Before surrendering to sleep, Hazel surveyed her companions. Aaron was already deep in slumber, his sword hugged close to his chest, Mia's knife catching the moon's glow at his belt. His breaths were quiet and steady, indicating his rapid descent into dreams.
Nearby, Ruby and Kai sat close, whispering to each other with voices that were a hushed murmur against the backdrop of softly rustling palm leaves. Hazel watched them, her mind drifting back to a night that now seemed like another lifetime. Ruby, radiant in a flowing pink dress, and Kai, dapper in his crisp bow tie, as they glided across the dance floor of the Pantheon. The memory of laughter and music felt surreal, swallowed by the grim reality of the arena.
Hazel sighed, the nostalgia tinged with disbelief. Had it really been only a few days ago? Now, here they were, entangled in an entirely different dance—a macabre one set on a whole different kind of stage. The elegance and carefree joy of that night contrasted sharply with their current state, caked in sand, soot and blood.
Ethan, dressed only in his pants, sat with his bow resting across his lap, his bare feet dug into the cool sand. His observation alternated between watching Ruby and monitoring Ian, who remained shackled to a nearby palm tree.
Silus sat close to Hazel, his figure tensed, his axe cradled in his hands. She watched him for a moment, noting the set of his jaw and his unwavering focus. As the cold night air nipped at her skin, drawing goosebumps, Hazel felt the pull of sleep become irresistible, gradually easing her into its icy embrace.
"Thank you for saving me, Haze," Silus's deep voice was barely audible in the dark. She almost didn't hear him, the words pausing her full descent into unconsciousness.
"Just doing my job, little brother." Hazel gave him a soft smile as her world continued to fade, "I've got your back, always."
He was quiet for a moment, and she sent another glance at his face before allowing sleep to lull her into unconsciousness. Just as lethargy fully engulfed her, she heard his deep voice whisper back, "And I have yours... always."
*******
Warmth spread over Hazel's face, along her cheeks, down her neck, and caressed her limbs. Her head moved rhythmically as she breathed. Her ear rested against a supple but firm surface, and she swore she could feel the soft touch of cotton beneath her. A gentle breeze stroked along her hairline, as if petting her. She kept her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply, the scent of warm pine, fire, and the sweetness reminiscent of a bakery filled her nose. The aroma stirred a sudden flash of panic within her, and her eyes snapped open. What met her vision deeply confused her. She was lying on a couch—not just any couch. It was the all-too-familiar burnt orange, lumpy and worn but impressively comfortable one from her home. The sound of fire crackling drew her attention. In front of her was her family's hearth, where a cozy fire blazed faintly within.
The sensation along her temples was not a breeze but the gentle caress of fingers lightly running along her hair and face. Hazel sat up and turned to the figure sitting next to her. The warmest blue eyes met hers with a comforting familiarity. Light brown hair, a soft cotton dress, Hazel coughed out, "Mom?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Fern admitted sheepishly, placing her hand in her lap as she searched her daughter's face. Hazel couldn't believe her mother was before her. Hazel's heart clenched at the sight of her face. It was the most beautiful thing in the world in that moment. She hadn't realized how much she missed everything about her. She had kept her family in the back of her mind, she was too focused on the Games and on Silus's survival. Thinking of them only made her distracted. But now with her mother in front of her, her longing for her home, district 7, her family and her mother flooded her nervous system. Hazel hardly moved as she just stared at her, trying to memorize every line and curve of her face. Tears threatened to spill as she desperately wished the vision before her was real.
Fern studied Hazel, a look of mild concern forming on her brow. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to disturb you. I just couldn't help myself." Fern's gaze drifted toward the fire, taking on a faraway look before turning back to Hazel. "You've grown up so fast, and I just..."
Hazel didn't allow her to finish before she tightly wrapped her arms around Fern. She buried her nose in her mother's shoulder, and Fern gave a delicate sound of surprise. But after only a moment's hesitation, Fern wrapped her own arms around Hazel. She ran her hand up and down Hazel's spine soothingly.
Hazel took a deep breath, inhaling Fern's scent—like vanilla and pine needles, it was watered down but still painfully familiar. She squeezed her mom tighter as if she could will her to be real by sheer force.
"I miss you," Hazel whispered as tears streamed down her face, darkening the fabric of the baby blue cotton dress.
"Oh darling," Fern replied, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "I'm right here."
You don't know how much I wish that were true. Hazel released her, feeling the softness of the cotton beneath her fingertips as warm tears washed over her cheeks. Fern's eyebrows furrowed further, as she ran her hand under Hazel's eyes, gently pushing away the tears with her fingers and love.
"Don't cry. Everything will be alright," Fern reassured Hazel, who did not argue but simply stared at her mother's face. Nothing was alright. Hazel doubted it ever would be.
"Cheer up now. I'm baking pie," Fern announced with a smile. Her face was alight with joy and anticipation as she cupped Hazel's cheek.
"What kind?" Hazel asked, leaning into Fern's palm, and wiping her face with her sleeve.
"It's a new recipe," Fern replied, smoothing her hand over the top of Hazel's head, "Apricot."
Hazel pulled Fern's hand away and ran her lips over the top of her mother's knuckles in a gentle kiss. Fern gave her a slightly confused look as Hazel responded, "Sounds wonderful, mom."
Fern leaned forward and grazed her own lips along the top of Hazel's head before she stood and smoothed out the material of her tear-stained dress. "Oh, and I know something else that will cheer you up," With a warm smile, Fern moved toward the kitchen,
"We have a special guest coming over for dessert."
Hazel sat up straighter, running a hand through her hair as she absorbed the familiar surroundings of her home, trying to etch every detail into her memory. "Who?"
Just then, the front door opened, and a figure with a flash of red hair and familiar green eyes entered. "Hey, Hazelnut," the figure greeted her.
Cedar stepped into the room, dressed in his lumberjack attire with an axe slung across his back. Dirt marked his knees and elbows, just as Hazel remembered him before he left District 7, never to return. His youthful face was sun-reddened, clearly different from how she last saw him.
He carried a small package, wrapped in paper with a bright green ribbon tied in a haphazard bow atop it. Hazel's eyes searched his chest, finding no trace of redness or blood—none of the fatal wounds that had soaked his clothes and drained his life away remained. Now, his face glowed with joy as he smiled at her, then nodded toward Fern. "Hey, sis."
"Don't track dirt in here, Cedar. Take your shoes off," Fern chided.
He gave a lazy nod and bent to undo his boots, shooting a playful wink at Hazel. "Yes, mom."
Hazel stood, transfixed, as if no time had passed since she was five years old, when life was simpler and untouched by sorrow.
After removing his shoes, Cedar approached Hazel with a smile. "I have a present for you, Hazelnut," he announced warmly.
He extended the small paper-wrapped bundle towards her. She accepted it gingerly, nestling the present in her palm as if it were a rare gem. She tugged at the bright green ribbon, which unfurled with ease, and then swiftly tore away the brown paper to reveal a small, similarly colored box. Lifting the lid, she was greeted by the familiar sight of polished wood.
Another one of Cedar's creations lay inside. Overwhelmed with emotion, Hazel recalled the many times Cedar had spent hours diligently sanding and varnishing his wooden figurines.
As she lifted the hand-carved bird from the box, the smoothness of the wood evoked a deep sense of nostalgia. In her palm rested a peregrine falcon, exquisitely detailed, with sharp eyes and poised wings that captured the essence of its wild, agile nature.
She held the figurine up closer, admiring the craftsmanship. "Falcons are symbols of protection. They are guardians of the forest, you know," he mused. Looking up, she saw Cedar's face beaming with pride and affection. "What do you think?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Emotion swelled in her heart—every room in her home had once been adorned with Cedar's handiwork. However, after the Games, Heath had destroyed them all, unable to tolerate the reminders of his brother. Hazel distinctly remembered the tears streaming down her face as she watched her cherished figurines turn to ash in the backyard fire pit.
She ran her fingers over each curve of the figurine, tracing the meticulously carved details. Its wings were spread wide, captured in a moment between poised ascent and a swift dive to capture prey. She considered the bird further. A symbol of protection? The falcon was a bird of prey, the fastest animal in the forest and deadly. They were also incredibly intelligent and had dominion over the skies of district 7. Yet in the arena they were the bearers of resources. Maybe they were both protectors and hunters.
"It's perfect," Hazel murmured, her voice thick, "Thank you, Uncle Cedar."
"Keep that with you, just in case good ol' Uncle Cedar isn't around to look out for you, ya know?" Cedar replied, studying her thoughtfully.
Hazel's gaze snapped up to his face, haunted momentarily by the vivid memory of him covered in blood and lifeless. She shook her head to dismiss the gruesome images and focused on the very alive, smiling Cedar before her.
She quickly approached him and wrapped her arms tightly around his stomach, tucking her head into his shirt all while pressing the smooth wood of the falcon against her chest. She wanted to live in this moment forever. What she wouldn't give for it all to be real, "Don't go." Her voice was muffled by his shirt.
Cedar looked down at her in surprise as tears again started to roll down her cheeks. "Hey, it's a joke, Hazelnut, I'm not going anywhere, you, okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. If you only knew how untrue that is.
"I am right now," Hazel murmured into his shirt, inhaling the familiar scents of the forest, dirt, and sawdust that always seemed to cling to him.
He glanced at Fern, who responded with a small shrug, an equally puzzled expression on her face.
"Come on, you two, let's have some pie," Fern called out, her voice brightening the atmosphere.
She had pulled out a steaming pie, its golden crust sizzling invitingly. The toasty fragrance of caramelized apricots wafted through the room, tantalizing Hazel's senses.
Cedar's eyebrows shot up, and he tousled Hazel's hair playfully. "Come on, Hazelnut, no more tears. It's pie time." As they moved toward the kitchen, Hazel wiped her tears with her sleeve and glanced down at the carved falcon in her hand. Then she noticed something odd about the figure: a necklace encircled its neck with what appeared to be little carvings of lights, just like the carrier falcons in the arena.
"Darling," Fern's voice caught her attention, "could you put another log on the fire, please?" She was busy cutting the pie while Cedar hovered nearby, eyeing the still sizzling treat as if tempted to dip his hand into it. Fern swatted his hand away with a playful scold, instructing him to sit down or risk burning himself. He huffed but complied, taking a seat at the table.
Fern expertly served three steaming pieces of pie onto wooden plates, setting them on the table while continuing to admonish Cedar to let the slices cool or he'd scorch his tongue.
Hazel chuckled quietly and turned towards the hearth. She selected two sturdy pieces of pine from the pile next to the fireplace and carefully placed them at the center of the flames. With the fire poker, she gently adjusted the logs, ensuring they settled properly among the embers. The sound of a fork clinking against wood filled the room, and Hazel couldn't help but laugh again, certain Cedar was about to burn his tongue despite the warnings.
Once Hazel was assured the logs were securely placed and the fire reinvigorated, she turned back toward the dining room table. Her heart sank as she scanned the room. Fern and Cedar had disappeared.
Instead, two familiar figures now sat at the table, silently savoring the pie before them. Hazel's temples throbbed as she recognized them instantly- Eve and Grace. Each girl appeared pristine, devoid of any dirt or blood, dressed in their gowns from the night of the last supper. Grace's curls were lustrous and painstakingly styled, bouncing gently as she delicately nibbled on her pie. Eve, lean and statuesque, her dark brunette hair cascading in a smooth wave down her back, flashed a set of dark green eyes that seemed to drink in the room with an unsettling calm. They were so out of place in her home, yet they acted like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Hazel hesitated, then took a step toward them. A third-place setting was waiting, complete with a steaming plate of untouched apricot pie. The steam curled upward invitingly into the air of the cozy cabin. Hazel clenched the falcon figurine in her hand, contemplating the scene before her.
Suddenly, the front door opened. Another figure entered, pausing to wipe his boots on the rug before quietly closing the door behind him. Hazel could only see the side of his face but instantly recognized the blond hair and familiar form.
"Owen, you've got to try this," Grace called, gesturing with her fork toward the scant remnants of the pie in front of her.
"It looks heavenly," Owen remarked in a subdued tone.
He settled into the last empty seat at the table and reached for the pie. The three tributes continued to eat their pie, emitting low moans of approval and smiling contentedly at the dessert before them. Hazel stood frozen, watching this unsettling scene unfold A familiar guilt weighed heavy in her stomach; all three were dead, directly or indirectly, because of her actions.
Hazel took several more steps, her dread deepening as she stared at the trio of deceased tributes—alive and eating pie in her living room. Both girls looked up as she approached. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, her voice barely cutting through the pie-scented air.
Owen then turned to look at her, and Hazel covered her mouth in horror. One side of his face was normal, intact, but the other was charred beyond recognition. One of his bright blue eyes was completely gone. She thought she could even see the pearly white hints of skull beneath the blackened skin. Gasping at the sight, she fought the urge to vomit.
Hazel's attention was abruptly drawn away as Eve began to pant for air. Her elegant fingers clutched at her throat as she wheezed noisily, clearly struggling to breathe, her lips turning a ghastly shade of purple. Tears ruined the makeup around her eyes, dark black streaks of mascara streamed down her cheeks.
Then Grace emitted a shocked sound as she looked down at her dress, where a red patch was forming over her heart. The blood began to flow down the expensive fabric, pooling in her lap. Hazel rushed to her side and placed a hand over her chest, applying pressure to the bleeding wound. "Why?" Hazel whispered to Grace; her voice thick.
Grace didn't answer but merely looked up at Hazel with tears trickling down her face, before resting a blood-covered hand on Hazel's. Familiar panic surged within Hazel, her heart hammering in her chest as an overwhelming urge to flee gripped her. Her breath quickened, and her palms grew clammy around the falcon figurine clutched in her hand. She felt her legs move almost of their own accord, carrying her towards the front door of her house. With trembling hands, she yanked the door open and darted out, casting one final, haunted glance back at the tributes at her table. The cool evening air hit her face, but it did little to quell the heat of her panic as she fled.
Just as she slammed the door and lunged forward, Hazel collided with the solid figure of someone outside her home. Her copper hair obscured her vision as she stumbled, reaching out instinctively, still clutching the falcon figurine in her palm. Her open hand found a firm chest at the same moment two strong hands clasped her upper arms, stabilizing her. She swept her hair back and gazed up into the eyes of the man she had nearly knocked over, her intended apology dissolving upon recognizing him.
Her stomach turned as she met the piercing blue gaze of Coriolanus Snow. Bathed in the waning light of District 7's sun, his blond hair gleamed, and he stood tall in a dark gray suit with a crisp white shirt, its iridescent buttons catching the sun's rays. He regarded her, an amused smirk relaxed his typically icy demeanor.
"Senator?" she managed, her voice a tentative murmur.
He assessed her intently, then his eyes drifted to her hand pressed against his chest. Hazel followed his gaze—a smear of blood stained his pristine shirt, vivid red contrasted against the white. She jerked her hand back, but the damage was done: a vivid red handprint marked him.
"Running away again, are we?" Snow inquired, one eyebrow arching gracefully.
"Something like that. More like proactive avoidance, really" Hazel responded, her voice trembling as discomfort surged within her.
Snow's laughter echoed in the air, yet his grip on her arm remained unwavering. Hazel tried to step back; he allowed her a slight reprieve but kept his hold secure. She tugged gently, trying to free herself, but his grasp only loosened slightly, not enough to release her.
"You do seem to have a knack for evasion," he teased, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "But remember, Miss Marlowe, no one can run forever."
He then shifted his attention to the hand clutching the falcon. Carefully, he released one of her arms and reached for her clenched hand, enveloping it with his own. With a deliberate motion, he coaxed her fingers open to reveal the wooden figurine nestled within. Her heart was beating incredibly hard as he inspected the peregrine falcon with a curious tilt of his head, his finger tracing its smooth, carved edges. After a moment, his gaze lifted to meet Hazel's, watching her as she tightened her grip on the figurine once more. He hummed thoughtfully, analyzing her expression.
"Now the real question is are you running from your past ..." he murmured, his voice low and tinged with intrigue as he pulled her slightly closer by the arm still in his grasp. Hazel's heart hammered against her chest, her breath quickening. She instinctively tilted her head away to escape the closeness of his presence. He paused, seemingly studying her reaction with a small smirk. Leaning in, he brought his mouth close to her ear, unsettlingly intimate. His breath felt like a warm caress that made her shiver. His voice, darkly playful, broke the tense silence, "or your future?"
At that moment, the world around her crumbled, snapping Hazel awake on the cold, sandy floor of the arena. Her breath was rapid and heaving as the dream's panic lingered. She sat up, running her hands over her face, feeling the salty coolness of the very real tears against her fingers.
"Haze?" Silus was next to her in an instant, his warm hand resting on her shoulder, causing her to flinch—the sensation of Snow's hands on her arms still vividly lingered along her skin.
She took a few deep breaths and placed her hand on Silus', "I'm ok, just a nightmare."
Silus hummed thoughtfully. "Makes sense those would start up again, considering..." He was well aware of Hazel's long struggle with nightmares, ever since she had witnessed Cedar's death on television. Although she had claimed they were under control, they never truly subsided, merely ebbing and flowing in intensity, often escalating during the reaping and the Games. "What was it about?"
Hazel wiped the remnants of salty tears from her face. She didn't want to worry Silus, and even more, she didn't want to reveal she had been dreaming about Senator Snow. "You know, the usual: Cedar, death, and so forth..."
He observed her intently, his fingers absently caressing the handle of his axe. The gentle sound of ocean waves lapped in the background, filling the silence between them.
"But you know," she continued, meeting his gaze, "I'm not sure if this isn't the real nightmare, except there's no waking up from this one."
Silus nodded silently, considering her for a while. His face appeared weary under the moon's glow.
"Do you want me to take over?" She asked.
He shook his head. "You've only been asleep for about an hour. Try to get some more rest, and I'll wake you up in a couple of hours."
She nodded and placed a hand over her heart, her fingers caressing Cedar's necklace underneath her shirt. Protection. Just like the peregrine. She cast her eyes over to Silus' weary form. She didn't have time for fairytales and fables. She knew all too well that neither a wooden bird nor a gemstone could truly guarantee safety.
With a deep sigh, she tried to settle into the sand, hoping for a sleep devoid of dreams. Yet, she couldn't escape the lingering scent of her mother, the vivid image of Cedar's eyes, Grace's crimson blood or the haunting touch of Snow's hands.
After several minutes, the overwhelming weariness of her body finally subdued the turmoil in her mind, and the gentle pull of drowsiness began to take hold. In the back of her mind, a resigned thought lingered—she might never again experience the comfort of truly sound sleep. As she drifted towards unconsciousness, she thought she heard the distant sound of splashing, almost in harmony with the rhythmic lapping of the ocean's waves.