Spice and fire permeated the twilight air. Somber expressions were bathed in the orange glow of countless candles. The gentle light in their grasp brought a warm contrast to the mournful attire of District Seven's residents. Soft sniffles and a low murmur of whispers filled the crowded corridors of the Mayor's Manor.
Hazel and her family gathered around Silus' casket, staring down at him one last time. Fern clung to Oren as tears trickled down both of their cheeks. Rowan stared lock-jawed at his older brother while he held Silus's axe and a pair of leather gloves. Sage hugged a clay pot that contained a vibrant sapling, along with a large book tucked under his arm.
Mayor Kettleberry let out a dry cough as he addressed the gathering, "Though we wish it were different, life is a temporary donation. One, we are all lent, and one, we must all repay. Tonight, again, we give back what was generously lent to us. We return our son to the Earth from which he came." The mayor paused, gaze sweeping over the family huddled around the casket. He tilted his head, his eyes full of somber understanding as he continued. "As we send Silus on to the forever forest, let us not dwell on his loss, but let us give thanks for the gift of his life."
Hazel shook her head and bit down hard on her lip, holding back a derisive grunt. Giving Silus back was the last thing she wanted to do. She would gladly trade anything to change her reality. She could almost hear Cedar's imploring to accept the mayor's words.
Mayor Kettleberry's eyes crinkled and glittered as he held out his open palm to Rowan. Rowan shuffled forward, extending Silus's axe to the older man. Mayor Kettleberry took it from him while whispering in his ear. Rowan's lip quivered as he nodded and stepped back.
The mayor lifted Silus' axe with both hands, presenting it to the people as his voice grew, "From childhood, our people are taught to live off of and respect our land. Knowing that one day we too shall merge with the forest that sustains us daily." Approaching Silus's casket, he laid the axe in his grasp. "May Silus flourish in the eternal forest, amongst those who preceded him, until the day we are all joined once more."
The older man pulled away from the casket and bent toward the family, "When you are ready."
One by one, they paid their respects. Along with whispered words and touches, each left a token within his casket. Oren left a worn wooden toy train from Silus' childhood. Fern, a loaf of his favorite rye bread. Rowan set in a pair of leather gloves. Lily, a bouquet of deep yellow sunflowers. Linden laid one of his drawings of Silus chopping wood in the forest. Sage sighed as he dropped in one of his favorite books about butterflies. Silus had stayed up many nights reading from it when Sage was just a little boy. Sage's fingers lingered over the cover, his bright, young eyes watering before he finally pulled away.
As the last of her family moved to make space for her, the air grew hot and thick. It was time. Time to let him go forever. Hazel drew in a breath so deep that her ribs bulged against her crutches. Flickering candle heat warmed Hazel's face as the atmosphere cooled with the setting sun. She was chewing her lip until it was on the verge of breaking open. Better blood than more tears. As she took her turn at the casket, it was almost as if her feet had minds of their own. They carried her toward the inevitability she didn't want to face.
In her hand the Victor's medal was heavy as a log. Leo's presence loomed, and he murmured a warning in her ear, "Do you really think that is a good idea?"
An unsettling tickle in the back of her mind warned her about giving away the medal. But at that moment, she didn't care.
"What about the Capitol?" He continued to question softly.
Under her breath, she responded without removing her stare from the casket, "If they've got something to say to me about it, they can tell me themselves." Instead of leaving cryptic notes and gifts like some creepy scavenger hunt. And whatever prize was at the end of it, she didn't want it. I've had enough of Capitol rewards. Leo murmured something unintelligible but offered no further argument.
Tears burned her sensitive lids as she leaned over Silus, placing the medal next to his ear. She almost expected him to scold her as well. For a moment, she even thought she could see his eyes roll behind his still lids.
"It's your fault you aren't here to stop me from making bad decisions." She tapped the luxurious pillow he rested on, and a soft curl brushed her fingers. Something about it sent a piercing, searing sensation through the center of her chest. Before she could stop herself, she tucked the strand back and leaned forward, placing a final kiss on his temple. The coolness that met her lips deepened the sharp sensation into a throbbing ache.
"I'll love you always," she croaked against his skin. The quietness of the room brought the threat of tears to fruition, and several leaked down her face and into the fine material beneath him.
A warm yet soft hand pressed against her back. "It's time, darling," Fern whispered.
Backing away, Silus' image blurred as the tears in her eyes overwhelmed her vision.
Mayor Kettleberry watched the family in the flickering light for a few moments before his grave voice filled the room, "All right." The older man approached the casket and, with a gentle touch, lowered the lid.
Hazel's heart rate spiked as it obscured Silus's face. This was it. The last time she would ever see him. The finality of it was devastating, and it sucked the oxygen from her lungs and forced rivers of tears down her cheeks. Hazel could barely contain the emotions surging through her. They doused her in abject sorrow like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head.
Hazel buried her face in her mother's shoulder. Fern shook in soft tremors as she petted her daughter's hair. The clicking of the casket's lock reverberated as loud as if it were a tree crashing and splintering in the woods. Hazel's body shook harder, and she clamped her lips shut to hold back the sobs. Fern murmured shhh, as light as cotton in Hazel's ear.
Mayor Kettleberry's eyes shimmered as he took in the family once more before he gestured to the peacekeepers. They converged, breaking out of the throng to encircle the coffin. The hundreds of candles made their uniforms almost appear orange in the flickering, muted light.
With a hushed command, they raised the casket and proceeded to carry it out of the manor toward an idling logging truck parked outside. The Mayor gave the family a lingering look, and before he cleared his throat, the crowd refocused on him. He picked up a long waxen candle of his own as he followed the casket. The deep timber of his voice warmed the room as he began to sing. It was a simple, haunting tune. Crafted by their ancestors, it had embedded itself in the funeral traditions of District Seven.
Oh, Mother, call us home again,
To the forest's heart, where we began.
Your sons and daughters, we will all return to thee,
To rest forever 'neath the ancient tree.
More voices grew to join him in a haunting harmony. The hum of their voices and the light of the candles warmed the air around Hazel's cool face.
You gave us shelter; you gave us shade,
In your arms, we were made.
Now to your soil, we lay one of us down,
Your leaves their cradle, your bark their crown.
The sun had completely dipped behind the horizon as Hazel and her family followed the Mayor. He made his way down the Manor's steps, his voice never wavering. Outside, people lined the streets, making a path of black clothing and glowing, somber faces that led in the direction of the Grand Alpine River and the cemetery.
Oh, Mother, call us home again,
To the forest's heart, where we began.
Your sons and daughters, we will all return to thee,
To rest forever 'neath the ancient tree.
Hazel handed her candle to Bellona, whose warm brown eyes were shinier than usual. Hazel gripped her crutches, which were no longer gold but a deep black with little gray designs of trees and wildflowers.
Once at the foot of the steps, more joined in the hymn. The green flag over Silus's casket fluttered as the logging truck began to roll forward. Hazel and her family followed as the truck inched through the streets at an agonizingly slow pace.
We'll rise with the sun, we'll sway with the breeze,
We'll sleep in the willows, in the heart of the trees.
Oh, Mother of the Forest, we are your own
And in the forever forest, we are never alone.
Hazel wiped her face along the shoulder of her black dress as they continued their macabre parade. Something about the voices filled her with a haunting sense of loss while also connection. Their solemn singing continued as they reached the outskirts of town, where the cemetery waited in an inky blue darkness.
Oh, Mother, call us home again,
To the forest's heart, where we began.
Your sons and daughters, we will all return to thee,
To rest forever 'neath the ancient tree.
As they neared, Hazel's trembling shook the crutches in her grasp. A large rectangular hole was waiting. It was deep and dark, and no matter how she wished differently, it was completely real. Silus would remain there forever. Hazel pressed her hands harder against the crutches, willing the pain to drown out the bleakness of her thoughts.
Peacekeepers unloaded Silus's casket along with the boxes of gifts from the people. Slowly, they lowered Silus into the waiting hole, along with the tokens from District Seven.
Oren, Rowan, and Linden, along with several other men, stepped forward, collecting waiting shovels from the truck. Hazel's heart was pounding in her ears. The singing of her people was muted by the sound of her own rushing blood and the thud of shovelfuls of dirt landing on the wood surface of the coffin. The people repeated their song, the sound of the men working a drumbeat to the chilling melody.
After several minutes, the earth was once again level, and the group of men gently patted the earth until certain their task was complete.
Hazel flinched as the Mayor spoke up once again, "As is tradition, a tree will be planted in Silus's honor." He turned, coughing into this shoulder before focusing on Sage, "What kind of tree have you selected, young man?"
Sage straightened and whispered, "An Oak."
The Mayor nodded in approval. "Excellent choice. Oaks are robust, sturdy, and deeply rooted, much like our Silus."
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Sage's lip quivered as he gazed down at the pot in his arms.
Mayor Kettleberry patted his shoulder and addressed the people once again, "Now, the family will pick a location in the woods where they will plant his tree."
Rowan peered into the shadowy forest and eventually gestured towards a gentle rise that overlooked the cemetery and the river. The mayor traced his quivering finger and, with a melancholy curl of his mouth, signaled his agreement.
The remainder of District Seven lingered before gradually fading away as Hazel, her peacekeepers, and her kin crept closer to the spot Rowan had selected. It was a picturesque, secluded location, barely visible from the Cemetery, yet it offered a view of the river, the mountains, and even a glimpse of Victor's Village.
The trio of peacekeepers maintained their distance, opting to keep watch from afar, affording the family a semblance of privacy. Even then, Hazel could nearly feel Leo's troubled gray eyes sweeping over her periodically.
Her brothers and Oren toiled until the sapling was properly planted. After they finished, the sound of their heavy breathing filled the silence as they stood gazing at it. There was a sense that something else should follow, an additional rite or custom, yet just like life, just because one felt there should be more to it didn't mean there was.
Several tears silently slid down Rowan's face as the dim light from their rapidly melting candles illuminated his features. "What do you think?"
Hazel's own eyes burned as Fern wrapped her motherly arms around him, "He would have loved this spot."
"It's perfect." Hazel's voice trailed off as she stared down at the little sapling. One day, it would be a thick, mighty tree that would live on long past any of them. In a way, it was a small comfort. It was almost as if Silus, too, would be there for years to come, watching over District Seven instead of trapped in a dark, dirt-laden hole.
About Five Months Later...
An icy breeze stirred over Hazel's face. "Hazel!" Silus's shriek sent terror coursing through her limbs.
Hazel shot up with a start at the sound of her name, her brother's voice ringing in her ears. Shivering, her eyes met the closed doors of her patio, but the cool sensation remained. "Silus?"
"No, Ma'am," Sable's voice was rough and vaguely disappointing. His discerning eyes met hers through the crack in her door.
"Morning, Sable." Hazel shook her head, pushing away the most recent night terror as well as her annoyance at the lock.
Sable grumbled something about her being up too early. Hazel brushed a hand over her face as he searched her room. His gaze lingered on the padlock on the patio doors for a moment, sighing. He subtly tapped one of his pockets, where the key undoubtedly rested.
"That's a fire hazard, you know that, right?"
Sable shrugged, "Fire is the last thing you should worry about. It is colder than my ex moonbathing on an iceberg out there."
Hazel let out a soft snort. He wasn't completely wrong. Her bedroom was coated in darkness, and the world outside matched. The early November sky rarely got light before 8 am. And it wasn't even close to daylight. A tuft of icy frost coated the handrails and boards of her patio. Winter was rapidly approaching, as it always seemed to do in District Seven. Hazel could almost smell the cold from the cozy comfort of her bedding.
Swinging her nearly healed legs out of the warm sheets, she wiggled her left ankle. A dull but manageable ache filled the limb. She stretched it a bit harder, but the discomfort remained the same. However, the muscles around her ankle were quite significantly atrophied compared to her right.
As her toes touched the soft blue rug, a swell of gratefulness for the lack of the godforsaken cast almost made her smile.
In the corner, her once golden crutches lay collecting dust against the walls. Maybe we should have that bonfire.
Another grumbling sound brought her attention back to Sable, and she slid fully onto her feet. "Can't sleep. How about a jog?"
Sable leaned his head back, sending an annoyed look at the ceiling. "Ugh. Again? I was hoping this phase would've passed."
Hazel sent him a grin, "No, sir. The cast is off, and I am free." She tilted her head at her own words, "Well, you know what I mean." She patted the limb for emphasis. "Besides, I need to build strength in this leg again."
"I really miss when you had to use those crutches." Sable glowered at her.
Hazel rolled her eyes as she strode to her closet, "Maybe you'll get lucky, and I'll roll my ankle."
Sable shook his head and stepped out, but not too far. Hazel couldn't help but smile at his annoyance as she pulled on some loose pants and a shirt, along with a water-resistant coat and a pair of her old, well-worn shoes. She dropped the cassette and Grace's coin into a couple of the deeper pant pockets before she zipped the jacket up to her chin.
Once she was ready, she and Sable crept through the hall. As they passed Rowan's room, Hazel peered in. The door was cracked just enough for her to see his bed appeared empty.
"Is he up before me again?"
"Seems you aren't the only insomniac in the family."
Hazel frowned, and her gut twisted, "Do you know where he went?"
"He shares your obsession with godawful early morning workouts, apparently. Though at least he prefers walking."
"Does he say where he goes?" Hazel pressed as the two crept down the stairs in the near pitch-black house.
Sable let out a deep sigh, "To visit your brother."
Hazel's heart sank. Of course. She hadn't been to the cemetery in weeks, and guilt tugged on her, especially since Rowan appeared to be visiting daily.
With a soft click, the front doors shut behind them, and the two began to jog. The air was sharp and painfully fresh, burning Hazel's eyes and nose. But she relished the feeling, and it brought a wave of alertness surging through her body, stronger than any cup of coffee.
Her legs ached, but less than they had previously, and her breathing felt more controlled, though her left leg wobbled at times over the uneven terrain.
As they approached the gates to the village, several unsurprised peacekeepers stared on, "Kind of early, isn't it?" one asked as he moved to open the gate.
Sable nodded and grumbled, "That's what I said."
Hazel shrugged at him, "You could stay home if you want?"
The gates opened fully as the guards waved and nodded.
"Not happening," Sable muttered.
The two jogged down the hill in silence. The crunch of gravel and a light layer of frost beneath their feet was the drumbeat of their morning exercise. Sable's intermittent curses harmonized with Hazel's heavy breathing.
Despite the man's abject irritation with her, she had grown used to his prickly presence. She had actually come to appreciate all three of her peacekeeper guards. Despite being a part of the nameless, faceless horde of Capitol enforcers, she had realized how unique each of them was. Each brought their own strengths to their tasks, and the three seemed to balance each other well in their duties. Their presence also provided her with a profound sense of security, for which she was thankful, even though there were moments she did feel like she was being babysat.
"Where are we headed this time?" Sable finally asked.
Hazel sucked in a deep breath, the coolness of the air chilling her tongue, "Cemetery."
Sable met her eyes before stretching his shoulders and setting his jaw. After another twenty minutes of silent running and a few 'you're killing me' comments from Sable, they arrived at the entrance. The roar of the not yet frozen Alpine filled the air.
Hazel finally slowed to a stop while Sable let out a deep billowing sigh, his breath like a storm cloud in the cold morning atmosphere.
Though her heart beat hard due to exertion, a whole new clenching sensation seized her, much stronger than what exercise could cause. Her legs carried her forward despite the turmoil. She hadn't been back here in quite some time. A mix of guilt and dread rushed through her. It wasn't that she didn't want to see her brother. She pressed her thumb hard against her left hand. It was just like reopening a fragile wound every time she stepped foot in the cemetery.
Sable let her go ahead of him, watchful but also respectful. He stretched in the blue blanket of light that covered the whole district as morning threatened them with its approach.
Silus's tombstone stood out; it was the newest, freshest, and not yet worn from years of turbulent winters and harsh summers. It was made of pearlescent sandstone, bigger and fancier than any of the others. The stone was elegant yet haunting. Slanted obsidian engraving spelled out his name and the dates that encapsulated his life. It seemed so perverse that all he meant was summed up in those ridiculous and ornate engravings. Hazel scoffed, remembering the day it had arrived on a train from the Capitol with regards from the Gamemakers. Hazel rolled her eyes as she got closer. He would have hated it.
"Hey, Little brother," She whispered, sliding the toe of her boots along the dirt. "Sorry, I haven't visited in a while." She ran a shaking hand through her damp yet frosty locks. Her voice grew softer, "Not that you haven't visited me."
Her dreams had been plagued with him or at least his image nearly every night. He had almost completely replaced Cedar in the role of her dreamscape tormentor. The small amount of comfort she felt at seeing him was usually replaced by a deep sadness.
"Would be nice if you could at least recognize me, you know?" She muttered. Silus rarely spoke in her dreams, but he consistently treated her like a stranger, eyes glossed over in confusion. "Gonna go check on your tree while we are here."
Hazel called over her shoulder to Sable, who waved her off but kept a wary eye on her form as she jogged up the small incline toward the oak sapling.
The last time she had seen it, the branches were frost-covered and dull, but it was still alive, just hiding, hibernating. How I wish I could do the same. Hide from all of it. A rectangular plaque had been attached to its base. Linden's skillful handwriting in deep gray lacquer read: "Silus Starling: Beloved Son, Brother, and Hero. Forever Remembered and Loved Always."
"Hey, little guy," she whispered as she made her way around several thick trunks. Her next utterance died on her lips. A figure was standing, their back to Hazel, gazing down at the plaque and the sapling. A thick, deep green coat covered them from head to toe, and a wide hood obscured their features. Hazel's nerves tingled as she shot a glance back at Sable, tempted to call out to him. He appeared to be trying to touch his toes while watching her out of the side of his eye. The figure must have been just out of his eyeline.
"How did this happen?" Hazel's head snapped back to the stranger. Their voice was deep, soft, and utterly feminine. Definitely not Rowan.
Hazel recognized the depth of grief in her tone almost immediately. What she did not recognize was the owner of the voice. Was she some friend of Silus? One he never told me about? Maybe from the papermill?
Hazel treaded forward with caution, "I ask myself the same thing every day."
The figure shifted on her feet, her voice growing even deeper, "I bet you do."
The woman turned and met Hazel's gaze over her shoulder. She looked to be around the same age as Fern and Oren. Deep brown eyes met hers, flecked with gold. Tight curls framed her features. Her features flashed with a potent mix of sorrow and anger. Hazel's stomach flipped, and her mouth grew dry as she choked on her saliva. Despite her unfamiliarity, Hazel felt as though she had seen her a million times. At least reflections of her. How? What?
After a second of staring, the woman turned away and sprinted into the woods. Hazel felt like her limbs were stationary as the frost-covered trees around her. Even her body was too stunned to move.
"Wait," she croaked, but the woman's green cloak had vanished, and the crackling sounds of what she guessed was brush breaking faded. Before she thought any more about it, Hazel broke out of her reverie and flew after her.
A distant, annoyed, yet concerned call filled the air, "What are you doing?"
But Hazel barely heard him as she staggered through the forest; the growing light was helpful, but even so, the terrain was mostly unclear. Hazel's left ankle burned as she catapulted over a fallen tree. She pumped her arms and legs as she ran blindly through the woods. She swore she could hear the woman's breathing. But it might also just be hers. For a moment, she thought she saw the green cloak whipping around a thick trunk.
Just then, her left leg jerked harshly as her ankle gave out. Before she knew it, she was on her hands and knees on the cold ground. A deep moan escaped her lips as she flipped over, gripping the angry limb.
Sable was upon her then, growling and out of breath. He stared down at her, surveying her for damage. "What the hell are you doing?"
She squinted hard into the blue darkness, but she could detect nothing. "Didn't you see her?"
"See who?" Sable whirled around, hand on his weapon at his hip. But his shoulders relaxed at the silence of the woods around them.
"That woman in green?"
"Didn't see a thing besides you running off into the woods. Why do you always do this on my shift, huh?" Sable grumbled, "Never on Bellona's."
Hazel pulled herself up with his help and placed weight gingerly on her left foot. It was tender and achy, but no sharpness met her nerves. Not broken, she sighed in relief.
"There was a woman..." Hazel let out a lingering breath.
"You are going to be the death of me. Go figures it wouldn't be the war that took me out." Sable ran a hand over his face, "Just a delusional district girl with a death wish."
"I swear, Sable, she was here, looking at Silus's tree."
Sable shook his head as he stared at her, pulling on her arm to lead her back toward the cemetery. "I don't see anyone." He glanced down at the ground, "No tracks."
Hazel looked down at the ground as well, patting her heel against the hardness, "It's frozen; of course, there aren't any tracks."
"Why would they run? And the better question, why would you chase them?"
Hazel bit her lip as Sable helped her over the fallen log once again, glancing over her shoulder at the now silent woods. No, she had to be real. This wasn't a dream. She bit harder on her lip. It couldn't be...
"No reason. No reasonable one anyways," She mumbled.
Sable paused as they broke out of the tree line, placing his hands on her shoulders, "You need to get more sleep."
"You know I can't sleep."
Sable let his arms drop to his sides, "Don't I know it. We wouldn't be here right now if you did."
"Sable..." Hazel looked back at the woods. "I'm not delusional, and I'm not lying." Hazel met his gaze.
Sable's features softened for a fraction before freezing over once again, "Maybe we need to call the doctors back to check you out."
Hazel shook her head, pushing away from him and walking back toward the cemetery, "That is the last thing I want."
Sable followed with a glance back at the woods. "Who do you think you saw anyway? Did you recognize them?"
Hazel mumbled as Sable called for transportation to pick them up over his radio.
"Come on, you wouldn't have chased after someone you didn't know."
Hazel stayed silent, continuing to walk; the first light of golden orange morning broke through the blue haze.
"Who?" Sable insisted.
Hazel paused, sucking in a lungful of biting air. Maybe she was losing her mind and she was just about to confirm it to Sable. Staring back at him, her face was drawn and stone-like, "Dahlia Starling."
Sable's eyebrows furrowed, concern deepening in his features, "We are definitely calling the doctors."