The summer air was laden with the scent of sawdust and sap as Hazel leaned against a towering ponderosa pine. Perched on a thick branch, she swung her legs in idle patterns. Sunlight peeked through the canopy, caressing her cheeks and soaking into her hair and skin. Her eyes fluttered closed with a deep sigh as the sounds and smells of home saturated clear through to her soul. Despite the peacefulness, something about her surroundings tickled the back of her mind with familiarity.
“You’re going to eat all that by yourself, Hazelnut?” a voice pulled her out of her serene reverie.
A smile spread across her face. She glanced down at a small bundle in her lap, wrapped in a checkered cloth, then to the redhead staring up at her from the ground. His copper tresses shone in the warm summer sun. He was the same as she remembered—tall, with that easygoing smile and teasing green irises.
She raised an eyebrow at him as she held up the two slices of homemade apple bread for him to see. “If you don’t hurry, I will,” she replied, pretending to take a large bite.
“Hey, wait!” He yelled as he scrambled to climb.
Hazel laughed freely at his desperation. He made climbing trees look effortless as he glided from branch to branch. Within a minute he pulled himself up to the limb she was relaxing on, “Your Mom make lunch again?”
“Yes, sir. This apple obsession she’s in is definitely one of the better ones.” Hazel gestured with a piece of the luxurious bread. “But I’m going to start charging you if you keep stealing my food.”
Cedar’s bubbling laugh filled the woods, “Would be money well spent.” He grinned wider as he swiped the slice from her hand. He leaned back and stretched out on the massive branch beside her. His presence was like a mellow breeze. Warm, comforting while also refreshing. “You know I can’t resist Fern’s cooking.”
“It always has been your weakness,’” Hazel teased, elbowing him, “But you might think differently if you had been around for her asparagus phase.”
Cedar chuckled as he took a slow bite, clearly savoring his treat. Hazel nearly forgot about her bread as she watched the satisfaction spread over his face.
“I don’t know. I think I would’ve enjoyed the asparagus phase. If anyone could pull it off, it would be Fern.”
“Yeah, well, speak for yourself. I can still taste the pudding.” Hazel shivered.
Cedar coughed, choking on a piece of the treat. His face screwed into a sour expression. “Pudding?”
Hazel grinned at his expression, “All the chewing is what really got to me.”
Cedar raised his hands, “All right, all right. I get it.”
Hazel couldn’t help but laugh again, holding her side as she watched him try to clear his mind of the image.
Cedar stared back down at his bread in sudden hesitation, “Fern is nothing if she isn’t creative. I think that is half the reason my brother married her. Smartest thing he ever did.”
Hazel’s heart sank, and her eyes dropped to her lap as she toyed with her lunch.
Cedar tilted his head at her sudden change, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m done with him, Cedar. Permanently.”
Cedar stared at her, his expression growing serious.
Her hair fell over her shoulders as she shook her head, pushing the memories of her last interaction with her father out of her mind, “I had to. He’s done unspeakable things, Cedar. Unforgivable things.” Her voice faded to a whisper.
Cedar considered her words. Then, his head bent forward in a slow nod. “You did the right thing.”
“He was never the same after,” Hazel’s eyes met his, “after you died.”
Cedar considered her, deep contemplation settled on his features, “My brother has been lost for so long that his own pain is all he knows.”
Hazel nodded, “Or all he cares about.”
“If you're not careful,” Cedar said as he placed his bread back in his lap and scooted closer to her on the wide branch, “you'll end up just like him.”
Hazel swallowed hard, his words hitting her with the truth she didn’t want to face. Her nostrils flared as she shook her head. “I would never do what he has done.”
Cedar’s eyes softened. “Unchecked grief has a way of eroding a person’s soul. I’ve been trying to tell you, Hazelnut.”
“Right, right, you’re trying to warn me…” Her stare dropped to her fidgeting hands once again. “And I’ve tried telling you I’m not strong enough.”
He tilted his head and rested his hand on hers, “You are. If you were strong enough to cut off Heath, you can let me go, too. You can move on with your life.”
She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes, and squeezed them shut.
Cedar sighed, “You can. You are capable of great things. Please don’t make the same mistakes he did.”
As the words left his mouth, the sensation of familiarity grew stronger.
Hazel reopened her eyes, “Cedar… does all of this feel familiar?”
Something strange yet not strange enough flooded her.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever had Déjà vu?”
Cedar’s voice grew faint. “You know what they say about Déjà vu?”
Hazel fought the urge to roll her eyes. “That it is an opportunity to get things right the second time?”
“No, Hazelnut.” Cedar murmured, “It’s a second chance to notice something you missed the first time. An opportunity to learn from the past, not to change it.”
A sudden, peculiar sensation jolted Hazel, a vibration that seemed to resonate through her very bones. Hazel's copper hair cascaded across her shoulders as she glanced upward. The pine needles above her trembled. I’ve been here before. The warmth of Cedar’s hands disappeared. When she looked back, he was gone.
“Uncle Cedar?”
A resounding thwack reverberated within the tree trunk right behind her head, pulling her attention to the ground below. Her heart raced as she peered down, her eyes locking onto the figure hacking away at the base of the trunk. They were draped in a flowing, forest green coat.
"Hold on!" Hazel's voice rang out.
The axe-wielding figure paused, turning their head upwards. The scarlet blade they wielded glinted in the sun drunk afternoon.
A gush of the warm summer breeze picked up, whispering through the branches. It tugged on the leaves and pulled tufts of dirt into the air. As it tangled in Hazel’s hair, it swirled around the figure as well. The green hood flipped back. A rush of air expelled from her lungs, like she had been punched in the gut. Closed cropped hair. A strong set jaw. Chocolate brown eyes.
“Silus?” her voice was barely audible.
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His eyes flashed at his name, but he remained silent. Gone was the sparkle of recognition she was accustomed to. He merely stared up at her with an unreadable expression, and then, with a subtle tilt of his head, he resumed his task. The tree swayed under the assault. Groaning and creaking as if it mourned its impending fate.
Hazel's eyes darted to the tree's trunk; Silus’s axe had made a deep, wedge-shaped gash. The exposed wood pulp was sandy brown, rough, and splintered. It was soft and pliable, unnaturally so. Shards of bark lay scattered around the base.
"Silus!" Hazel pleaded. But he didn’t acknowledge her. Hazel tossed her lunch aside, the homemade apple bread slipping from her lap. Its golden crust and melting butter disappeared into the abyss below.
Scrambling to descend, the air was again filled with the sound of splintering wood. Birds scattered from their perches, their frantic wings beating against the sky in a series of alarmed cries. Leaves and pine needles rained like confetti at a grim celebration. The tree's mighty trunk cracked, reverberating through the woods like thunder. Her hands clawed at branches, bark tearing away beneath her fingertips.
But it was too late. Time slowed as the tree reached its tipping point, teetering on the precipice of collapse. Then, with a deafening roar, it surrendered to gravity's pull. Hazel's world tilted, a rush of adrenaline flooding her senses. Her stomach churned as the ground rushed to meet her, the massive Ponderosa Pine succumbing to its fate.
Hazel's reality blurred into a whirlwind of motion and noise as the colossal tree hurtled toward the ground. Even slamming her eyes shut couldn't shield her from the overwhelming sensation of freefall.
A deep, familiar voice pierced the air, calling her name.
Hazel's body spasmed, and she jolted, plunging back to reality. Her limbs shivered, and her damp clothes clung to her skin as she reached for the soft, checkered sheets beneath her. Blinking away the remnants of her dream, Hazel fought to shake off the sensations of crashing branches and the gut-wrenching drop.
A hazy silhouette emerged from the shadows of her waning consciousness. A faint tangerine glow framed their figure.
“Silus?”
“No, Marlowe.”
“Leo?” She blinked; her eyelids were swollen and heavy. Mildly disoriented, she sat up, only to find Leo hovering over her, a deep line between his brows.
Behind him, Bellona and Sable stood near the door with matching tense expressions. The early morning light sifted into the room, casting a pale orange-gold filter over every surface. Despite the beauty of the new morning, the looks on their faces promised a day that would be less than peaceful.
“Are you alright?” he questioned as he searched her face.
Hazel chewed on the inside of her lip, pushing away the image of Silus’ harsh eyes and the vigorous way he worked to bring down the tree. Her jugular pulsed against her neck as her body worked to shed the adrenaline. Am I alright? Far from it. “Yeah, just a nightmare.”
Leo’s stern features relaxed around the edges, and so did his tone. “What were you thinking, sneaking away like that?”
Hazel lay back down, throwing a hand across her eyes, “I had a couple of errands to run.”
“In the middle of the night?” Sable asked, clearly irritated. “In the rain?”
“It’s the best time, really. Fewer lines.”
Sable was less than amused, and his hard stare didn’t flinch.
Guilt twisted in Hazel’s chest, and she avoided his gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, but Sable turned away, “Don’t apologize to me. You should’ve seen how your mother was crying when we found your bed empty.”
The last thing I wanted was to cause her more pain. Hazel pressed her hand harder against her face, “I promise, I will apologize to her.”
Bellona’s gaze softened as she scooted closer, examining Hazel from head to toe. “We’ll need to call the doctor to replace that cast. It looks completely ruined.”
“Great, my favorite. More doctors.”
Leo’s hand pulled at her left palm, running a finger over her skin, “And you're bleeding again.”
Hazel stared at the new crust of brown and red that now decorated her bandage.
“Told you I would need to keep gauze on hand,” Leo sighed, but his gray eyes held a flicker of teasing. “Come on, let’s get you back home. And you can start working on your apologies.”
Hazel squinted at him but didn’t argue.
Bellona murmured, “Wait, she’s soaked and covered in mud and…. Is there a reason you smell like a bar?”
Hazel peered down at her trashed clothes. They were crinkled, stiff, and stained with various shades of brown. The burning smell of ethanol emanated from them. “I may have had a run-in with a bottle of whiskey.”
Leo’s eyes grew harder as he listened, but he didn’t question it.
Bellona also seemed to understand, “All right, well, let’s grab something dry and less… fragrant.” Bellona strode to the closet and opened it, but a puzzled look came over her features.
Hazel’s body ached as she pushed herself up, “This isn’t my room.”
Her peacekeepers shared an unspoken conversation.
Leo helped her to her feet and handed her the crutches.
She stretched her sore muscles and got up; with one last glance, she left Silus’ room behind. As the group moved on, Bellona took an interest in the axe rack by the door. “You guys really do live and breathe logging here, don’t you?”
“Basically, from birth,” Hazel replied.
Bellona approached the rack, running her hand along the row of weaponry. “Which one’s yours?”
Hazel pointed to the smallest of the four axes. “That’s Oliver.”
“Oliver?” Leo raised an eyebrow. “You named your axe?”
“Yeah, my brothers thought it was dumb, too.”
“Maybe a bit odd,” Leo smiled softly
“Odd is basically my middle name,” Hazel sighed.
“It’s not as pretty as Johanna,” Bellona chuckled as she stepped away.
Hazel squirmed. Ugh, I almost forgot. The whole world knew her middle name now, thanks to a certain nosy Senator, no doubt. “Easy, we don’t use the J word unless I’m in real trouble.”
Sable scoffed, “Who says you aren’t in trouble?”
Hazel shot him an apologetic look. “Right.”
Turning away from the axes, she hobbled toward her room, the crutches dragging and squeaking. The moment she crossed the threshold of her room, they caught on the floor’s lip, and she nearly collapsed, catching herself on the doorframe with a yelp.
Leo was at her side in an instant, his warm hand gripping her bicep, “You can’t walk across the room, but somehow, you managed to hike the however many miles back to your old house. In a downpour, no less?”
“You might say I was properly motivated.” Hazel wiggled the crutches, “But I brought these with me like you told me.”
“Little good they were…”Leo furrowed his brow, “Marlowe, you literally scaled the Village’s fence.” His tone was colored with disbelief.
“It is kind of impressive if you think about it,” Bellona commented.
“Don’t encourage her,” Sable barked behind them.
“It’s like ten feet tall,” Bellona argued.
Sable shot her a harsh look.
"Just add it to the list of my questionable life choices." Hazel sighed as she turned back to her room. “I promise not to make it a habit.”
Sable’s voice was unflinching, “Oh, believe me, it won't be happening again.”
Hazel swallowed. Should’ve expected as much. Any thoughts of her probably new restrictions died immediately as an odd odor wafted from her room, clashing with the pine and cedar. Hazel expected the staleness of an unlived-in space. Instead, a floral aroma filled her lungs as she moved inside. Ugh, does Lily have more flowers in here? She scanned over the familiar space; black and white drawings still littered the walls, and several crispy daisies sat in a cup of water on the window sill. She kept scanning until her attention landed on her bed, her breath caught, and her hand flew to her mouth.
Golden light streaming in from the windows poured over something out of place. A rose. The bloom was full and tightly layered. Its petals possessed a rich, velvety hue, somewhere between midnight blue and indigo. Its outermost edges were lighter, like the sky at twilight, while the inner petals were the darkest, bordering on black. The stem was thornless and deep green with matching glossy leaves. Tied to it with a silky pearl-colored ribbon was a navy velvet box the size of a maple leaf.
“What is that?” Sable asked. “A rose?”
“It is from the Senator.” Hazel’s heart pounded as she reached for it. Leo stiffened next to her shoulder, letting go of her arm as his mouth tightened.
“How do you know that?” Bellona questioned.
“Trust me.” Hazel deadpanned as she met each of their eyes before turning back to the gift. “Any of you know what blue roses mean?”
Her peacekeepers stared back at her in confusion.
“Me neither.” Her fingers trembled as she turned over the velvet box in her palm.
Sable frowned, “Roses have meanings?”
“These do.” With a harsh tug, Hazel untied the ribbon.
Inside, nestled in the soft velvet lining, was a tiny cassette. What in the world? She lifted it out to examine it. It was less than palm-sized and made of sleek black material. The edges were slightly rounded, and in the center, the words "For Your Eyes Only" were inscribed in silver ink. A chilling sensation settled in the pit of her stomach.
“What is that?” Leo questioned.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Hazel stared, confused, at the tiny cassette when something inside the blue box caught her eye. Another card. What now?
Hazel picked it up. It was identical to the one she had received before the Games, both in size and in its high-quality material. The exception was an embossed flower on the top of the card. Instead of a rose, a bloom with deep cerulean petals met her eyes: Sapphire's Breath. An inscription in elegant handwriting read: “Miss Marlowe, the devil hides in the details, and the truth is not far behind. The odds favor those who pay attention to and master both. Until we cross tracks again. -CS."
Turning the card over, she noticed another inscription, this time smaller and more concise. The same elegant handwriting spelled out: P.S. "If curiosity strikes, know this: dark blue roses thrive from what was once beyond reach. Where impossibilities fade, they are proof that boundaries are meant to be broken."
Hazel’s gut churned. What now?
Leo's concerned gaze bore into her as she released a shaky breath. She ran her finger across the card, catching the sickly scent of roses.
Hazel was suddenly back in the lab with Snow. The smell of eels and astringent nearly choked her. "Miss Marlowe, I have to give you credit. You are perceptive," taking a few steps closer to Hazel. She crossed her arms as he approached, willing herself to remain still, "But one thing you have yet to learn, which I'm sure you will, is that the Hunger Games never actually end. There are always games being played, most of which you will never know about."
The sensation in her stomach tightened as she willed herself back to the present moment. Staring down at the items in her hands, she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever this new game was, it was just beginning.
To be continued…