Sometimes Rue would sit back and laugh in the sunlight. She loved the way the soft peach leaves fell from the branches and she loved the way she nestled like a little girl, perfectly positioned in the branches. But most of all, Rue loved the way her mother sung to her.
The next year, the poor girl was reaped. The whistle of the wind answered an escort's called for volunteers.
That was the spark that sent Panem into an inferno. Snow had it all wrong. Peeta was smooth with words indeed. But it was his mention of Rue that started the tears.
It was the whistle of the wind that lit the match.
This is the first of a drabble series of characters. We've met many wonderful people through the collab, but this one was devoted to RueThisDay, Rue.