I dont own the hunger games as much as i wish i did. Suzanne colins does
The melody: simple, sweet, hopeful. Calling out to us by the two-legged earthcrawlers. We know what they want—they want to sing. They want to sing with us. Their tunes carry up to our branches on the wind, into our nests, penetrating our eggs and minds and spirits. The music is beautiful, we sing along. When the earthcrawlers are pleased, they sing more. We repeat the sounds with no care of their true intentions—we were born to do this.
Below home a small, dark earthcrawler is stuck in a nest, tangled. A larger two-leg hops along the ground as fast as it can to the trapped one. Another one is hiding…can't the running one see it?
The one in hiding throws a branch at the captured one—a sharp branch. It gets stuck in the little earthcrawler's stomach. Why did he do that to the little one? The other one, the runner, lodged a small twig of her own with feathers on it into the earthcrawler's neck. The hider pulls it out and red. Red, red, red everywhere. Red liquid spews and the hider collapses. What happened to it?
The runner reaches the small one and stares at the branch in its chest. It seems in distress though I don't understand what it says to the little one as it removes the netting. They both seem sad and distressed, as though it was a mother losing her child. Is that what is happening? Is a mother losing her child? The earthcrawlers don't look like each other, but yet they do all look the same.
The runner begins to sing a mournful, quiet, peaceful song to the little one. The music! Beautiful. I do wish I could understand…
The little one goes still and silent and the runner seems to be extremely upset. We were, however, all too caught up in her melody to care about her sadness. We must repeat the tune; it's not an option. We all begin to sing the song that the earthcrawler had just sang.
What is it doing? Leaving the little one? Oh no, it has returned carrying violet and white and yellow. It surrounds the little one in the colors—its head, its odd feathers, its body. The runner presses three of its bizarre feathers on its wing to its strange beak and begins to depart, leaving the little one-still unmoving and silent-in the field.
A noise; a loud, scary, non-repeatable noise breaks through. I don't like this sound. A warning is shrieked out—danger. We must hide, be still and quiet like the little one with her colors.
A monster appears in the sky and lowers a leg down, grabbing the little one in its clutches. Careful with the little one, she seems fragile for an earthcrawler. It does not understand me, nor do I understand it. I see that it also takes the hider into its grasp.
As soon as it has appeared, it flies away again, leaving the world as it was before the runner, hider and little one had appeared. I wonder where they went, but it does not concern me.
A new tune is struck up.
I must sing along.