Four notes. Just four. To a normal hunter, it would mean nothing. But to those from District Eleven, it meant many things.
It meant 'I'm safe'.
It meant the day was done.
It meant the muttations still have their messenger.
It meant 'Where are you?'
It meant coolness after work in the hot sun of District Eleven.
It meant bliss.
It was, the call of the Mocking-Jay.
But sadly, its caller was slaughtered in what are called games.
However they are not games, they are a reminder of what once happened.
Rue may be dead, but her memory lives on.
In the hearts of District Eleven, in the call of the Mocking-Jay.
