She treads softly on the fresh spring grass. They seem to whine in annoyance as she steps on them, but spring up almost immediately after she releases she footstep. The cool breeze from the old winter sends a chill down her spine and she shudders a little, wrapping her cardigan tightly around her thin body. Her long, blond hair dances gracefully in the wind.
She takes a deep breath of the fresh mountain wind and sighs softly. Peace, at last. Lowering herself slowly, she makes herself comfortable on the smooth grass. The sky is an azure blue, like her eyes. She closes them for a moment, and begins to think.
She remembers treading softly around her cell, crazed eyes darting around the white confined space anxiously. Her blond hair is a tangled mess, blue eyes dark and wide. Dark circles surround them. She licks her chapped lips, and hugs her frail body. Exhausted, she collapses and lies on the cold, hard floor, motionless.
But from afar, she hears a faint clamor of people shouting, the stomping of boots. Her ears perk up, but dismiss it because she thinks she is just imagining things. After six months in a cell in solitude, and with immense torture, she is unsure if she has been driven to her breaking point, or if she has already been shattered. But the sound gets louder, and soon there are loud barks from outside the thick metal door that traps her. The floor vibrates from the plodding footsteps.
"Soldier Yates, position yourself at Cell 3!" There are several more orders given, and she senses a flurry of activity. They are rescuing prisoners and hostages.
All of a sudden, a beam of light casts down at her. The peephole at her door has been slid open, and a pair of dark, stormy grey eyes pierces her fragile soul. They widen uncontrollably for a moment, as recognition flits across the eyes. She stares back, looking forlorn. They will probably never even bother to spare a thought about me, she thinks. I mean nothing; I am forgotten. I am dead to them.
However, she hears little electronic beeps, and miraculously, the metal door stirs to life and begins to slide open. The stale air immediately escapes the confined space. A man dressed in black towers over her. She curls up even more, and turns delusional. They're going to electrocute me again, I am going to die. She starts whimpering and tears stream down her gaunt face, and her lips part to release a strangled cry.
"Please don't touch me, please don't torture me! I have nothing to tell you, nothing!" Her voice is raw and hoarse.
Her visions blurs as she struggles against the strong arms that envelope her weak body, and fights him in vain. Her cries turn into raw, haunted screams, and her mind cannot bear it any longer. The world fades to black.
Her eyes snap open and she pants a little. She realizes that there is a tall figure lying beside her, and he is staring at her intently with worried eyes.
"Are you alright, Madge?" Gale questions.
She nods a little, and wraps herself around his muscular body. He in turn envelops her warmly, and she takes in the scent of his shirt. It is comforting.
"I was thinking about my days in the Capitol." She whispers.
His eyebrows crease, and his mouth sets into a frown. He gently kisses her pale forehead, and hugs her tightly. He murmurs sweet nothings to her, and comforts her.
"Nothing is going to happen to you anymore, Madge. You are safe now."
She nods slightly, and remembers that those words were exactly what he had said when he first took her in his arms. Her thin body shivering, mind close to unconsciousness; he tells her that she is now safe, and those grey eyes are strangely comforting. She will always remember how those eyes managed to bring her so much peace and reassurance, how they silently told her that she would be safe. You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.
She remembers how he brought her back into the world, loved her when no one was there for her. With all her friends and family dead, she believed that she should have died during the bombing. He was her rock, and in turn she gave him happiness that he could never have asked for when she responded, or found comfort when she played her piano pieces just for him. Without him, she was nothing.
Tears well up in her eyes, as she is overwhelmed with happiness. She kisses her husband passionately as she cries for her loss, the times they faced together, the victory of the rebellion. Gale simply holds his wife closely, and cherishes her as they lay in the meadow.
Such a fitting moment, when they are mixed with happiness and sadness at the same time, just as how the meadow is a place of beauty, and also of death.