Hey guys! I'm so sorry for my obscenely long absence but I'm back! AND I've made the decision to reboot the story. This will be different from the original but I hope you enjoy it all the same.


Ivy Rue

Ivy's POV

I wake with a start; my nightmare of slaughtered crows and crying children still fogs my vision. As my heart rate slows the screams die and the dream fades into merely a memory. I glance out my window. By the light outside I know it's early morning. I slide into the hunting gear my mother bought me for my birthday last year. The warm tan leather comforts me. I look in the mirror as I walk pass it. My face is hidden beneath a mob of long, dark, straight hair and a fringe that covers half my eyes. My dad always complains that I should get rid of it, but I never do, like my mother I'm not good with people and it's a good way to hide. But I'm going into the woods this morning so I pull it all back in a tight braid.

I sneak down the hallway, pausing only to peak into my parents room. I see my mother lying in my father's arms. I can't stop the smile spreading across my face. They rarely have a peaceful morning like this. I feel excitement spark within me. I race silently back my room and pull my back pack from under my bed. All my notes and supplies are hidden in there, far from my parents prying eyes. Before I leave the house I collect my mother's old plant book as well, even though I've practically memorized by now. It's still good to check I've collect the right plants. I also snatch up my bow; mum will become suspicious if I don't bring something back. I swallow the guilt rising in my throat. As I get closer to the woods I try to shake off the feeling, but the stone still rests heavily in my stomach.

I only get the chance to do this on mornings my mother doesn't make the daily trip to the woods with me. It's perfect timing as well; my supplies were running low. I make my way my usual spot in the woods and dump my things, save for my bow, near the base of a tree. I begin my process of gathering the different herbs and plants I've discovered to be useful over the years. Just as I reach for a patch of lemon thyme I hear a rustle behind me. I brush it off as just as animal, but I still slowly swing my bow off my shoulder and ready it. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I chant in my head as I prepare myself to shoot the innocent creature behind me.

I raise my bow about to make a kill, when a voice says behind me, "Well isn't it the little mockingjay,"

I pivot so fast my braid smacks me in the face. The boy in front of me lets out a hearty laugh as I clutch my eye. I raise my bow to his face before he can catch his breath. He only laughs harder. "Stop that!" I say, bewildered. Most people would sober up with the threat of an arrow in their face. He just flashes me a lopsided grin, baring a perfect white smile. I glare at him.

"I've seen you in biology sweetheart, you wouldn't let that arrow fly even if someone held a knife to your throat," he claims, leaning lazily against a tree.

I blush at his comment; But in a way he's right. I've hated killing animals since I shot my first squirrel. I wanted to save it so badly. My had to drag my eight year old body away from it, it's blood already drying on my hands from where I tried to stop the bleeding. I cried for hours. I swallow my unease at the memory. I lower my bow slowly, making sure to keep the loathing in my eyes speaking loud and clear. His ridiculous grin widens, "Didn't expect to catch you here on this fine Sunday morning."

"What are you doing here?" I snap.

"Taking a leisurely stroll," He exclaims, gesturing widely with his hands. He begins to take a step towards me and I grip the bow tightly. He raises an eyebrow but remains where he stands.

"I don't usually encounter people here. It's an odd spot to be 'taking a stroll in'," I state. The statement is true, where far from any of the tracks that were outlined a couple of year ago to make navigation for visitors easier.

The boy merely shrugs. He tries to take a step towards me again, but this time it's not my bow that stops him. He kicks my pack at his feet and the contents flies across the forest floor. My eyes widen in horror. I don't know what surprises me the most, the fact that he doesn't apologise and help to pick it up or that he reaches down and grabs the old book laying at his feet and a handful of rosemary. He smirks at the rosemary then begins to flip haphazardly through the book. "Be careful with that!" I nearly shout. He glances up, two bright blue irises shining mischievously. He glances back down at the book and the other plants and herbs strewn around him.

"You don't look like the kind of girl interested in the culinary arts, so why does a senior in high school need so many plants?" He asks, rooting me to the spot with those eyes. My eyes flick to the ground near where he stands. I do it in less than a second, but he's already followed my gaze. He crouches down and snatches up my journal. I remain frozen. When he flicks it open and pages threaten to fall out is when I finally catch my breath. My body reacts before I do. In a second I've lunched at him and my books. I underestimate him though. He lifts the books above his head teasingly. I have to regain my footing quickly before I end up sprawled in the dirt.

"Give that back!" I growl, glaring daggers at him. We're at a stalemate, him and I. I use the pause as a chance to take in his appearance. Tall, about 6'1, lean, a little muscular, tanned, dark rugged hair. He's devilishly handsome and it's clear he knows it from the way his eyes shine and his smirk grows cocky. Too bad I've never liked pretty boys. I can feel my face shift from anger to annoyance. My indifference to his appearance seems to catch him off guard, at least for a second.

"Give it back Beau," I growl again. I glance up and see the sun has risen higher in the lightening sky.

"So you do recognise me then?" he asks.

"Like you mentioned earlier, we have biology together, plus your all I've heard about for the past week, the new boy from District 2," I seethe.

"You have lovely eyes, "

This catches me off guard. What does that have to do with anything? I shake my head in frustration.

"Don't give me some bullshit about how my eyes speak to you, I heard you pull that line on Anna at lunch," I say, shoving him aside as I walk to my bag and to start placing my assortment of vials and bunches of plants inside. He remains where he is, the book still in his hand. As I throw my pack and bag across my shoulder, he holds out the books.

"So you have noticed me," he smirks. I snatch the books out of his grasp and shoot him what I hope is my deadliest glare; I may look like a kicked puppy for all I know.

I've only trekked a short distance away when he calls out,

"For the record sweetheart, your eyes don't speak, they shout."