When my mother talks about the "Dark Days", I know she's not referring to the ones a hundred plus years ago. The decade before I was conceived there was another uprising, one that started with a handful of berries. Everyone speaks of this rebellion as the most courageously stupid thing two kids could do. I've never seen a Hunger Games recap, nor do I care to. It sounds utterly barbaric and when we learn about ancient Rome, they tell of coliseums full of people watching men take on giant animals for the amusement of the crowd. The two are about the same in my eyes. The Dark Days my mother speaks of sound horrific and while her and my father like to say it's all in the past, my brother, Cinnick, and I know differently. There are still occasions when our parents wake up screaming. When I was little it scared me half to death. My mom flinches when she sees an ordinary rose. Father nearly hyperventilates when he sees bees or hornets. Cinn and I know nothing of the stories behind these fears, but we know it has to do with the Dark Days.
These thoughts clear my mind as a branch snaps in half, the noise unbeknownst to the other children in the yard surrounding our school, but with the hunting instincts my mother passed on to me, I'm always acutely aware of my surroundings. Smiling up at the dark-haired, gray eyed boy taking my sunlight away, I raise my hand to allow him to help me to my feet. It's been the talk of the town since we turned thirteen that we were going to fall in love. Growing up as the closest of friends, thickest of thieves, it was no wonder people assumed a boy and a girl could only be friends for a matter of time. Teen years, hormones blossoming, it was just a matter of time before they were caught kissing in the woods on their hunting expeditions. Those were the thoughts of the towns people, anyway, not of Katniss Everdeen-Mellark's daughter.
The skinny but muscular girl was too much like her mother to care about kissing boys and dressing in flashy dresses. The shoulder length brown hair she refused to cut was as close to feminine as she got. At the age of 7 her mother took her out into the woods to learn how to use a bow and arrow, and her fate was sealed. Dolls and tea parties were of no interest to the child, just as gossiping and shopping were of no desire to her mother. There were quietly heated arguments between her mother and father, the ones she and Cinnick weren't supposed to hear but always did. Their father would always accuse their mother of being too strong with Prue and too gentle with Cinnick. Mother would accuse father of being too careful with their daughter and expect too much backbone from their son. It was their worst insecurities surfacing and reflecting directly on their parenting. Regardless of how they tried to guide us, Cinnick and I were going to be our own people. It just so happened that we were very similar to our respective parents, through no fault of their own. My brother, a strong but silent, beautiful boy who couldn't help but befriend everyone. Myself, stern and strong, quiet but strong in my convictions.
Playfully shoving her friend, Prue grinned as she saw the handful of cackling girls nearby gasping in – what? Shock? Awe? Jealousy? It was no surprise that the nephew of Gale Hawthorne and the daughter of Katniss Everdeen-Mellark would naturally gravitate towards each other. It was equally no surprise that they would have the strange relationship Gale and Katniss had growing up. Everyone wondered if they were dating, or if once their parents allowed it if they would allow themselves to take the road Katniss never took with Gale. It was Rory that came back to District 12 hoping Gale would follow. He'd always wanted his brother to end up with the girl on fire. He'd settled down in the growing district hoping that when his brother's work was done in District 2 that he would somehow feel the pull to come back to the land he grew up on. There was no such luck. Gale Hawthorne visited periodically, taking a short bit of time to break from his leadership job in the capitol to see his growing family. Hazelle, Vick and Pozy had all come back to District 12 as well, seeing no fit for them in a city outside of the capitol. Pozy tended to visit her brother frequently after graduating however, finding the colors and sparkly appeal of fashion in the big city to draw her in.
As Prue and Deen Hawthorne walked away from the school grounds, she found herself amused at the group of girls they passed, their faces contorted in confusion and disgust. They were the type of girls that spent hours getting ready in the morning, took great pride in how their hair was fashioned, and would just die if their clothes were soiled. Prue, however, was more like the typical boy, rolling out of bed at the last minute, grabbing whatever was closest to her and looked decent enough before grabbing whatever her mother or father had on the table and running out the door. Her long hair was always either braided down her back, or in a high ponytail on her head, finding no need to spend precious time pinning or curling it when she could be tucked nice and warm in her sheets for a few more minutes. Deen was naturally handsome no matter what he wore, but the girls found his rugged looking pants with his warm flannel button up to be just dreamy when his only concern was it's practicality. He enjoyed being warm, it was as simple as that. As the two walked back towards Victor's Village, Pru couldn't help but wonder why she inherited her mother's love for hunting, hatred for fashion, and indifference to relationships. It didn't bother Prue that she never had a boyfriend, nor did she care that her clothes were never the type to be worn in the capitol. She took great pride in being able to climb trees and know what berries she could and couldn't eat, but some days when her friends at school were giggling about boys or gushing over a new bag, Prue felt like an outsider, like some freak that had grown a second head because she had never owned anything velvet. Turning to look at Deen's strong profile, she wondered why she didn't have an angry swarm of tracker jackers in her stomach when ever other girl gushed at the sight of this. She wondered, did Deen think she was as strange as she felt she was?
"Wait up!" Shaking herself out of her self-reflection as Cinnick's voice rang out from behind her, Prue smiled sweetly at the blonde haired boy running to catch up with them. Now that was one child that would never be considered a freak. His bubbly personality coupled with his stunning good looks made him a favorite of everyone. He was incredibly smart, talented in more things than he could hope to master, and genuinely humble to boot. If Prue hadn't loved him with every fiber of her being, she might very well kill him.
"What was taking you so long, lover boy? Little Rose Parker didn't try and drag you behind the shed to kiss you again, did she?" Winking at Cinnick when he caught up, Deen wrapped his arm around the other boy's shoulder as we continued on.
Warm sweet rolls and hot chocolate always awaited us in the winter, making it one of my favorite seasons. Hunting was more difficult in the cold, the snow covering everything made us louder, and trees were harder to climb. The hot cocoa made it all worth it, though. Tossing my jacket and shoes to the side as the boys and I tumbled over each other to see who could get undressed and into the kitchen quickest, Deen unintentionally knocked me forward as I froze momentarily. Something was different in the house. It looked just the same as any other day, but it was somehow off. Hearing a laugh in the kitchen that I hadn't heard before, I pushed myself off the ground, shoving Deen away as I stood up without his assistance. The high-pitched, almost crazy laugh was coming from my kitchen, and was immediately followed by another, deeper one. Seeing Deen and Cinnick pause in the doorway only solidified my fears. Intruders. Running to them and shoving them both aside to make my way through, my hostile, ready-to-pounce expression turned to one of confusion immediately. A beautiful, skinny, dark haired woman sat at the table beside my mother with a man 10 years or so older than myself. Looking over to see dad cleaning a tray at the sink, I could tell these were no strangers by the warm smile he couldn't remove from his face.
"Children, I want you to meet our old friend Annie, and her son Finnick."
My blood ran cold immediately. I'd never watched a Hunger Games, the information we were given in school about them was never much, but the rebellion was an important part of our schooling, and there was one name that was always brought up. Finnick Odair. Not to mention the mixture of his name with our parent's friend Cinna, that's where my brother's name had come from. Studying the pair for a moment, I figured I couldn't stand in the doorway forever. Offering my hand to Mrs. Odair, I nodded my hello before passing the table and grabbing two still warm buns off the stove and my mug of hot chocolate. Planting a quick kiss on my father's cheek, I left just as quickly as I'd entered, walking quickly but carefully up the stairs to avoid spilling the cocoa.
Crashing on my bed as my brain continued to race, I couldn't help but wonder what the two of the most known District 4 residents were doing in my home. Still sipping my warm chocolate drink as the bedroom door opened, my eyebrows quickly knotted with confusion as my mother entered.
"Prue Johanna Mellark, you get your little butt downstairs in the next five seconds or I will beat it raw so help me.."
Glaring at a snickering Deen behind her, I held back my own laughter as he immediately stopped once my mother's hand swatted his stomach. Letting go of quiet giggles as his expression turned stern, he couldn't help but swat my head in retaliation. Deen was practically family, so such exchanges were never weird for us. His uncle Gale and my mother were always very close, which meant she was always around his father, Rory, in their youth. When the Hawthornes' returned to District 12, our family and theirs were just as close as before, if not closer.
Shoving the last of the roll I had in hand into my mouth, my puffy cheeks about to burst, I followed Deen into the living room where everyone had gathered. My mother, father, Mrs. Odair on the couch; Deen ran to sit next to Cinnick before I could grab it, leaving the other love seat the only place left to sit. Unable to offer a smile as I continued to chew my roll, I shifted uncomfortably next to Finnick. It was eerie how much he looked like his father. History books and pictures my mother had kept the first Finnick Odair's face fresh in my mind, but this was just plain creepy. Unable to help myself, I continued staring at his profile. He might be 27 (based on some quick calculations acquired by my history books noting his dad's death) but he looked barely old enough to drink legally. Deen was handsome, without a doubt, and there were men all throughout District 12 that women found stunning, but this man made our men look pathetic. His chiseled jaw and broad shoulders were enough to drool over but the lower you went the better it got. All the districts were about equal in their wealth but the closer you got to the Capitol, the fancier things seemed. Finnick's suit was properly tailored to flatter his muscular frame and his tie appeared to be the exact shade of green his eyes were. To say this bronze tinted man was breath-taking would be the understatement of the decade. Flinching as his head snapped to look at me, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raising with amusement as his full lips tugged into a smirk.
The tracker jackers had finally arrived.
Abruptly raising my hand to cover my stuffed mouth, I couldn't manage to chew fast enough to free my mouth as to speak. Stealing a look to the rest of the room, I found all eyes were on me. Perhaps it was Finnick they were staring at. Yes, that seemed much more plausible. Clearing my throat once I'd finished swallowing, I had found my voice, only it seemed far too high and cheery to belong to me.
"So... Finnick. What are you and your mother doing in our lovely district?"
"Finn, please..." His voice smooth like honey and his smirk remained. It should make me feel uneasy since it was one of those dirty ones dad gives mom before they run to their room and lock the door. His didn't make me feel nauseous, though. "I've come to take a look at your lovely district and my mother missed your parents so she joined me."
It felt like his words were mocking me but his eyes seemed honest. I fought the urge to stare as my mother jumped in to explain how Finn had just graduated college and was looking to take on an open position with our district. Mayor Firebridge was retiring this year, but surely Finnick was too young to...
"I don't have much experience, but I think I could do well here. Politics has always been a passion of mine."
The odds did not seem to be in this girl's favor. Looking at Deen as he stood, I automatically joined him, finding old habits die hard.
"I should be getting home.." His voice was his normal strong tone but it was like someone had sucked all the joy out of it. Nodding as I moved to grab my coat, he knew better than to protest.
"Oh Prue, we have guests, don't go.." My mother's voice sounded almost as foreign as her formality. Giving her an obscure expression, I smiled forced at Annie as she stood and motioned for Finnick to do the same.
"No, no, it's fine. We need to be going anyway. We need to settle into our room at the inn and have dinner. I'll see you lovebirds later." Quickly kissing my parents cheeks, I shook her and Finnick's hands before rushing out behind Deen.
"Can you believe that guy?!" Deen shouted once we were out of ear shot. I knew he wasn't a big fan of government (family tradition and all) but his uncle practically lived in the Capitol. "Coming in like he owns the place with his fancy clothes and cocky grin. I can't believe that jackass is going to be running this place. Probably into the ground!"
Grinning as we walked, I couldn't help but find his anger amusing. Finding myself laughing at the end of his rant, Deen stopped walking to abruptly grab me, trapping my arms by my side as he pulled my body against his - my nose inches away from his throat. I could feel his breathing falter before hearing it. Looking up, my friend's normally bright eyes looked hazy with dark intentions. Half expecting him to kiss me, half expecting a smack somewhere, he seemed as surprised as me while his arms jerked, shoving me into a pile of snow behind me.
"EVERDEEN CARTWRIGHT HAWTHORNE! IM GOING TO KILL YOU!"