Rue could always fly.
She could have fled with a flick of her wings. She could have soared into the trees and hid in them, her dark arms and golden eyes blending in the foliage. District 11 could have been a faint memory.
She could have flown but she didn't.
Instead she chose to stay with her family, her gentle mother, strong father and flock of siblings. She chose to work high in the trees, picking fruit which would be sent to what had caused her family's suffering: the Captiol.
She could have flown far, far away when the day of her reaping neared. Instead, she stayed; wearing a beautiful olive-green dress and soft green clips in her glossy hair. She had waited with her best friend – Robin – for the reaping to begin.
The stout Captiol man called out her name.
Instead of flying away from danger the little bird had fluttered bravely up to the stand. The black-haired woman with golden eyes that resembled a puppy's before being put to sleep stared at her sadly.
She was the first twelve-year-old tribute in four years.
She learned that the woman's name was Seeder, her mentor. The other mentor – Chaff – had lanky black hair and brown eyes. He drank too much.
Her fellow tribute was a strong, quiet boy named Thresh.
She was surrounded by other birds of different species. They had oddly coloured skin, unnatural shades of hair and had a odd chirp. A flock of Captiol birds had toyed with her, making her beautiful.
Her long black hair had been waved. Her dark skin glowed in the golden gossamer gown she wore. She wasn't the little bird she always had been, she reflected as she gazed at her reflection.
Then she had been forced out to pretend to be something she wasn't.
The next day she was forced to be in the Hunger Games.
The little bird had flown into a nightmare. She had escaped alive with both wings intact. She had managed to grab an alliance with the girl on fire.
Everything had to be fine.
The thought repeated itself in her mind as she followed the girl on fire's plan. She was trapped but she would be fine. She sang the three-note melody she had composed. It was their signal. She had to respond.
She repeated it but no one came.
Until the district one boy emerged from the bushes. His dark blue eyes darkened with glee. He readied his spear at her stomach.
As the spear lunged towards her abodemen she realized that when she needed her wings that most they had failed her.