I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I have the same olive skin and lustrous black hair as my mother. I have the same startling baby-blue eyes as my father, Peeta Mellark. I am the daughter of the once legendary Mockingbird, Katniss Everdeen. And I find what she says about her childhood hard to believe.
I don't mean to sound harsh. But if the Capitol and the bloodthirsty Hunger Games had once existed-keeping in mind that the Capitol had led other districts-, how could they have been brought down so simply by the rebels?
Sure, as my mum had told me innumerable times-in an exasperated tone-she and her crew of expertly-trained rebel soldiers had infiltrated the Capitol, brought down the leader to create chaos and claimed control of all the districts. Except for District Two.
The Capitol's defence strategies would have been top-notch, indecipherable, invincible. Besides, if it were that easy, wouldn't the Capitol have had been taken over much sooner?
I pull the thin, peach leather boots over my freezing feet. I take my bow and fill the empty cylindrical sling bag with my mother's hunting arrows. My parents and my brother, Brad Mellark Everdeen, aren't at home at the moment and I'd take this little chance to meet Danny.
Danny. The boy from District Two. The people in District Two, along with the Capitol people-my father calls them dogs-who the general civilians loath and shun, are kept in concentration camps and are merely slaves of the "justified" government now. They are named "Dangers" that the general civilians should not keep company with. The Justice Union is made up of mayors of all the Districts, from District One to Twelve, with the obvious exception of District Two.
No parents in their right mind would allow their children to play with the Dangers, since they were supporters of the supposedly cruel Capitol. My parents are completely agreeable with this for our safety. We aren't even allowed to interact with them. If we did, the Justice Union would warn us on the first offence and arrest us on the later ones. Even though we're just kids.
But I don't care because Danny is my best friend, no matter where he came from, what his ancestors or family did in the past. The Past is over. If we don't see that, we'll never be able to move on, develop, forgive or forget. But humans never learn, do they? I believe the Justice Union will eventually turn out just like the Capitol(if it even existed).
I sprint through the green fields, hearing the crunch of the crisp grass under my boots, taking in the minty scent of the freshly-shaved grasses, feeling the muscles in the calves of my legs begin to warm up, which tense quickly due to the recent lack of physical training.
I stop only at the solemn, gray stone wall which separates the Dangers from the regular population. It spans the entire village, an everlasting vine that prevents the same race-the human race-of both sides from ever congregating.
So eager am I to meet Danny that I leap deftly onto the flat surface of the wall, using my hands as pivot.
I'm through.
My poor fingers scrape against the rough stone wall as I fall to the hard cement ground. And I hear a muffled but surely annoyed yelp below me.
I grab whatever it is below me and realise that I'm pulling a tuft of hair. Then I realised that I'm sitting on someone. I step back, apologetic and a little worried for the person under me. With the impact of me falling from such a height, he's sure to get a concussion. I pull him up from his position.
Unkempt curly mocha-brown hair, grimy face and hands, jaguar black eyes. My face relaxes and my lips lift up in a small smile.
"Hi, Danny. I didn't know you would be here. Are you okay?" I ask in concern. He grunts an unconvincing yes and massages his back exaggeratedly. His comical action unleashes my laughing dam and I laugh freely. The way that only he can coax out of me.
We stroll to the lake and sit by the banks, dipping our legs in the cool, swirly waters. It makes a nice contrast to the warm, humid weather today. We watch tadpoles flipping around frequently, hear the larks and mockingbirds exchange chirpy greetings and the sloshing sound of the waterfall nearby as it crashes relentlessly onto the rocks below.
It is just a day like any other. We spend the rest of the day canoeing-our favourite sport-, hunting animals, him using the slingshot and me using the bow and arrows, making snares, barbecuing and eating the preys.
I'm proud to say that my hunting skills are much better than Danny's since I caught more animals my way. I dedicate my skills to my parents as my mother taught me how to hunt with a bow and arrows and making snares, while my father teaches my camouflage techniques.
Apparently, using the slingshot is a much better choice on the smaller animals or those with a better sense of hearing. A much smaller and lighter pebble (than the arrow) can be used with a slingshot to hit the animal with higher accuracy, speed and less noise, with the exception of strength or range; a bow with numerous arrows would better on larger animals, killing them instantly, with the advantage of larger distance it can travel and with more strength but with the disadvantage of having the to account for the arrows after hunting.
Snares work well on the impossibly fast, no matter land or marine animals. Camouflaging complements both types of hunting, be it with a bow or slingshot, blending with nature allows you to observe animals at a closer distance and take aim or set snares without them noticing or fleeing.
It is pretty late in the afternoon now. The Sun's rays face a completely different side of my face. It reminds me of a glowing half-eaten york, half-hidden behind the grassland. If I don't return soon, my family will guess that I'm here again and come looking for me, realising that I'm with "Dangerous" Danny, though he's not at all dangerous.
We clear the bones and the entrails of the grilled feast, trashing all evidence that we've been here.
As I turn to leave, Danny takes my hand and calls me back. His expression more serious than I've ever seen on him. He says, "take care," in a low voice. I realise that it's the first time he has ever held my hand. Not that I think about him that way. Instead, the way his hands had desperately grasped my own had seemed like he was saying a farewell. He slinked back into the shadows and sprinted into the darkness.