Under the Northern Lights

A rosy hue tinged her cheeks and nose as she stepped onto the porch and buttoned the collar of her torn coat. It was evening and the navy sky was quickly blackening. Already, Pandora could see the stars starting to glimmer.

Her boots sank into the heavy snow with a crunch as she leapt off the wooden steps and quickened her pace towards center of town. She could feel the thick fabric of her scarf caressed her chin and neck as she navigated through the corridors of brick and snow. In a matter of seconds she had reached the main road, the only true road of District 7. Along the way, thousands of candles were lit, melting the snow around them. Trails of footprints and sleds lined the wide path. All tracks were heading in one direction.

Her hands rubbed together as her eyes followed the stretch of snow to the knolls skirting District 7. She was about a mile away but from where she stood she could see the string of lantern lights illuminating the festival. Her gaze lifted further as she noticed the movement in the sky. The sun had set completely, finally the navy had transformed into a blanket of black, but there was something else. Dancing across the skies, surrounded by stars, was the Northern Lights.

A whisper of a smile read on her lips. Gently, she titled her head up in admiration. Waves of green, blue, and yellow swirled overhead with vivacity, it was as if someone's hand was moving the Lights like ribbons of silk.

The Northern Lights Festival. It was always held in the winter months. Sometimes they never saw the Northern Lights and other times it would unexpectedly appear, but its absence or presence didn't seem to affect the festival. Every year it was held.

The closer she traveled towards the festival, the louder the music became. Folk songs and the serenade of violins were echoing throughout the valley. It was the one time of year that poverty was forgotten. In celebration, citizens would dust off their old musical instruments and dancing shoes to frolic in the snowy meadows. Pandora looked forward to it every year, but not this year.

Her feet struggled through the snow. She was beginning to make the hike up the valley. Snow was just starting to fall. It wasn't like the snow in the arena, unnatural and biting, this snow was nostalgic and festive. Her fingers stretched out to catch a few flakes before she let out a sigh and shivered.

The scent of burning cinnamon fronds tickled her nose as she reached the top of the knolls. More than anything she wanted to bolt into a run like she used to. She wanted to feel free.

Instead Pandora lingered at the edge of the festival. It was nothing fancy, of course the people of District 7 couldn't afford it, but the Mayor had put his best foot forward. Heavy tables made of pine grew from the snowy ground, lit up by candles burning with cinnamon fronds. Strings of lanterns dangled from tree limbs above. Farther out, past the tables was a frozen pond. Children were sliding on it and throwing snowballs. There was no great feast or drink, but the air was filled with song and dance.

"You're late!"

Her head turned to the side in surprise.

"Dash—you scared me."

He shook a few flakes of snow out of his hair and grinned, "Let's sled."

Her body cringed as he grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the festivities. "Woah, slow down!"

He was leading her to a large group of people, panic started to fill her eyes. This was why she didn't want to come: the crowd, the sight of smiles strained by caution.

"Dash—stop—"

Obstinately he dragged her a few more steps. "C'mon, Pandora!"

Her lungs filled with the icy air of apprehension as her little brother pushed her towards the group. She nearly slipped as he let go of her arm, but a hand reached out and steadied Pandora. When she lifted her eyes to August she nodded at him. A smile replied her nod.

"You came."

Pandora attempted a smile but it came off as a grimace, "I hope there's still tea left."

"More than enough."

Suddenly the talking and laughter stopped. Her eyes scanned the faces of old classmates and friends she once had relationships with. Now she barely spoke to them. They looked bewildered, even scared.

"H—hello," she stammered, straightening her coat out.

They shifted away uncomfortably. She might as well be a leper. First her eyes moved to Gunner, a boy she had sat next to every day in class. Then she peered at Slate, once upon a time they used to be friends, but Pandora had severed those ties when she returned from the Capitol. As she looked at him, she noticed he was literally inching away from her. Finally her gaze shifted to the last person in the group: Lena Whitacre. Pandora had to stop herself from running that very moment. The girl that Marius had loved, the one that was only briefly mentioned right before she plunged a knife into his heart.

Her fingers rigidly curled. Shame crept into her cheeks.

"We were just going to go sledding…" Dash continued, excitedly peering around the group.

Silence replied to the carefree statement, silence that caused Pandora to drop her eyes.

Although she could feel August close by, it wasn't enough. She knew what each of them was thinking because she was thinking the exact same thing. Pandora Sullivan the Victor of the 68th Hunger Games and the murderer of Marius Bishop.

There was no glory for the Victor of the outlying Districts, only dishonor and stigma. Children you once played with turned to acquaintances, smiles turned to stiff lips of tension.

"I—" she felt sick, suddenly the smell of snow and laughter was too much, "—I think I'll just go."

She had only walked a few steps before she heard someone running after her.

"Hold on!"

It wasn't August or Dash.

Pandora glanced over her shoulder in shock. Lena Whitacre was running after her.

Lena's blonde hair blew in the wind as she caught up to Pandora and laughed, "You know, I didn't really feel like sledding either."

Pandora's brown eyes widened in disbelief, standing in front of her was a girl who had every right to hate her. She was smiling. A smile that wasn't afraid or bitter, but natural. Outside of her family, Pandora hadn't seen a smile like that since before the Games.

"Lena—you don't have to."

"Don't be silly. I want to."

Lena's hands reached out. Pandora quickly moved away and shook her head. "Really, you don't have to, if you don't want to...I don't mind being alone."

Lena Whitacre was known throughout District 7 as being exceptionally pretty. She had long blonde hair and blue almond-shaped eyes. It didn't surprise Pandora when Marius said he loved Lena because, truthfully, she was sure that most of the boys in District 7 did.

"I want to," Lena laughed back, "Let's get some tea!"

Before Pandora realized what was happening Lena had disappeared into the crowd and returned with two steaming cups of tea. She handed one of the cups to Pandora with a smile while holding the other mug close to her lips.

"I didn't think we'd see the Northern Lights this year."

Pandora silently raised her eyes. The green waves were still dancing.

"It's colder this year. Not that anyone cares…your brothers seem to be having fun."

In the distance August, Dash and the rest of the group were taking turns on the sled and laughing. It made Pandora feel empty inside.

"You're quiet, you haven't said a word…I hope your feelings weren't hurt back there."

"No. I mean—it's fine. I'm fine," It was hard for her to look at Lena.

"They just don't know how to act around you is all."

Wisps of Pandora's dark hair blew around her face as she dropped her eyes and took a sip of tea, "It's alright. I don't even know how to act around me."

It didn't occur to Pandora that what she said could be taken as a joke until she heard Lena laughing. In surprise she moved the cup away from her mouth and furrowed her brow. Inside confusion was starting to boil over. Why was she being so decent to her? Did she honestly have no contempt for what Pandora had done? Deliberately, Pandora's eyes narrowed, she tried to stop herself but couldn't:

"Why are you doing this?"

Lena's laugh instantly stopped. "What do you mean?"

"I killed him."

She studied Lena's face as shock overtook it. A year of solitude and nightmares had made Pandora's speech blunt and severe.

"I killed Marius, and you're treating me like you don't know."

It was hard for Pandora to hold back the tears, but she was becoming rather good at cloaking her emotions. Her jaw clenched as she shook her head and shrugged.

"So why?"

The wind whistled over the snowy knolls.

For a moment Lena looked away and wiggled underneath her coat.

"It wasn't your fault," she finally replied.

This was something Pandora was sick of. She was sick of hearing people say it wasn't her fault that she killed other human beings. It was her fault. She had a choice and she chose to kill them, including Marius. Her lips tightened in aggravation. The girl in front of her was sweet and ignorant. It should have made Pandora thankful that there was still innocence in the world, but it didn't. Watching Lena's kindness in action only made Pandora angrier.

"Of course it's my fault."

"You helped Marius, you did it so he wouldn't suffer. How can I hate you for helping him?"

"I did it because I was selfish. I was a coward, that's why it happened," the words hissed past Pandora's teeth like shards of glass.

The cup in Lena's hands was trembling. "I don't believe that."

"Then you're a fool, just like the anyone else who thinks I didn't want to win the Games. I would have killed him eventually. It was only a matter of time."

As soon as she said it, Pandora knew how deep the words cut. Of course she hadn't meant it, but it needed to be said.

Tears welled up in Lena's blue eyes, "That's not funny, if you're trying to be funny—"

"I'm not trying to be anything. Don't be dim, it's unbecoming."

She could hear Lena gasp. Pandora didn't want to think about how the girl beside her was feeling, she just wanted to be left alone.

Only a brief moment past before she heard the Lena's footsteps saunter away into the night. Pandora wanted to run after her and shake her, tell her that it was better this way, that she was no good as a friend, but all she did was stand there.

The next sip of tea that touched the tip of her tongue tasted like acrid waste.

It was better this way, she thought. Solitude was the only option, if she had to ruin every friendship she once had, she would. She would do it all to make sure that no one else would be hurt in the terrible games she had sold herself into.

"Pandora…"

August was walking towards her, snow was caked to parts of his coat. Awkwardly she crossed her arms and rubbed her lips, still trying to recover from her own gruesome words.

"What was that about?"

She peered around the festival, trying to hide her true feelings. "Hm?"

"Why did Lena storm off like that?"

"Mind your own business, August."

Suddenly his eyes narrowed in realization, "What is the matter with you!? Why do you want them to hate you!?"

He tried to grab her arm but she took a step back.

"Because they should," He could see the familiar look of guilt cover her face. The crescendo of song echoed throughout the festival, but August didn't look away.

"You want to be a monster, is that it!?"

She gritted her teeth. "I already am—" heavy breaths filled her lungs, "—you want to know how I feel? Is that what you want?"

"Of course."

"And you'll still love me? You'll still look at me the same way?!"

"I will always love you."

Acid filled her mouth and eyes. "Every night I hear the screams of people dying. I see blood and death and hate all around me. Those are my dreams—and you know what's even worse?!"

His lips were speechlessly parted.

"When I wake up from those dreams I almost wish—for just one second, I wish I had never woke up."

"You don't mean that."

A dark laugh bellowed from her. "If only you knew how much I did."

He turned his face away and rubbed the sides of his head. "You don't know what you're saying. You're just tired. It was too much for you today. I shouldn't have made you come."

She swatted his hand away when he tried to reach for her shoulder.

"You really don't get it do you?! When I try to be who I was it doesn't fit. I'm not the same. Nothing is the same! It will never be like the way it was!"

"But—"

"You want so badly for me to smile and laugh, to live my life. I have done what I did to save you, to save our family—" she had to catch herself, she was losing it, "—and tomorrow when that train comes for me it will all start over."

Tears had started to form in the corners of her eyes.

He shook his head, "It may feel dark now, for a very long time from now even. But I promise you, sister, it will get better."

Her smile was so hollow she could feel it in every bone of her body, "It's just beginning, August."

An eruption of laughter pierced through the cold, followed shortly by applause. Near the frozen pond, Raff Wellwood had managed to tie a bundle of cinnamon fronds to the tail of the Mayor's coat without him noticing. Everyone, even the Mayor was laughing, sending puffs of breath into the frigid air.

Pandora gnawed at her bottom lip in irritation as she peered across the way. She was just about to continue when someone caught her eyes through the falling snow and lantern lights. It was a face she had long forgotten, though occasionally he appeared in her dreams.

Lux Halstead was hunched near the vendor. His bulging yellow eyes blazed as he carelessly slurped something from a mug. Even though they both lived in the Victor's Village she hadn't seen him since her return to District 7. He didn't look so well, by the condition of his scrawny limbs and sallow skin she could tell he was sucking morphine into his body like water still.

A moment of relief settled inside Pandora when she noticed that he hadn't seen her, but then he looked up. The recognition was instant. His body leaned forward groggily. His eyes squinted.

Suddenly the laughter turned into mocking caws. Menacing taunts that clawed at her brain. Her gloved hand dropped her teacup and her feet slid backwards. August let out a groan as he caught the cup and hot water spilt all over his hands.

"I need to—to go—" She breathlessly whispered.

Images started to flicker in her head like a broken projector. Memories of the arena.

"We're not done talking, Pandora," her brother harshly said.

Her head slowly shook from side to side. She tried to walk away but he jumped in front of her.

"You have to try, at least."

"Stop saying that!" she angrily growled, cupping her hands over her ears as another bout of laughter broke out. "Get out of my way."

"No."

"Well if it isn't the Sullivan's…" The Mayor was heading their way.

Her eyes twitched to his candle lit shadow. No doubt he was going to break into one of his long winded speeches of how proud he was that Pandora had won the Games, then he'd probably mention the Victory Tour. Her throat felt like sandpaper, it was bad enough that the tour was starting tomorrow, she didn't need anyone reminding her. There was no more time to waste. With callousness she stumbled away, knocking into August as she did so.

"Wait!" August called after her, but Pandora didn't stop.

Her foggy breath puffed into the air as she blundered through the snow.

"Where is she going in such a hurry?" She heard the Mayor ask August.

"She's just—she's not feeling well."

Her cold lips scrunched as she reached the shadows and rubbed her face. The forest was only a few paces away. It was her only option. If she went home now it would only be a matter of time before they would find her. In the woods she could hide.

Her jaw clenched as she broke into a sprint. Running through the snow was difficult but nothing that she hadn't experienced before. Her gloved hands clawed at the bark of a tree just as she reached the edge. Underneath the canopy it was much darker. Occasionally roots and rocks disjointed her footsteps. Her feet struggled to find balance but she continued to climb and claw.

It wasn't until the music of the festival was a barely a whisper that she slowed down. In exhaustion her body collapsed onto the rocky ground. Her back pressed against the trunk of the tree. The memories were still burning, shortening her breath and hollowing out her soul.

When she finally managed to catch her breath, her eyes peered down hill. The lantern lights were dots in between an array of ghostly trees, lanterns that flickered like fireflies.

Through a rift in the tree canopy the Northern Lights peacefully glided around the night sky.

She clasped her hand to her chest and shook her head.

"Stupid girl," she said to herself, "You almost lost it. You can't lose it."

It sounded like she was having an asthma attack. Her breath wheezed so sharply that she could have sworn she heard an echo of it somewhere off in the woods.

Paranoia crept around her. She jerked her head from left to right. It felt like someone was out there watching. This wasn't the first time the prickling happened at the back of her neck, the eerie prickling of eyes on her. Over the past year there were times when she was sure that she was being monitored.

The mellowed song of snow falling surrounded her.

Even after she leaned back against the tree and peer up at the sky she felt the prickle.

A slight glimmer of green fell across her face from the Northern Lights, but the rest was covered in darkness.

Her head tilted against the cold tree, "Will we meet through the pine?"

Her melodic words disappeared with the wind.

Coldness filled her, blanketed her. It was comforting and familiar. Just before her eyes started to close, she could have sworn the winter breeze was echoing her words.

It was just her imagination, it had to be.

Through the pine…pine…pine.

Deep sleep parted her lips. Mockingjays were in the trees, but everything was becoming foggy. With one final gasp of consciousness she twitched her eyes to the treetops. Sly light revealed their black and white feather.

Once upon a time she had laughed and smiled, but that was the past.

Through the pine.

The mockingjays continued to mimic her song as a single tear fell down face and caressed her lips. The salt stung her tongue. Snowflakes melted on her pink cheeks. She should have tried to feel alive again, but it was too hard. Her eyes had seen Death's cold face, her heart had felt its sharp grasp. There was no way of going back from that cruelty and shame.

In inevitability she curled to her side, ignoring the frost. The mockingjays' calls cooed her sleep, their eerie songs spurring her nightmares and torment.