I apologize for my interpretation of District 4, but I've never been to a Southern coast (in North America). Just because this is a new chapter doesn't mean that I think that The Hunger Games is now mine. The same disclaimer applies.
"Is this heaven?" I thought groggily as the strong scent of fish wafted through the open door on the breeze. I carefully pried my eyes open to view my surroundings. I was lying in a small wooden box lined with a soft cotton shirt. I untangled myself and stretched my legs before climbing out.
The room I was in was small and dark. Piles of rope lay everywhere, and I saw barrels of all shapes and sizes. I was drawn particularly to an oddly shaped contraption. It was made out of wood and wire. Curious, I put my paw through the opening.
The next moment I realized my mistake. My foot slipped through the holes in the netting, and I was thoroughly and hopelessly stuck. My instincts warned me not to struggle and entangle myself even more. I'm not proud of my moment of weakness, but I knew that I needed help and cried out loudly and pitifully.
It was only a matter of minutes before two young children appeared in open doorway. I let out another wail to make them aware of my plight.
"You're right, Nat," the little girl exclaimed. She rushed over to me, pulling the boy along by the hand. "The kitten got himself stuck in the lobster trap! Silly thing." She gently loosened my legs from the netting and pulled me out.
They leaned in, and I stared into their eyes. They both had green eyes. But something was different between them. The girl's were bright and clear, exact replicas of the man who picked me up yesterday. The boy's eyes, on the other hand, were pale and cloudy.
"Here," the girl spoke to the boy, "Feel how soft he is." She placed me gently into his cupped hands. A smile spread across his face.
"He's beautiful."
I was in heaven, I finally decided. But I was also very much alive. Nat and Alee quickly became my best friends. They never did anything without me. We explored the docks, hopping from boat to boat. We ran down along the beach. Alee would collect driftwood or dig for clams. Nat dug his feet into the warm sand and would untangle and repair broken nets. We often played tug-of-war with a short piece of worn rope.
When the children took me to town, I discovered that they also have Peace-minions. These ones, however, were not so easily deterred by my threats. So, I picked up a new hobby, courtesy of the local dogs. Not that I hang out with dogs. I think that they're idiots. But I got a lot of joy out of relieving myself on the shoes of those Peace-minions. Alee always made sure to act horrified and scold me after every 'incident,' but once we were out of sight, they would laugh uncontrollably.
Every once in a while, Latham, their father, would take us out on his boat. Those were my favorite days. I could sit on the deck for hours watching the water sloshing against the sides of the boat and the sun glistening across the water, making it sparkle like the diamond necklaces I had seen at the jewelers' back in District 1.
We watched each day end together, as the clouds turned pink and purple, slowly spreading color across the sky until it was ablaze in various shades of red or orange. I never tired of it. Every evening the sky became the canvas for a new and original painting.
But life was not all sunsets and fish heads. Worry lined Latham's face and slowed his gait. Every night when he came home from the sea, he held his children a little bit longer, as if afraid that they might disappear from his grasp.
One day, things changed. The sun went down, and Latham did not return home. Nat and Alee did not go out that day. They sat together on the bed, holding each other, tears streaming down their faces. A neighbor lady came over to check on them and fixed them some food. I worried about them. They didn't touch any of the food for two whole days.
Eventually, the tears dried up, and they managed to eat again.
The next day, Latham came home.
He apologized for leaving them, and they quickly forgave him. I refused to forgive him. But then, he never asked me to.
A few days later, someone knocked on the door. I was surprised. No one ever came to visit. The women had stopped bringing meals over, since Latham returned. He opened the door to find a man standing there.
Without warning, his fist met the stranger's face with a sickening crunch. I was startled. I had never seen him lash out in anger before, and the man hadn't even said anything to incite it.
The stranger stood there unmoving, completely unfazed by the attack and the blood now trickling from the gash on his temple. I stared curiously at the man. The expression on his face spoke volumes of unspoken sorrow as the sun glinted off of his bronze hair.
Latham broke down, his body wracked with silent sobs. "Quay," he choked out. The stranger grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Latham," he spoke softly and earnestly. "Quay was a good man." I really had to strain to hear his next words. "Now what are you going to do about it?"
From that point, Latham had a new life about him. He did everything he did before, but with an air of determination about him. He still didn't smile or laugh, but he did everything he could to make Nat and Alee happy.
He took longer fishing trips than before, and whenever he knew that he wouldn't be back by evening, he brought us along. Sometimes we were out on the boat for days. We met up with other fishing boats and took stops at villages along the coast. I loved every minute of it.
The storm came without warning.
The day had been the calmest I had ever seen, but over the course of a minute, a huge gale whipped up the sea. The water that had been so mesmerizing before turned into a wild creature. The white waves slammed against the boat, and the deck rolled from side to side. Latham hurried the children into the shelter of the cabin to wait out the storm.
I couldn't move.
Terror froze me to the deck.
The next wave swept me into the cold, dark arms of the sea.
I gasped at the freezing temperature, swallowing the saltwater. My legs thrashed frantically about, trying to latch onto something. The last thing I remember thinking before the darkness took me over, was that I no longer liked the sea.
This chapter turned out quite a bit different than I expected, so please let me know what you think.
