Garrison and I would leave on occasion, to see how the world was doing without us. We would always stay in our cabin, the one outside of 12. We were on our way back, one day, when we saw smoke rising from its chimney.
Garrison took on the form of his cougar, and I let my wings grow. He broke into the cabin and tackled the man, while I walked in and stared at him. He went silent. I knew him.
Well, not in the sense that I knew him personally. But, I knew who he was. He had grey eyes. Black hair. Olive skin. A squared jaw. An innocent face. He looked like he could be a brother to my James, but I knew it was impossible. I knew him from somewhere else. He was Matilda's child. He had to be. I whistled my tune, and Garrison let him go, returning to his original form. I stayed how I was.
The Tainted and I had devised a system of speech reliant on tune and pitch. It was so that we could talk without talking. This is what Garrison and I did, so that the man would not know what we were saying. We agreed.
"Who are you?" I asked, ready to kill him if he wasn't who we had thought we were.
"Jordan," he whispered, as though he were afraid to speak to me. I did not blame him; I was rather frightening, what with my solid-white skin, and hip-length, white hair. Sometimes, my black eyes scared even me. But, I would never go back to my original form. I did not deserve to be human, not after all that I had done.
"Your last name."
"Everdeen." Garrison and I exchanged a look when he said this. It was as we had though.
"Who was your grandmother?" Garrison asks him. The man seems to stiffen even more.
"Matilda Everdeen," he said. "But, I don't know who my grandfather was, and I never met her."
"I see."
I held out my hand to him, and asked him to sing me a song. He didn't know which I would like, so I told him to sing a song a mockingjay would listen to. He sang me one about a meadow. One about peace, joy, and hope. One that said tomorrow would be better, no matter how bad today was. I must admit, I enjoyed his voice. With one like that, a mockingjay would listen to everything he sang. I held my hand out to him.
"My name is Savage," I said, watching his eyes grow wide with fear. "I'm married to your grandmother's brother," I explained. He shook my hand, but still looked more worried than comforted. As though I were insane. It made sense, really. I didn't look more than seventeen years old; I had always looked younger than my age, and the President's lack of letting us age didn't help it at all.
"My name is Garrison," spoke my husband. "I am your grandmother's brother. I would tell you my real name, but then you could be killed. You look like her, you know. Especially your eyes." I looked at him. His eyes were blue. They always had been, like his aunt's. His parents, however, had both had grey eyes. He had always been self-conscious about it, which I had always thought was stupid. I looked about as much like my family as katniss looked like forget-me-nots.
We sort of all just stood there for a moment, and then I turned and went outside, to sit by the lake. They deserved a moment alone. But, despite my giving them one, they still ended up outside, sitting on either side of me. Jordan still looked uncertain about it all. Almost as though he were expecting us to turn and rip his throat out at any minute. I couldn't blame him. The world he grew up in was far worse than the one I had, especially since he had to mine so often.
I reached into the water and pulled up a plant that was growing there. I handed it to him. He took it slowly, as though it would explode at any moment. I smiled.
"It's called katniss," I said. "They taste good in stews. We used to eat them a lot, when we would come here. We used to come here a lot, too, when we didn't have to work." It's where we met Grayson. It's where our son had been born. It's where we had spent our last few, free moments. The n, we had gone down into 12, so that we could be turned in to the President.
"You can eat these?" he asked, as though he didn't believe us. I almost laughed.
"Yes, you can. And, my Garrison happens to be the best cook. If you didn't mind, we could make you something to eat? We were just about to eat, ourselves…" I said, trailing off because he still looked uncertain.
"I suppose. Do you want me to catch some turkeys?" I felt myself brighten at his agreement. I shook my head, and told him Garrison could do that. For now, though, it would be best to get some spices and other herbs to add to it.
That was how we had met. We would come and visit him on occasion, and I always made him sing for me when we did. I coached him, to teach him how to get better, and made him promise to name his first child after me, in some way. He laughed, saying something about 'Savage Garrison Everdeen' being the worst name imaginable. Sometimes, we would all sing together. Sometimes, I would bring one or two of the others with me. His favorite was Havoc; a twelve-year-old boy who had become a tracker jacker. Like me, Havoc rarely returned to his original or beast form, preferring to stay somewhere in between. For him, that meant a yellow body, with shaggy yellow hair and large, clear insect wings.
We would laugh and joke around like old friends. One day, he whistled to us in our own language to hide away in the bushes. Havoc and Garrison hid below the tree I was in. I looked like a mockingjay at the time. Jordan appeared, with a little girl running beside him.
"Now, Katniss," he said, "you need to always respect nature. I'm going to teach you everything I've learned over the years, and you have to learn all of it, alright?" she nodded her head eagerly.
From then on, we weren't allowed to show ourselves unless the girl wasn't present. She was his daughter; his first child. And he had named her after the plant I had shown him, just like he had promised.
