"Katniss, you hear me?" Uncle Beau snaps his fingers in my face. "I said you're not a mutt. You're far from it."
"If I'm not a mutt, then what am I?" I scream at him. His face cringes. I watch as he struggles to find the words. After five minutes, he is defeated.
Without a word, he walks over to the log where we sat. He pulls out what appears to be a small chest and sits down with it on his lap. As he fumbles and opens it, I walk over and sit on the log beside him. He pulls out a small object and immediately slams the lid of the chest shut before I can see what's inside.
The chest appears to be made of a dull grey metal. It is covered in a layer of filth, and I watch as it comes to life when my uncle dusts it off with his palm. As soon as his skin comes in contact with the metal, it emits a bright blue light in the formation of a circular symbol. As his hand leaves the surface of the chest, the symbol dulls to a dark blue. I immediately recognize the pattern. It's something that I have been familiar with since as long as I can remember.
My ankle—I've always had a scar on my outer left ankle. It's small and circular with smaller overlapping rings inside. It looks almost like a stamp; the way the skin is raised to form the rings. The symbol on the chest matches the scar on my ankle exactly.
I always wondered how I got the scar. When I was younger, I would press Uncle Beau for answers, but he told me that he didn't know. As I grew older, I learnt not to ask too many questions, for my uncle never had any answers. But now, I'm certain he does.
"Katniss, I can't tell you these things. It's too unbelievable, and I don't have the words." I frown, expecting no explanation for the scar or for anything. "But I can show you." He holds out a small black pebble in his palm—the object he had taken out of the chest.
"Is this the solution to all my questions?" My voice quivers. "A rock?" I have to concentrate hard in order to stop myself from crying again.
"This isn't just a normal rock," he beams with excitement. "It's a memory stone." I open my mouth in bewilderment, but I can't manage any words. "I don't want you to speak. Let me explain." Uncle Beau pats my back reassuringly. I relax my posture with the promise of clarity forthcoming. "I know you won't believe the truth unless it's right there in front of you—you're stubborn like that. This stone has the ability to absorb any memories of your choice. I knew that it would be hard for me to convince you of your origins, so I recorded as much as I could from the beginning of this journey," he finishes.
I know now that my uncle is suffering from some serious problems. Still, I remain quiet, disappointed because I wasn't receiving any clarification.
Uncle Beau still wears his excitement on his face. He grabs my right arm and turns it over, placing the stone on my wrist. It's cool to the touch, despite being held in warm hands for so long. I can almost feel a faint vibration originating from the stone. The vibration begins to travel up my arm, up my neck, and as it reaches my brain, everything goes dark.
Suddenly, I'm no longer in the meadow of dry, yellow turf, but on a hill sheathed with luscious green grass. It overlooks an expanse of a dark green forest, humming with the sounds of strange creatures. I feel a warm breeze caressing my fingers and neck. The sun, setting on the horizon, paints the sky rich in colours of oranges, yellows and pinks. Off to the left rests a small moon; above it is a much larger one. I turn around and descend the hill; only, I have no control over my body. And it goes dark once again.
The next thing I know, I'm standing in front of a solid, blue door. I knock twice, and that's when I realize; that's my uncle's hand. This is my uncle's memory. I'm in his body.
A few seconds pass before the door opens. There stands a tall, dark haired man with familiar grey eyes. A warm smile spreads across his face and after a strong handshake, I'm invited in. I walk up the stairs and take a left into a small room. I can see a crib on the right side of the room. It's a nursery. The white walls are painted by the evening colours of the sunset. Besides the crib is a woman sitting on a rocking chair. When she looks up and notices me, she smiles and stands up. She comes over and hugs me tightly. She is a rather dainty woman, with green eyes and long blonde hair. I know her. I've seen her in my dreams. I want to ask her who she is, but I can't control my body.
From the crib, a baby begins to cry. The woman turns around and leans over the crib. She picks up the infant, who is wrapped in a white blanket. The moment the child is cradled in its mothers arms, the cries cease. She rocks the baby gently, settling it.
"It's a girl." She says softly. Her warm voice is soothing. As she walks closer to me, or Uncle Beau, I see a little hand, a sweet little face. The small being is now in my arms, my masculine arms. It's a very odd feeling, being in someone else's body, but I'm able to feel every sensation. I feel the soft touch of her skin against mine, the surprisingly strong grip of her hand around my finger.
I reach into my pocket and grab a string. I pull it out to reveal an amulet with a circular, dark blue stone. The symbol on it matches both my scar and the chest. I hold the pendant above the child. She reaches for it with her tiny hands. As she grasps it in one hand, it glows a brilliant blue before dimming. She begins to unsettle, and I hand her back to her mother who rubs her back soothingly. I see the cause of her agitation. Her left ankle is pulsating with a dull, blue light. When it stops, I examine her leg. On her outer, left ankle sits a small, circular scar. It matches the amulet, the chest, and my scar. And then everything goes black, for the third time.
Now I stand on a tarmac, staring at a large, grey vehicle. It has a long, cylinder body, with a pointed nose and angled wings. I recognize this structure. It's very similar to the old airplanes that the Capitol used to use for faster transport, before hovercraft technology became available. History is a compulsory class in school. The Capitol wants us to know of all the wonderful things they have done to improve society—their society I might add.
The tarmac fills with anxious, scared and crying people. I'm tapped on the back. I turn to see the tall man from before. He has tears in his eyes. He shakes my hand and follows with a hug. Over his shoulder I see that the sky, once a dazzling blue, is now blood red. Explosions go off in the distance, and the sky is filled with black smoke. There must be a war.
The woman with her child approaches me, crying uncontrollably. She clutches her baby and buries her head in my chest. She whispers something to me, but it's muffled, and I can't make out the words. I break away and give the couple and their daughter some time alone.
Looking around, I see a number of groups of parents, all in tears, handing over their young children to another adult and saying goodbye. Suddenly, sirens go off, and everyone begins to panic. There are orders for us to hurry up. Everyone runs towards the airplane. We say our quick, emotional goodbyes. The baby girl is removed reluctantly from her mother's arms by her father and is handed to me. I cradle her, shielding her ears from the loud roar caused by a nearby explosion. She wails as I take her away from her parents and follow the others up the stairs and into the aircraft. I wonder why all the children's parents aren't joining us.
I take a seat next to a middle-aged man with shoulder length grey hair. On his lap sits a distraught young blonde boy, no older than two. He clutches to the man and cries for his mother and father.
I try and comfort the baby girl in my arms. She looks a few months older than she did in the first memory. With everyone strapped in, the aircraft begins to turn around and travel down the runway. It increases speed until finally lifting off the ground. I feel the pressure on my chest, as we ascend the sky. Looking through the window, only clouds of black dust can be seen. We continue to ascend until the pressure inside the aircraft changes suddenly. I'm able to breathe normally again. I look outside and notice how far away from the ground we are. We're almost... no we're definitely out of the atmosphere. We're in space. I've never known for an airplane to break the atmosphere before. This must be some kind of spacecraft.
The planet looks small now. We appear to be circling around it—perhaps waiting for the war to end? You can see the explosions on the land. Fire erupts before being concealed by large mushroom shaped clouds. I wonder if the children's parents escaped on another ship. I wonder if anyone else escaped at all. Why didn't the parents leave with their children?
I remove my seatbelt and stand up. I'm not floating in an anti-gravity atmosphere, like I assumed you would be in space. I walk down to the back of spacecraft, passing rows upon rows of weeping adults and children from infants to toddlers. I place the young girl down in a crib. I wonder if she will ever see her parents again. Everything darkens.
I open my eyes and stare out the window of the spacecraft. We are still circling the planet at a distance. The clouds of smoke have settled, but the vibrant colours I had once seen are now all but grey and black. This is not a planet of life. This is a planet of desolation.
I'd like to thank theperksofbeinganauthor for her help with making this chapter literate :D