I Love to Hunt
I am an expert archer. I can hit a bird in flight. Gale might be the best at traps and snares but no can compare to my archery skills. The distances I can shoot accurately is measured in tens of yards. I have been introduced to hunting with a rifle. Not just an ordinary rifle but a high powered one with a scope. It just doesn't seem fair to the deer. "Emma." I call Major Emma Dever on my radio. She is the commander of "S" Battalion.
"Yeah?" She answers back.
"This new scope is great. It is so clear. It's amazing. I can see your snake tattoo peeking out."
"It's not polite to point a gun at somebody."
"Relax. It's off the rifle." I remember standing in tree stands back in District Twelve in winter. Without the ability to move around you get stiff. I feel like that now. Unfortunately, I'm just doing a lot of waiting. This is what hunting is frequently like. On the other hand you might be out there stalking your prey. My heart races as I get closer to my target. When it is finally in view my heart used to pound so hard it felt like it was going to split open my chest. A pounding heart affects you're ability to shoot both arrows and bullets. This is where the extra time I have spent with Em has paid off. She has taught me how to control my breathing and work with it to shoot better. It has been worth it. There are fewer second and third shots. I have been dropping my kills on the first shots more and more often.
"Hey." Em calls. "If we don't see something in thirty minutes I think we should call it a day."
"Yeah. Okay. I hate to go home empty handed. But I guess you're right." I always feel like a failure when I don't get something. Even though it might not be my fault I tend to blame myself.
"I think it's our lucky day." Em says.
"Where?"
"About fifty yards to my left." I look through the scope.
"Yup. Lucky day."
"Man, he is a big one." Em comments.
"What did I tell you?"
"You're right. You're right."
"I have to wait a few seconds 'til he's in the clear." I follow him with my scope. Any second. Any second now. When you are shooting, the gun or bow becomes an extension of you. With the gun you have to know how much pressure to pull the trigger. What is the recoil? How fast can you take the second shot. I have been using this rifle for weeks now and it has become an extension of me. I pull the trigger. A direct shot. He is down.
"Good shooting." Comes out of the radio. "I'll meet you at the train station." The radio goes silent.
"Copy that." I step away from the window and resist sticking my head out to look at the aftermath. I leave the rifle with the noise suppressor on it's tripod right where they are. It would be stupid of me to be walking down the streets of the Capital crawling with Peacekeepers looking for someone with a long bag that might hold a rifle. District Thirteen will just make a new one.
When I was in Em's office last month and I saw Romulos Thread on the kill list I asked if I could be the one that pulled the trigger. I hate him almost as much as I hate President Snow. After Gale's whipping I swore I would give him what he deserves. A bullet in the head is good payback. Although Em agreed Coin and Boggs said it was too dangerous to let me go and one of the "S" companies would take care of it. I guess that they got sick and tired of me begging and whining because they finally let me do it. Their only condition was that I be escorted by Major Emma Dever personally. She didn't mind at all. She hasn't been on a mission since she got promoted to Major and put in charge of the Special Forces Battalion. It was nice for her to get out into the field. When I leave the building I blend in with the other office workers. I walk to the train station. I don't meet with Em. We get on separate cars and don't even eye each other. If one of us were caught the other could still get away. We will make our way to the woods outside the Capital and get picked up by a District Thirteen hovercraft.
This story takes place during Mockingjay and after my story "The Rescue of Peeta."