Chapter 26

As the parachutes continue to float down, Haymitch and I grab one each.

I analyse the parcel and it looks like any other. That is, until a small H on one of the side corners catch my attention. I turn towards Haymitch and see him inspecting the M written on his package.

"I think this is yours," I say, holding out the parcel so he clearly sees the simple inscription.

"I think that's a safe bet," Haymitch agrees, accepting the parcel and handing me mine.

I take it and notice that both feel extremely light. With some unexplainable feeling of trepidation, I untie the string.

I don't understand why it should make me feel so nervous. With the other parachutes we have received there was some nervousness, sure, but there was always an overriding feeling of excitement.

Opening the package fast, as one would rip off a bandaid, I see three envelopes. Each one has something written on their fronts.

Our Darling Daughter

May

Maisie

My heartbeat quickens. I turn to Haymitch. "This is-" I stop but stare as he hastily opens an envelope of his own. This one addressed My Sensational Son

With great delicacy I open the letter I recognise as being written by my mother.

Maysilee,

Words cannot possibly describe how proud your father and I are of you. We have watched you grown into such a fine young woman and are glad to see that the wretched Games have not changed that. Don't ever let it change you. Always do your absolute best. Remember that you will always, always have a loving family at home to come back to. Stay warm, stay safe. Drink plenty of water and get plenty of sleep whenever you possibly can. We have never, ever for once doubted that you would make it this far and know that you will make it even further. Have faith, my sweetheart. Have hope and we will surely see each other again soon. We miss you so, so much. Things haven't been the same around the house without you in it. Sometimes at night I would catch your sister hugging your pillow. I think it smells and reminds her of you. And that makes me miss holding you in my arms. I regret not doing it more often. I regret not telling you every single day that I love you, because of course I do. We all do. But come home to us, my love, and I'll do my best to make sure you never, ever forget that. Stay close to that boy. He'll help you whenever you need it. He'll help you for us. Always, always remember that whenever things look grim or dark, a bright sun will rise again and light your path. Let that path be your guide home. To us. Chin up and show the world your dazzling smile. Show them that you aren't afraid of whatever it is they have to throw at you. Things may seem the stuff of nightmares now, my darling, but it'll pass. I promise you it will pass. Whenever you feel alone just look to the moon and be comforted by the fact that I, too, am looking at it. That maybe we aren't nearly as far apart as you may think.

Love always, Your Parents

By the end of the letter, my vision becomes impaired and blurry.

I am surprised to find that I have tears forming in my eyes. They have yet to fall. I hastily wipe them away before they have the chance.

Gathering my thoughts and emotions together, I gently place my mother's letter back into its envelope. Then I place the envelope into my backpack.

I can't help but sneak a look at Haymitch.

He has his eyes glued to the letter, like it is a lifeline that will tell him how to get out of this nightmare and return home to his awaiting family. As his eyes scan the contents of the letter, Haymitch has an almost pained look plastered on his face.

Before he can notice that I am staring, I quickly hold the remaining letters in my hand and focus on them.

I look from the one to the other, trying to decide which I should read next.

There is one envelope addressed in my sister's neat and simple writing.

The other I recognise as being beautifully written in the careful hand of Jasmine.

I continue staring from one letter to the other, torn between which one to read next.

The sound of an envelope opening tells me Haymitch is opening another one of his letters. Encouraged by this somehow, I put aside Jasmine's letter and carefully open Meredith's envelope from the side.

I then unfold the paper and proceed to read it.

Dearest Maysilee

Please, please, please come home. I miss you so much. Mother and father miss you a lot too. The sweetshop and house is simply too quiet without you there to fill it with your presence. Melody is constantly singing. Perhaps she hopes that if she sings often enough maybe one day you'll return to her. Return to us. I watch the Games rituality. Not necessarily because I want to, but because I need to know how you're doing. Again, I must apologise for not being brave enough to volunteer in your place. You wouldn't have had to go through any of the things you're going through right now if I had only taken your place. But you're the bravest most courageous person I know. You're the greatest sister anyone could ask for. If anyone can win this thing, it's you. Never, ever give up. Not on yourself. Not on us. The next time we went to school after the reaping, Jack came and talked to me. Did you ever realise he hadn't spoken to us since we were nine? Anyway, we chatted and he told me that he has every reason to believe you can win this. I believe so too. So work hard and take care of that mockingjay pin. That way you can properly give it to me in person. Because I admit I really do like it.

Your Loving Sister, Edith

Reading that letter I start to choked up.

I stare at it, running my fingers along the words written on it. The paper is of such top quality that it could only have been provided by the Capitol.

Usually the type of paper found in District 12 isn't to such standard as this paper here.

Carefully, I fold the letter and put it away. Haymitch is doing the same. The cover of his second letter is addressed Mitchie

I smile, knowing that Haymitch would never let anyone call him that.

That letter could only have been from his brother.

I stare at the last of the envelopes left to read. This one weighs heavily, being the last of the letters to arrive from the outside world.

Unable to move a single muscle just yet, I focus intently on Jasmine's neat and tidy writing.

I'm reminded of the days spent looking over her notes from school. I was always too zoned out to even be bothered listening. She would gently chastise me for not taking my own notes and paying attention in class. But eventually she would relent and share her notes with me. She isn't the type to leave you high and dry. No, she would help anyone to the best of her abilities if she saw that they were distressed in one way or another.

Time is ticking.

Steeling myself, I open the last letter just as Haymitch moves on to his third envelope too. Casting my eyes downwards, I begin to read.

May

Your show of courage and bravery is something to be admired. After the reaping, I was worried about you. But as time went by and you continued to survive in the arena, I began to see your true strength. Admittedly, I also worried less, seeing what a great team you and Haymitch make. You two are survivors.

I miss you every single day but live in hope that we will see each other again soon. Do not be discouraged when it seems as though the entire world is against you. But live on with the knowledge that you will always have the support of a small part of that world. A small part by the name of District 12. You would be absolutely amazed by how excited everyone in Twelve is to see you and Haymitch make it to the top five. Everyone is united and scraping up money to send you both more gifts. Never before have I ever seen Konrad get approached by so many people at the one time. But he seems to tolerate the rest of us enough. He seems to know that everyone just has your best interest at heart and want to bring you home. I would tell you to remember our lessons on the properties of plants and berries. But that point would be completely moot, seeing as how essentially everything there is lethal and poisoned. By the way, I really love what you did with your hair. The road so far may seem a dull thing but smile. It will only get better from here. Trust in yourself and believe you can get through this. And I mean really believe. Keep doing your very best to survive. Best of luck for the days to come.

With Love, Jasmine

I'm now a complete emotional wreck.

Finishing Jasmine's letter, I have the sudden urge to see everyone again. My will to get the hell out of this arena returns tenfold.

I run a hand over my eyes and to my temple, rubbing it. Sitting like that for a moment, I allow all the emotions to flow through me.

Once recovered somewhat, I put away Jasmine's letter along with the others in my pack. Haymitch puts his third letter away too.

He rummages through the package his envelopes came in and pulls out a fourth letter.

I feel a slight pang of envy, seeing that he has received four letters whereas I only have the three. It's also surprising to see so many people writing to him.

Haymitch reads the envelope before turning towards me, the late dusk casting his sharp jaw and facial features in mild shadow.

"This is for the both of us," he states.

I stare, dumbfounded. "Who could it possibly be from?"

In answer, he holds the envelop out for me to see.

My Tributes

"Konrad?" I asked, unbelievingly.

"Let's see what he has to say," Haymitch suggests, already opening the envelope.

He soon takes out the slightly crinkled letter and unfolds it quickly.

Together, we read the letter from our mentor in the dim light of dusk.

Kids,

Because let's face it, that's what you two still are. Well done for making it as far as you have. Firstly let me just say for the record that this was never my idea. Remember that you can never trust anything in the arena. The most wonderful thing you see as a gift from above may well have an ulterior function; as opposed to the seemingly innocent function of simply lifting your spirits. You will do well to keep that in mind. I'm glad you were able to make good use of all the gifts I have sent you up until now. You'd be pleased to know, I'm sure, that your district really cares a lot for you both. Don't lose faith and just keep telling yourself to hold on for just another day. Do me a favour and just look out for each other. Good luck and see you on the other side.

Your Mentor, Konrad

P.s Wendy says 'Hello'

Once finished reading, we both sit in silence, thinking over Konrad's words.

"So what do you think?" I eventually ask Haymitch.

"I think it's time we set off again," he replies, folding away the letter and putting it in his bag.

Rolling my eyes, because clearly that was not what I meant, I climb down after Haymitch.

As we walk, I notice that Haymitch doesn't seem at all affected by those letters.

Maybe he's just putting on a facade.

Be that as it may, I know my letters did a real number on me. But then I'm thinking of Konrad's note and how he couldn't have made it clearer. I wonder how I could have possibly overlooked it.

The gift from above he mentioned clearly refers to parachutes. He even went so far as to underline those words.

That means that one of the gifts we received is clearly there to do more than meets the eyes. Konrad mentioned something about being glad we used his other gifts up until now. And the only other gifts we have received recently are the letters. It makes perfect sense when I remember Konrad stating that this was never his idea.

That raises the question of whose idea it was. I think to the quality of each letter. How I thought it could only have come straight from the Capitol.

Of course it was the Gamemakers.

These letters are the Gamemakers' doing. They must be trying to make us miss home and distressed, sending us into despair and unable to think straight.

Thinking about it, it's pretty genius on their part.

Some tributes might become desperate to go home that they might opt to hunting down others. I remember badly wanting to go home myself.

With this new revelation, I would not be surprised in the least to find that the other three tributes received letters of their own.

Haymitch must have figured that much out himself already. That would definitely explain why he isn't letting the letters get to him.

Determined to do the same, I push thoughts of the letters to the back of my mind. Only it isn't nearly as easy to do as I make it sound.

I touch my mockingjay pin for comfort when a thought occurs to me.

"Haymitch," I say, "if I die, would you please take this pin back to my sister for me?"

"You should give yourself more credit than that," he replies.

"What do you mean?"

"Have more faith in your own abilities. Your family isn't going to appreciate you talking like this."

"But I might not be victor material," I point out.

"You're never going to know if you never even try."

"I know a victor when I see one," I tell Haymitch, "and I'm talking to him."

"So, what," he asks, "you're just going to give up?"

"Of course not! I'm just being pragmatic. Between the two of us, it's more likely that you're going to win. And seeing as you're from District 12, you could bring this back personally to my sister."

"Okay," Haymitch eventually relents, "I'll do it."

I beam at him. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he says, taking off through the woods.

As we walk, I allow my mind to wander aimlessly. Predictably, it goes back to the letters.

In a sense, this idea of using letters has got to be one of the most sadistic and calculated thing the Gamemakers have ever done. There is evidence here that the Gamemakers are actually capable of thinking well beyond brute force; that they are even capable of mentally manipulating kids without the need for Tracker Jacker venom.

Tracker Jackers are a type of mutt. They are a species of genetically engineered wasps designed to sting their victims to death. Much like the butterflies in this arena, because you can be sure that getting stung one too many times by them will result in death. That's the same deal with Tracker Jackers. It is said that most people cannot tolerate any more than a couple of stings. Survivors are subject to hallucinations brought upon by the venoms, which is known to also drive the survivor into madness.

I've heard talk that the Capitol have begun injecting test subjects with the venom, trying to manipulate them into thinking and seeing what they want them to.

Also, using the letters is cruel in that it is obvious the Gamemakers wouldn't have told our families the real reason for them. They wouldn't have told them that the letters are a way of manipulating us. I picture my mother writing that letter, thinking it would give me strength. Her good intention, and the evil intentions of the Gamemakers, is what really make me mad.

Covering a lot of distance, Haymitch and I eventually decide to stop for the day.

Sitting against a log, we split the usual biscuit and eat some meat. Much to my dismay, I note how little there is left of both.

We're definitely going to need to hunt soon.

Using my backpack as a pillow, I lie down before Haymitch can even say anything. We both know what he would say anyway.

No point wasting breath and having roundabout conversations.

Seeing as it's on the colder side, I pull out my jacket to use as a blanket.

Haymitch draws his knife and begins his watch.

I stare up at what little I can see of the sky, being obscured by the trees.

From what I can make out, the sky tonight is clear of any clouds.

Searching for any of the constellations I had recently been shown, I think I may have found the Hydra's head. I can't be too sure though, considering I have only ever seen it once before.

I don't bother waiting for a death recap tonight since I know there isn't going to be one.

Instead, I think about the letters I've received today and fall asleep comforted to know that there are still people who care whether I live or die.