The next few days are a blur of leaves, sunshine, dirt and campfires. We wake early with the sun, eat, pack up and walk.
We walk for hours at a slow even pace with Posy walking some, and then going from person to person, begging to be carried. Normally Gale let's her ride on his shoulders, but as the hours pass I always see him slowing down for the effort. Bristel has slowly mixed into the Hawthorne family in my eyes, and his presence gives relief from Gale's gloom. Bristel's sharp humor and quick wit amuses us all as we walk.
We've fallen into a slow, steady patter: wake up, eat, walk, and stop for lunch, eat, walk, eat, and sleep.
We march through the woods like a small, mismatched battalion of peacekeepers.
We walk not knowing where we're going, not knowing what to look for.
We only know that we can't look back.
We stop mid afternoon, always, and find an appropriate clearing or creek or river in which to camp. We always lie out our bags, set up a fire, and rest and eat until the sunsets above us.
The firelight brightens up our faces as we sit in a large circle around the blaze each night, telling stories and singing songs.
The campfires are my favourite part.
There's something about the brightness of the burning flame, a beauty in the natural light. The way it flickers back and forth, slowly climbing higher and higher into the sky; the way it casts both shadows and light that dance upon everyone's faces, making even Gale's dark eyes seem bright and happy; the warmth it gives, proving that something dangerous and powerful can still be lovely, beautiful and comforting too. Rory says I haven't smiled as genuinely as I do around the campfire in a long time.
I have to agree with him.
Because it reminds me of Katniss, my sister; The Girl On Fire.
As silly as it sounds, I feel that much closer to her when I'm sitting by the flames.
We spend our nights, Rory and I, fingers intertwined, lying side by side under a thick rough blanket, under the covering of bright stars.
I'm not scared of the dark as long as he's there with me.
My mother and Hazelle don't reprimand us now for holding each other's hands and staying close to each other in the forest; there's nobody watching, no video cameras.
There's no reason to hide anymore, or keep up the cousin charade. There's no one to worry about.
Well, excluding Bristel. We often find him muttering jokes about us to Gale; quick witty comments that can even make Gale smile. His words are not lost on us, but we don't mind.
If anything I'm grateful for Gale's smiles.
They've become a rarity.
Even Posy has grown accustomed to us being together, and she likes to walk between us, holding each of our hands, pulling us forward.
Sometimes I think she's the only thing keeping me moving.
On our fifth day in the woods, we're much better adjusted to the new world of the wilderness, and it feels as though I've lived in the trees my whole life.
Gale has grown out the stubble on his face, and with his facial hair he looks at least 5 years older. He looks like a man, worn over time and hardened to the world.
I can barely recognize him.
I myself no longer fret over the permanent dirt under my fingertips, or the knots in my hair. I feel at home under the shade of the trees, and have grown accustomed to the bright sunshine waking me up at dawn. I can't feel the thin layer of dirt, permanently embedded in my skin.
But I still cherish every lake, pond of river we come to.
The cool feel of swimming, rinsing myself off in the cool water, is euphoric.
Rory says my swimming has improved hugely, but I couldn't care less.
I can float, and that's all I need or want.
We resume walking after lunch as per usual, stepping over roots and rocks, climbing up the slow incline of a grassy hill.
And that's when we hear the voices.
They float through the woods, the sounds and voices of men and women, and a number of children it sounds like. I can't make out words, but the voices are faint, and they sound tired.
We stop in our tracks immediately, and Gale spins round, searching the woods with his eyes. But we can't see anything.
The voices get louder and louder as they get closer and closer.
We all spin around, searching desperately for faces in the woods, and then the voices begin to fade away.
As the forest around us grows quieter and quieter, Gale panics, "Wait!" he yells out, and then turns to us, his expression concerned. "What if they're survivors? What if they're from 12?"
I know what he's thinking.
What if they're Madge?
I share his panic, but Hazelle has a slightly more pessimistic view.
"And what if it's a group of peacekeepers eh? What then Gale?" she hisses back at him, hiding Posy in her arms as she starts to crouch low in the brush
Gale's face falls. "I- I don't know."
We stand there in the woods, backs together, searching desperately for the faces belonging to the voices, but the forest is growing quiet, and fast.
I can't wait any longer.
"Hey Posy?" I whisper down to her, "Come here."
Posy wiggles her way out of Hazelle's arms, much to her mother's chagrin, but Hazelle gives up on holding her daughter still and instead reaches for my mother.
Posy reaches me in record time and I hoist her up into my arms, whispering into her ear, "You remember all the words to The Valley Song, right?"
She nods at me, her eyes wide.
"Okay, would you like to sing it with me?" I offer.
Her face breaks into a smile, but Rory's hand catches my shoulder.
"Prim, what are you doing?" He hisses. "If they hear us singing-"
"Trust me Rory." I gaze steadily into his eyes, "Just this once."
He sighs but nods, his expression fearful.
And so we begin to sing.
Our voices fill the woods, slipping through the trees, loud and clear.
Rory, Posy and I sing the Valley Song, and the words flow out easily filling the clearing with the familiar verses.
"What are you doing?" Gale yells at us, but his voice quickly drops, "Prim stop-"
But then we all hear it.
The voices are coming back.
And they're singing with us.
We begin to sing again, louder, and our voices join them in a chorus, and the sound slowly grows, the chant becoming more deafening as they come closer.
The group breaks into the clearing, led by an older man who I recognize from the Seam. He always passed by our house in the morning on his way to the mines.
He's followed by a spatter of men and women, and then some teenagers and a few small children.
All in all, they're a group of 12.
My eyes search the group for a blonde ponytail, for bright blue eyes and a fierce expression.
But I see nothing.
I stare up at Gale, and his expression breaks my heart.
He looks defeated at first, but he then matches the gaze of the old man with warmth in his eyes I haven't seen yet in the woods.
"Skylar." He greets him with a hug.
"Gale Hawthorne, boy am I happy to see you son." Skylar laughs into his shoulder, his voice raspy with thirst. Pulling back, he brushes Gale's beard with his fingers and chuckles. "Nice look. Very manly."
The group spreads out in the clearing and I look through the faces in front of me, desperate for a familiar face, an expression I remember.
But I don't find any at first.
It's an eclectic mix, a number of Seam children and Town children, and the adults just as varied, all led by Skylar through the woods.
We all sit and deal out some food, which they eat with a flourish. They look as though they haven't eaten in days, and the look in their eyes when they're done convinces me that they're only hungry for more.
I learn that they escaped just in time, all separately. They wandered in the woods for a day or so by themselves, but slowly they all found each other and formed a group. "We figured we'd have a better chance of surviving if we were together," Skylar looks sullenly at Gale.
Gale nods and Skylar continues, explaining their wandering through the woods. "I thought I might cry when I heard that song," his gaze falls to me. "It was quite the greeting Primrose Everdeen. Thank you." He smiles.
I smile back, but my grip stays tight on Rory's.
He introduces the names of his followers and explains how they got into the group.
He goes down the line, until he gets to a face I think I do remember, and when he says the name the familiarity hits me like a bell.
"And this is Delly," Skylar gestures to the blonde girl, with a soft, sad smile on her face. "We found her only a day ago, lying under a tree. She'd been on her own all that time."
His expression is sad as he says this, but the smile never leaves Delly's face. Her sunken cheekbones scare me, and the bags under her eyes are in stark contrast to her bright, gleaming eyes.
The blonde, carefully braided hair has turned a mottled brown colour from the dirt, and the scratches cover her body and face, her skin turning the same blotchy brown colour.
She catches my eye, and the smile on her face brightens as she extends her hand.
"Hello Primrose." She smiles. "I'm Delly Cartwright."
"Hi Delly," I reply back, startled by the bright ring in her voice that contrasts against her dirty, starved, rough exterior.
She reminds me of Peeta.
No matter the situation, always bright, always smiling, always charming.
And just like Peeta, the sight of her fills me with hope.
TAH DAH. HI DELLY. So yes, while reading the books I absolutely fell in love with the idea of Delly Cartwright's character. So I felt it was only natural that I use this opportunity to flesh out the character and explore her loosely described and yet really sad back story. So, you guys can definitely look forward to that coming up. In Mockingjay we're told that she has lost her parents, but escaped District 12 with her little brother, but this back story goes in direct contrast of what Katniss describes her as, a sort of ever-cheerful and happy person, even when in District 13. In a way, I sort of drew a parallel between her and Katniss, because here she is, thrust into the same position that Katniss was always in (caring for a younger sibling with no parents around) and yet she just seems to handle it in such a different way than Katniss, I just couldn't stop thinking about her as a character. I just thought that was so brilliant, and I think it's pretty obvious by now that I love to explore and write about the back stories of even the most minor characters, so hah!
As usual, thank you guys for reading so much, I love all the feedback I've recieved so far, so thank you so much! Keep it coming?
Also, at this point, I have decided that I WILL write Mockingjay from Prim's perspective, but I think I'll take a break after I finish this story just to gather my ideas and get work done in you know, real life and school and all the other things that I'm supposed to be doing. Any who, thanks guys!