A/N: My unending quest to give a voice to all the voiceless, I guess. Tell me what you think.
I don't own the Hunger Games or its characters.
Pollux Gemin
I've never seen a real mockingjay before. There aren't any in the Capitol. Watching it hop branch to branch and stretch its wings, it makes perfect sense why we chose this bird as the symbol of the rebellion, of new life. The ruins of District 12 lay sprawled out across my vision, but here, underneath the shade of the large oak, I know I've never seen anything as free and content. Or safe. And isn't that why we're here?
Back home, I panicked every day I woke up to the dirt ceiling. For five years, I didn't see the sun. It never got better with time. If anything, it got worse. My equally silent companions and I, we nudged and prodded at each other and drew on the ground, anything to keep from going mad. There were plenty that did go mad. They pulled at their hair and made horrible agonizing moans. Till the day I die, I'm certain I will never hear a worse sound.
With a twig, I write SING on the ground because that's what I've always done. And Katniss does sing, a tragic song about a dead man. All the mockingjays fall silent and listen respectfully to one of their own. She is free, and content, and safe. I understand a little better now, the ones underground that moaned in desperation. They needed to know that there was something left, something the Capitol couldn't just cut away. So I will fight for them and for myself, to prove that there are still things worth fighting for. I will fight until, one day, I won't have to anymore.