Thanks LemonyGoodness69 and Munirabella for R&Ring, you guy's rock!
I get back to the house around nine. I couldn't bring myself to go home after that last memory hit me. So I sat in the field for a long time, just staring at the trees and the dead grasses and the Mockingjay's. It felt strange to be in the field with no one working around me. But it's a Sunday, and after harvest is over, so everyone gets a day off. During the winter months we package food and store seeds. Then in spring and summer, we plant the seeds and care for them. And then comes harvest. Full circle. It's weird how simple and circular life can be. Or used to be.
So there I was, sitting in the fields, thinking about it, when I felt this tiny pinprick of cold. And then two more. Three more. Suddenly I was surrounded by the tiny things. I looked up in wonder at the cold, dancing snowflakes. I watched their ballet until my dark eyelashes turned pure white and my hands went numb. And even then, I waited a bit longer before dragging myself to the house, trying to witness as much of the world at possible before I was locked into my cell again.
The world is alive, even in the snow. Birds still flit here and there, people still call to one another, tree's still rustle and shake, sending snow down on anyone who unfortunate enough to walk under them at that particular moment.
Strangely, the house is lit and glowing, a candle in the darkness. This doesn't seem right, as my family uses very little energy. How could we, after being without it for so long? The light shines brighter as I come closer, blinding me. And voices, like peas in the spring, grow, too. Are Mother and Dad having another fight? Are the Little's okay? Mother and Dad wouldn't hurt them, would they? I can't believe that they would, but the thought is enough to make me come racing into the house, hoping the Littles will greet me, tearstained yet unharmed. But the only thing that meets me at the door is the blinding flash of a Capitol camera. And the Capitol people being in my house can only mean one thing.
The Victory Tour has begun.
~…~…~
My mother nervously rubs her hands together. "There's our little princess, right in time for breakfast," We eat breakfast at dawn. I'm very late for our meal. But I smile and nod.
"Yes, I just went on a walk to see the snow." I say with my best innocent face. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I'm so sorry if I did." That's enough for everyone to smile and nod and engulf me with words of praise and forgiveness. And I smile and nod along with them, trying to incase the terror growing inside me. Then the Capitol people rush me away into a prepared room. Delijha, our district escort, with her silvery blue face tattoos and neon blue hair that shines even from a distance, and Soranor, my sparkly, shimmery stylist with an obsession for jewels, push the doors closed and get to work. My prep team is close behind them. Rayana, the one with bright yellow hair and the highest voice I've ever heard, gasps in fright when she sees me.
"Look at this!" she squeaks at my face. "What am I supposed to do with this hairy thing!"
I shrug uncomfortably. Flocum raises his purple eyebrow. "Her eyebrows are hardly the problem. But this hair! Have you brushed it at all since we left? Hmmm?"
I open my mouth to say no, I haven't. Why would I? When I realize that Flocum didn't want an answer. And what impression would my answer make on them anyway? It isn't like they care. I'm about to tune myself out when I realize that Calirina, the quietest prep team member, has asked me a question.
" How's your talent coming along, Rue?" She says with an impassive face. I wish she hadn't asked. Delijha jumps right on it.
" Oh yes, Rue. How is that talent of yours?" She looks at me expectantly. I put on a fake smile.
" Good." That wasn't the answer she wanted, but I don't care. She looks at me primly, but there's menace behind the gaze.
"Don't want to show us anything new?"
" Nope, " I say through the whirling bodies of my prep team.
She frowns. " Well, save it for the Capitol, yes?" I nod vigorously. The last thing I want to do is make President Snow angry. Already that Gamemakers are angry at me, because I told Katniss that we should both eat the berries she calls nightlock, and then neither of us would win. Only the Gamemakers stopped us before we could and then Katniss died and… and… And nothing! I tell myself harshly. Don't think it, don't think it, don't think it. I try to focus on Calirina's huge blackish bluish flower barrette that clips her lime green hair back. But it's exactly the same color at nightlock and I find myself shaking. And then I am remembering…
~…~…~
Darkness. Sun is setting, slowly, so slowly. Katniss lies by me, a spear in her stomach. Deep, but not so deep that death is easy. I remember now, the other time. After she blew up the supplies. I was tangled in a net, hopelessly, and the boy from District 1 threw a spear. And it almost hit my stomach. Only Katniss's quick thinking saved me. She dived forward and pushed me forward so the spear only grazed the top of my leg. And I survived.
But now it was my turn. My turn to save her. Or at least give her to death. Give her to sleep. But if I had saved her, life would be so much sweeter. Instead, I froze, while she melted like ice in hot sun. And then I begged the sun to set, so maybe I could stop the melting, so maybe I could save the ice, the snow, from turning to desert. But it was already happening. And now it is happening so much slower, so slow, too slow. Like music slowing down, drawing each note out, not wanting to end, still wanting to light the world with it's beauty. But fading, dying, ending. And I did not save her. I only made her life, the last bits of it, harder to live. And then I told her that I couldn't live without her. So I took some of the tiny night-sky colored berries and I put three in her hand and three in mine. And then I said:
"Eat. On three." And she nodded. She trusted me. "One." Maybe I was wrong. "Two." Maybe they didn't care if we died. "Three." Too late now. I lifted the berries to my mouth. Then the frantic trumpets. Spat them out. Turned to Katniss. But she was already gone. On the ground. Eyes closed. Nightlock churning in her stomach. She had eaten them; I had not. She was dead, I was alive. A simple action had decided all of that. A lifting of a hand, a closing of a mouth. A chewing of the berries. Then, gone. Spirit, heart, life. Gone. And then there was me, standing there as the trumpets blasted.
Seeing Katniss's face shine above me in the sky for the last time.