AN: Merlin's POV
"Who was that?" Arthur asked.
"Dr. Guninan," Primrose explained, "He's the head of the private science guild. I told him we were going to a little later than we planned."
"We gathered that," Arthur replied, "We've been here for a while, but how were you in contact with him?"
"Oh, Gods," I thought, rolling my eyes "Not again." I was getting sick of the constant accusations of witchcraft Arthur made towards Primrose. We'd been with her four days and she pulled me back from the brink of death for Heaven's sake! What more did she have to do to prove herself?
"It's not magic," Primrose replied, "It's science." She held up her wrist and pulled down her sleeve, reveling what looked like some sort of tick, chunky black bracelet. "This is called commicuff," She explained, "People can use it to contact each other, so they gave me one before I headed out."
Arthur just stared at her, looking suspicious.
I couldn't take it anymore. I had to say something. "Oh will you stop?!" I shouted frustrated.
Neither of them expected that, I know because they both turned to look at me. "She's not some sorceress scheming against us," I continued, "It's been four days, has she done anything to hurt us, anything at all?"
No one said anything for minute then at last Arthur admitted, "No."
"She even saved our lives once, didn't she?" I said on a role now, "She'd my life in particular twice."
"You're right," Arthur said, thought I didn't catch it at first.
"And you know something-"I began, then I finally processed what he had just said, "What did you just say?"
"You're right." He repeated, "After everything we've just gone through I shouldn't suspect her of anything. I'm sorry."
"Don't tell it to me," I said, gesturing towards Primrose, "Say it to her."
Arthur turned to Primrose. "Primrose," Arthur began, "I'm sorry. I've misjudged you and I never gave you a chance. Can you forgive me?"
Primrose was silent for a moment, and she had this far off look in her eye like she was remembering something.
"Primrose?" I asked, concerned.
That brought Primrose out it. "Yeah," She said, "Sure, I forgive you." And then she walks back to the campsite as if nothing happened.
We fallow her back to the campsite and sit around the fire. "So," I said, at last, "How long will it take us to get there now?"
" The rest of the week and two days," Primrose answered.
"How long was it suppose to take?" I asked.
"A week," Primrose responded.
"And where exactly are we suppose to meet them?" I asked, just to keep talking about something.
"My cabin," Primrose answered.
"Cabin?" Arthur perked up. "You mean you actually live out here in the woods?"
"Yeah," Me and Primrose both said at the same time. We look at each other, and then, I said, "Sorry, you go on."
"Thanks," Primrose replied, "Yes, I do live out here in the woods. What's everyone's problem with that? What's so great about living in a town anyway?"
"Well," Arthur began, not noticing me cringing because I already knew her feelings on this subject, "There's protection, companionship, somebody to hear you screamed if you're attacked by a wild animal..."
"Everyone expecting you to be something you're not," Primrose mumbled, so that we barely caught it.
"Huh?" I asked.
"Nothing," Primrose said, "It was nothing."
We talked for a little bit more and then turned in for the night. When it was time for my shift I noticed that Primrose was still awake. "Can't sleep?" I asked.
"No, it's not that," Primrose said, "I'm just... having a little trouble getting back to sleep for some reason."
"Do you want to talk until you can?" I asked. I knew her talking with her that first night helped me get to sleep.
"Sure ," Primrose said, sitting up, "Are you still okay? You know, after your little encounter with the Tracker Jackers?"
"I still hurt," I admitted, "But I guess it could be worst. Those Tracker Jackers are some nasty little insects. Where do they come from anyway?"
"Many years ago," Primrose began, "Before I was born, before I was even an idea actually, Panem was ruled by a very oppressive regime. The people decided to rebel, but the Capitol, the place where the people who had all the power lived, they obviously didn't like that. One of the things they did to try to quash the rebellion was mutate animals to use as weapons. One of the creatures that came out of this were the Tracker Jackers."
"I see," I said, thinking over the story, "I hate to see what else they created."
"Well, there use to be these things we just called the mutts," Primrose replied, "A bunch of half-human half-animal monsters they think survived after the second rebellion."
"Second rebellion?" I cut in.
"The Capitol succeeded in stamping down the first one, the one the Tracker Jackers came from," Primrose explained, "And they became even more cruel. They had an annual event where 24 children from the districts, the areas the country's divided in, fought to the death. Eventually, another rebellion started, and this one the rebels won. And afterwards while raiding the labs, they discovered some mutts, another word for mutation, that were so savage that even their own creators couldn't control them. And they were intelligent, not a good combination. Some of them got out, and made their way to the districts. They managed to kill them all before they could do much damage, but there are legends that few escaped out here, and have been living out here, in the woods.'"
A chill went up my spine. "Have you ever seen them?" I asked.
"No," Primrose answered, "I've never seen one. It's just a story parents tell their kids to keep them out of the woods."
"Well, that's a relief," I said, letting out a breath, "Anything else?"
Primrose thought a minute, then said, "They weren't made on purpose, but there are these birds called Mockingjays. During the first war, the Capitol made these birds called Jabberjays, which could record conversations and sent them behind enemy lines. But, what they didn't count on the rebellion figuring it out and making up complete lies for the creatures to send back. Eventually the Capitol decided to cut their losses and left the poor creatures in the wilderness to die. And once again something they hadn't counted on happened. The Jabberjays were only male but they mated with female Mockingbirds, making a completely new animal. They can't record conversations, but other sounds, the rustling of leaves, the melodies of song...they can imitate those perfectly."
"Well, those sound rather harmless," I replied.
"Yeah," Primrose said, but she had that look again, like something was borrowing her, "Harmless."
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Nothing," She said quickly, "Why would think anything would be the matter?"
"It's just you seem a little..." I struggled to find the right word, "It just seems like something wrong."
"It's just...' Primrose voice trailed off, she sighed and said, "I don't like Mockingjays. It's one of those...complicated things again."
"Oh," I replied, unsure of what else to say.
She paused a moment, looking at me as if she was deciding something. "It's not the animal itself," Primrose said, "It's what they represent."
"And what's that?" I asked, curious, trying to figure out her cryptic words.
"Come here," She requested, patting the spot beside her, "Sit by me."
I moved so that I was beside her. "My mother was a war hero," She began, "Some people called her the Mockingjay..."