Chapter Eight
Soldier Keep On Marching On
Even after enduring two Games and living amidst a war zone for a decade, Katniss knew that she would never get used to watching innocent people bleed before her eyes. The visit to 10 had sapped her of her remaining strength; she had held the hands of the elderly as she sat by their bedsides, cradled newly orphaned infants to her chest, and watched grown men weep at the fates their families had suffered. The visit had run over the estimated time scale by several hours, mostly due to Katniss' own reluctance to leave before she had taken a moment to pause at every bedside in the hospital. She suspected that Gale would be mad but she also was certain that he would come to understand quickly. He never could stand to watch anyone suffer, and he was so immensely proud of his wife for her ability to bring comfort to others with her mere presence. If it existed, his anger would wane, and he would soon be massaging her shoulders and kissing her brow as he asked her how the mission had gone.
It was with a sense of crushing sorrow weighing down on her that she walked the corridors of 13 by torchlight, searching out the familiar door to the quarter that was her home. Dinner had already been eaten and so Katniss would be going hungry for the night - or at least, she would have been had her appetite not been completely quelled by the sight of the wounded and the coppery stench that had hung thick in the air back at 10. It clung to her clothing and her hair now, and the one thing she longed for other than the feel of Gale's arms around her was a warm shower. She had to wash away the grime of the day before she allowed it to stain her permanently.
The metal door slowly slid open with just the faintest hiss of protest when she pressed her palm to the security sensor on the wall. It closed almost instantly behind her as she stepped inside. She paused to make use of both the electronic lock and the more archaic deadbolt Gale had insisted on.
The room was lit by a solitary table lamp, and as Katniss allowed her gaze to sweep more comforting, pleasant surroundings than the bloodied and terror-stricken field hospital, her eyes came to rest on the table beside the couch.
Resting underneath a metal cover was a dining hall bowl, with a bread roll and bottle of water beside it, along with the pre-requisite spoon and knife.
"Gale," she whispered his name through a smile, her steps quickening as she spied a light on in Briar's room. Standing in the doorway of the tiny space, which was barely big enough for a cot bed and an old dresser, Katniss felt her heart constrict at the sight that met her eyes.
Slumped against the wall, Gale slumbered silently, his tiny daughter sprawled over his chest in a carefree and apparently peaceful sleep. Her head was tucked protectively under his chin. Lips parted, Briar puffed out steady breaths, one hand gripping onto her father's shirt and the other clutching her bunny.
Gale held the old, yellowed and well-read book of fairy tales in one hand. His other hand rested in the centre of Briar's back, dwarfing the toddler's body even further.
Chancing waking her husband, who she knew would feel instantly guilty at not having been awake to greet her, Katniss sat down on the edge of the bed. Her smile came easy as she stared at the pair.
Gale came around quickly, his body alert and tensed, ready for the threat it had perceived in his oblivious state. Katniss watched his hands tighten on Briar and her heart swelled. Her husband would go to the grave for their daughter, and he'd do it with a song in his heart if that was what was required of him.
"Hey," Katniss whispered, attempting to offer Gale a smile. He saw through her immediately, as he had grown so accustomed to doing in their childhoods when they had wandered the woodlands together.
"It was bad," he stated rather than asked, rubbing blearily at his eyes before he began to attempt to extract himself from Briar's grip.
"The worst I've seen in a while," admonished Katniss, her head bowing under the burden of such heavy memories.
With Briar laid down against her pillow, Gale slid off the mattress and offered his right hand to Katniss. She took it without hesitation and the couple moved from their daughter's bedroom into their lounge area with the practiced silence that parents come to master.
"I managed to smuggle you back some soup," Gale said, indicating the meagre dinner with a toss of his head. "I had a hell of a job keeping Briar away from the bread. The kid sure likes carbs."
Taking a seat on the threadbare couch, Katniss picked up the bread roll and smiled briefly to herself as she broke off a small piece. She placed it absently into her mouth. Staring down at the bread, she found her mind drifting back to another time and place, and to the son of the district baker. As she swallowed down the meagre mouthful of food, a lump caught in her throat and she found herself struggling not to choke. Whilst Katniss had never been in love with Peeta, she had considered him a friend, someone she trusted. Only in hindsight could she see how his performance as her doting fiancé and husband had been born out of not only a desire to survive, but to perhaps sway her into sharing the feeling that fuelled his obsession.
"Hey, it's not that bad," Gale teased, noting the almost grimace on his young wife's face as she stared down at the food in her hand.
"Sorry," she apologised, shaking her head before she leaned up to press a kiss against his lips. "And thank you for this."
Katniss watched mutely as he leaned over and then deposited the tray of food onto her lap before again settling down at her side - a place he had always been since childhood.
"It was horrible, Gale. He's hitting them hard… punishing them for their loyalty to the Rebellion… to… to me," she sighed, pushing her spoon disinterestedly around the bowl through the murky coloured broth.
"Hey, this is not your fault," he reminded her, his arm coming to rest around her shoulder, "whatever he does, his actions are his own, Katniss."
"Sometimes I believe that," she replied, bending her head low so that the strands that had escaped her braid fell across her cheek. Gale wasted no time in reaching forwards to push them back behind her ear, and then he was gently lifting her chin with his thumb, encouraging her to look at him.
"There is nothing you could have done to prevent Peeta from going down this road," he insisted, mindful to keep his voice low so as not to disturb Briar, who had been reluctant to sleep anyway in the absence of her mother. It had taken three stories and four quiet lullabies as well as endless requests for water and bathroom trips to settle the little girl down. It was no wonder that once she had succumbed, Gale had found his own eyelids flickering closed against his will.
"We both know that isn't true," Katniss answered, shaking her head. Her features darkened as she added, "I could have made different choices but… given the time over, I can't say that I would. Despite what we've lived through and the mess we're in right now, I'm happy with you, and Briar, and our family. Peeta was never worth all that."
Gale rested his head against the back of the couch and peered up towards the ceiling of their quarters. His lips twisted into a thoughtful frown.
"Someday, Catnip, this will all be over… the Rebellion will just be a memory we tell our kids and grandkids about. And then you and I can go home…"
"Home?" Katniss interrupted, wiping the corner of her lip where remnants of soup stained her skin, "you mean District 12? Gale, there's nothing left of it!"
The hope in her eyes was matched only by the scepticism in her tone, yet she allowed him to lead her on through his foray into their imaginary future.
"We'll rebuild," he said defiantly, "like we always have. It'll be different this time… houses, stores, enough food for everybody, jobs, a school, a hospital… like it was before the war."
He referenced the civil war that had plunged the country into division over a century before, and for which they were still suffering the consequences.
He continued, swallowing down his own sorrow, "And you and I… we'll build that little cottage you always wanted… with the…"
"Blue door…" Katniss supplied with a wide grin, chuckling as she realised that she too was becoming caught up in his daydream.
"Blue door," he agreed, glancing down at her as she rested her head on his shoulder, "and maybe a little brother or sister for Briar… we'll get her her own cat so she can stop bugging that poor old flea-bag of your sister's."
Katniss arched an eyebrow and pondered the many times she'd found the beleaguered feline in the clutches of her daughter. It seemed Briar had made it her mission to hug and kiss the poor creature with or without the cat's consent.
"You know she'd probably be more excited about the cat than a sibling, I'm just saying."
"Yeah but I could get pretty excited about making one," Gale said, suggestively waggling his eyebrows at Katniss, who snorted with laughter.
"Gale Hawthorne, you smooth talker," she teased, rolling her eyes to demonstrate her exasperation with her husband, who seemed loathed to remain serious for longer than five minutes when they were alone in the sanctuary of their quarter. She supposed he had enough of playing the stoic protector in his role as Captain for the Rebellion.
"Baby, these lips were made for more than talking," he declared in an exaggerated purr, his smirk growing as he crawled towards Katniss across the couch. She held onto her laughter with the back of her hand pressed across her mouth, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Of course, he was trying his best to distract her and wrench her thoughts away from the events of the day. It was one of the things she loved about him most; his ability to shine light into even the darkest of her hours.
Placing her tray onto the nearby table, her stomach having had its fill of the watery broth, Katniss reached out and slid her arms around her husband's neck.
Easing herself back against the uncomfortable cushions, Katniss drew him down over her, her fingertips caressing the nape of his neck. His smile extracted a strangely contended sigh from her, the horrors of the day not forgotten but rather eased by his presence. Silence descended over them, and Katniss peered up into his grey eyes, finding herself giggling as he bumped the tip of her nose with his.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead and feeling his heart flutter in his chest, as it was always inclined to do when she gazed at him.
"Not really," she declined, "I'm kind of done being the Mockingjay today… I just want to be me tonight. Sometimes it's like I forget what it felt like to just be Katniss, just a regular girl. It's like I don't even know her anymore, you know?"
Almost a decade of being the face and voice of the Rebellion had left their mark on the young woman, and sometimes she mourned the fact she had never known what it felt like to live a simple life. To just be a daughter and sister again - to be a wife and a mother without the rebellion looming overhead and tainting each moment of joy with uncertainty or fear.
Pretending to ponder over her words for a moment, Gale arched an eyebrow and sucked in a breath as if physically pained, "Katniss Everdeen? I remember her. That girl was trouble…"
He smirked as she began to laugh, determined to continue his charade.
"No, really. She was! Always getting herself into all kinds of mischief… kind of like that kid back there." His tone softened as he declared, "But, she's also my favourite person in the entire world, and there's nothing I don't know about her."
"You're an idiot," Katniss accused playfully, lifting her head and claiming his lips in a brief kiss. Pulling his head down until his breath ghosted her skin and his forehead touched hers, she asked hesitantly, "Tell me about her?"
Gale frowned, the seriousness of Katniss' tone and open pleading in her eyes taking him by surprise, and most certainly indicating that now was not the time for his humour to arise.
"Sometimes she was kind of moody," he began, holding up a hand to silence the protests Katniss was already poised to utter, "but she had the biggest heart of anyone I'd ever met. She'd bail anyone out of trouble if she could and there were plenty of times I saw her go without to make sure others didn't have to."
Katniss lay back against the lumpy, hard cushions, accustomed to their feel anyway, and closed her eyes. It was almost as though she was awaiting a bedtime story of her own.
Repositioning his body so that he lay behind her, Gale wrapped Katniss in his embrace, with one hand splayed over her abdomen. He tugged her as close as possible and then brushed his lips against the apple of her cheek. Katniss shivered when his stubbled jaw grazed her skin, and she closed her eyes with the trace of a contented smile weaving across her lips. His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke, and she felt the vibrations of it against her back. Katniss placed her hand over his, tangling their fingers together as she often liked to do. The first time they had held hands they had been children, and now they were married with one of their own. It never failed to astound Katniss how far they had come.
"She was beautiful, and kind, and loyal. Smarter than she knew. I think I loved her even before I knew what it really meant… I never wanted to be anywhere but beside her."
Turning her head to nuzzle against his, Katniss reached up to caress his jaw. "What happened to her?"
Unwilling to let her descend any further into her maudlin state, Gale pursed his lips and pretended to look perplexed. "I don't know. I guess she married some loser from the Seam, probably an ex-miner… pretty sad, really."
Katniss shook her head and inhaled the scent of soap that clung to his skin. Back in 12, he had always smelled somehow like a curious combination of fresh air and pine. She missed that.
"No," she countered, bringing her hand back to his cheek and brushing her thumb across his lower lip. "That's not right."
"It's not?"
"Uh-uh." She peered up into his eyes, all but melting into his back at the intensity of his grey-eyed gaze. "I heard she married a pretty great guy… her best friend… maybe her soul mate."
All pretences now gone, Gale kissed her, his hold on her tight. He repeated the gesture over and over again until Katniss was forced to draw back to claim a breath of air. She seemed to relax into his embrace though, her mind and her soul calmed equally.
"That girl? She's right here. Where she belongs."
x-x-x
He was alone in his chambers when the soft knock on the door resounded, pulling him away from the near ancient novel he had been pouring over. It was one recommended to him by an advisor, although the title had at first been both mystifying and off-putting; A Clockwork Orange. It had almost evoked a smile. Peeta had always been somewhat of a reluctant reader, even during his school days, but in recent years he had found himself appreciating the written word more and more, mostly thanks to his alliance with Snow. The former president had possessed a vast and enviable collection of novels, texts, volumes of poetry and plays, all of which he claimed to have read at least once during his lifetime. He had certainly been a learned man and so Peeta had never thought to doubt his word on that. Instead, he had resolved to attempt to compete with it. Anything Snow had done to ensure his own success and prosper, Peeta would attempt to emulate. He knew that he still had much to learn about governing Panem, but with the spectre of Snow never far from his mind, he surely couldn't fail.
"What?" Peeta barked out, irritated beyond measure as he pushed the yellowed book aside and strode to his door. He threw it open to find a man he barely recognised standing there, shifting from one foot to the other somewhat nervously.
"My apologies, President Mellark, but a small squad of Peacekeepers picked up a stray during a routine sweep of the perimeter of 3," he revealed, his voice breaking horribly as he noted Peeta glaring at him. He hurried on, "General Corpius insists that you come down to the holding cells and meet with…"
"Oh he insists, does he?" Peeta purred, arching a blonde brow at the servant, who gulped. He seemed to have realised his own error far too late to rectify it.
"That is, I mean, I…" he stammered, actual tears beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes as he faltered to find some sort of saving grace.
The man shrank back and grew mute until Peeta glared at him, eyes wide, as if his silence now too was annoying him. "And?"
Faltering for words, the man stumbled on, "We thought perhaps you might want to speak to this one yourself, sir. She's… she's from 13."
Upon hearing those words Peeta's stance changed almost instantly. He stood straighter, his interest now clearly piqued.
"She's loyal to the Mockingjay?" the words dripped from his lips with evident disdain.
The man shook his head vigorously, "No sir. That's just it, she says she wants to cut a deal with you. She says she has information you're going to want to hear."
Peeta folded his arms across his chest and pondered the situation, "And do we believe her? How are we to know she's not some plant from the Rebellion?"
Licking his lips nervously, the guard appeared to swallow so hard his Adam's apple bobbed. Clearly the information he was about to bestow was going to cause his increasingly unstable leader to become upset. He could only hope he wouldn't bear the brunt of his temper like so many of the Capitol's men had before him.
"She knows things, sir. Things the Rebellion don't want us to know about. Private things about the Mockingjay. It seems that she… that Katniss… she has a husband."
Peeta froze, his fingers curling at his sides until his hands had been rendered to fists. His manicured nails pressed into his palms hard, the pain serving as a welcome distraction from the surprising wave of anguish that washed over him along with the fury that was to be expected.
When he spoke, Peeta's voice was full only of steely resolve.
"Show me."
The walk down to the holding cells was carried out in absolute silence, which was perhaps the sole reason that once they reached their destination, Peeta did not immediately have the guard executed. Aside from the fact that the president found him annoying beyond measure, the man knew too much; far more than President Mellark deemed suitable for someone of his standing. However, Peeta had been somewhat rocked by the revelation of Katniss' state of matrimony, and so the guard was able to excuse himself and scuttle away before the president had time to gather his wits.
Peering through the viewing window of the cell, Peeta curled his upper lip in disgust as he regarded the woman. Her skin was mottled with bruises and track marks, and she hunched in the corner, scratching manically at her arms and neck – likely a consequence of the morphling withdrawal that he assumed she was currently in the throes of.
He slammed his palm against the pad on the door and the cell slid open to grant him access. Peeta strolled inside with a now well-rehearsed swagger, enjoying the way the woman's face paled further at the sight of him.
"Mr. President…" Mona's eyes widened in surprise as she breathed the moniker. She had not expected to be rewarded with an audience with Peeta Mellark himself so soon after her arrival. However, she knew the information she held was likely to be of interest to him; if not from a strategic point of view, certainly from a personal angle. She had watched the Games on TV when she had been younger, and she had seen the longing looks the baker's boy had passed in Katniss' direction. Mona had rejoiced with the rest of the districts at the news of their marriage, and similarly mourned when they assumed the Games had robbed them of the life of their unborn child.
Now of course she knew it had all been a carefully constructed lie, and she felt as much of a fool as she assumed the man in front of her once had.
Mona's loyalty was most definitely up for the highest bidder, and she felt no sense of duty to the Rebellion or their cause. District 13 had cruelly discarded her for her indiscretions instead of offering her the help she so badly required, and so she determined with ease that she owed them nothing. Then there was Katniss herself – poised and strong, still beautiful yet battle weary, a wife, a mother, and the darling of the districts; all the things Mona herself could never be. Perhaps most tragically of all, Katniss had the undying affections of a man Mona felt that perhaps she did not value in the manner in which he was deserving. Just looking at the Mockingjay had become a bitter pill to swallow. No - Mona would suffer no guilt as she divulged everything she knew to the president, so long as the price was worth her while.
"You have information?" Peeta pressed, clasping both hands behind his back as he surveyed the woman before him with a smile. It was a wholly predatory gesture, but Mona appeared oblivious to this. She beamed back at her captor, kneeling before him like a soldier poised to be knighted. Peeta barely managed to prevent himself from recoiling when she latched onto his hand with dirty, bony fingers.
"They say you can help me?" she said, desperation clinging to her in a palpable manner, "if I help you…"
"My dear, if you help me, I swear to you that I will personally see to it that you receive every last little thing that you deserve," Peeta replied, working hard to inject a note of warmth to his tone even as his rage simmered below the surface. Quietly, he added, "And perhaps more."
Mona's features broke into a wide grin and she began to nod her head emphatically.
"Thank you, thank you, sir," she stammered, tears tripping her cheeks all of a sudden, although she didn't appear to even notice them.
"Now, tell me," began Peeta, carefully extracting his hand from the woman's grasp and just managing to resist the urge to wipe his skin clean with the handkerchief poking out of his breast pocket, "what is the beloved Mockingjay hiding from the world?"
"His name is Gale," Mona blurted out, creeping further forwards on her knees, "he's in the military... a Captain… in charge of strategy or something. I guess they've been married years now, although I wasn't there to see it."
Peeta's breath refused to leave his chest, and he turned to her as if he had misheard. Pure fury was beginning to ignite in his gut - perhaps the same one that had been slowly burning for the better part of a decade.
"Hawthorne?" he checked, his mind reeling with possibilities. Gale Hawthorne was supposed to be dead. Peeta had watched him bleed out himself; he had watched the District 13 strike team drag the man's lifeless body from the cell.
"You know him?" Mona asked, suddenly adding, as if to make up for her betrayal, "he's a nice guy. He seems… kind. And he's so tall and handsome... like, all the women in District 13 would kill to get in his…"
Noting how red and angry the president's face seemed to be growing, Mona cleared her throat and fell silent. She scratched absently at her scabbed arm.
"He just seems like a real nice man, that's all. But I guess they keep it a secret… can't have the poster girl of the Rebellion all cosy and married, right? Like, if she's that happy, how's that meant to make people in the other districts feel when they're starving and there's bombs falling from the sky, and…"
"Are you high…" Peeta gestured his fingers at her to implore her to tell him her name. She muttered her answer with her head dipped down to avoid his sharp glare.
"Mona? When was the last time you used? Because, you see…" he laughed softly, although his face was devoid of humour, "you're telling me that Katniss is married to a man I saw die right in front of my eyes. So you see why I'm struggling here to believe your story. Did Katniss send you? Did she tell you to lie to me? She told you about Gale, didn't she? Didn't she?! She thought it would hurt me, make me jealous. Was that her plan? Are you a spy, Mona? Did the Rebellion send you here?"
The confusion upon Mona's face was genuine and she let out a low cry as Peeta seized her shoulders in order to shake her hard. She felt her own teeth rattling with the assault but she was powerless to draw back.
"No, I promise… I…" she stuttered, shaking her head with vehemence, "I hate them… I hate them all for everything they've done to me… Katniss and her stupid mother and her perfect little sister…"
"If you are lying to me," Peeta began through gritted teeth, his breath hot on Mona's cheek as he leaned into her, "I swear that I…"
"I'm not!" protested Mona, managing to wrench herself free from Peeta's grasp. She scuttled back over to the corner, her arms instinctively wrapping around her own body as she sought protection from the man bearing down on her.
"He survived then," Peeta remarked, his tone oddly devoid of any emotion as he straightened up. His eyes bore a faraway look, and Mona held her breath as she waited for him to erupt again. The storm never came, however, and she relaxed just a little.
"This…" Peeta whispered, tossing his head to the side, "this changes things."
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean…" began Mona in a trembling voice, suddenly terrified by the prospect that her rewards for her service would be revoked. However, Peeta seemed to have lost all of his limited patience with the woman, and he dismissed her words with a raised hand.
"Is there anything else I should know?" he demanded, his head cocked to one side as he peered back at Mona.
There had been whisperings among the districts that President Mellark was not wholly of sound mind. Even though his time in office had been short thus far, there was no scarcity of tales of his unspeakable cruelty, which even outmatched Snow in their voracity. Mona had often wondered if it was all hype or just another attempt by President Coin to secure the loyalty of the districts in uniting against the Capitol. But now, held fast under Mellark's furious stare, the young woman realised that perhaps the rumours were all true.
Though he claimed to hate Katniss and everything she stood for, Mona knew the face of jealousy first hand. Peeta may rally and rage against the Mockingjay but, as Mona found herself rapidly realising, part of his anger was born of Katniss' indifference to his affections. Though Peeta may never have loved her in the purest sense – certainly not as Gale doted on her – rejection still had pierced his heart.
"And this… this isn't all a ruse to secure the adoration of the people? Like the one I orchestrated during the Games?"
Mona was momentarily silent. She had always assumed that it had been Katniss who had engineered those lies. After all, what better way to stoke the fires of the Rebellion she had started than to weave within it a love story that had the country spellbound? Suddenly, the truth, and the reality of her treason, was beginning to strike Mona with alarming clarity; she had run right into the hands of the enemy, and given them information that could potentially change the course of the war for the worse. Certainly, it may risk the safety of a man who had done nothing but show her kindness.
"N… No, it's true," Mona said quietly, batting at the tears that now tripped her cheeks. Tears of regret this time, as opposed to tears of frustration and anger.
Peeta's jaw set and he began to pace the cell, his hands clenched behind his back. "You're absolutely certain there is nothing else you've missed out?"
Mona closed her eyes for a moment, and immediately the smile of the beautiful little Hawthorne child filled her guilty mind. Thoughts of the toddler pricked at her conscience, and she shook her head firmly.
"No. Nothing else."
Peeta seemed to almost deflate, his shoulders sagging and his head dropping as he weighed the information he had received, and apparently found the burden of it overwhelming. For just a moment, Mona dared to hope that she might have been wrong.
When Peeta straightened up moments later, fire in his eyes and cold indifference on his face, her heart plummeted.
"Thank you for your assistance," he crooned, turning on his heel and striding for the door, where two armed guards waited for him.
"My… the bounty…" Mona breathed, closing her eyes in fear of the answer she would receive. She supposed she deserved nothing less, in light of all she had done. Still, she was afraid.
"There is no bounty," Peeta replied, almost cheerfully. He turned back to regard Mona for just a moment. "I despise people who are disloyal to their own cause. Why would I be foolish enough to trust anyone who has already betrayed friends once? Guards, see that she receives exactly what was promised to her."
"Sir?" the shorter of the men asked, clearly confused by the deeper meaning buried within the instruction. Peeta rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"Everything that she deserves," he repeated, carefully enunciating each word so that the sentence finally resembled the threat it truly had become. Mona managed to cage a sob.
Striding down the hall with renewed purpose in his step, Peeta smiled through the ear-piercing screams of the woman being dragged to her execution.
The sound of a single gunshot rang out through the air and the president nodded in satisfaction. Traitors must be dealt with appropriately, and if Mona had been disloyal to one side, she would doubtlessly have had no qualms in betraying the other. Besides, Peeta loathed addicts, and the Capitol had a strict zero tolerance policy regarding those who abused any form of legal or illegal substances. How could they possibly be valuable soldiers or contribute to the great cause when their minds and bodies were rotting or addled by disease?! Mona had served her purpose.
Now, Peeta would visit his revenge upon those who he thought were long since dead and buried. Gale Hawthorne would be too simple of a target, and there would be no poetry or challenge in killing him. Peeta still recalled the silent yet unfailing devotion he had shown Katniss all those years before, even allowing himself to be relegated to the role of 'cousin' so that the fans may believe the darlings of the Games were really and truly in love. Of course, their deception had been short lived; something that couldn't be said for the lie Katniss and her apparent husband had been living for close to a decade.
No, it was high time the world knew of Katniss' deceit and of the secret she kept hidden from them. Whilst they suffered and endured, their prized Mockingjay was living the very life of domesticity so many of her people had forfeited. Whilst they sent their husbands and lovers off to war, Katniss ended each day warm in the arms of hers.
It was time that the people discovered who was really to blame for their misfortunes.
Once again, President Mellark planned to address the nation. Perhaps they were finally ready for the truths that would pass his lips. Soon he would know, one way or another.