Chapter Five - Sails and Secrets (Fractals - Four)
Seventeen Hours Before the Reaping of the Annual Hunger Games
"Chardee."
It wasn't a question, nor was it delivered with any sort of excitement, shock, or dread. It was as flatly delivered as it could be. No emotion whatsoever attached to it, practically mechanical in every way.
Befitting of Sabrina's relationship with the establishment, she supposed.
There was a short bout of silence. Then Sabrina cleared her throat, raising her hand in the air to be seen among the many students that surrounded her. "Present."
The walk up to the stage wasn't grand, nor awful. Perfectly neutral, as everything was. The mismatched wood beneath her tarnished shoes creaked and cracked beneath her as the students moved out of her way, creating a crack in the congregation that she followed to the front. The air smelled of dew from the afternoon storm earlier that day, though the sea air tainted everything in the familiar sense of the harbor anyways, with the natural light of the cloudy day on the cliffside bathing them in a soft gray tone. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing too special.
Everything was as it always was.
…
Almost.
It was a "special day," or so she's been told. The congregation that she overlooked as she reached the main part of the stage was larger than she had seen it any time before, full of people from the graduating class. They had never been assembled all together like this. Were there really this many?
And, of course, tomorrow was the Reaping. Today would be the day that they decided Careers. That was special, wasn't it?
And her name was the one they called. She will be their Volunteer tomorrow morning. She knew that.
And Sabrina felt…
…
Principal Moby stood beside her, not looking at her. He didn't tend to emote much. It was business as usual. A day like this and a day five months ago didn't matter to him. She was used to that. He was here because he had to be, she heard. Or maybe not. She didn't care much for gossiping.
At least not about him.
Because if the wind was right, she was told, one night, long long ago…
It was so long ago. She knew that she wasn't coming back to her. Mommy dearest was long past gone. The wind was wrong.
"Miss Chardee!"
A short intake of breath, and her eyes sharpened again.
She turned her gaze back to him, hands behind her back. He stared expectantly, as if waiting for a response, and the sea of people looking at her each did the same. What were their thoughts? Lightly glancing at the congregation, she saw their faces contorted in different ways, ways of more distinct emotion than she was capable of feeling. Some were surprised. Some were confused. Some were disappointed. But it didn't matter. They all just blended into a big blob of people that meant nothing to her.
"Miss Chardee," the Principal continued onwards, and her attention was on his voice once more, "I believe that you are our best candidate for this. Do you accept it?"
Ah, plain and to the point, as always. No fanfare, no speeches, just a question. A proposal.
She didn't have to think about it. She didn't gossip but she certainly heard the rumors; she heard what they said about her chances of being selected. And so she premeditated the thought beforehand.
…
She sat down in her dorm, about the same time as it was in the present, just a day earlier, and took out her torn and worn notebook, writing down a crude list on two separate pages. What were the benefits? Money. The drawbacks? She would probably die. There was a shudder about that, but she shrugged it off, chalking it up to just being some stray wind from her open window overlooking the rocky water. Tapping her pencil, she brainstormed some more ideas for the book. Where would she end up when she won? It wasn't as if anybody exactly knew where the Victors went. What about the house? She wouldn't see that again. Another for the cons.
She scribbled a lot of things down. And thus far, "money" was the only thing on the pros page, with an overwhelming amount of words on the cons. The risk, the uncertainty, the house, and, now that she thought of it, that obnoxious fanfare… and yet the money stood solitary on the pros. All alone. Did this one outweigh the others? She didn't think so.
That being said, it wasn't like she had a choice.
What would she do if she did?
…
…
…
…
…
She didn't know.
…no, she did. She knew.
Sabrina knew very well what she would do if she were able. She'd sit by the coastline of Whiteshore, right by the house, watch the clouds and wait.
The wind would be cold with the freezing sea, just as it was here, blowing through her windows and shaking the wood of the walls, and it would blow past the rocks, every day, and onto her, standing by the waves lapping lightly on the sand. She'd stand and wait every day that she had to, staring into the horizon as the chill whipped past her and blew her red hair into knots day in and day out. She'd wait until one day, one fateful day, the wind would stop blowing through her, like some sort of ghost, and it would flow right past the pass, in the direction of the sea, knocking each wave and eddy of the water back to where it came.
But as she sat there, in the dormitory of Saindelwa's Academy, transfixed on the sharp rocks on the cliffside beneath her, there was a light sigh, and she circled the one thing in the pros column of her notebook.
Money.
She didn't have any money.
And it wasn't like she could just stand there looking at the water like a madwoman for as long as it took without it.
The time was coming, she knew. She was out of it. She would always have to go, because there was no more time left.
But that's what she wanted, wasn't it, in a twisted way? Deep down, all she desired was to leave.
…
In the present, the sun sat on the foggiest of evenings, and she stood, staring Principal Moby in the eyes. Her gaze was long, unfeeling, and full of apathy.
She didn't truly want this.
But the only word to leave her lips that evening was "yes."
…
And there was no further fanfare besides a few stray murmurs from the congregation below her. What were they saying?
She didn't care.
The man beside her cleared his throat, but she was barely paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere.
"Mordred," the man bellowed, and that was as far as she was paying attention. There was another in the congregation, who like her, separated themself as the tide of students split in half to let them through. They seemed more, well, proactive than she was, marching swiftly right beside her, although no smile made its way to their face.
She scrutinized who was apparently to be her District Partner, as the same question came to them. They were much quicker on the uptake, responding right away with a… was that peppy? …with a peppy "Yes, sir!"
That explained it.
Sabrina thought that, perhaps, at some point in her long, long stay at the Saindelwa Academy, she must have seen this particular student if they were this significant. Focusing on their features, there was a sense of vague familiarity that confirmed that she indeed had, but it was hard to think of where exactly. Blond kids like them weren't in short stock in Four. Now, as for their name… Mordred, was it? Or, their surname, to be more accurate. If this was one of the Volunteers from Four, she was bound to recognize that name, wasn't she?
It didn't ring a bell.
…
"Miss Chardee!"
She blinked again, awareness crashing over her. "Yes, Principal Moby?"
He instead just gestured over to the other Volunteer, standing in front of him, and the whole congregation, with an outstretched hand. Blankly, she grabbed it, making eye contact with Mordred.
There was a lot of fire in those eyes.
She wondered where from.
And while there wasn't any fanfare, as he tended to be against it, Principal Moby did the bare minimum, preparing a tiny speech for the two as they shook hands. But Sabrina didn't hear a word that he said. And the moment that the small smattering of claps from their captive audience stopped, they began to leave for the doors, and Sabrina was just as aware of what was happening as when she began.
Which was to say, not at all.
"You know, Chardee, you're gonna have to be more attentive than this for where we're going."
The girl in question, their District Partner, as it were, sent Donnelley a precursory glance. They studied her, as quickly as they could at that moment. She was tall, lanky, but not weak, as were most of the tributes in her placement. That was standard. But how tall? They couldn't exactly take up her full height, as she was slouched, unfocused, and somewhat aloof. But this didn't make them think less of her. If she was like this, but still the Volunteer, that meant that there was… something special about her, wasn't there?
What was it? Was it the dedication? The drive? Raw skill? They surveyed her up and down again, searching for some sort of sign…
But what caught their attention the most was the eyes. Her eyes were gray, as was her whole demeanor, like there was this glazed over feeling with it. Like she was… out of the loop.
Upon hearing their comment, she shrugged, sitting down on the wooden bench, which creaked under her weight, and looking pensively at the sky with an outstretched palm. The clouds were dark, even for the early evening. It might rain again. But no raindrops touched her hand as she sat on the cliffside path, viewing the great ocean extend for miles upon miles, so she just shrugged again, paying them no mind and watching the waves once more.
But Donelley was nothing if not persistent, and they came over to the girl, stepping over the muddied trail to sit to her right on the bench. Her gaze, for a second, flickered back over to them, and she hummed with acknowledgement.
When Chardee finally spoke, the sound was hoarse and quiet. But there was a power from those words that they never would fail to recognize.
"You're my Partner, aren't you?"
"I am." Donelley never hesitated to speak. And they outstretched their hand, just as they did at the Saindelwa Academy, to shake.
"Donelley," they told her, "Donelley Mordred, your District Partner for the next Hunger Games."
She eyed their hand as the wind whistled past them. Despite the ever warm nature of summer, the day was oddly chilled, as was her demeanor. With one hand, it was as if she was going to shake back, but she instead just pushed his hand away.
Chardee turned away and back towards the dark clouds taking up the horizon line.
…
Their lips pressed together into a firm line. No, that wouldn't do. Not at all.
"If we're going to be working together, I could at least use a name, Chardee."
The girl, not once, turned away from the horizon line as she spoke. Donnelley, curious as they were, glanced out at it the same. Was there something peculiar about it? It was the sea; they saw it every day. Four was the fishing district after all.
But she still spoke despite looking forward to… nothing, seemingly.
"Not sure why," she muttered, blinking slowly, "I mean, I'm gonna die if you won't. You're gonna die if I won't. Why get close to you?"
They hummed, thought it over, then came just a bit closer, crossing one leg over the other. "It's mutually beneficial, y'know. More likely to make it to the end for either of us, innit? If we're friends?"
She snorted, and the wind picked up, whipping a few stray strands of hair into her face. She lightly tucked it behind her right ear, glancing over at them with a blank smirk.
There wasn't much humor behind it.
"How am I gonna kill you if I like you, Don?"
"Don't call me that," they said, on impulse, "Donnelley."
She whistled, clicking her tongue, then lounging back into her seat.
"'Aight Donnelley. Not sure how that helps your case, but sure."
"No, that's not part of my case," they corrected. They always appeared to know just what to say. Did Chardee notice this? It could help them both. Talking was vital where they were going, after all! As were teammates. Usually the Fours stuck together, also with the Ones and the Twos.
"But if one of us has to die, the other might as well live, shouldn't they? I can help with that."
She closed her eyes, probably thinking. There was a short, low hum, almost drowned out by the wind, and then she shrugged again.
"Makes sense, I guess."
Donnelley stopped themself from grinning. Lazily, her eyes half-opened, and Chardee stuck out her hand to shake. They took it, and the hands went up and down once, before letting go. A firm shake.
"Name's Sabrina," the girl said, letting go and leaning back once more, putting her arms on the bench's backing, "Sabrina Chardee. And I already know your name, Donnelley. You don't have to repeat yourself."
"Sabrina," they repeated, testing the name on their tongue. Yes, they believe they had heard her name thrown around a few times at the Saindelwa Academy. She was the loner kid, right? She didn't have any friends, or even family, they heard. Nothing to lose, everything to gain, meaning that there were probably not many reasons for her to stay. But still, teamwork was a skill, right? Why would Principal Moby send a lone wolf to fight?
They just had to find out, didn't they? After all, Sabrina was their new teammate, and they had to know everything about her now. Why was she here? What were her motivations? What made her click? How could they ensure that she wouldn't just kill them when their back was her way?
"So what're you here for, Sabrina?"
A side-eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Another scootch towards her, and their knees were practically touching. She flicked her gaze to it as they spoke.
"If we're gonna be on the same team," they told her, "I'd like to know how to work with you. What do you think Principal Moby selected you for?"
She made an "oh" sound, then clicked her tongue, before grasping their knee and pushing it away from hers.
"Stop doing that."
Before even Donnelley could respond, however, she looked back to the horizon, leaning her head away and speaking again.
"To answer your, well, frankly weird questions, Donnelley," she spoke. They could notice the annoyance on her tongue, "I just did okay. Got good stuff in every category. I don't have any big emotional attachments, so it's not like anybody cares about them putting me in there."
"Elaborate on that?"
She hesitated. But she hesitated on most questions, so it wasn't out of the ordinary. Sabrina waved them away, closing her eyes again, and just listening to the wind.
"No thanks, Donny."
On impulse, they spoke once more. "Donnelley."
A chuff. "Not one for nicknames then? Fair enough. What about you, then? What's your excuse?"
Ah! They had already had this story prepared themself. "My mother told me that going in would be our most wise financial decision. She is putting a lot of pride in it! I'll make her proud with a victory, and return to Four with more splendor and money than she could imagine!"
She blinked and squinted at them before deciding, promptly, that it wasn't worth discussion. "Conflict of interest."
"Every alliance is, isn't it?"
There was a short glance in their direction from her, hands in her pockets, and wind blowing her burning hair completely to the back, exposing her eyes. But they were not uncaring this time, Donnelley suddenly noticed. And… they noticed another sort of expression mixed in with it. Was that…
Judgment?
"Do you even know what will happen to you after you win?"
…
…
…?
…!
This was the first time Donnelley had ever hesitated in this conversation, and they quickly caught their uncomprehending expression, chuckling slightly and masking their unease with her… quirk with a smile. "W- what do you–?"
"Wendy Ginerva," Sabrina spoke, interrupting them with a neutral voice, "She was in the year above us. She won last year's shindig. Where is she?"
They inhaled, expecting to speak again, to answer what should be an easy question.
But they couldn't.
…
The information was easy, wasn't it? They ought to know where the Victors go, shouldn't they?
But they didn't.
They…
…
…
…
…
Sabrina held her hand out to the sky again. After just a few seconds, she reeled it back in, and Donnelley could see the slight shine of a water droplet on her palm.
"Rain," she commented, wiping the water off on her jeans, "I was right. I best be off then. You too, Donnelley."
There was a slight pause.
…but Donnelley shook it off. No! They were supposed to freak her out, not the other way!
"Are you returning to your dormitory, or going somewhere else?" Donnelley blurted out, tactlessly, standing up the same time she did, albeit quicker. She took a step away from them at this, oddly eyeing them again.
"No, you… weirdo, no–" she said, backing away, "I'm going to the station."
Ah, of course, the train. In Four, there was a train network, running all across the coastline to deliver people to the cities far apart. Sailing from place to place in local areas, despite being near the water, was heavily discouraged, probably due to the rocky sea, so the trainline was developed. Easy to get folks place to place.
"Oh, heading up to Port Silverstone already?" they inquired, getting a few steps closer, "The tickets are cheaper in the morning, when everybody's going, you know."
There was a heavy sigh, and she turned to walk away. "I already got my ticket, Donnelley–" she pulled a piece of paper out of her jeans, covered in all of the logos and jargons and whatnot of the railway. Donnelley scanned it, despite being a bit too far to read everything properly, "And the conductor likes to send the train earlier if the rain picks up. I got fired last week, I don't have the kind of money to pay for more tickets than I need."
She began to walk away, but Donnelley didn't miss a beat. "Then why is your ticket for Whiteshore?"
And she stopped.
There was a short moment, as a few more drops littered the mud on the trail like miniature bombshells, with the wind whistling past the two.
She stood like stone as the air began to smell of dew again.
Then, she turned her head to them, eyes wider than usual. But she quickly narrowed them.
"How did you…?"
"Your ticket says '4-3' on it," Donnelley told her, quickly stepping right into her vicinity once more, and pointing right at the ticket's details on the page, "Port Silverstone, y'know, the Reaping town, is '4-1.' What's in Whiteshore?"
Just as quickly as they came, Sabrina ripped the paper away, stuffing it in one of her pockets. "How could you even read it from that far away, you creep?"
Donnelley ignored that last comment, continuing down their path of knowledge and steeping even closer. "You said you didn't have a family. There isn't anything significant about Whiteshore. Is it sentimental value?"
"Okay, sure, yeah, it is!" she said, features twisted in vague discomfort and annoyance. That wasn't very nice. "Now I gotta go, so just– we'll talk on the Reaping train!"
"But–" they protested, but she stomped away, waving them off.
"WE'LL TALK ON THE TRAIN!"
And by then she was down the path already, heading back into Saindelwa, too far to catch up, because if they ran, she'd probably be faster.
Hm, that's no good. They needed to get along with her for where they were going.
Oh well. They'd have to talk on the train, on time they had to prepare, not talking…
…or…
The train station wasn't big, because there weren't that many trains passing through on most days The train often didn't come in day in and day out, twice or thrice each time. No, the government knew that people remained in their hometown most of the time, so if you wanted to go somewhere, there was only one scheduled departure per day. Sabrina was in luck; it was early night when the Whiteshore train came and went.
"Oh, it's you again."
She glanced up, and there was that Peacekeeper who ran Saindelwa's station, just sitting there in the booth. She nodded vaguely in his direction.
"Hey."
There was the sound of some shuffling papers in his booth, and then he took a look at her, standing below him in his elevated position and staring with half-lidded eyes.
He coughed a few times, then gestured to a bunch of schedules on the wall, full of too much information for Sabrina to care about. "I'm afraid that we can't sell you the 4-3 tickets right now," he said, clearing his throat, "We're sold out for this train."
She paused for a moment, blinking.
Then she dug in her pockets for a few more moments, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper and setting it on his desk.
"Stopped by this morning to get one," she told the man, who was putting on his reading glasses to look at it, "Can I board now?"
He kept looking at it, reading over the details and murmuring some out loud to himself, but after a while he shrugged, removing his glasses again, "It's legit, all right. You're all set, kid."
"I know," she muttered, watching the man get out a large stamp. Did they always have to do that?
There was a large thud, and the man removed the stamp, revealing a large 'CONFIRMED' print in a black rectangle on the paper. He blew on it, then wiped on it, just to see if it had dried. It had, like it did every time.
"Do you have the money for tickets back to 4-1 in the morning?" he asked, and handed her the paper.
She took the ticket back, stuffing it in her jeans again. "Yeah, I do."
But before she could leave, Sabrina hesitated. Should she… tell him about what happened?
It's not like it mattered.
Stopping in her tracks, she spoke over her shoulder to him, "I kinda have to, actually. 'Cause I'm the Volunteer this year."
"Oh, are you now?" he quirked a brow, looking up from his paperwork, then hummed with vague interest as he sized her up, "I could see it. You're a capable young woman, I'm sure you'll do us proud. Just like Miss Ginerva last year."
…why did she do that?
"Uh, thanks…" she told him, and nodded as she went back to the terminal. She… she was just going to ignore what she just did. After all, the train would leave the station soon, and she didn't waste her money. She didn't have that sort of freedom.
And as she walked off, she heard the man call out, hollering over the crowd assembling, boarding the locomotive as fast as they could, "May the odds be ever in your favor, Miss Chardee!"
"Uh-huh!"
It hadn't hit her yet that there was an overwhelmingly high probability that they'd never cross paths again.
She had done this a lot in her past. The boarding onto the train today was more crowded than usual, but still, it was easy enough to navigate to climb the stairs of the metal contraption, as she remembered doing this since she was a child. Whenever she made enough money when she was younger, she'd take this train over to Whiteshore, and just—
…no, there was no "just," of anything she did. Definitely not there. She did a lot more than "just" in Whiteshore.
She heard that there were rumors about it. About secrets she had, and reasons why she hid them. About secrets she wanted to know. But she didn't care… no, well, she cared more about these ones than Principal Moby's. They were about her, after all.
But she didn't live in Whiteshore. Not anymore at least. Let them talk. She didn't have secrets.
She did, actually. Just not significant ones.
Well, actually that depends on one's view of "significant…"
…
The train was in motion now, and as usual, she sat in the caboose, on a bench overlooking the outside. Everyone else didn't think that it was safe, so usually she was alone here. And she could just watch the waves of the water to her right. The water was dark, and the waves crashed and prodded at the rocks, as per usual. It was rough, but not untraversable, Sabrina thought. She could probably just sail to Whiteshore if she wanted, but that wasn't allowed, hence the train. And it wasn't like she had a boat anyways.
Well, not in Saindelwa at least.
Besides, it was quaint on the train, in a way. The sky rushed past, and the landscape came through her peripheral in reverse. It all came together in a blur of color and light, although in the dark of night, it felt gray, in every direction. And the rocking of the train was jarring, the first time she set foot on one, but here, it was a comfort. Almost like a lull to sleep.
It would be a while before she arrived in Whiteshore. She could close her eyes for now…
As she felt her consciousness slip away, her drowsy eyes stared back towards the sea. She wondered, what lied past that line where the sky touched the ocean?
Did Mommy dearest ever make it there?
Was the wind right?
…
…
…
There was a creak, and someone was next to her. Her eyes opened immediately to survey who was to her right.
And Sabrina recoiled at who it was.
"Donny?! What the f–"
"It's Donnelley," the Volunteer said, green eyes ever as wide, ever as invasive and knowing as they were the first time, "And don't make a scene, Sabrina, the Peacekeepers are in the car, and I don't want them coming over here."
She was uncaring at their proclamation towards her, just glaring at them from her spot on the bench, leaning up against the railing, "How did you even get on here?! The train was sold out!"
They cocked their head, innocently, but not, because there was no doubt in Sabrina's mind that they knew exactly what they were doing.
"Did Principal Moby never teach you about stealth?" they pondered, and while it sounded genuine, they both knew that it was condescending, "It's an important skill, don't you have it?"
There was a moment of heavy breathing, but then she grit her teeth, glaring daggers at her District Partner.
She was not playing any mind games that night.
"What the hell do you want?"
They crossed one leg over the other, staring right into her eyes. This did not faze her in the slightest.
"To put it in easy terms," they began, "I think you're hiding something, Sabrina–"
She held up a hand to their face, silencing them. "Stop saying my name like that."
"Stop calling me Donny and we have a deal."
"Sure," she agreed, leaning forward, "Now go away."
"I'm not going to," Donnelley retorted, and leaned into her, glaring, "because you're acting very suspicious, and I'd like to know why."
They were too close now, and it made her very uncomfortable, so she took her hands and shoved them into their chest, causing them to stumble, grasping the railing to avoid falling off the side. They stood, dangling halfway off the train, before sliding down into a sitting position on the floor of the caboose. Donnelley began taking deep breaths, and glanced at the rolling hills below, ones that they could have been splattered against if Sabrina had hit them with any more force.
They whipped back to her, who was sitting precariously on the bench still, shooting a fearsome glare their way. She was no longer static. Now, she was angry. Donnelley stood back up, wobbling as their weight pressed up against the railing, and glaring back. Sabrina, however, did not back down.
"You could've–" Donnelley started, but Sabrina raised her voice, cutting them off.
"Calm down, Donnelley," she stated, firmly, "the Peacekeepers throw ticketless freeloaders off the side all the time. You'll be fine."
She could see the cold, abstract horror wash over them, especially as the train crossed onto a bridge, surrounded by water on both sides. While dark, they could both see the waves shimmering in the hidden moonlight, with the lights on the caboose reflecting it on both sides. The mainland was hidden in a veil of darkness, leaving just them, and the train on the other side of the door. The train sped past, but Donnelley now felt trapped, she could see, surrounded by danger on all sides.
Now who was winning at mind games?
"So," she stated, standing up with crossed arms, black on all sides of her, "what do you want from me that couldn't wait?"
The kid never paused, she could tell. They spoke quickly, and without hesitation. But they hesitated, ever so slightly before speaking again. As if to pick their next words carefully.
Then they swallowed, standing firm in the inky dark. "I want to know who Sabrina Chardee is."
She eyed them.
Inhaled.
Squinted.
But then didn't move, and she huffed.
"You wanna know my grand life story then, Donny?" she spoke. Donnelley glared.
"I told you to stop calling me that."
"I know," she said leaning against the back railing, precariously overlooking the sea, "but you said my name like that again. Break your end and I break mine."
They chuffed, sitting back down on the bench. "Just talk."
…
…
…she sighed, leaning up against the wall of the train.
"Y'know, I don't have to do a thing, Donnelley," she told them, "I'm well within my right to push you off the side and leave you to drown right now."
They glared at her. She did not acknowledge it in any way, putting up a hand.
"But I won't, because I know you'll be damn obnoxious about it on the Reaping train if I do."
They nodded profusely. "I will be, that I promise, Chardee."
"Piss off."
…
They scooted in closer. She eyed them.
"...are you gonna tell me, Chardee?"
"Oh, I never said I would do that," she told them, nonchalantly, "that's none of your business."
Sabrina thought that was the end of that.
But then, something unprecedented happened.
They tackled her. They grabbed her by the shoulders and rammed her into the railing, just as Sabrina could spot the silhouette of land approaching, as thus, trees, and thus, a reason to keep one's hands and heads in the train–
They pressed harder, and she grunted in slight discomfort. She shouted, looking back at the inner cars. Where were the Peacekeepers? "What do you want?!"
"Tell me!" Donnelley shouted back at her. Their eyes were wild, they were wide and frightening– "I need to know!"
"The hell are you doing?!"
"There is too much at stake for secrets, Chardee!" they bellowed, brows creased, "I'm not willing to sacrifice my chances because of you! Tell me!"
"Well lemme go first, you jackass!"
She glanced back at the land, which was accelerating towards them at a concerningly quick pace. She'd die if–
No.
Without warning, she struck back, jumping forward to throw both of them in the other direction. Donnelley, not expecting this change in pace, suddenly found themself pinned to the metal floor, with a vicious Sabrina looking over them, face shadowed by the night. Their whole body shook as the train rumbled them on the rickety tracks, with their very bones vibrating in time with their heart.
"So you wanna know my life story, eh, creeper?" she spat, quite literally, as it hit them in the cheek just in time for them to pass the beach and back into the woods, "Fine! Here's my 'oh-so-tragic-sob-story' that you wanted, okay? Daddy left us! Mommy dearest tried to sail us to a better life past Whiteshore's harbors, and I never saw her again! So I was starving, and then I saw a flier for 4-2's Academy, took our emergency funds from under the bed, took the train, and didn't look back! Is that what you wanted to hear Donnelley?! IS THAT—!"
Suddenly the door to the main car slid open, causing both of them, no matter where their whirling thoughts were in their buzzing heads, to stop, staring upwards at the blindingly white uniforms of the Peacekeepers.
And they stopped right there, Sabrina unfreezing momentarily, if only to step off of Donnelley.
…
An old man overlooked the two of them, both wide-eyed, hands in the air. They couldn't see him well, due to the dark, and could only see wrinkles from the lamps on the caboose. Angry eyes glanced firm through them from the abyss of the car, and tens of other eyes glanced from further in the car.
A flashlight was held up to their faces, and Donnelley turned away, shielding their eyes.
There was a slight, tiny instant of vulnerability.
Sabrina utilized it to its fullest.
"They don't have a ticket!"
Before the man could utter another word, she dug through her pocket, and in a panic, pulled out her crumpled paper, holding it up for him to see. With deep breaths, she stood there, legs trembling from the every rough pace of the train. They even crossed back onto the water again. If she remembered correctly, that meant that soon they'd be…
He grunted, and she hastily sighed with relief as she stuffed it back into her still dry jeans. The flashlight was pointed at a still grounded Donnelley, eyes wide, pupils retracted.
The man said, "Ticket."
…
There was heavy breathing, but still, the only sound was the train, and murmurs of the crowd, obscured by shadows, like ghosts. What were they saying? What could they be feeling?
…
"Tickets, now, child!"
…
Donnelley sat still. Where they were going, was this a useful skill?
…
"I don't have all night!"
"I– I don't–" they stammered, but the Peacekeeper grunted in anger, hoisting Donnelley up by their collar and into the air before they could complete their sentence.
"A stowaway!" he cried, "I have no tolerance for stowaways on this railway!"
"But the Reaping–"
"Off with you!"
There was no room for protest, and without another word, with the might of a thousand men, Donnelley was callously thrown to the cold waves of the night time sea.
Their screams of surprise illuminated the darkness more than any lamp on the caboose, and Sabrina could only watch as their silhouette vanished from view as they came to land once more, and their shrieks were lost to the noise of the train, stopping and pulling into the station.
Were… were they…
The man grunted again, clearing his throat as the tens of passengers, silently, stared at him. But with a stamp of his foot, their attention dispersed, and they nervously shuffled to pick up their belongings and leave the train.
But Sabrina was still standing at the caboose, looking at him. She had only been bluffing earlier, to get Donnelley off her back, she did not know that they actually…
"The child will be fine," the Peacekeeper said, looking at her expression. She didn't seem concerned, did she? "If they know how to swim, they landed close enough to the shore of 4-3 to make it to town. Don't worry about a stowaway like them, Miss Chardee."
"How do you–"
"It was on your ticket."
"...oh."
There was a bout of silence, once more, and the man just… left.
And for a moment, in the station of Whiteshore, she found herself sitting on the railing of the caboose, staring into nothing.
…
…
…
Huh.
The dawn rose on the City of 4-3. Or, at least, that was what the officials named it. To those living in it, it was Whiteshore. It was a tiny town, full of fishing harbors, close-knit families, and not enough food to share. It was beautiful, but nowhere to live by your lonesome.
Sabrina Chardee was not in Whiteshore.
She came here as much as she could. The people who truly lived here recognized her now. Some just know from how much her face came through their village, then left through the other side. Some formulated rumors. Why was she here?
Others remembered a time where she lived here, when she was one of them and there were ties between them. Before she went up to Saindelwa, before her sweet parents left them. Before the father left for Port Silverstone and never showed his face again, before the mother took up a sailboat and… they didn't know.
But it was… obvious. Obvious that she was… gone. Away forever. Departed.
Her bones were probably still at the bottom of the pass.
And their daughter separated herself; even when she was here, she walked the streets as a ghost. No one spoke to her, as she vanished as soon as she arrived. No one knew where. But just like her mother, it was obvious.
They just never went to check on her, because she didn't want them to. They never touched the house on the beach of the whitest sand.
The bed was moth-eaten and decayed, the walls were falling apart, the floorboards were dampened from the sea water. She didn't have the money to fix any of it, and she woke up to her shattered window casting the morning light into her eyes again. The bed was too small, and she was wet, miserable, and uncomfortable. Not to mention dirty.
But something about this house made her feel whole. She had never woken up better at any time in the Academy, more satisfied and complete despite being worse-rested than any day she had experienced.
She smelled the pillow. Bugs had eaten away at it, and it was rank with mildew. But it somehow brought her comfort.
The air was silent as she left the building, and the sun cast rays of oranges and yellows onto the water. Oh, how calm it was today… oh how beautiful it was.
There was a sailboat. Her mother left it there, and even if it was damaged, she never bothered to move it. But…. if the wind was right, she could…
…the rocks past the shore stood there, guarding the open water. As if to tell her, "No."
But… Mommy dearest… she did, one day, did she not? She sailed.
She tried…
If the wind was right, if it was right…
She sang it like a lullaby, to her, every night. And every morning, they would watch the sunrise in the east, right in this spot, cuddling on the sand.
Mommy dearest would always watch the wind. She said, if it was right, they could sail away. And she would stare longingly past the shore. Then at the horizon. What was past there? Mommy dearest could never say.
But Sabrina would find out.
She'd find out, she'd follow the rumor to the end of the earth if she had to.
She would find what happened to Mommy dearest.
The wind blew.
But it was wrong.
Sabrina stood there, for just a few moments. Then she stared at the one piece of notebook paper, the one that she took from the house, the one that she left there.
Every rumor she had heard about what could be out there.
There was not even enough to fill a single page.
…
She crumpled it up, throwing it as far as she could into the sea, where it bobbed up and down pathetically, before sinking into the ocean.
Would she ever know? Would she ever know what was so alluring, what was so enthralling about that line, that her mother died?
She glanced, one last time at the sailboat. Oh, how she longed to get through the pass. To see the open ocean, to fulfill a dead mother's dream.
But the wind was wrong.
And today, she kissed this place goodbye.
A/N: OK! That was a fun chapter, glad I got it out so fast. Welcome our final Careers, Sabrina and Donnelley! From me, because I made them all, lol. Anyways, special thanks to livefreeordie for beta reading, and I'll see you all for District Five! (and pls, if you want, do leave a review, I crave feedback ;-;)