AN: I've been slowly getting through the Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes book after seeing the movie. Went off how he described Lucy Gray here hence the different woman on the cover. This will have elements of the Gilded series as well.
What a brilliant story this is hello new Snow lovers.
PRELUDE
Snow in its deceptive beauty wreaked a deadly force.
It's frostbite could sear flesh with a resonated ache down to the bone marrow. Unforgiving as it was deadly. Under concentrated heat the prismatic puddle left would dissipate just as swiftly. She was hoping for the latter as boots trudged through the slush and ice that cleaved like second skin. The pines rustled as a crisp snap of wind threaded through the trees, outlined in the silver moonlight.
Like seeking hands, it wrenched the folds of her sheepskin jacket open. "Ah! Damn this hog-killing weather!" This had been the most unforgiving of winters she'd endured since the separation of the Covey. Yet she'd survived and knew they thrived. And really, that was all that mattered.
Another mile away meant safety for them, and a refuge for her.
Isolation as she'd experienced over the last few years in the upper north, had become far from desirable. But beggars can't be choosers. And she was no beggar. She'd roughed it out just as surely as her Pa once taught the basics of survival. Before that same mouth got him in hot water with a Peacekeeper, a bullet put between his eyes... and everywhere else.
Adapting to the wilds had taken adjusting just as sure as the whiplash of seasons. Yet she memorized the call of the birds down to what texture of tree bark was edible. The shade of berries and which were poison. She'd survived—barely—with air left in her lungs and a couple of fresh katnisses frost hadn't slain. The thought alone was enough to leave her salivating over the boiled pot of potato stew, soon to come.
A blessed change from rabbit, dead fish, or squirrel... whatever she could scrounge.
Food was much more difficult to come by in the winters. Animals were in hibernation and the deer were too damn fast to target. Her aim was far too atrocious to make a decent killshot. Her muscles strained under a bow and her poor arm hardly struck intended marks per a dulled daggar.
Still, she made it work.
She had to.
"Come on Lucy girl, you're almost there." She could see the decrepit but humble abode just half a yard off. Though it wasn't nearly as spacious as the cabin at the Seam, she'd made it a home. A couple logs of wood for a fire and a roof over her head to keep the weather at bay.
Once spring arrived, she would replenish the dead flowers for a fresh bouquet. Her little slice of heaven. Her lips curled at the thought as she scrapped the strands of hair loosed from her braid, keeping her chin tucked from being nipped too harshly by the spear of flurries.
Just keep on moving
Keep on moving...
As the snow ever falls
I'll fight through it all
I'll keep on... trying...
The words slipped past her lips barely above a whisper. A slow, haunting melody she had yet to finish. Just as the many songs that dried up and shriveled as the flowers in her tin. Life alone had not been kind to Lucy Gray as age passed and harsh reality eclipsed. There were no more potted rainbows or bright colors to dance in, to sing a ballad reverently on.
There was only this.
And she had to make it work because she could not fail. There were worse things to be subjected to. Oh yes, much much worse. Far beyond these borders, they paraded in crystalline decadence as the malevolent creatures they were. Just as sharp and deceitful once the mask was stripped to the bare bones.
No, she had to make it.
Slush crunched beneath her feet. The door whined on rusted hinges as she threw it closed. A match was struck. Within the oiled lantern, a flame flickered to life, illuminating the small wooden shack in a soft glow. Furiously she rubbed her hands together, breathing between the bridged bruised fingers to drive feeling back into them. Oh, she'd have to make it a town for supplies soon, lest winter bury her frozen corpse long before spring.
Least she had kindling for a fire yet.
"If only this damned weather would clear to see a straight eye." Finally reaching for the rucksack perched on the makeshift shelf, she'd pulled the leather string loose—
When a sound, no more than a subtle tap, had her reflexively wielding the dagger just as apt as a former tribute.
Katnisses thunderously tumbled to the floor and rolled across the scratched floorboards.
To a polished boot that lifted from an alcove of shadows as a stopper.
All thoughts fled her mind as two worlds suddenly aligned. Her heart sunk cold into the soles of her feet as words fell like a ghostly apparition that pebbled her skin and fused her veins like ice. All for a man she'd long buried in her mind. "Coriolanus..."
"Oh, Lucy Gray, how the wilds have ravaged you. As they say, never bite the hands that feeds you..."