WE'RE BACK! Thank you so much to mxrcury-mx0n, Tales from the Cluttered Desk, Skeekiest, booksandcuddles, Grim Apocrypha, Dante Alighieri1308, Very New To This, savwriting, Tyquavis, yoyowhitehole, and MoonlightSalsa for the reviews (with many of them leaving multiple! love yall).

Apologies for the wait - here's D7! I'll preface this by saying I went incredibly experimental with 7M's introduction and it kind of all just flowed out. I hope it's still enjoyable haha.

That's about all! Let's get into it!

The woods were full of wonders. Creatures benevolent and beautiful, and creatures brutal and malicious, that not even the lumberer's axe could defend you from.

Ronan Truntley had always loved the mystique surrounding Seven's woods. It was odd. Familiarity breeds contempt, or so the saying goes - but Ronan never quite found himself in contempt of the woods. His shifts cutting logs and felling trees were long and arduous. Most in his company chatted often and spoke loudly about how they couldn't wait to get back to down, throw down a couple of drinks, and get the stink of pine off of their bodies.

Ronan couldn't share their sentiments.

Away from all of the hustle and bustle, the thudding of axehead on wood and the guttural shouts and grunts of men, Ronan found peace. Silence. That was a luxury very rarely afforded in the Districts - not that he knew. The woods of Seven were all Ronan had ever known, and deep down, he was alright with that. It was all he needed in life. There was so much here to allow the mind to run free.

Stories of beguiling creatures - small humanoids with wings and magical powers. People with point ears whom could speak to the trees. Tree-sprites and skulking cats that could speak. Lief had turned the forest from a silent mass of trees into a mystical wonderland, where the only limit was the imagination.

And then he'd gone and died, taking all of his stories with him. Died right here in the woods that he'd loved so much, crushed under one of the trees that he cared so much about.

It had been a heavy day for the Truntley family, and Ronan's life in particular had been altered extremely. With Lief's passing, the forest had lost it's mystique. It was no longer a place of magic and mystery and wonder. It was a place of death - the graveyard of his elder brother.

And now, it was up to him to put food on the table. Countless nights Ronan was awoken. The growling of feral dogs. The crunching of leaves and swishing of underbrush, just outside his window. It was paranoia. The forest had come to take him, too. To bury him next to his brother. Men had no place in this land of death and terror. The Truntley family would learn, one by one.

So, Ronan would have to become the monster in the woods. Stalking. Tracking. Hunting. Killing. His family would not go hungry. The blood that soaked into the soil would nourish these woods, and he would be spared the fate that had befallen his brother. Years were spent in these dark, dense, suffocating trees. Birdsongs went silent when Ronan would pass by. Animals would scamper and hide from the monster stalking the woods, prowling for his next meal.

But even monsters have their soft points.

Ronan's were named Edmund and Mira Barker. The profound pit in his heart was filled ever so slightly. It was impossible to become whole again. But the Barkers could help to put the pieces back, one by one.

Mira's shining smile, her unyielding optimism and willingness to just... listen. To take the time out of her day to hear Ronan. And Edmund, her cousin. His gentle touch and soft kiss re-ignited the spark in Ronan's eyes. He began to go to work again. Earn money. Combining with the Barker family, the Truntley's were finally beginning to recover financially from Lief's death.

Gazing into the trees now, Ronan finds himself smiling. Perhaps the monster in the woods could finally be put to rest. Perhaps Ronan Truntley could rise again - a man instead of a beast. The darkness inside could never be fully quelled - but with Mira and Edmund by his side, it could be tempered. Controlled.

Lief didn't need a monster, stalking the woods to avenge him and satiate its thirst for death. He needed to be remembered. Through his stories. Through his jovial laughter and brilliant smile. Through the smattering of freckles and scruffy brown hair that Ronan had inherited, leaving him his brother's spitting image. The mystique of the woods had not died with Lief. It lived inside Ronan, now, and would until he passed it on to another.

That wouldn't happen for a while, though. Ronan, for the first time in years, had settled into peace. It would take a disaster to rip him away from it now.

Acacia wipes the sweat from her brow, blowing a puff of relief as she sits back on the sturdy maple branch. To her left, a low, groaning creak echoes around the surrounding property and off the walls of the Renshaw residence below her. Mrs. Renshaw had always been one of her most loyal customers, and had finally called to give Acacia her largest job yet.

Creaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak...

Just a little more... it should be almost there, and then the arduous task would be complete. She'd been at it for hours. Trimming and pruning the various spare branches on the large maple tree that sat in the very center of her client's homestead. It provided nice shade during the hot summer months and an enjoyable challenge for the 3 Renshaw children to scale, but the extra branches had become too much. They were starting to extend towards the roof, scraping the top of the modest home whenever strong winds came in and damaging a home that was already in rather poor condition. Acacia was surprised that she hadn't been called sooner.

...

Silence.

Acacia's mouth dips into a mild frown. She'd been sure to position herself so that her left ear was facing the final branch. She should have been able to hear it, even if it separating from the main body quietly. Unless she'd suddenly gone deaf in both ears? A mild pang of uneasiness floods through her heart and she takes the dull edge of her axe and knocks it softly against the tree. Against her common sense, she finds herself breathing a small sigh of relief as she hears the resounding 'thwack' of cheap steel against hard maple wood in her working ear. That had been a rather silly worry.

But now that that issue was solved, she had to get this damned branch to fall off. The sun was already starting to set, the horizon shining a brilliant gold. The maple tree's branch made the perfect vantage point. She'd have loved to stay and watch, but she charged by the hour - and respected Mrs. Renshaw far too much to squeeze her for a few extra coins. She always had little treats prepared for Acacia after the job and would congratulate her on the good work. She never made a fuss about payment and greeted the world with a smile.

It was almost like having a mother again.

Acacia shakes her head, not keen to allow herself to wander down that train of thought again. There were too many distractions.

"Lock it in, Acacia. Last job of the day."

She mutters to herself, a bit dispirited as her enjoyable solitude comes to an end. That was one of the many benefits of being the sole owner, employee, and beneficiary of your own tree-trimming business. The solitude. And, of course, every penny going directly into your own pockets. That didn't hurt, either.

Flipping her hatchet around in her hand, Acacia gives the half-chopped branch a final whack with the sharp end of her tool, and clicks her tongue in satisfaction as it falls to the ground, the last of the wood connecting it to the main body of the maple tree splitting making a sort of tearing sound until it separates fully, falling silently to the air until it lands with a harsh thud below.

That's that. It was time for payment.

Acacia scales down the body of the tree with a practiced agility, feet finding holds on the branches left unpruned and hands grabbing pockmarks and holes left by nature. It only takes a couple of seconds before her feet find the ground again. Acacia looks to the sky, mildly disappointed to find that she can no longer see the resplendent golden horizon from her position on the ground. It had been such a peaceful moment. Such a beautiful sight.

District Seven lacked in light pollution. Its' many settlements were spread out and it was more a vast collection of villages than one massive city. So, when the sky looked beautiful in Panem, it was always the prettiest in Seven. Acacia never took that for granted over her 18 years. With a sigh, she begins to undo the ponytail that she'd tied her hair into. Loose, straight brown hair falls down to her mid-back as she removes the cheap tie holding it up. That felt much better

"Oh, Acacia! Done now, I suppose?"

A voice calls from behind her, and Acacia turns her head, her brown eyes finding the forest green of Mrs. Renshaw's. Acacia rarely smiled, but she couldn't help a small grin as she noticed the platter of small, swirled rolls drenched in some sort of opaque glaze balanced in one hand, while the older woman carried a bag in her other, which Acacia had come to associate with payment It's where she always pulled her coins from when a job was complete.

"Just the clean-up left, Mrs. Renshaw. Should only be another couple of minutes."

"Oh, Bruce will handle that. About time the old badger put some work in." Mrs. Renshaw shakes her head dismissively, though her tone is loving as she speaks about her husband. "Come to the outdoor table with me, won't you? I'd love for you to try one of my cinnamon rolls."

"Really, ma'am, you don't have to. It's okay." Acacia spoke, but she already knew the next words that would come out of her client's mouth.

"I insist!" Acacia thinks it the same time that Mrs. Renshaw speaks it, her smile growing ever so slightly. Ever since her first job, her refusals had been met with stern insistence. Anyone doing her work, she claimed, would be fed well while they did it.

Acacia follows Mrs. Renshaw to a rickety outdoor picnic table, her eyes immediately darting down to the platter of 'cinnamon rolls.' What even were those? You couldn't roll cinnamon. But... they smelled simply heavenly. Perhaps one wouldn't hurt anybody.

"Go on, dearie." Mrs. Renshaw encourages her, and Acacia relents, taking a bit of the roll. Her eyes widen almost instantly. It's a sweet and robust flavor, buttery and with the spice of cinnamon. The glaze on the outside is even sweeter - a perfect touch to the taste of the roll.

"It's amazing, Mrs. Renshaw." Acacia wishes she had more to say. Something this tasty deserved more eloquent speech - but that had never been her strong-suit. She had always been a woman of few words, solemn and closed-off to the world around her.

"I made them for the Reaping. It's a yearly tradition, of sorts. ...Helps ease the nerves of the boys. Henry's going into his last and Barker's going into his first. Stressful year, so... figured I'd go all out." The older woman sighs, reaching into her purse. She pulls out a handful of coins - much more than the job had been worth, and holds them out for Acacia to take.

"Mrs. Renshaw... this is too much money." Acacia states, her expression blank and her eyes darting between the woman's eyes and the coins in her hands.

"Consider it a tip. Frankly, dear, I'm surprised you're working yourself this hard on Reaping's Eve. Most people close down. Even those burly old lumberjacks aren't out chopping their trees this time of year."

Acacia can find nothing to say to this display of kindness, and decides it best to say nothing at all. She gives a grateful nod of the head and places the remainder of her cinnamon roll in her mouth, taking the surplus of metal coins into her hands and then transporting them into a leather pouch that hangs at her side. It had been empty upon the day's beginning, but now it was swollen full of precious money. More than she'd expected to earn this week - much less in one day.

Taking the time to chew and swallow - it was rude to speak with your mouth full - Acacia gives her client a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Renshaw. I appreciate your business. Whenever you've got another issue like that, always feel free to write Letterman Trimming. I'll be over as soon as I can be."

"Of course, dearie. You've long since earned yourself a loyal regular."

Acacia bows her head slightly - a sign of respect - and begins to turn away, but Mrs. Renshaw's voice pauses her exit.

"Acacia?"

"Yes, Mrs. Renshaw?"

"Take another for the road, please." Mrs. Renshaw's voice is soft - sensitive. So much so that Acacia almost missed it entirely. "I... hope they can calm your nerves, too."

Acacia turns back, to where Mrs. Renshaw is offering her another pastry from her plate. With an appreciative smile and a muttered 'thank you,' Acacia takes another pastry to enjoy on her walk back home.

As she makes her way back through the trees and to her own home in the woods, Mrs. Renshaw's words bounce around the walls of her head. 'I hope they can calm your nerves, too.'

A rare sensation blooms in her chest - it feels melancholy and joyful all at once. A sense of real belonging, if only for the hours where she works at the Renshaw residence.

Acacia goes to sleep with no trouble, feeling calmer than she'd felt in years.

Ripped away from it all.

Gods - he'd just been thinking it last night. Made peace with himself and his life before the Reaping. Thrown away the monster that had possessed him and accepted the forest as it was. As Lief remembered it.

And it had discarded him. Sentenced him to death the moment he'd stopped feeding it. Stopped bleeding into it.

So much for times of peace.

Ronan Truntley stood upon the stage, his face a mask of quiet resilience. Tall and gangly, the boy's round hazel eyes were dark as they gazed out across the crowd. Not to any one person. Not even to Edmund or Mira.

To the woods, back beyond the village square.

Were they so cruel to cause the death of another Truntley brother? To rip another young man away from the family that had already lost Lief? Had they discarded Ronan as he had discarded the monster within?

No. He wasn't a mindless zombie anymore, hunting to sate raw anger. He was a man. A person. A human. One with people to care for. With a mother. A father. An elder sister and two younger siblings. A best friend. A boyfriend. All of those made Ronan himself - and he wouldn't be so quick to turn away from them. He had found his humanity, and was adamant that he would not discard it. Not for the woods. Not for the Capitol.

He's too lost in thought to hear the name of his partner, but movement from the crowd snaps him out of his stupor.

A girl on the taller side - though she's still many inches shorter than Ronan himself. Dark brown hair, brown eyes and tanned brown skin. She appeared about average for a girl from Seven, though he noted that her upper body was a bit more defined than most. She was strong - at least comparatively.

Strength.

Acacia, walking up to the stage, was praying that she had enough of it. It took all of her willpower to keep her hands from shaking violently as she ascended the creaking steps to the stage, the district behind her sat in stony silence.

She drew strength from the boy - Ronan, she now knew - upon the stage, his face hard and expressionless. It was inspiring, in a sort of way. There was the smallest bead of hope in her chest. He seemed capable at a glance. Perhaps they could work together in the arena.

Gods, the arena.

The thought was almost enough to make Acacia retch, the very idea nearly shattering the confident front she attempted to put on. Her fate was sealed, was it not? Her two worst fears were being brought to light, and she'd have to make the choice.

It was either die in the arena, alone and afraid.

Or become a monster. Claw her way out over the bodies of twenty three other souls, including the boy to her left.

Acacia's heart sinks as she realizes that she truly doesn't know which would be better.

But she'd have to make the decision. Eventually. For now - she needs to get her mind off of it. This is the one place she can't afford a breakdown.

Instead, she fills her mind with pleasant thoughts. The breeze through the trees, carrying the sweet scent of the rolls that Mrs. Renshaw had baked fresh yesterday. It served to calm her down greatly - the comforting smell and the warmth of the pastry. It brought that same warmth to her heart, and it soon spread through the rest of her body. It had helped. Just like her employer had hoped. Calmed her down enough to actually think rationally. Introduce herself to the boy next to her.

Turning to Ronan, she extends her hand, catching an inquisitive eye from her partner.

"Acacia Letterfield."

He extends a hand. The smallest of smiles creeps onto his face - one that betrays a hollow sense of hope. It isn't much, but it's better than nothing at all.

"Ronan Truntley."

That's all the two have time to say. They aren't afforded the luxury of a long conversation or the cheers of the district around them. There is only silence as the two are ushered off stage, an escort of Peacekeepers behind the both of them as they are herded towards the Justice Hall.

Only four words had been exchanged. But Acacia was confident that the two of them had understood eachother.

They'd speak more on the train.

Aaaaand there they are! Acacia and Ronan! So far some of the most amicable partners I've written. Hope they can remain cool with eachother!

The joint reaping scene definitely was a bit strange for this one - combining such an internal perspective from Ronan and a more standard perspective from Acacia's intro into the final scene with both of them together proved very difficult and I don't think it turned out perfect - but it came out in a way that I think is interesting enough! Hope the POV switch in the middle wasn't too jarring, but I didn't want to have this entire one from either one of their eyes.

Any thoughts about Ronan and Acacia? Let me know! I personally enjoyed writing them. They've each got their own inner struggles, but maybe that's what makes them human after all.

Until next time,

logangster out!