I hardly notice the walk home even though a wet snow begins to fall and make my toes numb. My mind is spinning with new information about the uprising in District 8 and the unlikely but tantalizing possibility of District 13.
Listening to Bonnie and Twill confirmed one thing: President Snow has been playing me for a fool. All the kisses and endearments in the world couldn't have derailed the momentum building up in District 8. Yes, my holding out the berries had been the spark, but I had no way to control the fire. He must have known that. So why visit my home, why order me to persuade the crowd of my love for Sawyer? He knew this entire time that nothing would work.
It was obviously a ploy to distract me and keep me from doing anything else inflammatory in the districts. And to entertain the people in the Capitol, of course. I suppose the wedding is just a necessary extension of that.
I'm nearing the fence when a mockingjay lands on a branch and trills at me. At the sight of it I realize I never got a full explanation of the bird on the cracker and what it signifies.
"It means we're on your side." That's what Bonnie said. I have people on my side? What side? Am I unwittingly the face of the hoped-for rebellion? I'm hardly qualified! Has the mockingjay on my pin become a symbol of resistance? If so, my side's not doing too well. You only have to look at what happened in 8 to know that.
I stash my weapons in the hollow log nearest to Nana and Papa's house in the Seam and head for the fence. I'm crouched on one knee, preparing to enter the Meadow, but I'm still so preoccupied with the day's events that it takes a sudden screech of an owl to bring me to my senses.
In the fading light, the chain links look as innocuous as usual. But what makes me jerk back my hand is the sound, like the buzz of a tree full of tracker jacker nests, indicating the fence is alive with electricity.
"Shit," I curse under my breath.
My feet back up automatically and I blend into the trees. I cover my mouth with my glove to disperse the white of my breath in the icy air. Adrenaline courses through me, wiping all the concerns of the day from my mind as I focus on the immediate threat before me. What is going on? Has Thread turned on the fence as an additional security precaution? Or does he somehow know I've escaped his net today?
It's not as if this is the first time I've been caught outside of the district by an electrified fence. It's happened a few times over the years, but Mom or Papa was always with me. We would just pick a comfortable tree to hang out in until the power shut off, which it always did eventually. If I was running late, one of them even got in the habit of going to the Meadow to check if the fence was charged, to spare the rest of our family worry.
But today nobody would ever imagine I'd be in the woods. I've even taken steps to mislead them and they probably think I'm being extra cautious and avoiding this area all together. So if I don't show up, worry they will. And there's a part of me that's worried, too, because I'm not sure it's just a coincidence, the power coming on the very day I return to the woods.
I thought no one saw me sneak under the fence, but who knows? Someone reported Levi kissing me in the shadows of the Victor's Village. Still, that was in daylight and before I was more careful about my behavior. Could there be surveillance cameras? I've wondered about this before. Is this the way President Snow knows about the kiss? It was dark when I went under and my face was bundled in a scarf. But the list of suspects likely to be trespassing into the woods is probably very short.
My eyes peer through the trees, past the fence, into the Meadow. All I can see is the wet snow illuminated here and there by the light from the windows on the edge of the Seam. Whether Thread knows I left the district today or not, I realize my course of action must be the same: to get back inside the fence unseen and pretend I never left.
Any contact with the chain link or the coils of barbed wire that guard the top would mean instant electrocution. I don't think I can burrow under the fence without risking detection, and the ground's frozen hard, anyway. It's too late now to wait it out. That leaves only one choice. Somehow I'm going to have to go over it.
I begin to skirt along the tree line, searching for a tree with a branch high and long enough to fit my needs. After about a mile, I come upon an old maple that might do. The trunk is too wide and icy to shinny up, though, and there are no low branches. I climb a neighboring tree and leap precariously into the maple, almost losing my hold on the slick bark. But I manage to get a grip and slowly inch my way out on a limb that hangs above the barbed wire.
As I look down, I remember why we had waited in the woods rather than try to tackle the fence. Being high enough to avoid getting fried means you've got to be at least twenty feet in the air. I guess my branch must be twenty-five. That's a dangerously long drop, even for someone who's had years of practice in trees. But what choice do I have? I could look for another branch, but it's almost dark now. The falling snow will obscure any moonlight. Here, at least, I can see I've got a snowbank to cushion my landing. Even if I could find another, which is doubtful, who knows what I'd be jumping into?
I'm mentally preparing myself to hang off the branch when I hear a familiar voice nearing this section of the fence.
"Mellark?" I breathe a sigh of relief. "Willow? Are you around here?"
"Sawyer!" I whisper back. He looks around, squinting his eyes in the dark, but he doesn't spot me. "Up here!"
His head whips upwards towards the sky, scanning the tree line until he finally sees me. He lets out a breath, which turns white in the cold, and heads straight towards the fence.
"Wait!" I yell, much too loud. I lower my voice again. "It's electrified."
He stops just short of touching the metal. One more inch and he would have met disaster. "How long have you been up there?"
"Not long," I assure him. "But I'm going to have to jump."
"You'll hurt yourself!"
But of course, I'm as stubborn as always. "I'll be fine." I toss my empty game bag over the fence and it lands right behind Sawyer.
"I can at least try to catch you," he says, moving under the branch.
"No don't," I wave my hand for him to move. I was too high up for him to guarantee catching me and even if he did, I wasn't sure how stable he was on that leg of his.
"Willow, I don't think-" I don't let him finish before I swing myself off the branch and let go.
There's the sensation of falling, then I hit the ground with a jolt that goes right up my spine. A second later, my rear end slams the ground. I lie in the snow, trying to assess the damage. Without standing, I can tell by the pain in my left heel and my tailbone that I'm injured. The only question is how badly.
"Ow."
"I told you," Sawyer grumbles, immediately coming to my side. "But you never listen. How bad does it hurt?"
"I'm fine," I lie, trying my best to sit up. I grit my teeth in pain. I was hoping for bruises, but when I force myself onto my feet with the help of Sawyer, I suspect I've broken something as well. I can walk, though, barely, so I get moving, trying to hide my limp as best I can.
"I can carry you," Sawyer suggests, picking up my empty game bag from the ground. I'm sure he would be able to be just fine before he got his prosthetic leg, but I knew he was still adjusting. He sees my hesitation and rolls his eyes. "Let's just try it, Mellark. And if it doesn't work you can just lean on me." And with that, he crouches down in front of me.
I was wrong. Sawyer easily lifts me onto his back, and his walk is stiff, but sure. He must have really gained more muscle since the game and he doesn't seem to show any strain.
"Where's your coat?" He asks, once I'm settled on his back.
"I'll explain later," I promise. There was so much I needed to tell him, and Haymitch. Maybe seeing what they thought would bring more clarity to the entire situation.
As we head back towards town, I know I need to work up some sort of alibi, no matter how thin. My family can't know I was in the woods. Some of the shops in the square are still open, so I make Sawyer go in and purchase white cloth for bandages. We're running low, anyway. In another, I buy a bag of sweets for Dani. Sawyer doesn't complain once, and I offer him a candy before sticking one in my own mouth, feeling the peppermint melt on my tongue, and realize it's the first thing I've eaten all day. I meant to make a meal at the lake, but once I saw Twill and Bonnie's condition, it seemed wrong to take a single mouthful from them.
By the time we reach my house, my left foot feels completely numb and I don't even think I can move it. I decide to tell my parents I was trying to help Papa mend a leak on the roof of their house and slid off. As for the missing food, I'll just be vague about who I handed it out to.
Sawyer stops in front of my door and lets me down. I stop him before he turns the handle. "Thank you."
He reaches up, tucking a loose strand from my braid behind my ear. "Of course."
I feel myself leaning in, or maybe, he's leaning in? Either way, I give in to the pull between us in this moment. But right as I think something might happen, the door opens and I jump back in shock, landing on my injured foot.
I cry out in pain and Sawyer hooks his arm around my waist to hole me up. I expect it to be one of my parents or Dani but instead we get another shock.
Two Peacekeepers, a man and a woman, are standing in the doorway to our kitchen. The woman remains impassive, but I catch the flicker of surprise on the man's face. I am unanticipated. They know. They know I was in the woods and should be trapped there now.
"Hello," I say in a neutral voice.
Mom and Dad appear behind them, but keep their distance. "Here she is, just in time for dinner," Mom says a little too brightly. I'm very late for dinner. "Oh good, you found Sawyer too."
I consider removing my boots as I normally would but I don't want to draw attention to them since they're a replica of our visitor's. And I doubt I can manage it without revealing my injuries. Instead I just shake the snow from my hair. "You were looking for me?" I ask the Peacekeepers.
"Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you," says the woman.
"They've been waiting for hours," Dad adds.
They've been waiting for me to fail to return. To confirm I got electrocuted by the fence or trapped in the woods so they could take my family in for questioning. As if I would ever let that happen.
"Must be an important message," I say, glancing at Sawyer. He knows me well enough by now and takes my hand to comfort me.
"May we ask where you've been, Miss Mellark?" the woman asks.
"Easier to ask where I haven't been," I say with a sound of exasperation, throwing in a light laugh to make it seem like their question is not a big deal. I cross with Sawyer into the kitchen, forcing myself to use my foot normally even though every step is excruciating, and I feel myself squeezing his hand harder with every step. I pass between the Peacekeepers and make it to the table all right. I fling my bag down and turn to Dani, who's standing stiffly by the hearth. Haymitch is here too, sitting in one of the rockers, in the middle of a game of checkers with someone, maybe Dani. Was he here by chance or "invited" by the Peacekeepers? Either way, I'm glad to see him. He has a knack for explaining away these situations.
"So where haven't you been?" says Haymitch in a bored voice.
"Well, I haven't been talking to the Goat Man about getting Aunt Prim's goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives," I say to Dani emphatically.
"No, I didn't," says Dani, playing along. She's always been smart for her age. "I told you exactly."
"You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine," I say.
"The east entrance," Dani corrects me.
"You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?' and you said, 'Yeah,'" I say.
"The slag heap next to the east entrance," says Mom patiently.
I cringe. "How do you know that?" I turn back to Dani. "And when did you say that?" I demand. "Last night," Haymitch chimes in.
"It was definitely the east," adds Sawyer. He looks at Haymitch and they laugh. I glare at Sawyer and he tries to look contrite. "I'm sorry, but it's what I've been saying. You don't listen when people talk to you."
"Bet people told you he didn't live there today and you didn't listen again," says Haymitch.
"Shut up, Haymitch," I say, clearly indicating he's right.
Haymitch and Sawyer, and even my Dad crack up and Mom allows herself a smile.
"Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up," I say, which makes them laugh more. And I think, This is why they've made it this far, Haymitch and Sawyer. Nothing throws them.
I look at the Peacekeepers. The man's smiling but the woman is unconvinced. "What's in the bag?" she asks sharply.
I know she's hoping for game or wild plants. Something that clearly will condemn me. I'm now grateful more than ever that even through my pain I remembered to have an alibi. I dump the contents on the table. "See for yourself."
"Oh, good," says Mom, examining the cloth. "Nana was running low on bandages."
Dad comes to the table and opens the candy bag. "Ooh, peppermints," he says, popping one in his mouth.
"They're mine." I take a swipe for the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth and tossing one to Sawyer before passing the bag to a giggling Dani. "None of you deserves candy!" I say.
"What, because we're right?" Sawyer wraps his arms around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I'm hurt, and he kisses my shoulder in apology. "Okay, Dani said west. I distinctly heard west. And we're all idiots. How's that?"
"Better," I say, and accept another kiss. Then I look at the Peacekeepers as if I'm suddenly remembering they're there. "You have a message for me?"
"From Head Peacekeeper Thread," says the woman. "He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day."
"Didn't it already?" I ask, a little too innocently.
"He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin," says the woman.
"Thank you. I'll tell him. I'm sure we'll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse." I'm pushing things, I know it, but the comment gives me a sense of satisfaction. "There are wild animals out there, you know." Sawyer lightly pinches my waist in warning, silently telling me I'm walking a dangerous line.
The woman's jaw tightens. None of this has gone as planned, but she has no further orders. She gives me a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.
"What is it?" asks Dad, Sawyer still holding me steadily.
"Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel, I think. And my tail-bone's had a bad day, too." Sawyer helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion.
My mother eases off my boots, ignoring the fact they're not my size. "What happened?"
"Who's are those?" Sawyer whispers in my ear but I give him a look to mean, "Later."
"I slipped and fell," I say. Four other pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. "On some ice." But we all know the house must be bugged and it's not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now.
Having stripped off my sock, Mom's fingers probe the bones in my left heel and I wince. "There might be a break," she says. She checks the other foot. "This one seems all right." She judges my tailbone to be badly bruised.
Dani is dispatched to get my pajamas and robe. When I'm changed, my mother makes a snow pack for my left heel and props it up on a hassock. I eat three bowls of stew and half a loaf of bread while the others dine at the table, except for Sawyer who comes to keep me company. I stare at the fire, thinking of Bonnie and Twill, hoping that the heavy, wet snow has erased my tracks. He waits patiently, eating his own bowl of stew, until I finally meet his eyes to explain.
I scoot over in the large rocker and pat the seat next to me. It's a bit uncomfortable but I don't want to risk anyone hearing us. Sawyer and I squish together and I drape the thick blanket over our heads.
"Is this necessary?" Sawyer raises a brow.
"Yes." And then I take a deep breath and say the first thing that pops to mind. "District thirteen."
Sawyer is just as confused as I expected him to be. "What?"
I explain to him my encounter in the woods with Bonnie and Twill and what they had said about the rebellion and the possibility of an underground district.
"What do you think?" I ask once I've finished. "I mean the Capitol would never allow that."
"Maybe. But what if they're right? What if-"
"What are you guys doing under there?" Dani's voice interrupts what Sawyer was about to say. That's all the privacy we'll have for now.
I throw the blanket off of us. "Kissing."
"Mellark!" Sawyer looks at me surprised, his cheeks turning pink.
It has the desired effect though and there's no suspicion in Dani. Only some disgust, and maybe a little excitement at our relationship.
"I'm going to…go check on Haymitch," Sawyer says, booking it out of the room.
Dani comes and sits on the floor next to me, leaning her head against my knee. We suck on peppermints as I brush her soft blond hair back behind her ear. "How was school?" I ask.
"All right. We learned about coal by-products," she says. We stare at the fire for a while. "Are you going to try on your wedding dresses?"
"Not tonight. Tomorrow probably," I say. "Apparently Sawyer's not allowed to see them.
Dani nods. "It's bad luck. Wait until I get home, okay?" she says.
"Sure." If they don't arrest me first.
Dad gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. Mom wraps my bad foot, and Sawyer volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I'm so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there. A side effect of the sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like the champagne I had at the Capitol, and I know I have to control my tongue. But I don't want him to go. In fact, I want him to climb in with me, to be there when the nightmares hit tonight. So I ask him just that.
"Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep," I say.
Sawyer sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. "Almost thought you might have changed your mind today. When you were so late for dinner."
I'm foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I'd made a run for it, maybe with Levi.
"No, I'd have told you," I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today with Dad. I can feel myself slipping away, so I just get out one more sentence. "Stay with me."
As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word back, but I don't quite catch it.
My parents lets me sleep until noon, then rouses me when Nana stops by to examine my heel. I'm ordered to a week of bed rest and I don't object because I feel so lousy. Not just my heel and my tailbone. My whole body aches with exhaustion. I just lie there, staring out my window at the winter sky, pondering how on earth this will all turn out. I think a lot about Bonnie and Twill, and the pile of white wedding dresses downstairs, and if Thread will figure out how I got back in and arrest me. It's funny, because he could just arrest me, anyway, based on past crimes, but maybe he has to have something really irrefutable to do it, now that I'm a victor. And I wonder if President Snow's in contact with Thread. I think it's unlikely he ever acknowledged that old Cray existed, but now that I'm such a nationwide problem, is he carefully instructing Thread what to do? Or is Thread acting on his own? At any rate, I'm sure they'd both agree on keeping me locked up here inside the district with that fence. Even if I could figure out some way to escape - maybe get a rope up to that maple tree branch and climb out - there'd be no escaping with my family and friends now.
For the next few days, I jump every time there's a knock on the door. No Peacekeepers show up to arrest me, though, so eventually I begin to relax. I'm further reassured when Sawyer casually tells me the power is off in sections of the fence because crews are out securing the base of the chain link to the ground. Thread must believe I somehow got under the thing, even with that deadly current running through it. It's a break for the district, having the Peacekeepers busy doing something besides abusing people.
Sawyer keeps me company every day and begins to help me work on the family book. It's an old thing, made of parchment and leather. Some herbalist on Nana's side of the family started it ages ago. The book's composed of page after page of ink drawings of plants with descriptions of their medical uses. Papa added a section on edible plants that I used to study when I was younger before I was allowed to go out into the woods with him and Mom. For a long time, I've wanted to record my own knowledge in it. Things I learned from experience, and then the information I picked up when I was training for the Games. I always felt busy before, either helping at the bakery or in the woods, but now that I'm stuck in bed and have more time than I know what to do with. Sawyer and I split the work, sketching the plants if we don't have any to press into the book. After that, I carefully print all I know about the plant.
It's quiet, absorbing work that helps take my mind off my troubles. I've always found drawing peaceful but I've found that I like to watch Sawyer more. He easily makes a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I've seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers' guns away from me in District 11. I don't know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don't notice much because his eyes are so transparent that's what takes your focus. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they're a dark brown and so long I don't see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks.
One afternoon Sawyer stops shading a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start, as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was. But he only says, "You know, I think this is one of the first times we've ever done anything normal together."
"Yeah," I agree. Pretty much our whole relationship has been tainted by the Games. There have been a few other things we've done, baking and cards, but for the majority of our relationship, normal was never a part of it. "Nice for a change."
Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television. Usually we only watch when it's mandatory, because the mixture of propaganda and displays of the Capitol's power - including clips from seventy-four years of Hunger Games - is so odious. But now I'm looking for something special. The mockingjay that Bonnie and Twill are basing all their hopes on. I know it's probably foolishness, but if it is, I want to rule it out. And erase the idea of a thriving District 13 from my mind for good. Sawyer knows this too, and I'm sure he's keeping an eye out for me.
My first sighting is in a news story referencing the Dark Days. I see the smoldering remains of the Justice Building in District 13 and just catch the black-and-white underside of a mockingjay's wing as it flies across the upper right-hand corner. That doesn't prove anything, really. It's just an old shot that goes with an old tale.
However, several days later, something else grabs my attention. The main newscaster is reading a piece about a shortage of graphite affecting the manufacturing of items in District 3. They cut to what is supposed to be live footage of a female reporter, encased in a protective suit, standing in front of the ruins of the Justice Building in 13. Through her mask, she reports that unfortunately a study has just today determined that the mines of District 13 are still too toxic to approach. End of story. But just before they cut back to the main newscaster, I see the unmistakable flash of that same mockingjays wing.
Sawyer squeezes my hand, glancing at me, and then back at the television, confirming my suspicions.
The reporter has simply been incorporated into the old footage. She's not in District 13 at all. Which begs the question, What is?