'there is happiness
past the blood and bruise
past the cursed and cries
beyond the terror in the nightfall'
• where olwyn laurier
will do anything to protect
...
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chapter one
OLWYN SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY , she felt multiple burning gazes follow her every step as she briskly walked the gravel path into the Seam. The sixteen year old had thrown her hood over her head to hide herself from prying eyes that seemed to follow her every move. Their eyes danced in her vision, curiosity filling their sunken gazes. It's always been that way, ever since Olwyn returned home on the train from the arena two years ago.
From fourteen years old, Olwyn Laurier had everyone following her every move; her family, the Capitol, district twelve and most importantly, President Cornelius Snow. The young girl felt as if she was being watched at every turn, every step she took, every word she said was accounted for, dictating her already, bleak-looking future.
But every year around this time, the Capitol would be monitoring; peeking; disturbing old victors and dragging them out to 'mentor' young children on how to murder their opponent for survival. Olwyn felt sick to her stomach as she thought about the grotesque ways she would have to watch people die in the next few days. She always felt her efforts to help them were in vain, doing nothing to ensure her own mentees made it out alive. It never was though, Olwyn was probably the best mentor in the business; she was resourceful and deliberate, while also caring about her tributes. Her own self-doubt pushed her to only think negatively as two coffins were buried in the graveyard behind her home, instead of a newly occupied house.
The annual Reaping was tomorrow, where one male and female, from the ages of twelve to eighteen are chosen to fight to the death with twenty-two other children. Only one survives. Just one. Those left alive live with the burden of being lucky. Olwyn Laurier was one of those 'lucky' souls, the youngest female to survive the games. They expected her to be happy, to be thrilled her life could go down a so-called 'better path', but all she felt was crippling guilt. Blood stained her soul with dark handprints and nothing could cleanse her.
Olwyn briskly walked to the market, located near her old home. Only her older sister lived there now, after getting married last spring. Prior to this, Esme Laurier didn't want to be married at all and even now, the twenty-two year old was unhappy in her seemingly loveless marriage. Esme spent more time taking care of her sister, with the help of their middle brother Atlas, than being the dutiful wife her husband, River, yearned for. Furthermore, Esme was still a Laurier, her absent father's name remained the only one she referred to herself by.
Olwyn knew she had found the old man from the moment she saw a figure sitting in the corner of the busy market; shaggy hair, hunched shoulders and a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Haymitch Abernathy was something of a lifeline for Olwyn; the broken man was the only father figure present in her life. Despite saying she hated him for choosing her district partner, Ares Mallor, over her in the arena, Olwyn knew it was the only logical choice. No one knew that a fourteen year old, scrawny girl from the Seam with a hidden talent with throwing knifes and outsmarting her opponents, could be a ruthless killer; honestly Olwyn didn't know she was capable of that either.
