Timber

Chapter Twelve: Tribute Parade

The District Eight boy's labored, irregular breathing was audible even amidst the general noise of the station. Slumped against the wall, his long black braid fell over his shoulder, loose strands escaping their bind. He looked both defeated and exhausted. Hazel observed him and wondered if his actions were driven by bravery or idiocy. She hadn't considered the idea of smuggling a weapon to the Capitol; the thought of single-handedly challenging the system seemed absurd, if not outright suicidal.

Beside him, his district's female tribute attempted to offer some consolation. The girl's gestures were gentle, but her eyes betrayed her concern. Hazel couldn't help but think of the recklessness of the boy's actions. His defiance, while brave, could have dire consequences not just for him but for both of them and even for their families back in District Eight.

Silus's gentle nudge broke her observation.

Peacekeepers organized the tributes into a neat line, arranging them in order of their districts. The line began with the tributes from District One and culminated with District Twelve.

Meanwhile, the boy from District Eight was now in the firm grip of two peacekeepers. They escorted him with a firmness that left little room for resistance. His toes grazed the ground as they maneuvered him into place. His head hung low, his previous fire of defiance reduced to a flicker.

In the center of the line, Hazel and Silus stood shoulder to shoulder. Silus' grip was gentle on her hand, and his injured palm was hidden in hers.

The head peacekeeper addressed the tributes in a no-nonsense tone. "Alright, everyone," he began, his voice echoing with authority. "You will stay on the marked path at all times. If you even breathe too close to the barriers, you will be shot on sight." She glanced at the marked path ahead, a clear boundary set to contain them.

"I suggest you all stay in line," the peacekeeper continued, his gaze sweeping over the group. "Don't even give me a reason to think about you. I am not in the mood, and I'm sure Dr. Gaul would like all twenty-four of you to make it to the games intact."

His eyes then fixed on the boy from District Eight. "As intact as possible, at least."

Hazel exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with Silus.

With a loud whistle from him, they embarked on the parade through the Capitol, leaving the train station behind.

As Hazel and Silus stepped out of the train station, the transition from the subdued atmosphere within to the overwhelming scene outside was immediate and jarring. The air buzzed with the clamor of countless voices, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the ground and into Hazel's bones.

The sheer magnitude of the city struck Hazel with full force. Towering skyscrapers, gleaming with glass and steel, soared into the sky, their surfaces reflecting the brilliant sun. The architecture was mesmerizing, with buildings twisting into spirals and curves in ways that defied Hazel's understanding of physics.

As they walked, the crowd seemed to swell, with more and more people lining the streets to glimpse the tributes. The Capitol citizens clamored to see them. They were like animals on display, her every move watched by hundreds of eyes.

The pathway marked for the parade was lined with vibrant, flamboyant crowds. Capitol citizens, dressed in the most extravagant and colorful attire Hazel had ever seen, pressed against the barriers, their eyes wide. Their clothes were not just garments but statements of art – flowing robes with shimmering fabrics, suits adorned with sparkling jewels, and hairstyles that defied gravity, dyed in every color of the rainbow.

The air was thick with the scent of exotic perfumes and the sounds of laughter and chatter. Music played from unseen speakers. She saw faces lit up with excitement and morbid fascination.