Timber

Chapter Fourteen: A New Morning

Hazel woke to the cold sting of snow dissolving on her skin. Or at least, that's what it felt like. Her brain hadn't caught up enough to argue. She stayed under the covers while her mind crawled through the fog of the dream she'd just left.

The room smelled wrong. Not pine. Not dirt. Not smoke or sweat or anything real. Just something clean and artificial, like laundry detergent and eye-watering bleach.

Blinking up at the ceiling, her thoughts lagged. It took a full minute before the previous day caught up to her. The Reaping. The Capitol. The train. The blood. The Senator. The Peacekeeper. Right. All of that happened.

Outside, the garden was like something pulled from a storybook. A fountain sloshed in the center, water arcing out of spouts at its tip. Beyond that, the estate stretched toward a brick wall and rolling hills that were definitely not native to District Seven.

It was gorgeous. And probably booby-trapped.

A subtle change in Silus's breathing drew her attention. She spun around. He cracked one eye open, took one look at the room, and deflated.

"Morning, sunshine," she said. "Pretty sure this is the first time I've been up before you."

He sat up slow, scrubbing at his face with his good hand. "It just took a life-and-death experience, apparently."

"Sounds about right," she said, watching him stretch. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead," he muttered, then paused. They both did.

Hazel gave him a look. "You really have to stop saying that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Silus glanced at her, face strained with a weariness he couldn't rub away.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Like hell."

Before he could say anything else, a knock sliced through the room, followed by the familiar sound of a lock sliding open. Hazel's head snapped toward the door.

In stepped Indira Lovegood, trailed by their ever-watchful Peacekeeper. Her braids shimmered like they'd been dipped in varnish. Her arms tinkled with a row of bracelets. The magenta dress and diamond-studded heels screamed Capitol. Lavish, blinding, and wildly impractical.

"Good morning, tributes." Her eyes scraped the room like she'd walked into the wrong one. Or wish she had. "I've brought your clothes."

She held out two folded outfits. Nothing flashy. Brown pants, plaid shirts, the kind of thing they might wear in the woods. Still, it beat Hazel's reaping skirt. Their Peacekeeper stepped forward and dropped two pairs of boots into a heap before them.

"You can shower, get dressed," Indira went on. "Leo will bring you down for breakfast when you're ready." She placed the clothes on Hazel's bed and left without waiting for a thank-you.

So their Peacekeeper had a name. Leo. He made eye contact when he spoke.

"Twenty minutes," he said. "I'll be back."

The door shut behind him. Hazel turned to Silus, raising a brow.

"Want to arm wrestle for first shower?"

Silus shook his head. "Go ahead."

She picked up the smaller stack of clothes. "Wise choice. No reason to humiliate yourself before breakfast."

Hazel stepped into the shower and didn't bother hiding the sigh that slipped out. Back in District Seven, a shower like this was a fantasy. It was scalding. It was heaven. At home, every drop had to be earned, argued over, rationed between eight people and a cranky boiler.