Timber

Chapter Fifty-Four: Darkening Skies

"Hey," a distant voice rang in Hazel's ears as her eyes flew open. Above her, the moon was clear but not as bright as before. The cool air caressed her skin as she breathed in deeply; the scent of dew filled her senses. She was lying on her back in an ocean of swaying blades of grass. The last thing she remembered was the limp, lifeless Caleb disappearing into the night as she fell off the Cornucopia.

She pulled herself up, boots flat on the ground, hands pushing herself to sit straighter. Wincing, she braced for pain that she thought would inevitably follow. She had expected burning, agony, something, but there was nothing.

The arena was murky, and the golden Cornucopia's wide mouth glittered above her. Gone were the hanging tributes and the spider monster. Hazel cradled her hand into her lap as she examined it in the darkness; her intact palm confused her. Pearly, undamaged skin shone under the moon's light. No dirt, no grime, and no blood. Gone was the jagged hole. She groped at her shoulder, but the bulk of the thick pink bandages were also missing. Am I dead?

"Hey," the voice was closer now. Searching the dodecagon, she located a figure above her, peering from the shadows above the mouth of the Cornucopia. He swung his legs over the edge.

"Hey, Hazelnut," the redhead called as he climbed down. "That was quite the dismount." His skin and clothing squeaked as he slid to the earth below.

Hazel buried her head in her unblemished hands. Definitely dead.

She forced her fingertips against her temples, pushing away a throbbing sensation that thrummed inside her skull.

"You know, I expected more out of the afterlife." She rubbed her thumbs harder along her brow ridges without looking up.

Two warm hands covered hers, peeling them away from her temples. Cedar was before her; his green eyes twinkled with warmth, even in the darkness of the night.

"You aren't dead." He tilted his head, watching her closely. A sparkle of humor flashed through his eyes.

She pulled her hands into her lap, further studying her unblemished palm. "Aren't I?"

Cedar shook his head but said nothing. She shivered as her frown deepened.

"You really should be happier about that," Cedar smirked.

She studied her intact hands in her lap, all humor absent from her tone, "I was ready. I am ready." She paused, staring up at him. "Ready to send Silus home to Seven. Ready to see you again."

"It's not time for that yet." Cedar's eyes softened, and he ruffled her hair, "And you see me all the time."

She looked away from him, staring at the grass. It is not the same.

"Ah, you mean the real me." Cedar sank to his knees before her.

Hazel chewed on her lip but didn't look at him.

"I understand. I am just a placeholder. A shadow of who he was." He whispered.

Hazel's brows furrowed, "You are a ghost haunting my dreams. Haunting me."

His eyes searched hers, "You've been haunting yourself. Torturing yourself. You've merely attached your beloved uncle's face to the executioner of your self-punishment."

Hazel scrunched her nose and scowled at the midnight sky. Haunting myself...

Cedar leaned forward and placed a palm against her cheek, turning her head to face him, "A mind can do incredible things to protect itself."

"Protect? Mine seems to be hell-bent on torturing me."

"I'm not saying it's perfect, but there is a way to make it stop. There's a path to peace. "