Splintered

Chapter Twenty-Seven: No Sweet Bird Did Follow

Hazel's ankles wobbled in her heeled boots.

What I wouldn't give to wear normal shoes for one day.

The dew-damp ground beneath her offered no help. She sighed. The last thing she needed was to wrench her fragile left foot.

Sable would never let her run again.

At that moment, Indira's clasp on her arm tightened as if she were going to dissolve. However, her stabilizing effect was the only thing keeping her upright.

There hadn't been time for arguments that morning, but Indira made it clear the conversation about the weapon wasn't over. Every jarring step shifted the knife against Hazel's waistband, which she had unceremoniously tucked there, much to her escort's dissatisfaction.

Hazel had been harshly scolded and warned to stash it away before someone noticed. Indira had asked where she'd gotten it, a question Hazel had effectively dodged by practically flinging herself in the shower under the guise of hurrying.

Hazel preferred wobbling in heels to answering that question. 

She fixated on her escort's brightly colored footwear. Somehow, Indira moved even faster and more effortlessly when she was in heels. The woman was, by all means, a marvel.

Two rows of Peacekeepers bordered the path to the District Ten train station, forming a solemn channel to the idling train. Returning was a vastly different experience than her arrival.

Overnight, the district had transformed. All the colorful Capitol citizens had dissipated. Muted tones were all that remained outside the intermittent streaks of red on the clothing of loitering district folk. More than once, she caught a brief smile or subtle nod from one of them.

Despite the absence of pomp and circumstance, the atmosphere was more celebratory than the day before, like an execution-sized weight had been lifted from everyone around her.

Letting herself be led, she couldn't help but notice a lack of a particular smug blonde politician.

"No Senator this morning?" Hazel questioned.

"He's gone ahead to Nine," Indira sighed, glancing at Hazel out of the side of her eye.

Hazel couldn't help but think that was for the best, considering their conversation the night before. Facing him this early would've been daunting.

There was also a glaring lack of their newest Gamemaker. "And Trask?"

Indira paused, "I'm not sure, actually."

So much for not losing track of the beast.

Behind them, her three guards trailed silently.

"Would've left early too, If I could," Sable grumbled. "Can't wait till we get the hell outta here,"

Well, almost silently.

"Not a fan of Ten, old man?" Bellona asked.

"Would prefer we were somewhere that you couldn't practically taste the air," Sable replied. "And the flavor of the day wasn't always cow shit."

"Not quite chocolate, is it?" Leo interjected, much to Bellona's perturbation and Sable's confusion.

Festus mumbled, "I'm with Pytash; the sooner we get out of here, the better."

"I think you just dislike the lack of free alcohol here." Hazel replied over her shoulder.

Festus smiled, "Guilty."

"Prepare for continued disappointment, Mr. Creed," Indira responded. "Nine won't be much different."

"Aren't you just a bundle of good news." Sable shot a frown at Indira.