Splintered

Chapter Sixty-Five: Sticks and Stones, Gunpowder and Bones

Hazel was still in a medicated fog as she threaded her way through District Two. Above the city, the snow-dressed mountains towered, along with tiers of stone buildings, barracks, training centers, and homes, all carved into rock.

The entirety could only really be described as fortified. All hardlines and pallid gray stone.

The air carried the sharp bite of polar wind, metal polish, and gunpowder. It vaguely reminded her of Leo's scent. He remained stationed just behind her, quiet, but she could pick out his breathing pattern easily. It seemed more relaxed today, and she considered it was possibly due to the numerous peacekeepers in the District.

There were more pale grey uniforms than not, among the celebration, and Hazel wasn't sure if it made her feel safer or less. Especially considering how they had departed Seven.

While the rows of cadets lined the streets in immaculate formation, the Capitol reporters behind them were less than orderly as they jostled for the best angles.

The citizens who gathered wore refined coats and upright posture. If you didn't know better, they would fit right in with the Capitol. District Two had always been close to power. And it was clear they were proud of it.

Snow was at her side, like he always was, while she stumbled along the masoned path to the District's heart. The medication's aftereffects hadn't dissolved, and her balance was taking the brunt.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were drunk," Snow prodded.

"Just medicated," she answered, rubbing at her pounding temple.

"I believe I have just the thing to sober you."

Even though his tone was honest, she couldn't help but push back.

"Can't we just have one boring day? I'm not sure I've recovered enough from the last surprise."

"You tell her that," Snow smiled at a figure waiting up the road from them. Well, three figures. Festus was to the left, a little worse for wear but still presentable.

Indira waited beside him, in a winter dress the color of ripened strawberries. Her hand was intertwined with another.

Hazel's eyes grew wide, and she couldn't keep the smile from her lips. "Bells?"

A bandaged Bellona was smiling up at them from a wheelchair. Her skin was splotched with sickly green and yellow. One arm was tightly wrapped from shoulder to wrist, and a sturdy cervical brace confined her neck from chin to collar bones.

Behind her, Leo and Sable were open-mouthed. But that didn't last long. Leo got to his sister first, bending over and wrapping her in a hug. Too much of one, Indira scolded, minding him to be gentle.

"Can't get rid of me that easy," Bellona squeaked as Leo squeezed her one more time for good measure, then scruffled her hair.

Sable was upon her next, reprimanding in an instant, "You ever do that again and...I'll...I'll kill you myself, private."

Bellona was hardly phased in the least. "Aww, Pytash, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

Sable grumbled before gingerly pulling Bellona into the first semi-hug Hazel had ever seen him give anyone. Judging by the shocked looks on Leo's and Bellona's faces, it might've been the first he'd dolled out in his whole life.

Hazel approached last, gingerly embracing Bellona.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," Hazel murmured.

"Glad to be here, Marlowe." Bellona's eyes glistened as she patted Hazel's back. "Thanks to you."

"How's the arm?" Hazel asked, pulling away.