A Price To Pay (The Hunger Games Prequel)

The Hunger Games Prequel - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The moon is almost invisible in the sky, only a thin sliver providing light. I make no sound against the cobble stones as I creep along the street. My ears pick up the faint sounds of two voices up ahead, and I quickly duck behind a hedge. Peeping through the leaves, I watch the two Peacekeepers march around the corner ahead, and after taking a quick glance down the now empty street, they continue onwards down their road.

I heave a sigh of relief. That was too close.

With added caution, I carry onwards down the street, my heart hammering in my chest. My quiet breaths seem unnaturally loud to me in the hushed silence, and the cold burns my chest and numbs my limbs. Eventually, I reach a tiny alleyway, near the end of the street and I thankfully slip into the shadows. The dark swallows me up.

Halfway down the alley is a sturdy wooden door, illuminated only by the light spilling out from the gap between the door and the icy ground. I knock softly, using a secret code from the rebellion. Footsteps echo across the stone floor inside, approaching me.

“Who goes there?” A gruff voice asks shortly.

“It’s me, Iris Windon,” I whisper.

The door immediately opens and I have less than a second to see a big, broad-shouldered man before I’m enveloped in a tight embrace. The familiar scent of raw meat surrounds me, tangy and only slightly unpleasant.

“It’s been too long, m’girl,” the man said, and I pull back and smile hesitantly. The man’s blue eyes crinkle slightly around the edges.

Harrick Bilton is District 12’s butcher, stout and good-natured. But his pleasant demeanour hides a fierce hatred of the Capitol and he is one of the only remaining leaders not convicted. During the rebellion, his cellar was used as a store for weaponry. If this crime was now found out, he would swing in the gallows.

“I suppose you’re here to see Sky?” Harrick wants to know, raising his eyebrows as I nod. “She’s resting right now, but I’ll tell her you’re here.”

Harrick hurries off down a side passage and I sit down on one of the wooden chairs surrounding a large oak table. It wobbles slightly on the uneven floor and I amuse myself as I rock it too and fro. In a short time, I hear the sound of slow, irregular footsteps outside the room and look up to see Sky enter.

As usual, her beauty gives me a slight pang of jealousy. Her white blonde hair forms perfect curls and her eyes are the same startling shade of blue as her father’s, contrasting against her pale, delicate face. Her cheekbones are high and her eyebrows arch gracefully. By comparison, I feel very plain. I quickly push such ridiculous thoughts aside and stand up, allowing her to lean some of her weight on me as I help her to the table.

Skylark is the middle daughter of Harrick’s numerous children, and is closest to my age at only 14 years old. We had been members of the rebel group under her father, helping distribute weapons to different locations around the district.

As Sky sits down with a heavy sigh, my eyes flicker to her leg for a quick second. Her leg is permanently maimed from a bullet wound inflicted by the Peacekeepers, causing her to walk with limp. The memory rises to the surface of my mind and engulfs me.

It was a routine procedure, collecting firearms from Harrick’s cellar and handing them out to the rebels after dark. Peacekeepers rarely patrolled the streets after night fell; it was considered too risky for them. Neither Sky nor I had experienced any trouble before, and we grew careless and less observant. That fateful night, we managed to walk straight into a group of Peacekeepers, stationed in a dark corner of the street. It was an ambush.