Splintered Arrows ↠ YoonMin

Chapter 3

Yoongi

There was nothing but crying all day.

The other girl from my District wept and wept without a pause, refusing to eat a thing. I pitied her, a young child with almost no chance of survival.

I noted how small she looked; in the big T-Shirt and huge dining chair. Her long red hair flowed around her like a waterfall as she sobbed, and I imagined her eyes and throat were sore.

Her mentor, Sanghee, tried desperately to comfort her. She stroked her hair and rocked her. It never worked.

She was tiny, even for her age, which wasn't that old. She could only have been twelve or thirteen.

She didn't leave the table. She would sleep or cry or sniffle pitifully. She wouldn't move. So that night, when everyone left her out there, I crept over to her and sat down.

"Mikyong." I said sternly. She looked up at me, eyes swollen and red.

"You have to stop crying. Do you want to die? The only way you can go home to your family is if you stop crying and eat. Listen to what your mentor has to say."

Mikyong stared at me with her huge, bright eyes, red like burning embers but brown like the fuel which it burned. To my surprise, she nodded.

I pulled out the small length of fabric I was working on from my pocket and showed it to her.

"How well do you sew?" I asked her. District 8 of Textiles was one of the few, if only, Districts where women took up work as well, considering how such was as practical as sewing. Mikyong nodded slowly.

I got out a box and took out a needle, a scrap of fabric, and some black thread. I handed it all to her.

"Show me your running stitch."

She obeyed thusly: within minutes she was finished. The swift, meaningful and straight stitches that I saw surprised me.

"Blanket stitch."

Mikyong moved to the edge of the fabric, stitching it more carefully and neatly this time. Her sorrow slowly drained away as she concentrated on her work, her tongue slightly slipping out of the corner of her mouth. She handed her finished work to me, beaming with pride.

It was wonderful.

"Zigzag."

She folded the cloth over, zigzag stitching the edges together. Her eyes twinkled as she passed it over, waiting for my approval.

"You're a natural."

Mikyong beamed, her small teeth showing. I felt my insides warming up at the sight.

"During the Games; stay with me. I'll help you."

She nodded diligently. "I'll help too." She assured me. I was almost surprised to hear her voice. Like bells.

I liked this girl.

"I'll beat up anyone who tries to hurt you." She said. Her words were so full of promise and meaning that I didn't even tell her that she did not stand a chance against anyone in the Hunger Games. I just nodded.