Simply Everlark (After Mockingjay)

Chapter 1

It's been a year since the war has ended. The terrible war that had caused so many of my people to parish from. My stupid mistakes caused them a loss of life and I have never felt so alone.

Thoughts swarm my fragile mind every second of the day. Trying to contain the monsters is so difficult that I just let the horrid memories be free to control me. Nightmares awake me from the only place where I thought I could escape the world. The thrashing and panic I go under though in the middle of the night says otherwise.

District thirteen was a place that I was not fond of. It only added to the madness in my head, thinking about all of the suffering we had to go through in the tunnels invisible to others underground. We lived in fear constantly. The many hours spent hidden, trying to stay alive from the capitol's bombs raining on the earth hiding a district underneath. The shear terror when one hit, not knowing if it would be fatal.

Moving back to district twelve was provoking. I would have to face the area demolished once again. The conditions were rather poor, other than the citizens who decided to move back fixing up the crisped houses and trying to make a living. But no matter what, I couldn't go back to my old house, the one my family lived in before moving to the Victors Village. There were so many painful memories that the house had locked behind the wooden door, now gone from the capitals lethal use of bombs. So now, my current home is the lonely house occupied by one in the Victors Village with Haymitch living directly next to me.

The home was barely harmed in the bombing. Some of the siding had been burned from the spread of fire, but was repaired. The other houses in the village were the same. No terrible damage to the districts most prized possession.

I am the only one living in the house. Greasy Sae had stopped by a while back ordered by Haymitch to make sure I was still eating. She had stopped when I could fend for myself, getting back to hunting and becoming my old self again. But I know that I will never be like that again. So carefree and happy with out a worry in the world seems like a dream now.

Now able to control somewhat of my life, I get out of the house of horror by spending most of my time in the woods. Everyday is spent searching for game, trading it to Greasy Sae for something worth while in return. But I try to forget about the prize from collecting these animals. Spending an abundance of time in the woods makes me focus on the task at hand, not about memories. Daily goals are succeeded only to go back to my home feeling satisfied carrying my game and some hope that things will get better.

And that leads to present day. Sitting in the meadow where my father would caress my pink cheeks and Prim would be picking flowers over yonder with her tiny palms stained green. I smile at the memory while listening to the mocking jay's singing a melody and the wind run through the trees.

My hands find their way kneading the long grass in between my fingers and pulling the strands out of the ground. A comforting gesture that I had discovered when I had first moved back to the district. I laid in a small patch of grass, one that had been untouched by the bombs. I had a sense of reassurance feeling the green sprouts, like the whole forest could be regrown if this patch stay alive. And grow it did, brighter and more alive than ever. Green covering every inch of the full grown forest, just the way it should be.

I feel as if there are more and more things giving me this sense of safety. But what do I believe, anymore? I thought that when Peeta and I were crowned victors of the 74th Hunger Games that I would live my life without any other worries. Now look where I am, and Peeta to add.

Peeta had stayed in district thirteen for further treatment into getting his memory back. I was relived yet saddened having to be so far away from him. I live in worry, afraid that his bad memories of myself will somehow trigger again and send him on a rampage that could hurt me or someone else for that matter. On the other hand though, I feel as if the longer I stay away from Peeta, the more in love I realize I am with the boy and the bread. Peeta is the hope I need to get my life back together.

A sudden snap of a twig off in the distance gathers my attention. I slowly untwine my fingers out of the tangled grass and sit up slowly, not spooking what ever had made the sound.

My eyes squint, attempting to seek the trust passer lurking in the woods. Such foolishness, not taking the time to step quietly when I have my bow laying next to me. I carefully grip the metal weapon in my hands and load in an arrow, resting in on the elastic that pulls slightly as I draw back my arm.

I'm on my knees now, excitement and fear traveling through my body as I lift up my right leg, pushing up ever so slowly until I remain crouched down on my feet still peering into the thick forest. Suddenly, I spot my nest victim.

My eyes lock with the animal going about in the trees. The small hooves click on the fallen branches that line the forest floor as it moves. The animal has not noticed me yet and I hope that remains until I can inch my way closer getting a better shot.

The clueless animal still grazes with its tail flinging back and forth and snout twitching at the new smells it discovers on the ground. I'm in a good range zone now; the animal remains about ten feet away and hasn't spotted me because of my absence behind a tree, watching the unsuspecting beast. My arm starts to pull back, creating more tension on the string and the muscle in my arm using more force. My hand stops at my ear, the elastic string resting on my lower lip as I point the tip of the arrow to the animals head.

I wait. Not waiting to find a spot where to hit the animal, but for the deer to turn its head slightly so it spots my determination and I hit a fatal spot. Right in between it's eyes. Without thinking, I lift my leg up slightly so the animal catches the movement. It's head snaps towards me and the eyes go wide before I let the arrow fly, nailing the target I had planed to hit.

Excitement surges through my body as the animal drops dead with the silver arrow lodged its skull. I walk over to the unmoving species and examine my success. A pool of red liquid flows out of the wound and falls onto the animals snout. I carefully dislodge the arrow out of the head with a cracking sound and wipe off the red remains with my game bag before lodging the rather small body inside.

It takes incredible effort carrying the bag let alone lift it up. I have to stop every couple of seconds from the extreme weight that is put on my shoulders and remain out of breath. I crouch down slightly with my hands resting on my knees an partial sections of my hair flailing in front of my face, only to be pushed back as I stand up once again.

Just as I lift the heavy bag once again with my eyes shutting tight with the all of the weight being added on, a voice slightly in the distance causes me to jump.

"Need a hand with that, Catnip?"