The Ballad of Lucy Gray

Chapter 6

Two months later, my leg seems better. Today is the day I will leave my old life forever. Onwards.

I don't see the Covey again. They've not returned since their last visit. One last time, I put out the fireplace of the lake house. I fish out my metal can where I will carry live coals- matches are precious and I have no flint. These coals are my lifeline.

Outside, I catch two more fish and dig up katniss and a collection of roots and berries to keep me going for the journey ahead. I also collect more water and drink as much as I can hold. I don't want to die of dehydration do I? Who knows when I'll eat again. I find two sticks to use as a crutch, I don't want to put too much weight on my leg just yet, adjust my meagre belongings and head towards my new life.

The sun has just risen which gives me the full day to travel. I no longer have a compass but the sun tells me it's East. I work out North and depart. I stare at the lake one more time. A wave of memories wash over me. Laughter.  Light. Love. Then the memories retreat, leaving nothing but the silence of my heavy heart. 

***

This part of the forest is unfamiliar to me. It seems darker, scarier, almost forbidden. There are no footpaths and the trees grow packed together, creating a curtain to the light, trapping me here. Through the thick maze of trees, it's difficult for me to get my bearings.

And I constantly have the feeling I'm being... watched.

I turn around. 

Nothing. 

Throughout the day, I ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut and nibble of berries I find in clumps of bushes to distract me. Twice, I come across a patch of nightlock berries. It looks like a normal blueberry but inside, the flesh is blood-red. A reminder you'll be dead before the juices reach your stomach.

At what I guess is mid afternoon, I stop to have a meal of fish and katniss. Again. I think I've had enough of both to last a lifetime. Oh what I wouldn't give to have some bread and warm soup. Although I do find a lovely patch of strawberries- juicy and sweet. I wish I could share this with the Covey, I know they will love this. I hope someone will find this someday.

I spot rabbits and even deer. They don't stay for long, they only watch me for a few moments and scamper merrily on their way. The mockingjays do though. They flap in the canopy high above my head and sing notes I'll never be able to reach. 

Down in the valley, valley so low,
Late in the evening, hear the train blow....

Birds in the heavens know I love you.

It's the Valley song- an old song from District 12 passed down from generations. The mockingjays mimic the song. I hope one day this song will still be known in District 12.

Snap. What was that? I peered cautiously into the gloom. Nothing.

Snap. There it is again!

"Hello? Who's there! Come out!"

Nothing. No response.

I pulled out my knife and readied myself for an attack. Who knows what could be in these woods?

"Come out!" I shout.

A man steps out from behind the trees. He's  a head taller than me and his skin is a sickly grey colour. His dark hair is messy and dirty and a straggly beard hides his face. He looks about my age, possibly in his early twenties. His clothes are ripped and he carries a stained bag. I hope it's was berry juices. I've got the impression that he's been travelling for a long time. Was he even from my district?

"Who are you?" I ask. 

"My name is Sarrel Whitegrove. I'm from District 9. Grain," he replies in a husky voice. He speaks in an unfamiliar accent. "What I want to know is why the Victor of the tenth hunger games is running away?"

"Why are you here?"

"I asked you first."

"Fine. I'm headed North."

"Why are you running away from 12?"

Why am I running away from 12? Good question. "I'm an adventurer. I can't stay in one place for too long," I lie feebly. Unfortunately Sarrel could see right through me.

"Tell me the real reason."

"Okay. Well I hate the Capitol. I hate being controlled by then. I hate the way they make us suffer. I hate the oppression. I hate the Games. I hate them so I'm running away from their control!" I shout. My eyes are probably glinting, burning with malice. It's true. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.

"What about you Sarrel?"

"Same reason. I hate the Capitol and their sadistic games. I hate the oppression. I want a new life where I  can be free."

Is this what we all want? To be free from the iron-grip of the Capitol?

"Are you injured?" Sarrel asked me, gesturing to my crutches.

"Got shot. In the calf."

"By who?"

"Doesn't matter."

"How long have you been travelling?"

"Got shot two months ago. Started travelling today. What about you? Injured?" I ask waving in the direction of his torn clothes.

"Well spending a month in the wilderness does something to your clothes," he chuckles. "Had some incidents with some wild dogs and angry deer."

I laughed even though this whole situation was so ridiculous. Two of us being out in the wild joking about our new dangerous lives.

"Was it you I heard earlier? I kept thinking someone was following me."

"I think so."

"Why didn't you show yourself until now?"

"I don't know. I wanted to see what you were doing. I heard the mockingjays."

"What?"

"They were singing a beautiful song. I followed them. Then I heard you. You have a lovely voice."

"Thank you." People have said that to me. Constantly. After a performance when they see me and I agree. This time I laugh uncontrollably and I don't know why. I think I'm losing it, being in the wild for so long.

"You know you made me really paranoid? I thought there was a stalker on my trail. I was right," I look at him accusingly.

"Sorry," he responds. He had the decency to bow his head.

"So where are you going?" I ask, curious.

"Same as you. North. I heard of a place out of the Capitol's control."

"Yup. The wilderness."

"No. It's not," he said slowly. "It's a place not in the wild. It's actually hidden. Fresh clothes. Food. A roof over your head. It's a bit like a... city. A bit but not quite.

What? What is Sarrel telling me! He has to be joking. He must be. He's doing this to get my hopes up. Maybe he's got his hopes up. He's delusional. He has to be. This information is only making me lose my course. There's no such thing. Is there?

"So... what's this place called then?"

"District 13."