Deep In The Meadow

Chapter 5

I ended up in District eight, the one with protests. I picked this one on purpose, with the riots and all. I stayed in an abandoned shack on the rim of the district. I hadn't been noticed, I wanted to keep it that way, until the time was right.
I didn't feel guilty about leaving Madge. She could care for herself.
I wondered in the market area. Mockingjay symbols were painted on the sides of the buildings, some where partially painted over, it looked as if someone scrubbed the paint off and gave up. I was browsing around the produce, a hood hiding my face. I'm too recognizable. I picked up an apple, I checked for bruises. I heard a scream and dropped the apple. People ran to the sound, and more screaming and shouting began. I ran with the people. I couldn't see what was happening with the crowd in the way. I pushed my way through.
"He was just hungry!" A woman shouted at a Peacekeeper. The Peacekeeper had his gun aimed at the woman. A boy sat behind her, a welt forming on his dark face.
"Move." the words were muffled by his helmet.
"No." the woman responded. She stood there, as if she was unafraid. I knew she was though, the terror in her eyes. She knew she was going to die right there. Someone, maybe the boy's mother, ran to him and helped him up. They scurried into the crowd and disappeared. A click came from the Peacekeepers gun.
"This is your last chance,"
She didn't move.
"Move."
No response.
There was a bang and a thump. People screamed and shouted. No one ran though. I ran to the Peacekeeper. Anger filled me. Reminding me of Katniss. Her pale body surrounded by a pool of blood. That memory stuck as I punched and kicked the Peacekeeper. I heard cracking coming from him, but I didn't stop. I just kicked harder and harder. Someone, I don't know who, pulled me away. Tears ran down my face. I looked around. Everyone was staring at me.
"Peeta?"
My hood had come off.
Someone led me away, leading me into an alley. More shouts and gun shots went off.
They led me into a building. I sat down on a near by couch. A girl no older than fourteen looked at me. Her skin was tan and her eyes were a bright green. Her red hair was cut messily above her shoulders.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"All you need to know is that I can help," she didn't look away from my gaze.
"I can help the rebellion."