The Rebel Queen

3

My dreams are the same. I slowly, very, very slowly, make my way, barefoot on the ashy ground. I hear the screams and cries of battle around me, images of war dancing in the walls of flames at my sides. I wear the battle armor of a gilded warrior, a duel swords clutched in my hands and outstretched on either side of me. I try to close my eyes to the violent images, but I can't. The screams keep ringing louder and louder on either side of me. 

"You have lived these battles a hundred times, Milady," I hear Tigris whisper next to me and I turn to face her.

"Why are you here, showing me these images," I say, turning to her. "After today, surely the gods would you see that I need a rest from this violence." She looks past me, at the fires.

"You are the great bird of victory, the phoenix," She says. "These flames of battle have raised you as well as any guardian."

"That does not answer my question," I say. "I wish to rest from battle. I take no glory in the screams of my fallen comrades, of the people I could not save."

"Only you can silence them, Lady," She says. "Release your guilt, and be free to rise from these ashes." I hang my head and stop, sucking in the smoke filled air. 

"You act as though it would be so simple." 

I open my eyes and scream, beginning to slash and strike at the  flames. The fire's waver, but refuse to fall as I continue to fight the memories of battle, many of them my own. Blood soaks the ground and I eventually fall to the ground, my weapons dropping from my hands. I scream in fury at the sky and the imagees fall, leaving me in the dark and soaked in blood.

I wake up in my tent, the fire crackling to embers. I let out a deep breath, my empty stomach aching as though I had swallowed live rats. I look across the before present flames and notice my guest has disappeared, his bedroll a mess from a no doubt restless sleep. I slowly sit up, groaning a little from the sore, aching feeling all down my arms. I feel my long hair fall down my shoulder as get up, standing on my weak legs. I step across the floor, my bare feet sinking into the thick pelt floor. I pick up the deer pelt cloak, the skull with its antlers resting against my back as I fasten the front over my chest. I grab another hide and fold it across my hands as I walk to the edge and hold open the tent, ducking through.

Peeta stands there, staring at the moon hanging above the  trees. He looks tired and strained, the circles under his eyes apparent even here. The crickets sing around us, but other than that, the world is quiet. I stand there, not sure of how to approach, but he senses me, glancing my way. I take the three steps over to him and carefully lay the cape of a bear across his broad shoulders.

"You would catch your death out here like this," I say softly. Peeta glances at me but doesn't speak, just shaking his head. "You probably think right now that it would be no loss, but I highly disagree."

"One less refugee for your men to feed," He says, still staring at the sky. I follow his gaze, sighing at the way the clouds of no doubt smoke of the still burning fires cross it as the wind blows.

"In these woods, we are all refugees, Peeta," I say. "Even me." I take a step closer so I am standing beside him. "I am sorry that this refuge does not defend against nightmares." He glances at me.

"I'm used to it," He says and I nod.

"As am I, but that makes the horror in the depths of dreams no less frightening," I say and he looks at me. "I don't remember the last night I took comfort in sleep. Long before I came here, that is for sure." 

"I dreamed your death a million times," Peeta says and I look at him, nodding. 

"And I yours, seeing as I believed you had died to see me escape and make this life," I say.