Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE MONKEYS HAD DISAPPEARED BACK INTO THE JUNGLE, AS THOUGH CALLED BACK BY AN UNKNOWN VOICE. They had managed to go back through the jungle, carrying the nearly dead body of the woman from District Six, Indie feeling sick as she realized that even after five years of possibly standing by her side she still didn't know her name. Devastation creeps into Indie's heart as she sees the morphling struggling to breath.
She knew what she was getting into when she agreed to watch and protect Katniss. The Mockingjay. The symbol of hope. But seeing the morphling sacrifice herself for not only Katniss but for Peeta made it all very real, and she wondered if in the end she could actually do that, be brave enough to sacrifice herself for something bigger and no doubt end up like this morphling. Another victim of the Capitol but another stone on the way to hope. Or if it'd all be in vain.
She looks away from the near dead body, meeting Finnick's eyes, full of concern and question about how she is doing. Not having an answer she looks away, and scans his body for any sign of an injury, not that there was much she could do about it now. It's not like they had much in the way of first add but perhaps she could do something to make sure it didn't get infected. Her eyes landed on a sign of blood and torn part on his forearm. Gently, she reached out to touch it, pulling up the sleeve and examining it, grimacing at how deep the bite is. Not enough that he'd bleed out but enough that it would leave a scar.
Just another scar.
"Come here," she says, pulling him away. Despite the danger they'd just been in, she oddly feels comfortable, something in the back of her mind telling her that they wouldn't come back.
She pulls out one of her knives, cutting away at the ruined material around his arm and he lets her, neither really saying anything. Just doing something to not focus on the last few breaths being taken a few feet away.
She heard the comforting voice of Peeta say to the dying morphling, "With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby's skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water."
Her hand move slower, as she tries focusing on wrapping Finnick's arm in a piece of cloth from her own suit, but this ten times the words of Peeta. Finnick doesn't seem to mind, and although he is watching Indie's movements she can tell he is listening to Peeta as well.
"One day I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade of sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow but it was so much more than that. Layers of all sorts of colors, one by one."
