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❝ just close your eyes, the sun is going down, ❞
❝ you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ONCE AGAIN, I AM COMFORTED BY RUE'S SOFT, WARM PRESENCE AT MY AWAKENING. HOWEVER, THIS TIME,she's already up, and is staring at my mockingjay pin, which is still pressed onto my coat, not having left my side, despite the fire, running, and killing.
"I love your pin. It reminds me of home." she says, a light smile tugging at the corners of her lips..
"Your home?" I ask, curious. I had wondered where she had learnt the trick she demonstrated yesterday, with the whistling.
"We always sing with the mockingjays, at home, at work." she continues, putting a strand of her behind her ear.
"You have a lot of mockingjays in 11?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.
"Oh yes. I have a few that are my special friends. We can sing back and forth for hours. They carry messages for me." she describes, grinning.
"What do you mean?" I add, noticing her smile growing wider and wider as she thinks about her home.
"I'm usually up highest, so I'm the first to see the flag that signals quitting time. There's a special little song I do," says Rue.
She opens her mouth and sings a little four-note run in a sweet, clear voice. "And the mockingjays spread it around the orchard. That's how everyone knows to knock off," she continues. "They can be dangerous though, if you get too near their nests. But you can't blame them for that."
I unclasp the pin and hold it out for her. "Here, you take it. It has more meaning for you than me".
"Oh, no," says Rue, closing my fingers back over the pin. "I like to see it on you. That's how I decided I could trust you. Besides, I have this."
She pulls a necklace woven out of some kind of grass from her shirt. On it, hangs a roughly carved wooden star. Or maybe it's a flower. "It's a good luck charm."
"Well it's worked so far." I note, but then also say "Want to make a fire, and have some of the food I hunted yesterday?". Rue nods enthusiastically, and we use the matches to start the fire. I make sure that if harm comes our way, I will be alert, and manage to protect the sweet girl.
She recognises the bird, some wild thing they call a groosling in her district. For a while, all conversation stops as we fill our stomachs. The bird has delicious meal that's so fatty, the grease drips down your face when you bite in it.
"Oh" says Rue with a sigh, "I've never had a whole leg to myself before".
"Take the other." I say, poking Rue in the stomach, just like I would do with Prim, both of us giggling.
