Flight of The Mockingjay (A Hunger games Fanfiction)

Flight of The Mokingjay (A Hunger Games Fanfiction) : Part One

I press my back on a tree and I fall on the ground knowing there's not much of a choice left--no way I'd run and vanish away like what weighs more earlier--all I can do is finish the rebellion I started.

Dusk falls, I close my eyes so tired of thinking the next things the chances will bring. Slowly, I drift away.

In my dream, everything felt light and clear. I saw myself standing on the hill where Gale and I used to rest during our hunt for game. Our District lied below my feet, filled with brightness and though I'm too far to see, I felt the wide smiles painted on the people's faces. The cool breeze hit my face and I knew everything have changed from the way they were. No more growling stomachs. No more fear. Not just this District lives peaceful and free. I know The whole Panem does.

Staring into it brought me bliss. This is the place where I wanted my children to live if I'd adapt the thought of having a family. Not what It used to be. 

Suddenly, I heard the crumpling of grasses behind my back and knew I have company. I turn expecting to see either Gale, Peeta, Madge or my sister Prim. But instead, in my horror, I found a face I'm aware of with the same white hair and snake-like eyes a stone's throw away.

President Snow.

His right arm was raised up revealing something that brought the hair standing on the back of my neck. 

Clutched between his palm and fingers was a lifeless Mockingjay. 

I was screaming, my face in dread as soon as the surroundings went into a sudden blur. And so the tranquility from everywhere. But before all went distorted, I caught a glimpse of another mockingjay soaring high above. It started to sing a vaguely familiar tune I haven't distinguished when a shake holds me back to semi-consciousness. 

"Katniss," I here opening my eyelids yet squinting against the light from the rising sun. Gale's worried face appears before me and I cling my arms around his neck, tears spilling from my eyes.

"I saw him . . . In my dream . . . " I whisper. 

He brushes my back knowing I long for his comfort. Shortly, both his hands touch my shoulder untangling the tight embrace but still holding me close to his body. 

"Saw who?" He asks in a cool voice.

"President Snow . . ." I say and recites the dream.

"The people needs you." Gale says after a short pause.

Indeed they do. I'm the mockingjay and now the horror of my dream brings me to stay as I am.

"I know, I get it now. I started this whole thing and it couldn't come to an end without me." I answer. "But I don't know yet what to anticipate in the extent."

"There's still hope, Katniss." he says and that's when I tell the last part of the dream I miss to mention. The song. I know that last thing means the exact Gale has said. Hope. 

"To whom do you think the melody belongs?" asks Gale.

I don't know, I think. but instead of voicing it out I begin to repeat the tune almost slipping away from my mind. And it becomes more and more familiar.

"I'm not sure. Not Rue's. It's something I hear . . . in this very place." In that split second, the realization brought me the answer. It's the same song I hear years ago. A song long gone. Buried deep with the person who composed it.  

"It was my father's." I say. But What could it mean more than hope? I know there's something in that dream that connects to where I'm standing on right now. But I let it drop first for the sake of rather dealing with present matters evading such confusion.  

Gale's eyes flooded with a bit of surprise and turns away but abruptly glances back already blank. What's it for? I don't know. But I guess we feel the same. 

"You think they'll be happy seeing they're children on rebellion?" I blurt out from nowhere thinking both of us must be longing for them. 

He turns his glare away for the second time twitching his lips. "They'd be on it, too just as we are." He says.

"Yeah, if it wasn't for the tragedy. They would've witness how the Capitol would slowly fall." I say, now with strong hope on my words.

"Come on, then. We have to go."

"To District thirteen?" I ask though I know enough it's where we're heading before I demanded to see twelve.

But Gale's expression suddenly turns somber as if I've voiced the wrong question. He glances over my shoulder and gives a forced nod. 

I don't understand it. He seem holding things on sly. I follow the direction of his gray eyes realizing we're not alone. Haymitch and Plutarch from an earshot pace closer with the same look as Gale's. And I realize something's going to be unconcealed. 

Before I have the guts to ask Plutarch Heavensbee reveals yet another thing that brings me more bewilderment.

We're already on Thirteen.