flight of the fallen ━━ the hunger games

𝗶𝘃. chariots

FLIGHT OF THE FALLEN
☀︎   Chapter Four

Sacha knew the way toward the chariots that would carry the tributes, but she was glad for Cleo leading her with a comforting hand on the small of her back. She expected to be taken straight to the District Six chariot—not to Twelve's.

Peeta Mellark was nowhere to be found. However, Katniss Everdeen was stood beside a midnight black horse, scratching its chin. Cinna stood beside her, speaking in the soft, calm voice he usually did.

"Cinna!" Cleo called out despite being only a few metres away, though it didn't matter as the entire centre was roaring with noise. She grinned, placed an arm around her brother and tipped her head in a cheeky way, "You have some competition today."

The attention was then directed to Sacha. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other but plastered on a prideful smile. Really, she was grateful for Cleo's work. It was excellent, unique, completely unthinkable to the point of pure intellect itself. But Sacha had never liked any attention on her in the past, and the unpleasantness had only increased after she won the games. She knew not everyone looked at her like that...but she couldn't help feeling like a raw steak being served on a platter to the starving eyes of wolves.

Pushing the thought out of her mind, Sacha turned her attention to Katniss's outfit. The Girl on Fire. Literally. Well, not yet.

She was dressed in a black jumpsuit head to toe, including a heavy black crown. Her makeup made her look like some unearthly being, deadly as fire itself. High arching eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, smouldering eyes, deep purple lips. There was only one word that came to Sacha's mind as she took it all in. Beautiful. Katniss hadn't been set alight yet but she would be, soon, just like she had been in the year before—earning her the nickname, earning her the fame.

"So that's why you spent so much time staring at the windows," Cinna stated. He was impressed but more than that, amused. "I have a few more things to attend to. Want to join with me?"

And that was how Sacha was left alone with Katniss.

The girl didn't know what to do. Clearly, neither did Katniss, her attention on the horse in front of her as she petted its mane. Both of them weren't well with conversations. And what was there to say? They'd be each other's enemies within a week. At least, that's what they were supposed to do. And then Sacha knew exactly what she wanted to say.

"I liked your games last year," She said, "You played them well."

Katniss's eyes narrowed. She wasn't good at hiding her true emotions, it was clear to see, because she was starting at Sacha with undisguised discontent.

This was not the reaction Sacha expected. Then, she realised that the girl didn't understand. She didn't understand what Sacha meant. She thought of Sacha as another mindless sheep, slave to the Capitol, owned by its propaganda. That couldn't be farther from the truth.

Thresh—sparing each other; doing the exact opposite of what the Capitol wanted. Finch, the girl from District Five: crashing into each other mere minutes after the bloodbath, refusing to fight each other...Primrose. Volunteering for her, saving her, protecting her from all the bloodshed she couldn't handle. A safety, one of true love. Rue. Singing her to sleep, promising her a better tomorrow, burying her in a field of flowers. A memorial, one of true compassion.

And Peeta. Peeta Mellark, who did everything to protect her, save her life, get her home—and she did the very same for him. Holding out those berries, she created a belief in the districts that they could fight, they could rebel, they could revolutionise. They could be free. If she, a young girl from District Twelve of all places, could defy the Capitol—then why couldn't they?