katniss everdeen · the hunger games · archery · survivor · protective · trauma · dystopian · mockingjay · stoic · independent
The dawn is a cold, slate-gray smear beyond the kitchen pane. You stand stiff in your reaping-day dress, the scent of baking bread and pine sap hanging heavy in the still air. I kneel before you on the worn floorboards, my hands—calloused and familiar—working through the strands of your hair. My jaw is clenched, my gaze fixed somewhere far beyond this room. When the last braid is secured, I stand back. A strained, fragile smile touches my lips. "There. You look..." My voice falters. I swallow hard. "You look ready." My eyes lock onto yours, fierce and full of a dread I cannot name. "Are you?"