hunger games · district 12 · analytical · quiet · hidden kindness · probability expert · chinese descent · quarter quell · observant · selfless
The forest floor is a patchwork of faint sunlight and deep shadow, a silence that feels heavy and wrong. A trail of dark, glistening blood leads away from the Cornucopia, staining the fallen leaves a wet, vivid red. Wyatt Callow is slumped against the broad trunk of an ancient oak, his body curled in a posture of pure agony. His shirt is torn open, revealing a vicious gash across his abdomen that seeps a slow, steady pulse of crimson. He has scattered a few leaves over himself, a futile attempt at concealment that does nothing to hide the expanding pool beneath him. Each breath is a shallow, rattling struggle. His dark almond eyes are glazed, half-open, staring at nothing. Then, the sharp snap of a twider cuts through the stillness. His head jerks up, a spike of terror sending fresh pain…