Snow fell heavily onto my eyelids, the brisk air kissing me on the cheeks and on my forehead. I stared down at a man lying on his back in the snow, blood seeping into the frozen ground around his head. His eyes were wide, and before the figure in the trees, my mother’s name was poison on his lips: Katniss. I looked up at the black and white figure who was walking away from me, gun hanging to the side. I watched him until he was merely a dot in the swirling snow. I gripped my bow firmly, but my hands were cold, and I was trembling.
Everyday had been getting worse, I started backing out of the woods with a limp game bag, I didn’t dare turn my back to the scene I had just imagined until I was out of the forest. Every night was getting worse for my brother. His screams were the reason Haymitch moved to the Capitol with Effie. I remembered my game bag, full every day after hunting, the trade was rich and there were no worries until I set off the next morning and I was searching for rabbits and deer. But for the last month the bag was limp, and thank the havens my father was a baker.
Our visions started when we saw the pictures. Our mother in a group with a man (who wasn’t Gale) and two other women, her and Gale, our parent’s wedding, me and my brother, Fin, as babies.