Don't Speak, Just Listen and See (open)

Thyme Mocker walked slowly toward her destination with only the sound of snow beneath her feet to keep her company. The light, crunching of dead plants that have been frozen for quite some time rang to music in her cold ears. She watched each time her little foot took another step forward in a rhythmic pattern, always constant with a count of two between each step. One, two, step... one, two, step... on and on through the white snow that, from afar, appeared to be sugar on the ground. When the wind blew, some of the snow would pick up and dance on the waves of the breeze as the only ballet Thyme had ever come close to seeing.

One, two, step... one, two, step... she sauntered on. Her thin legs were tired and cold, as were her graceful hands that clutched a basket of goat cheese that she was taking to attempt to trade for any sort of meat to make a broth. A shiver ran through her as wind picked up snow and blew it straight on her. It felt like a harsh whip that Thyme never wished to really feel, unlike a few unlucky people who got on the Peacekeepers last nerve. The whole action horrified her every time she saw it. Thyme would stand there, watching, her eyes holding back tears, fearing that if she let them go then she too would be whipped. Just thinking of it now forced her to shake the very thought from her mind. She had to stay focused on the task at hand, and push through the snow to reach the traders place.

That was the only way she knew it... the traders place. Even as an eight year old girl, Thyme never thought to find out the real name that everyone called it. It would always be the traders place to her, and it would be the only place outside of her home or class room that she would ever speak to anyone. Her full, light pink lips hardly ever spoke a word, and most people just let her be. The only way it really hurt her, was that she had no friends. It wasn't that she didn't want any friends, though. No. Thyme longed for a friend, but what would she say? How would she respond to anything that person would ask of her, or tell her? Really, Thyme never knew exactly what to say. It was loss for words that kept her hidden and alone. Silent, but always watching, listening, and really seeing.

The snap of a twig behind her had Thyme spinning round and round, her long, dark braid of frail hair whipping around her; her hazel eyes wide with fear. With a sigh of relief, Thyme found that it was only a little bird not far off from her. It tweeted a short tune she felt she recognized, so made up her mind to hum it back. The bird tweeted it once more before flying away. Thyme turned on her heel and began to walk once more, now slightly more of a skip. One, two, step, one, two, step... and as she skipped in time with the song she'd heard, Thyme hummed the little tune to herself. Her arms swung at her sides as thin vines would, but she was careful to not let the contents of the basket spill out to the ground. After a while of this, however, Thyme's weak body became tired and she needed to rest desperately. Not caring for her simple, cotton dress or coat, Thyme tightened the coat around her and sat down on the driest spot she could find on the ground.

Setting the basket beside her, Thyme observed all around her, finally noticing what she had missed as the snowy ground had passed beneath her feet. The sky was a grayish blue and thin little clouds rolled by, though slower than honey from a jar. The sun hid behind the winter sky, not showing much of itself, but still producing enough light for the day. Every once in a while, a bird would fly across the sky, maybe two if Thyme was lucky enough to see. Seeing those birds reminded her of the little one that had hummed a tune to her earlier. Smiling slightly, Thyme hummed the tune to herself and thought the words in her mind. Her thin, cold, graceful fingers traced shapes out in the snow to pass some time, and she found herself content with her surroundings. Laying back into the snow, Thyme made a quick snow angel, standing carefully afterward so as not to destroy it. The snow angel was just as thin as she who made it, and Thyme pondered this. Her hand reached up behind her right ear to touch the little birth mark in the shape of a clove. To this, she allowed herself to smile.

Picking up her basket, Thyme continued to walk to the traders place with her one, two, step... rhythm slowed back to the way it had been at first. As she walked, Thyme felt the wet of the snow on her back dry slightly, which would be good so that no one really knew that she had been playing as a child would in the snow. When she reached the traders place, Thyme was almost completely dry, so no one would notice. It was warmer there where she stood in the traders place, and scents of goods to be traded filled the air so heavily, Thyme almost turned and walked away. But then she thought of her sick mother, hard working father, and little sister Layce. They needed the broth she would make to store and help last them the winter months.

Biting her bottom lip, Thyme began to walk around to find a stand that would provide her with what she would need. A few kids ran around, chasing each other in play. Others were the ones working, but it was mostly adults. Some of the people, Thyme even recognized from school, though, being who she was, Thyme didn't open her lungs to say hello. No. She decided on not speaking, unless spoken to, today. As she went on with not speaking, her ears listened and her eyes saw. Listening with her ears, Thyme heard people laughing and joking, while others whispered things too soft for her to make out. Some spoke business with one another, trying for the best deal possible. Seeing with her eyes, Thyme saw people moving, some in a blur, others in slow motion. The people in the blur were in a hurry as far as she could tell. Those in slow motion had no where the needed to be at the moment, so they lingered in places for a few minutes before being shooed away. Then they would move on to a new spot, always seeming to know right where they were going.

Her eyes saw, her ears listened, and soon enough, Thyme found a stand that was trading all cuts of meat, from the ribs to just the fat. Slowly, Thyme approached the stand and waited until the first person was finished getting what they wanted. Even though it was trading, no one ever got that much. In District 12, you were lucky to get anything from the traders place. You had to have something of value to the other person. Usually it was easier to trade cheese for some bread, Thyme knew, for they used cheese in some of their recipes. Now, cheese for meat was a whole other story.

"Hello," said the man at the stand. He smiled down at her with his thin, chapped lips. His eyes were healthy as was he. The man wasn't horribly thin, but rather slightly pudgy. In District 12, if you were anywhere near pudgy, they might have considered rewarding you. The man's dark hair was cut short and in curls on top of his head. Gray eyes stared down at Thyme, as her piercing hazel eyes stared back. The one thing she couldn't get over was his ear size. His ears were long and stuck out of his head, and Thyme could imagine him flying with those ears.

Holding back a laugh, Thyme muttered a greeting. "I would like to trade some of my goat cheese for any cut of meat good to make broth." The man raised one thick eyebrow at her in question. His lips turned down from his smile and became serious. "Oh really?" he asked. "Yes, if you please sir." Thyme could tell he was holding back a laugh when he nodded and turned away. When he faced her again, hew as holding part of a cow bone that had some meat still attached to it. The piece wasn't large, but Thyme decided that it would do, considering she needed it. "How much do you have?" he asked her. Carefully, Thyme set the basket on the counter and removed a cloth that covered the cheese. The man looked from her to the cheese, his eyes full of amusement, but the rest of his expression was serious and calm. "This here bone weighs about... I'd say five pounds? Do you have about five pounds of cheese?" Thyme thought about the weight of the cheese in her hands, and how in school she had been taught how much one pound weight versus ten. The latter weight of the cheese was somewhere toward the middle so she nodded. "Yes," Thyme answer in a small voice that was barely audible. The man smiled. "Well then..." He emptied the cheese out of the basket carefully into a container. Then slowly and skillfully, he wrapped the cow bone in cloth and placed it gently in the basket. "Here you go miss. Enjoy." Thyme took the basket and smiled. "Thank you," she said then turned and began to walk away.

The place had gone crowded in the short time she had traded. Thyme wrapped her coat around her tightly, grasped the basket with all her might and plunged on. She could feel every bump and bruise she earned for walking further and further. After a while, Thyme lost sight of the exit of the place. Sighing, Thyme found a wall and sat down against it, exhausted. She decided to wait until the place had cleared before leaving. All the while she didn't speak... just listened with her ears and let her eyes see. Her eyes saw people she knew, and people she didn't. The people she knew and saw, Thyme didn't know if they knew her, for she was quiet even around them. She let her ears hear their words when they were near by.