Walk the line (open)

The stars were out, there were no clouds, and there was no wind to push some across the brilliant sight, how she wished there were. Stars brought back the memories of all those happy times they'd sat outside the house, necks craned back so they could look up, her uncle with one of his cheap cigarettes sending swirls of smoke up into the sky, how Marco would always lay flat on his back, his knees up, and she'd lean back against them so her neck wouldn't hurt when she looked up. But she shouldn't think about happy times, not tonight. The cool air enveloped her in an numbness she welcomed. Tonight was one of the harder nights, one of the nights were Ross couldn't stop dreaming, tossing and turning in his sleep, crying out at imaginary pains. His fever was back, the one they'd been fighting for almost two months now. They'd made it through the harder parts of winter, but she needed the sun to rise, she needed to go back up the road, she needed to look for the herbs she knew she needed.

She tucked her hands in her father's old worn wool jacket and tried to inhale his scent off the collar, it was still there, but just barely. The bitter smell of coal and the sweet smell of the mint aftershave he had always used. She'd thrown the stuff out right after his death, unable to stand having the house smell like him. For the longest time she'd image walking into the house and him still being there, sitting at the table, waiting for her to come home from school. He was never there though, and the house became empty and lonely, the laughter and the noise gone. It was only her and Ross now, a starving girl and a crippled miner. Her stomach was silent to night though, they'd had a good sized rabbit for dinner tonight they'd made a stew out of with the handful of carrots and the potato she'd bartered for at the hob. That place had become a second home to her, and she'd become fairly good friends with some of the vendors, which always got her better prices.

Her breath rose in small tendrils as she snuggled deeper into the coat. It was dark out and curfew had long passed, but she couldn't stay inside, not with her brother being tormented by his fever dreams and his memories. He'd been there, he'd heard the dying screams of his friends, had he heard their father? Their brother? Their Uncle? There were so many times she'd wanted to ask him what it had been like, but she'd refrained. He was haunted enough by that day, she didn't want him to talk about it. She moved fairly noiselessly across the road, but froze when she heard voices. They were too far away for her to see, but she could tell they weren't peacekeepers. So moved closer, walking in her hunter's tread, sneaking up on them until they became clear to her.

The older of the two she'd seen in school. He was the same year as her, and he was wearing that same smile he always had plastered on his face. She thought his name might be Flint, she didn't pay entirely too much attention to him, only when he disrupted class. He was just another one of the Seam kids, starving and trying not to focus on it. He'd been speaking to the blonde haired boy, who was only a handful of years younger than both of them, but he was a relative stranger to her. She shook her head, stray strands of her auburn hair danced from the small motion, the rest of it was safely secured in her usual knot. She stepped closer, so she could speak quietly and still be heard, and she thought it might be wiser to step into the light so that they didn't scare them too too badly.

"Keep your voices down, some of us don't feel like getting caught outside this late." He voice was soft, delicate as it always was. That snow falling in a field kind of soothing, as her misty green eyes slid from one boy to the other.

Flint raised an eyebrow to the boy who had tried to hide behind a tree. It was a little confusing to see someone trying to hide when he'd clearly been spotted. But it was understandable... why would you ever want to be spotted by someone in the middle of the night outside of your house? What if it was a peacekeeper that would yell at you for being outside so late, and got you into trouble? It's never something good to test. If you planned on going out at night, normally you stayed within the boundaries of your house... any place besides there was always a danger zone at night. But the peacekeepers in district 12 were always asleep at this time of night. It just wasn't important for them to keep a close eye on us. We were practically dropping dead everyday, so why would they work so hard to keep people who couldn't do anything from fighting back?

The other boy stuck his head out after realizing that Flint wasn't a peacekeeper... but quickly hid back behind the tree when the girl talked. Flint had to admit, it made him jump when she talked. He looked towards her, she was standing in the light of one of the few lit lamps so she could be seen.

Flint regain his composure when he realized it was a girl in his own grade. Her name was Maija or something like that. She was one of the prettier girls in the class, but she was silent and reserved in class. Something that almost always confused Flint because he didn't know how she could stand sitting quietly as stomachs continuously growled around them. But Flint knew she knew about him, he did disrupt class enough to pull attention to him. Just about everyone in his year at least knew about him, but only a few were actually friends with him. Flint picked his friends carefully, and he took time to get to know people when he did find an interest in someone. Normally, it would only take him an hour or so though to decide whether or not he wanted to be friends with someone.

When Maija told him off in her soft voice Flint couldn't help but laugh, "Yeah, who's going to catch us? The sleeping peacekeepers?" he asked rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest. Flint wasn't being too loud. At least he didn't feel like he was, if anything... he was being quieter than he normally was. Strange. There was a threat that they could wake someone up, but normally sounds of people talking was dismissed. Listening to people talking was always better than listening to someone starve to death. Hearing the groans of pain and them begging for food that would only prolong their death. It was terrible, and it was something Flint wished he'd never of had to experience. It made him think that if anything, he'd rather die of the wraith of a peacekeeper than from starving to death. At least it would be quicker, and less agonizing for his family.