hanji zoë | pk | fin

Bean snaps her jaws wildly at me and I laugh.

"You're certainly feisty today, Bean!" I say, smiling at the Hellhound from just beyond the bars of her cage. She can't quite reach me from here. Probably--

I jump back as her claws slash at my face. I laugh, her claws of steel crashing against the bars. Sparks fly and I don't bother containing my excitement. This is beyond exhilarating! It's interesting, seeing the way my Bean and Sawney react so differently in captivity. Of course, this could be attributed to the different sizes of their cages or perhaps because I couldn't resist feeding Sawney a treat yesterday or maybe--

"Squad leader, PLEASE! Step back!"

I smile at my underling and wave him away, though it does nothing to wipe the worry from his face.

"Oh, relax," I say, turning and waggling a finger at a growling Bean. "My Bean was only playing, weren't you darling?"

She growls and turns from gnawing on the bars to snapping at my face between the bars. Such a sasspot!

I giggle and sit cross-legged in front of her cage, explaining to her how my day has been and what I had for lunch. And of course, posing to her the important questions like: If Zacharias is always smelling us, who is smelling Zacharias? My theory is that the ghosts of the Capitol sniff him. KIDDING! Mostly. I'll have to sniff him next time I see him so he doesn't have to feel left out. Maybe I could riddle out the appeal of it while I'm at it.

My guess is it's a comfort thing. Humans find comfort in routine and are rather nostalgic. ("Even you creatures can understand that; you each have a favorite toy!") For example, I'm rather impartial to the taste of honeycomb, but would rather make my own soap from the honey farms of District 11 than use the overpriced, chemical-based, fruity slime the Capitol tries to make us Peacekeepers use.

And though I wish I could say I'm capable of fighting my human nature, I've decided keeping a swarm here in the garden outside HQ is good for my health. And my studies. Swarming nature is by far some of the most interesting behavior I have ever seen exhibited by any species. Again, besides perhaps Zach's smelling habits. Or perhaps Levi's obsessive need for cleanliness? Or maybe it's the deviance that I crave so much. Everyone is always searching for the normal–but what drives us away from the normal and into the abnormal?

Why did Bean growl and snap at me today, when every other day she typically barks from the back of her cage? If Levi is such a stickler for cleanliness, why is it he will so easily break his own rules when his comrades are in a crisis? Why does Zach smell people, a trait typically reserved for animals? What turns such frail people such as Miss Lenz and Mr. Arlert into some of the fiercest cadets our academy has ever seen? Why do I get strange looks for asking these questions?

Bean circles herself, curling up into a ball near the front of her cage. Sonny digs at a soft spot in the corner of his cage, panting with contentedness as he gets absolutely nowhere.

Strange creatures they are. But humans? Even stranger creatures we are.

I've deducted that is probably why my parents left. My insect collection was likely too extensive for them. The snakes and squirrels and bats I brought into the house never made them all that happy either. The final straw was when my collection of toads escape from captivity and roamed free in the house. I tried to explain it to them, but they never understood. They never really tried to understand.

In truth, I don't think anyone has ever really tried to understand me. That's why I am the way I am, why I ask so many questions. Everyone deserves to be understood, even the most viscous of us all. Bean yawns; I smile.

A siren sounds above ground and both Bean and Sawney perk their ears. They begin to howl in unison, and though I am deeply interested in taking note of the tone of their howls, I don't have time as I race down the halls–"Squad leader, you should proceed with caution!"–screeching with giddiness all the way, heeding none of the warnings my comrades give.

Oh, how I do hope Miss Quartz's pink lions have escaped again! And this time I'll be sure not to try and eat their manes, no matter how much they look like cotton candy. Lions don't like when you try to eat their manes and they definitely don't taste like cotton candy.

Of course it's just as I make it to the surface that the siren's blaring comes to a halt. I don't even bother holding in my disappointment. I fall to my knees and raise my fists to the sky, cursing my comrades–"Why must you all be so effective!?" I look around wildly, my brain craving some form of stimulation and attention. I beg them for details, but of course they're more concerned with how and why the muttations were running through the streets anyway. Boring protocol stuff, blah, blah, blah--

"Petraaaaaaaa!" I screech as she approaches, glancing around her slim figure to see if she's managed to cage one for me or bring back a blood sample or-- "Please, please," I beg, grasping at straws for anything. "You have to have something. Levi is too cruel, he never brings me any gifts, please--"

She produces a patch of fur from inside her jacket and I screech, snatching it from her hand only after I've scooped her off of the ground and squeezed her hard enough to crack her back. I dash away before anyone can say anything about my strange habits. Though most have them have grown used to me by now. They are the closest thing I have to a family. And no matter how strange they think I am, I do know one thing is for certain.

I trust them.