Straight on until morning [TFF v AOH v Shadowless day 1.5]

When in chaos or peril, rationality falls to instinct and panic. The attributes which bring about morality within the thin skins of human existence are eliminated. In a storm, a dog once docile will snap driven dangerously by the fear fueling its actions. In a fire with flames devouring once fruitful forests, a mother bird will abandon her chicks in order to prevent her own devastation. In the Hunger Games, children once contained by morality will give way to internal instincts drawing them into darkness. Humans are no exception to the drive to survive, but why do I not kneel to this rule. 

Pressure pulses from heated hands connected in flight from the forced fighting. Ollie young and brightly brimming with innocence sprints stained by freshly delivered danger. Her blood bonding to the tears in her golden pajamas burns guilt into my gut. Driven by delirium drawn forth by pure peril, those who now live within this world with us struck out at innocence itself. Meanwhile, my skin stays unstained, untouched by the horrible hunger of metal. I was by her side holding her hand while I watched them fling flesh from her. I watched while they mutilated the one who's eyes follow me for guidance. I watched because the only instinct igniting in my mind was to flee and not to fight. 

Amid my cruel contemplation the world warps from war to shimmering softness. A realm representing peace lies deceivingly in all directions. Fascination funnels into the entranced eyes of one so young but worry burns brightly in my own. The most wonderfully welcoming places inside the arenas hold the darkest demons. I want to retreat and find another route but going back is too risky. Behind us a horde hauling the bloody bounty of the bloodbath hunts for those less equipped than them, hunts for us. I also need to start sewing Ollie's slices before they stay searching for infection much longer. I decide that the dangerous deceit of this tree outweighs what lurks from where we came. 

Slowing to a still, I bend before the blonde girl gentle like my siblings and brave like them too. I begin to start asking for her to show me her cuts but instead am cut off by pain. Sudden and shocking a foot flings into my thigh. A shriek of warning and for my little nestling brings our hands instantly binding back together. Who stands before us sends chills cold and cruel seeping down my spine. A career with desire for death brimming the illumination of his stern stare. As a mother, although already proven to be weak, I pull Ollie behind me. My skeleton is shaking but this time I refuse to let my feathers fall into the flames of fear so easily again. 

Steel shaped as a spear falls into my unsteady grip. Breaths break from my body but I don't fly from this fight, even a Dove has talons. But before I bring them fully forth more madness merges into the scene, a face familiar and heavy with home. Zion filled with confusion crumbles into the center of the chaos. Eyes search for the girl who was by his side earlier but I am unable to find her. I don't know why but my voice for the first time enters the arena alongside me.

"Zion! Get back!"

I scream for his safety like a weakling would. I see the shapes of my brothers' faces filling his and I can't bring myself to let a career carve into him. I can sense the streets of home in his presence and I don't know why, but its something I need to protect. Its something like the life still clinging to my hand which compels me to push past fear for the sake of something bigger, something beyond explaining. 

The hold falls seconds after Ollie starts striking him, striking home. It's anger which motivates my words but desperation on protecting what's precious.

"Let go Ollie."

She does, and I don't hesitate any longer above the clouds. I dive to save not just Ollie, but him as well. To save them is what lets the steel slide from my fingers. 

Black branches breach the setting sky concealing the creation of cruelty beneath their barricade. A summer's swelter settles through the rustling leaves upon a foreign breeze. With the fading of light leaking lower, trespassing deeper down the appearingly ancient tree question quiver inside my mind. Will death succumb myself to sleep before the pull of harmless rest? Will innocence ignited in real youthful radiance be snuffed out by blows of sorrowful steel? Will a boy with a face wet from the water of his making find his final shelter in the shadows of this living dome? Endless question all quelling with the sinking of the sun. 

In an instant I am far from the waging war. A voice cries out for help and my hands hold its maker softly. My fingers fix the damage dealt by a fall to my sister's knee and in her grimaces the pain pricks me as well. In absolute opposition our souls were split from the same seed. One bound with freedom as her wings to fly upon and with true talons to fight for the future. And one sewn with softness to nestle down and deliver kindness and care. Two mirrors of perfect physical perception, yet two entirely different emotional existences. Two twins joined genetically, now separated in life. Yet I wonder if she too feels the pain of my sliced skin. 

They come in scourges screeching from the shadowing skies. Unsure if memories are now muddling with reality I watch them furiously fill the fight. Shock sears the faces of children now pets to be slaughtered and I watch with widening windows of disbelief. Bites brew blood and stings spur screams, a scene stolen straight from the heart of horror. Not a single speck turns to tear into my skin before the swarm of sudden madness migrates beyond the battle. For a moment the fight freezes with confusion still crippling the attacked. 

My hands search in swift sweeps over her frightened figure. Welts begin to rise and ripen over her soft skin already as reminders of the world we now serve as prisoners within. Invisible, yet certainly present, are our chains all connected to the core of our involuntary participation, to the manipulators of our reality. We are the physical pawns and pieces of the Games those in the Capitol choose to create. We are the fires that fuel their sinful success. We will become the familiar yet forgotten names which lines their resumes. We are not humans to them, but objects for obliteration. 

Cease fire spurs back into combat as in front of innocence I let myself be crippled. I let his foot find my foot blocking her from his charge. I let his axe angle towards my body before breaching her's. I stand strong despite living with a soul sewn together for peace and not for war. I stand strong and unwavering because I know that if I can get her just one more day of light, then I can still stay who I am. I can still fly above the smoke and above the fires of the terrible temptation to turn on fellow children. That is what we all are after all, children paying for someone else's war. 

Ollie emerges without words from behind me and I watch her move with a miss towards terror himself. I spot Zion badly beaten yet breathing safely for at least another second, and I'm relieved. For at least this second home is still nearby, my family is still nearby. So I meet his smile of pain with one of my own before flying into the fray after Ollie.

Apologies echo from the lips of the boy by the beast's side, and I stare towards him. There is truth in his tone and honesty in his eyes, but weakness in his understanding.

"Don't ask for forgiveness which is not warranted to be given."

I move towards him not out of malice, but out of the hope of drawing his monster of an ally's attention away from Ollie. I don't even bring one of my steel spears forward as I strike. I don't desire death, but I don't wish it upon him either.