roots called home | {marley/mackenzie} blitz

I'll     take     my     bow
I  won't  make  a  sound
I        whisper        truce
as the ashes hit the ground

There, somewhere in the fields of Ten, was proof of the continuance of life. It seemed like such a difficult concept to grasp: to move on, to grow, to live. But the evidence was there, in the homes of the victors. He remembered seeing Saffron in the Capitol and thinking she was crazy to have a child in a world so dark, and as her daughter smiled from the other side of her Saffron's leg, he'd searched for an answer to his question: how was it ever going to be okay enough for something like that to happen to him? He came up with nothing for months, but he hadn't stopped searching.

That night, as he'd sat down for dinner in a warmth-filled house, he found the answer. Strangers were who were now his friends sat around him and talked about the little things. Mason was thinking of starting a rock collection; Kieran and Paige were almost moved into their new house just up the street. Even little Quinn bragged about how she was learning about the letter A in kindergarten. Time. That was what it took, and he was willing to wait.


Hours later, when he sat outside of the living quarters which had been assigned to him, he felt hopeful for the first time in what felt like centuries. The sun was setting and the moon was rising; it bathed the hay fields across the way silver and he felt like a part of something bigger.

Mackenzie was aware of the body standing behind him but he didn't bother looking at first.

"I'll be in shortly, Jacquelyn. Just trying to remember it all before we leave in the morning."

He looked over his shoulder for the first time, and the woman standing there was not Jacquelyn. He didn't know who she was at all, actually.

"Apologies, Miss. Thought you were someone else."