*/TIRED EYES [open]

Jenya was tired. Hungry and tired, and just generally weary. It wasn't a physical weariness. Well, not all of it. That was always there to some degree, but just like the hunger, one learned to avoid dwelling on it too much, or the sensations got overwhelming. If you shoved them to the back of your mind, then they were manageable. And if there was anything that Jenya was good at, it was avoiding the way she was feeling.

Even so, around this time, it was a lot harder to forget one particularly painful set of memories, and with everyone engrossed in the Hunger Games, Hent was in the forefront of her mind. It was just stupid, not that she could ever say so out loud. The Peace keepers were far too aware for that kind of behavior, and Jenya still had scars where she'd suffered their wrath before, and not even a severe punishment. Even so, since she'd been caught out, she was a lot more careful to keep her more mutinous thoughts locked safely and soundly, if bitterly, inside her skull.

And they were bitter. Watching those kids, not kids really, some of them were her age, kill each other, in that arena, just bought back memories of watching her best friend suffer by the same hands. He never stood a chance once his name was drawn from that ball. He was only thirteen after all, and District Eleven wasn't reknowned for its winners, even when they were a decent age and size. It was only luck that he lasted as long as he did. Not luck. There was nothing lucky about those games at all. They were horrible tools of the Capitol. They took everything from people, and Jenya hated it. She hated the Capitol.

The blonde shook her head of such thought, and closed her blue eyes for a moment, gaining some composure before she began home again. She'd need it in that chaos. Standing up, she turned, only to run into someone standing right behind her. With a sharp intake of breath she pushed forwards as she stepped back, eyes searching for who it was.



[360]