Bird Songs (open)

Fergus tried not to recoil as the stranger moved the bird in front of her. Closer to him. From behind the bird, the girl began to explain.

The bird's name was Athena, after the Greek goddess of wisdom. And war. Fergus decided not to trust Athena. He didn't have a problem with trusting the girl. He believed her when she said it wouldn't kill him. But the old scar still tingled unpleasantly under the ink every time he looked at the animal.

Fergus took a deep breath and steadied himself. Not going to kill you, not going to kill you.

Back to the matter at hand. She had stated, simply, that he was watching her, yes? He should probably explain that.

"Not really," he said, uncomfortably. "I mean, I was, but I haven't been here long. Less than five minutes, I suppose. I was out carving, and then I fell asleep. I heard your voice and came to see who you were. I was just curious. I've never seen someone else in this part of the woods before."

It had all sort of spilled out, in a big rush. Unusual for Fergus, who normally considered himself composed.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you...?" he trailed off, realizing he didn't know the girl's name.

"Luciana. My name's Luciana."

"Luciana," Fergus repeated to himself. It was a pretty name certainly, but unfamiliar. Not that Fergus was exactly the social butterfly. Friendly but friendless. The ultimate conundrum.

The girl, Luciana, moved her hair a bit, and for the first time, Fergus caught a glimpse of part of her face. Her eyes. Big and brown. His being blue, eyes of any other color fascinated him. Silver joked that he had an "eye fetish". That may have been true, but Fergus always found a person's eyes to be their most interesting feature.

That said, he also believed he could read eyes like a book. Sometimes. And Luciana's reflected curiosity and joy.

She explained that she was a falconer, and what a falconer was. Athena was beginning to look and sound less dangerous to him. In fact, she sounded almost noble and beautiful. But he still regarded the bird with a measure of suspicion. You never knew. Those mutts were supposed to be easily trained. And three years later, the wound still ached at times. If he had been infected he could have been killed. If the mutt had struck lower and hit a lung, he could have been killed. If... Never mind. Fergus was just lucky he supposed.

Luciana noticed his adverse reaction to the falcon and questioned it. For a moment, it was silent between him and Luciana. Then, Fergus gave a bitter smile. She wanted to know? Then she'd get the whole story.

Realizing the situation might seem awkward at first, but trusting her not to scream, he unbuttoned and removed his shirt. Fergus let the garment fall to the ground. He raised his left hand and outlined the crescent tattoo opposite his heart. He took a deep breath.

"There was a scar here, once," he explained. "When I was ten, they started me on training the new muttations for the Games, and whatever else the Capitol needed them for. Three years later, one attacked me. I nearly died."

He traced the blue moon with his finger. "I got the tattoo to cover it up. I couldn't stand seeing it in the mirror. Every time I saw the scar I could feel the pain as if it were new. So I got this. It still twinges every now and again, but it passes. I haven't... I haven't looked at animals the same way since. I can't trust them."

"It's never the animal's fault, It's ours. What we do and don't do affects how they treat us, or how things they can't help hurt us. We can t-try to maintain them, t-to train them the best we c-can, b-but sometimes we d-do things that make them feel s-scared."

Fergus could hear Luciana's voice tremble as she spoke. He wondered, had there been some bad blood between her and an animal as well?

Was there still bad blood between her and he, himself.

Never their fault, always ours.

Fergus considered it, forcing himself to replay the moment in his head, as it had happened all those years ago.

"Go on, hit it."

"I don't want to," Fergus protested.

"It's a mutt, Kaslan. You hit 'em hard and they'll learn discipline. They'll learn fear. They will learn not to feel pain. Now use the whip like you mean it."

He struck out, hesitantly, and missed. The handler jerked the whip from Fergus' unwilling hands, knocking the butt of it against the boy's head in the process.

"This is how it's done, Kaslan." The handler struck, and Fergus hopped sideways, expecting the blow to be aimed at him. He was right. The whip whistled as it cut through the air Fergus had occupied and left a deep gash in the mutt's face. A spasm of anger crossed the handler's face. He controlled it, and handed the whip to the boy with a wolfish smile.

"Unless you want to get the same, you try again," said the man.

Fergus gritted his teeth. Better the animal than him, right?

CRACK!

The whip was in control now, and as it cracked in the air, the mutt moved with blinding speed. Fergus fell to the ground, and pain and blood blossomed from his chest. He screamed in shock and agony while the handler just laughed.

Fergus couldn't go further than that into the memory. There was too much pain. But it had, he supposed, been his fault. He'd had the whip. But was it really his fault, or the handler's? Did it matter.

"You can't change the past," Fergus whispered.

"I-I'm s-sorry," squeaked Luciana, reminding Fergus of her presence.

"Why?" he asked. "You haven't done anything wrong."

OOC: I can't even express how bad I feel for not replying sooner. I meant to, several times, and just... forgot. I can't believe it's been a month, sorry! D:

Fergus always knew he led a privileged life. His parents, they'd never dream of hitting him. People didn't really bully him because he was big enough to deter them. That, and they had seen what he'd done to the last person to make fun of Silver. If that had just been his sister, they were probably terrified of provoking him. But Fergus was pretty much a pacifist, when it came down to it. And the idea of violence enraged him.

But abuse? Hitting someone who can't fight back? He stared into Luciana's brown eyes, and felt terrible. She thought it was all okay, and that she deserved to be hit. How did she take that? Luciana claimed that she wasn't popular, strong, or grown up. It wasn't her fault. None of it was her fault. Why couldn't she realize that people couldn't hit her simply because they disagreed?

He had seen the faces of others like her at school. The kids whose mothers and fathers would drink, hit them, hit each other, hit the siblings. Fergus had heard horror stories, but he never thought it could get to the point that a child thought she deserved to be someone's training dummy.

"You're wrong, you know," said Fergus softly. "Popular, that's stupid. And you'll be grown up one day. And you're lying when you say you're not strong." Anybody who can go through that... you have to be strong to survive, don't you?

"People don't have a right to hit you, for any reason. Especially not when you disagree with them. Sometimes, speaking your mind, it's all you have when the people in charge take everything else away." Fergus looked quickly around, as though he'd said something he shouldn't. But the bushes couldn't report to the Capitol. They were bushes.

A wind rippled through the forest in the silence. Fergus could hear the leaves rustling. He wanted to tell Luciana how much she meant in the world, but he barely knew her. He wanted to say it would all be okay, but he didn't know if it would be. He was so sorry about everything that had ever happened to this girl who was a stranger to him, and he wanted to say it. He just didn't know how to.