Innocence (Open)

Rashta hadn't realized how much power her kick was packing. She was propelled back wards, only stopping when her back made contact with a person. She internally moaned. How would she explain herself? I was just taking my anger out on this poor tree, didn't mean to knock you over sir and/or ma'am. Why was I angry? Well because my life is horrid and sometimes I think I'd rather become a servant in the Capitol than have to live in the Seam. The Seam was a tough place to grow up in, thankfully Rashta had been born pretty mean-looking in a puma-cat way, but still being too nice, having too many dreams... after awhile it all ended. Fail after fail after fail.

So you wanna be a Healer, huh Rashta girl? Not going to work out because hey, guess what, you don't have a place to heal people, bringing home sick and wounded strangers is not for the Minthe household, her mother had explained. Besides, money was needed to start a business and sadly there was not any of that green stuff just lying around waiting to be used.

The first thing Rashta actively did once she regained her balance was take a few steps back. Fact of life was, not everybody who was out in the woods was somebody you wanted to be near. Fact of life, Rashta had almost been strangled by a passing stranger just because her eyes were danged soulless and her smile a tad disturbing if you didn't know her. She hurried back wards, trying to do so without being too rude. "I'm sorry, are you okay?" she asked. The fog was making it hard for her to see the--she assumed--guy. It was one of those evenings that would have fit in perfectly in a horror story.

The fog was thick, rolling through the woods and striking fear in the hearts of cautious animals too long hunted by girls like Rashta. It was a cold, cold evening and the sun would be setting soon. By dusk the stranger would have wrung her neck and thrown her by the side of a dear trail commonly used by hunters. A peer from the Seam would find the dead teenage girl but there would be no investigation. The Peacekeepers would see her death as unfortunate simply because they didn't get a chance to scold her for being out in the woods before she died. The stranger would be gone by dawn and so the mass murderer would stay at large. Maybe her little tale was a tad epic and dramatic or whatever but Rashta knew things like that happened. A boy in District Eleven had been found hung by his own insides, dangling from a tree. Another girl of said District had died by knife--her poor fiance had found her--and Rashta couldn't even think of all the accidents in her very own District.

That was life for you. No matter what, if it was a sunny, bright day, somebody would be killed. It wasn't just the Capitol that caused all the death and destruction in Panem. There were freaky people who enjoyed it, sadists with no video games to take their anger out on and channel into something fun and mind-deadening. The Fates were crueler than words could describe and once again they had put a helpless, hapless teenage girl in a bad situation.

Immediately Rashta disliked the guy but she had been taught to always be polite lest the person you're speaking to have a temper. That and it was the right thing to do, always be nice. She was having a hard time keeping her cool though, " You sound like a girl in distress. Are you angry? Sad, or both?"

What kind of person asks that? A sexist, macho man with just enough brain cells to function. Rashta felt her hand itching to grab her bow and shoot the guy right through his small brain. It was shocking to feel such anger toward a stranger but recently Rashta had gotten tougher and she didn't like the sound of girl in distress. If he had only called her a damsel she would have truly lost her temper and could not have been held accountable for her actions. It was simply maddening that in this day and age people still thought girls were in need of help. Had her voice cracked or something--Rashta didn't remember sounding angry. Perhaps the macho man had seen her kicking the tree and put two and two together to get fish. That or he must have been reading her mind.

She cleared her throat and swallowed her pride. "Fact is I'm angry, but no, I'm in no need of... help. Thank you for asking." She blinked her wide set, black eyes and stepped forward a little bit to, 'show her face.' Maybe she should have opened her eyes and given this awfully unhelpful person the fright of their life. She had been told many times there was no soul in the depths of her eyes and that scared people. It would certainly keep him from thinking she was in need of any sorts of services, but...

But she was a polite lady, a lover not a hater. Temperament issues that had only started a few months ago weren't that bad, its not like she was suddenly an evil person because she had flashes of bitter resentment every now and then. She was just depressed, just like everybody else, every teen in District Twelve who might end up going into the Hunger Games one day. It was a simple fact of life that teenagers were more likely to be stressed than the adults, no matter how many times they begged to differ. Tha twas the way it was but teens were tough. Rashta was tough, she did not need help.

Rolling her eyes would have been fun if only her eyes were open. Rashta finally just let her eye-lids fly upward and her cruel, unsettling gaze met the guys. She was pretty angry with herself for being stupid enough to close her eyes while a stranger was lurking but the guy seemed, well he seemed too naive to be doing anything bad. Asking if she was upset? Offering her food? Pu-lease, either the guy was trying to be polite or he was a rather dumb criminal. It was better to remain suspicious though and even Rashtas noisy stomach wouldn't let her take the food he offered. There might be drugs in it! Or poison! Her mind was racing, frantically giving her thousands of reasons of why not to eat the danged thing, to just run away and go home to feed her own family. But then that would be rude and her mother didn't like it when she was impolite.

Time to charm if my eyes haven't already scared him off... She grinned ear to ear. "No thanks, pal. My mom told me never to take food from strangers, eh? I'm on my way home, very urgent and all," she cleared her throat, and politely suggested with that noise that he get out of her way and let her be on her way. Something about him irked her. Like maybe he was just out here for kicks, not for a hunting trip like she was. That was likely, probably some rich kid from District Eleven who didn't know what it was to be from the god-awful, god-forsaken, god-smited Seam. Her home turf. The worst place in all of Panem, actually.

She sighed though and gave in. Just a quick introduction to satisfy her curiosity and let her in on where he was from. She cleared her throat and shifted her weight. "By the way, names Rashta. From the bloody Seam, whats your story?" she asked trying to sound friendly instead of gruff. Like most teenagers Rashta had a problem with communication. She was sixteen, awkward and completely unused to social situations. Of course she had friends, but most were girls. Or gay. Rashta Minthe might as well have been born and bred in a cheesy, way-old, pre-Panem movie that had the gawky teenage duckling who would end up a swan and get kissed by a hot athlete. For now she was the ugly duckling struggling through life, and although hot guys were great and all she had other priorities. Like my hungry family...

Maybe if she had been rich, sheltered and completely ignorant to the ways of the forest, Rashta would have been surprised by Tom's sudden appearance. She possibly would have yelped and jumped int the arms of sandwhich boy. But she was not weak, and she was not sheltered. The knife dropped near her foot, and Rashta stared at it like maybe it was a flying pig that had just dropped out of the sky. She didn't look up in time though to watch Tom jump out of tree. Instead, by the time she was truly aware of how suspicious and off the situation was, a twig had just snapped.

Rashta whipped around, faster than lightning. She had her knife out of her bag and out, pointed toward Tom in a flash. The hairs on the back of her neck stood as adrenaline pumped through her body, causing her heart to beat faster. She paused upon realizing that this punk was no threat. The sixteen year old crouched down, picked up the knife and flicked it at Tom following his introduction. "You're lucky that didn't land in my foot," she said, simply as way of greeting. Rashta had patience for weird people who offered her food and seemed harmless enough, but careless hunter who let their knives drop so easily were not to be trusted. That was the way of the woods.

She glanced at sandwich boy over her shoulder, trying to get a read on what her companion thought of this new boy. The thing about people dropping out of trees is, it makes you feel a bond with the person you were previously talking to. Heck, even if they had been fighting bitterly, Rashta would have quickly stepped back toward him, hissing and foaming at the mouth like some rabid cat-dog. Sometimes odd situations brought people together like that. Go figure.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Rashta eased her knife back into her back. She was partially annoyed with herself. Hadn't she been trying to keep her little weapon a secret from the first guy? Hadn't she told herself that the second guy wasn't a threat? Fool. You revealed your secret weapon, put yourself at risk... she thought glumly. Good thing is, your reflexes were great, but that still doesn't make it much better.