a {not so} familiar face {arrows}

Weaver was nothing more than a caged animal spending time behind bars training for a battle. He was a fighting dog trapped in a cell waiting for the bars to open the moment the Capitol released them into the wild. Yet the wild was locked away in some vast area away from the rest of the world, and nobody would find them except the hovercrafts sweeping down to pick up the deceased until the top dog remained. But he wasn't a rabid dog like the careers. He wasn't a rabid dog looking for the chance to chew someone's throat out. Weaver was just a normal dog cowering in the back of his kennel praying for some sort of miracle.

He just finished watching the reaping replays, and his mind wasn't right. Five years ago his brother journeyed through the underground arena fighting for his life with a tiny girl at his side. Esme Truus teamed up with the gentle giants, and they protected her. A soft sigh fell from his lips as he searched through the open air wondering what could possibly go wrong. But his heart was broken shattered into millions of pieces like the glass he smashed on the train. It wasn't only a Rhodes traveling through this game. Many siblings of past tributes was called, and Weaver knew one of them. Bailey Truus, relative to the late Esme Truus. Perhaps the blood could stay alive, and he could offer himself as an ally. Just like Harbinger. But Bailey was older, and probably didn't need his help.

His eyes darted around the training center with each step he took. He looked through the different stations wondering where she could possibly hide. Weaver wanted to talk to her to figure out how she was doing. Obviously it wasn't right because she was at the Capitol with him waiting for the same release he was. He sighed before crouching in one of the corners out of view from everyone else. His search was useless, but maybe he'd find her, or perhaps she would find him. It was his only hope, and his one desire.