{Rider} Wanderer [Done]

Dirt flies up as feet stampede the ground like a herd of wild horses. Dirt, rock, and all sorts of solidified ground flies up as they run. Officers of the government, quickly behind them. The woods would provide cover for the elusive group of rebels that they were. If they could make it there. The leader closer to the back, running and jumping over lying branches as he makes his escape into the outskirts of District Seven. Sweat dripping from his skin as the heat was getting to him already, but the man couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop ever. As the trees enclose around them, the woods begin to become denser and denser.

A hand grabs his arm pulling him backwards. A brute of peacekeeper grabbing him and pulling him away from his group of misfits and rebels. Knife in his other hand already, he prepares his next move. Analyzing and Predicting every move of every second. His rough hand grips harder around the knife, blood pumping full of adrenaline, he slashes forward at the peacekeeper, breaking free for a moment as he cuts the man's hand. As night had begun to fall, the shadows gave him safety. Escape was easy as the peacekeepers had given up on what they could for then. That's what he had thought at least. The real reason would be found out sooner than later.

As the evening ends, all that remains of the camp that the group had were burned down. As he stands there alone, with no one to see what he could see. A fire burning the makeshift shelters. The peacekeepers let him go because there would be nothing for him to go back to, plus he was only a kid at the time. A kid stuck in the giant world of the wild, outside of the districts that his parents were born in. All that he had known was burning down to the ground like his heart, burning and breaking into ashes of a new legacy. A new legacy of his own creation. This is how it all started, the story of Rider, a boy born in the wild and creator of a rebellion of his own.

The walls of the makeshift tent blow softly against his side. Voices that haunt him speak out clearly at him. "Rider! Wake up!" The voices of reality and dreams combine together as Maslow breaks him away from his nightmares. A jump of fright. A jump of the heart. A jump of fear. A jump of everything that had kept him wanting to scream hits him. Maslow would be staring if he could see, but Rider knew he could still hear him jump from his voice. The nightmares were always there. Lurking in the darkness, waiting to take him away during his sleep. The nightmares of his only family dying right before him. Captured, killed, burned down to ashes. If they made it out, he never knew if they did. Death could have taken their souls. The capitol could have taken their tongues. They could have escaped into the woods, but all he knew was they were gone and this was his life now. In charge of his own group of misfit rebels who have caused some damage.

As he exits the tent with Maslow close behind him. The gang of people who were known as his family that he made over the years of being alone and preaching of a better life than the districts' and capitol's corrupt system of mass murder. The wise words of a young man with opened eyes to the terrors that the capitol have committed over years of watching the people suffer within the confines of their fencing in districts. Sending sacrifices off to be killed by other sacrifices. Only for the entertainment of Snow and his lackeys, who need the blood to live a life of riches and destruction. Someone speaks out to him, his eyes studies the younger boy as he was only a recruit of a few days ago, "Rider, I'm sorry to bother you, but I got word that District Eleven has a few rebels living within the District." A smile to the young boy, hair messily laying down. The day was only getting started and he hadn't walked ten feet without more news of a few rebellious District Elevens.

His voice speaks over the small group of rebels that camp out in the woods with their makeshift tents, "We're heading to District Eleven. I've got reports of rebels there and a rise in Peacekeepers there. District Eleven needs our help." The small group of men varying from sixteen to thirty grab their items, break down the makeshift tents and prepare for the journey ahead of them to District Eleven. Each member had a bag with their amount of supplies in them. Separated into pairs, they travel at different distances to be less conspicuous. Days would pass of just walking and staying in a spot of cover for the night, until they reach a safe spot out away from District Eleven, but close enough to sneak in the District if needed.

As they walk through the woods heading to District Eleven, he can't help but think of everything that's happened to him. The suffering he's been through, the scar on the side of his chest, his family, his original home, Maslow, and so much more. Nothing has gone right for Rider, the boy born in the wild. Born to wanderers is how his life of training and rebellion started. That day had been hot according to the stories his mother and father had told him. The trees that his mother had him under was an oak, tall and strong like Rider had become later on. His mother reminded him of this every day she had been with him, until the attack.

As a young boy, at the age of five, Rider had to go through the training that the group of wanderers had for their kids. The way his father had told Rider about the training was that it had been used to teach the next generation as much of their knowledge as they could. Since knowledge was power in their world. Over time Rider learned skills of hunting, that once used to be District Nine's way of living. An older District Nine man taught him how to hunt and use the bow that they made right in the woods out of a tree not so far away. Tracking was taught at the same time to be able to hunt down the animals. Practicing with the bow was done on targets that were marked on a tree using a piece of fabric.

That wasn't the skill they started with, most of the first skills that the young kids learned were the basics of life. Writing, Reading, and so many other simplier tasks. Once Rider had grown to the age of seven was when hunting and more life skills were taught to him. Hunting, fishing, which was taught by the District Four woman that lived in a tent across from his family's own tent. He could remember going over and having small meals with the older woman. She was the one who taught him of the patience it takes to fish in the river with the makeshift fishing poles.

Combat against actual people wasn't taught until he was twelve. Combat with weapons and hand to hand, were taught by the careers who left their districts and stayed with the group. Combat skills that could be used to deal some damage to a person. Rider had excelled in the weapons, mainly with knives and the bow. Eventually being taken with the group of hunters looking for food. Then there were surveillance missions, where a small group of wanderers checks to see if the Peacekeepers are on to them and if they needed to move. This was the way of the place he was born. Hidden away in the woods, teaching the children to do everything that they have, even if the children don't thrive in certain areas, then they would check and make sure they aren't being spotted.

The group of wanderers had rules just like any other society, but it was more free than the districts that he had learned about. Freedom to the people and for them to learn anything they want, but that's when a scouting mission went wrong. Rider had been with the group that got caught. The only thing that he truly remembered was running. Someone screamed for him to escape back to the camp. They followed him though. No one knew that they did, until Rider went out hunting alone. That's when he got caught by one Peacekeeper, running away, only to arrive back to the place destroyed and burnt down. No one left, all either dead or taken by the peacekeepers. All he could remember was the dread that filled his soul, and then after that, the hatred for the world they lived in.

As he moved on his own, working to live on his own. Rider remembered visiting multiple districts, sneaking in lower ones, begging on streets, and so many more things just to get food. As he moved around, he learned of the governing bodies and what atrocities went on in the districts. Children sent to death. Most of the resources heading towards the rich and evil men at the top of the ladder. The hatred in his soul only grew and grew, until a certain day. Until the day his rebellion started from his own actions.

Rider's backpack was heavy upon his back. The world a cruel place of corruption and hatred. The day was dark, a storm brewing over head. The district of Nine had been easy to sneak in. Silence in the district as no one was out, until he could hear the screams that echoed across the whole district. The people weren't hiding from the weather. Only the screams of a whip and person tied to a post, a warning to others. Crimes committed by only a teenager. Rider's response was instantaneous. The knife in his pocket that had once been given to him by his father sits in his hand, begging him to not do it, but the hatred was too much. Blood boiling, face reddened, as he struck forward.

The blade pierces the officer's arm as Rider wanted his blood. Unfortunately, Rider couldn't do it. Not then. Not there. He was only a kid at the age of seventeen. He couldn't kill and officer at the time, but in the end. Angry words spouted at him. Rider tried to run, but the peacekeeper got him. A bullet flew through the air like an arrow to an animal. Luckily for the boy, he got hit where it missed the important organs. Wounded by the officer, he escaped into the woods. Stitches of his own making covers the wound, after pulling the metal item out of himself. Medical being taught to him by the sweet doctor from District Six who was probably dead by the time he had been shot, like most of the old group of wanderers.

A scar on the side of his body stands out as his shirt lifts slightly. The woods outside of District Ten weren't as dense as the ones near District Seven. Maslow and Rider travelled together as it was how they preferred it. Maslow had been his right hand man since the start of the rebellion he wanted to start. The man behind Rider's skills that has kept him alive a lot more than anyone else. Maslow has saved Rider from death more times than he could count. A memory of the days when he first met Maslow.

Maslow was dressed in rich clothes, wealthy looking and at the time, Rider would take from the rich and give to the poor like the childhood stories his mother used to tell to him. When Rider saw the kid, he could tell he was blind, even though he moved like a regular man would. Deep within the shadows was where he waited, until he striked. That is, if he had striked. Maslow had heard him, somehow and knocked him out within an instant. The rest of that night was history. Their bond only began from there. A bond of friends who faced the world head on. Facing tyranny with everything they got.

Around the time after he met Maslow was when the killing began. Word spreads through districts like wildfire. Rumors of Wanderers getting killed on sight for being out of the districts. The news of this reached Riders ears within the words of a child. Disbelief of it shook him to the core of his being. His mother and father could have been killed when he was just a boy, who just got lucky enough not be caught and sneak around. Everyone he had once known could have been killed by the capitol. They destroyed everything good in his life. Everything he enjoyed was blown up and burnt in front of him. That's when he realized that in order to fight against the capitol, he had to commit acts that the capitol would deem threatening.

Traitor was soon pinned to his name just like it had been to Maslow's. Traitor Rider commits murder in plain sight of the District. An arrow to the skull of a peacekeeper punishing the crime of stealing on a man. News spread of the killer known as Rider. A bounty upon him and his friend's heads. Money was what made them want to get him. Money and the honor of being in good graces with the capitol. Rider committed murder, treason and so much more over the years. Countless Peacekeepers killed that were in the way of his antics. The first kill he made lit a fire within his soul.

Soon enough killing became easy. Easier and more pleasant with every step of the process. Stealing turned into burning. Burning turned into killing. Killing turned into treason. And as the years went on, Rider soon had enough kills upon his belt to be labeled as a mass murderer and a traitor to the capitol. Specialized Peacekeepers trained to find him and end his killing spree. No one could stop him, not even Maslow. It was all a game of chess to him now. Kill the peacekeepers and shout to the Districts about freedom and how they can achieve it. A group of misfits forming to create a cause, barbaric in their ways, but ingenious in their tactics. Rider was the leader of a notorious gang of misfits that were trying to start a revolution from within. From the looks of things, Rider was no closer than he was years ago.

As they lay resting for the night, all he could do was think of how much he wanted to take down the capitol. How much blood soaked his hands for the right reasons. Stopping them would bring hope back to the world. Fear clouded the districts like a fog, no escape from the evil capitol. Only few could see the hope that broke through. Maslow was one of them. Rider another. All of them in the camp were the lights of hope shining through. Men from all over the districts fit into their little group of misfits looking for peace and freedom. A story upon every one of their minds. Rebels born to kill and make a point to the people of the capitol.

The leader lays sleeping, brown hair messily hanging to the left side of his head. A dark brown that flows softly to the ground he lays upon. Hazel eyes closed from the tiredness that spreads through his body. A rugged look to his body from the hardships he's faced living out in the woods for all of his life. A tall and strong man who has faced the toughest of times in all of his life. No mother. No father. Only himself and the misfits he's gathered along the way. As he lays on the ground, looking up into the stars, all he can imagine is a world that he'd be happy to bring children of his own into. That world was out of his reach just like the stars, but one day he'd be able to fly to them and grab them. One day the world would know of Rider, the man who freed Panem.