I Flee What I Can't

But It's Posy, Gale's Five-year-old Sister, Who Helps The Most. She Scoots Along The Bench To Octavia And Touches Her Skin With A Tentative Finger. “you're Green. Are You Sick?” “it's A Fashion Thing, Posy. Like Wearing Lipstick,” I Say. “it's Meant To Be Pretty,” Whispers Octavia, And I Can See The Tears Threatening To Spill Over Her Lashes. Posy Considers This And Says Matter-of-factly, “i Think You'd Be Pretty In Any Color.

We Follow Instructions To My Destination, A Chamber For My Preparation.

Come On And Eat With Him. I Promise, I Won't Let Him Kiss You Again.

All The General Fear I've Been Feeling Condenses Into An Immediate Fear Of This Girl, This Predator Who Might Kill Me In Seconds. Adrenaline Shoots Through Me And I Sling The Pack Over One Shoulder And Run Full-speed For The Woods. I Can Hear The Blade Whistling Toward Me And Reflexively Hike The Pack Up To Protect My Head. The Blade Lodges In The Pack. Both Straps On My Shoulders Now, I Make For The Trees. Somehow I Knew The Girl Will Not Pursue Me. That She'll Be Drawn Back Into The Cornucopia Before All The Good Stuff Is Gone. A Grin Crosses My Face. Thanks For The Knife, I Think.

Courage Only Counts When You Can Count.