I looked down at my shoes, a fine layer of dust slowly falling on the worn leather.Right now, I'm standing where my sister, Prim and I's beds used to be, with the dining table not far away.The chimney has collapsed, and the charred and blackened broken bricks are piled up in a pile. With this, I can barely recognize the original location of the room. Otherwise, how can I recognize the direction in this vast gray sea? Almost everything in District 12 is gone.A month earlier, Capitol firebombs had destroyed the homes of poor miners in the Seam, the town's shops, and even the judicial building.The only thing that survived the fire was the house in the village of Victor.I can't tell why.Maybe it is to leave a suitable place for those who have to come from the Capitol to work in the 12th district. They may be one or two reporters who come to interview, maybe the staff who inspect the mine, or inspect the returning refugees. The security police squad.

In fact, no refugees have ever returned, and my return was only for a brief stay.The authorities in the thirteenth district did not allow me to come back, thinking that it would be risky and pointless for me to do so.In order to ensure my safety, they must send at least a dozen stealth planes hovering over my head, and I will not get valuable information when I come back.However, I have to come back and have a look.I take this trip as a prerequisite for any meaningful cooperation with them. Plutarch Havensby—organizer of the rebellion against the Capitol and chairman of the Hunger Games committee—finally raised his hand in approval. "Let her go. Losing a day is better than wasting a month. Maybe let her go back to District 12 and she'll believe we're on the same side."

same front.There was a stabbing pain in my left temple, and I quickly put my hand on it, and that's where Johanna Mason hit me with the coil.This memory flashes through my mind whenever I try to tell if something is true or not.What sequence of events led me to find myself in the ruins of my hometown?I couldn't figure it out, the concussion from Johanna hitting my head hadn't quite gone away, and my mind was still in turmoil from time to time.Also, I think the pain suppressant pills they give me are also making me hallucinate.The floor of my hospital room was covered with writhing snakes one night, but I still couldn't believe it was a hallucination.

I took advice from a doctor and tried to clear my head.I start with the simplest facts and slowly think about more complex issues.Let a chain of events unfold in your mind... My name is Katniss Everdeen, I'm seventeen, I live in District 12, I participated in the Hunger Games, I survived, the Capitol hates me, Peeta was captured, he is believed to be dead , it is very likely that he is dead, and perhaps death is the best thing for him... "Katniss. Want me to come down?" I heard the voice of my best friend Gail, from where the rebels in District 13 insisted that I wear a headset.He is sitting in the plane now, and he is closely watching my every move. If there is any situation, he will come down immediately.That's when I realized I was squatting down, elbows resting on thighs, hands clasping my head.I definitely looked like I was about to break down.No, they can't let them see me like this when I'm about to stop taking my medicine.

I stood up and waved to him, indicating that I was fine. "No, I'm fine." In order to reassure the other party that I was fine, I left my old home and walked towards the city.Gail had asked to come with me, but I declined and he didn't insist.He understands that today I don't want anyone with me, not even him.This can only be done by me alone. This summer has been scorchingly hot and dry, with little to no rain, so the piles of ash left behind by the bombings have not changed in any way.Dust kicked up where my feet had trod, and not a breath of wind blew it away.In my memory, this should be a road. When I just fell from the plane to the "ranch", I accidentally kicked a rock.In fact, it's not a rock - it's a human skull.It rolled out and finally came to a stop face up.I couldn't help staring at the teeth of this skull, wondering whose skull is this?If I were in the same situation, it would look the same, right?

I used to walk down this road, but it was a terrible choice, and the road was littered with the remains of people who had escaped.Some of them were completely charred, and others, who escaped from the smoke and flames at first, were doomed to die in the end. Their corpses lay in the wilderness, emitting a strong stench and covered with flies. A delicious meal for scavengers.As I passed the pile of corpses, I was writhing violently, thinking, I killed you, you, and you. It's all because of me. It's my arrow that hit the electromagnetic force field above the arena. The whole country of Panam was in chaos.

I can hear President Snow's words on the morning of the Victory Tour, "Katniss Everdeen, burning girl, you set a spark, let it spread, maybe it will Turn into the fire of hell and destroy the entire country of Panam." In fact, his words were not exaggerated to intimidate me.Maybe he was really asking for my help then.But now it's a done deal, and everything is irreversible. Burning, still burning.I thought dumbly.Black smoke still spewed from the mine in the distance.But no one cares about it anymore, more than 90% of the people in the 12th district have been buried in the flames.The 800 or so people who survived by chance became refugees in District 13. In my opinion, they lost their homes forever.

I know I shouldn't have thought that, they were sick and hungry and broke.The thirteenth district accepted them, and I should be grateful.But I still can't turn the corner. I feel that the 13th District also contributed to the destruction of the 12th District.Of course, I am also to blame.But anyway, without them, I wouldn't be able to participate in the plan to overthrow the Capitol, not at all. The citizens of District 12 did not organize a resistance movement, they had no voice at all.Unfortunately, District 12 has people like me.However, some survivors consider themselves lucky. They finally escaped from District 12, from the never-ending hunger and oppression, from the dangerous mines, from the caning of Sheriff Srad, and some Consider yourself lucky.It is already a miracle to be able to settle down in a new place. You must know that not long ago, they didn't even know the existence of the thirteenth district.

This time he was able to escape from District 12 thanks to Gail, but Gail refused to take all the credit for himself.The situation at that time was that just after the end of the Century Xtreme Race, that is, when I was rescued from the arena, the power in District 12 suddenly cut off, the TV screen went black, the "seam" was dead silent, and people could even hear the thumping heartbeat.No action was taken, neither protest nor celebration, about what was happening in the arena.However, in less than fifteen minutes, the sky was suddenly filled with black helicopters, and then bombs rained down.

It was Gale who first thought of "The Ranch," one of the few places in the twelfth arrondissement that wasn't overrun with coal-dusty log houses.He told everyone to run in that direction as best he could, and Mom and Prim were there too.He led them through the fence - which was out of power at this point, it was just a non-dangerous barbed wire fence - into the woods and took them to the only hiding place he knew, my dad when I was a kid The lake that took me.It was there that they watched as the distant fire consumed everything they knew. By dawn, the helicopter had long since departed, the fire was less ferocious, and the last few survivors had gathered.Mom and Prim set up a makeshift health care facility, treating wounded people as best they could with whatever they found in the woods.A total of more than 800 people escaped. They were still in shock and terrified.Gail found two bows and arrows, a hunting knife, and a fishing net, and with these tools he managed to get food for more than eight hundred terrified people.Some people who were still able to move also came to help, and everyone barely survived for three days.Unexpectedly, at this difficult moment, the helicopter from the thirteenth district appeared and evacuated them to the thirteenth district.District 13 has clean and white residences, adequate clothing and three meals a day.Although they live underground, have single-style clothes, and the taste of food is not very good, to the people in District 12, this is nothing. The important thing is that they are safe, survived, received care, and received Warm welcome.

Everyone felt that the warm hospitality of the 13th district was out of their kindness.But a man named Dalton, who escaped on foot from the 10th to the 13th a few years ago, revealed to me the secret. "They need you, they need me, they need us. Not long ago, there was a plague here, many people died, and many people suffered from infertility. In their eyes, we are a group of bearers." This Ren used to work on a cattle farm in District 10, where long-term frozen cattle embryos were implanted into cattle to maintain genetic diversity.His guess about the thirteenth district may be right, because there are indeed not many children here.But so what?We are not penned in, we are trained, our children are educated, and children over the age of fourteen can join the army, put on a decent uniform, and become a "soldier", and every refugee is also given a district thirteen legal status of citizens. But, I still hate them.Of course, now I hate almost everyone, but myself the most. The ground began to harden under my feet, and I seemed to be stepping on the stones of the square buried under a thick layer of dust.The low ruins that surround the square are left over from the collapse of the original shops.The tall judicial building also collapsed, leaving behind a mass of black rubble.I walked to the approximate location of Peeta's bakery.There is almost nothing left here except the melted oven.Neither Peeta's parents nor his two older brothers escaped to District 13.Of those rich people in the 12th District, only a dozen or so escaped from the flames.Even if Peeta gets home, he won't see anyone else, except me... I stepped back from the ruins of the bakery, accidentally stepped on something, lost my balance, and sat down on a pile of sun-baked metal objects.I was wondering what it was, when I suddenly remembered the things that Stride had left behind after he remodeled the square—the prison bars, whipping posts, and gallows. This pile should be the gallows.So bad, so bad.This thing brought back to my eyes all the painful images that haunted me day and night.Peeta was tortured—he was flooded, burned, cut, intimidated, maimed, whipped—and the Capitol tortured him for information he didn't know.I closed my eyes tightly, imagining touching him thousands of miles away, sending my thoughts to him, letting him know that he is not alone.But in fact, he is alone, and I can't help him. Run, escape from this square, run to the only place not consumed by flames.I passed the ruins of the mayor's house, where March lived.We haven't had any news from her or her family lately.Did the Capitol help March get out of District 12 because his dad was the mayor, or were they already burned?Dust billows around me, and I pull up the hem of my shirt collar and cover my mouth.I didn't suspect what was being sucked into me, but who was trying to suffocate me. The lawn of Victor Village was scorched, and the snow that fell on it turned gray, but the twelve houses here were intact.I walked into the house I had lived in for the last year, closed the door, and leaned against the door.Everything here seems to be untouched, clean, quiet, and feels weird.Why should I go back to District 12?How will this trip help me answer the questions that have been bugging me? "What should I do?" I whispered against the wall.But I really don't know. All sorts of people took turns talking to me, talking, talking, talking.Plutarch Havensby, his shrewd assistant Fulvia Cadu, a host of district chiefs, and military dignitaries.But the president of the thirteenth district, Alma Cohen, did not speak, she only observed from the sidelines.She was in her fifties, with straight gray hair that fell to her shoulders.Somehow I'm obsessed with her hair, it's so smooth and flawless, not a single frizz or split end.Her eyes were gray, but unlike the gray of people in the Seam, it was a very pale color, as if all the color had been sucked out of her eyeballs, the kind that seemed to melt Faded light marl gray. They wanted me to be the mockingjay of rebellion, which had been designed for me.It wasn't enough, I defied the Capitol in the Hunger Games, I used to nearly unite all the "tributes", and given everything I've done in the past, they want me to be the real leader now.My face, my voice will be the symbol of the revolution, and I must be the leader of the rebels in the districts - most jurisdictions are now openly rebelling against the Capitol - and I will be the one they can trust to lead them all the way victory.I'm not alone, there's a whole team to help me out, to design my clothes, write my speeches, plan my public appearances - as if I'm not familiar enough with this - all I have to do is play my part Role.Sometimes I listen to them, sometimes I just look at Cohen's perfect hair and wonder if it's a wig.Eventually, it all ended with me leaving because I had another headache, or it was meal time, or because I was too suffocated in the basement and wanted to scream.I don't need to say anything, just stand up and walk out. As the door closed behind me after the conversation yesterday afternoon, I heard Cohen say, "I told you we should save the boy first." She was talking about Peeta.For this, I am in favor.He could have been a perfect mouthpiece. But who was actually rescued from the arena?Me, an uncooperative person.Bit, an old inventor of District Three.I seldom saw him again, for he was dragged away to participate in the improvement of weapons as soon as he recovered and could barely sit up.In fact, they had pushed his hospital bed into a top-secret area, and now, they only bumped into him occasionally at meals.He was brilliant and very willing to be part of the cause, but he wasn't one to organize a resistance movement.Also rescued was Finnick Odile, the sex icon from the fishing district 3 who saved Peeta's life when I failed to save him in the arena.The Thirteenth District authorities also tried to transform Finnick into a resistance leader, but they first had to keep him conscious for more than five minutes.Even when he was conscious, people needed to repeat the words three times before he finally understood.The doctor said it was because he had been shocked in the arena, but I knew it was more complicated than that.Finnick couldn't focus on anything in District 13 because he kept thinking about Annie, the only crazy girl he loved in the world, and watching every move the Capitol made towards her. Even though Finnick kept his plan to escape the arena a secret from me, I had to forgive him.At least he understood what I was going through and at the same time it was hard for me to get mad at someone who was crying so hard. I walked down the stairs as softly as when I was hunting, not wanting to make a sound.I found some memorable items: a photo of my parents on their wedding day, a blue headband from Prim, my family's heirloom books on medicine and edible plants.The book was open, and on the open page was a yellow flower.I quickly closed it because Peeta drew the flower. What should I do? Does it matter what I do or don't do?Mom, sister and Gail's family are finally safe.For the other people in the 12th district, those who have died, no one can recover, and those who survived are protected in the 13th district.All that's left to consider is the rebels in the various jurisdictions.Of course, I also hate the Capitol, but can I help them overthrow the Capitol by being a mockingjay?I'm not confident.How can I help them when every action I take brings pain and death?The old man in District 11 was shot for whistling, and after I intervened in Gale's whipping, the authorities in District 12 brought about a crackdown. My designer Cinna was beaten to a pulp in the basement before the Hunger Games began, Lost consciousness.Plutarch's insiders believed he had died during the interrogation.Bright, mysterious, lovely Cinna died because of me.I dare not think about it anymore, this painful memory will make me lose the minimum ability to control my current situation. what should I do? Becoming a Mockingjay... Will I do more good than harm?Who can I trust?Who will answer my questions?Of course, people in the thirteenth district can't.Sure enough, now that my family and Gail are out of the woods, I can run.The only thing I still miss is Peeta.If I'm sure he's dead, I can just disappear into the woods and never come back.But I have a while to go before taking the final action. At this time, I heard the sound of whistling, so I turned around quickly.The ugliest cat in the world with hunched ears stood by the kitchen door. "Buttercup," I said.Thousands of people have died, but this cat survived and even got fat.What does it live on?A window in the pantry was always open, through which it could come and go freely, and it turned out that it had been eating rats to survive.I don't want to believe there is any other possibility. I knelt down and reached out to it. "Come here, boy." It didn't move, and it was angry at being abandoned.Besides, I had nothing to eat, and feeding him offal has always been my main way of making amends.For a while, we would meet at our old home, and since neither of us liked this new one, we seemed to be a little closer then.But that time has obviously passed.It blinked its yellow eyes unhappily. "Want to see Prim?" I asked.Hearing her name, he perked up immediately.Apart from its own name, these three words are the most meaningful words in the world to it.It opened its hoarse throat, meowed, and walked to me.I picked him up and stroked his fur as I went to the cupboard to find my game bag and stuffed it into it.There's nothing else to take it to the helicopter, and it's the most precious thing in the world to my sister.My sister's sheep "Madame" is a very practical animal, but unfortunately, it did not appear. Gail's voice came through the earphones, telling me we had to leave now.But the game bag reminded me that there was another precious thing to take with me.I put the bag back on the chair and hurried upstairs to my bedroom.Hanging in the closet is the jacket Dad wore when he went hunting.I got it here from my old home before the Century Xtreme, thinking that if I were to pass, this jacket might give my mum and sister some comfort.Thank goodness I brought it here, otherwise it would have been burnt to ashes. The soft leather gives a warm and comfortable feeling. In an instant, I am immersed in the memories of the good old days, and I feel a little comfort in my heart.But for some reason, my palms were sweating, and an inexplicable strange feeling climbed into my heart.I quickly turned around and looked at the room carefully. The room was empty and everything was in order.There was silence all around.So, what's it like? I stick my nose up.Ah, it's a smell, a nasty artificial fragrance smell.My eyes couldn't help falling on the vase on the dressing table. The bunch of flowers in the vase had dried up, and a little white was faintly showing among the dry petals.I approached it cautiously.It turned out that in a handful of dry flowers, there was a fresh white rose hidden.It was a perfect flower, with satin-soft petals and green rose thorns. I knew at a glance who sent the flower. It's President Snow. The scent of the flowers was so pungent that I quickly stepped back and walked out of the room.How long has this flower been here?one day?One hour?Before I came, the rebels in District 13 had done a security check in advance, looking for bombs, bugs, and anything else unusual in the room.But this rose may not seem special to them, it is just unusual to me. When I came downstairs, I grabbed the game bag on the back of the chair and dragged it to the door. It took me a while to realize that there was a living thing inside.On the lawn outside the door, I desperately signaled to the helicopter, but the buttercups were tumbling desperately in the bag.A helicopter appeared and lowered a ladder from the plane.I stepped onto the ladder and was immediately held in place by the electric current before the ladder went up and took me into the engine room. Gail helped me down the ladder. "Are you OK?" "Yes." I said, wiping the sweat off my face with my sleeve. He left me a rose!I want to shout.But I know very well in my heart that I cannot tell this to Plutarch's gang.First, they'll think I'm crazy and cranky, which is entirely possible; Misadventures to avoid.No one can fully understand the meaning of this rose - it is not just a rose, not even a rose sent by President Snow, it heralds the inevitable revenge - this is because before the victory tour No one else was there when he threatened me in the study. This snowy white rose on my dresser was a personal reminder that it wasn't over yet.This rose seems to be whispering, I can find you, I can catch you, maybe I am watching you right now.