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It's late when she crashes through the forest, which is good considering how little care she's taking to be quiet. At least there's no one around to hear or see her. Katniss was told that there were animals here that were worse than the occasional boar, but she doesn't care. It's hard to care about things like that when there's still alcohol and god-knows-what rushing through your system and bad memories cemented in your brain.
She nearly trips twice over tree roots but keeps going deeper into the forest, not knowing what she's running from but crying and screaming until her lungs hurt, until her voice feels raw and rough. It feels good. Cathartic, almost, even if it doesn't change a thing.
Katniss stops in an empty clearing, laying down in the piles of fluffy white snow that reminds her of comfortable beds and duvet covers, but that only makes it worse. The Capitol had beds like that. Her fingers trace lines in the snow as her tears hit the piles but don't melt the magically pristine substance.
It doesn't change a thing.
She nearly trips twice over tree roots but keeps going deeper into the forest, not knowing what she's running from but crying and screaming until her lungs hurt, until her voice feels raw and rough. It feels good. Cathartic, almost, even if it doesn't change a thing.
Katniss stops in an empty clearing, laying down in the piles of fluffy white snow that reminds her of comfortable beds and duvet covers, but that only makes it worse. The Capitol had beds like that. Her fingers trace lines in the snow as her tears hit the piles but don't melt the magically pristine substance.
It doesn't change a thing.
