Hazel’s ankles wobbled in her heeled boots.

  What I wouldn’t give to wear normal shoes for one day.

  The dew-damp ground beneath her offered no help. She sighed. The last thing she needed was to wrench her fragile left foot.

  Sable would never let her run again.

  At that moment, Indira's clasp on her arm tightened as if she were going to dissolve. However, her stabilizing effect was the only thing keeping her upright.

  There hadn’t been time for arguments that morning, but Indira made it clear the conversation about the weapon wasn’t over. Every jarring step shifted the knife against Hazel's waistband, which she had unceremoniously tucked there, much to her escort's dissatisfaction.

  Hazel had been harshly scolded and warned to stash it away before someone noticed. Indira had asked where she’d gotten it, a question Hazel had effectively dodged by practically flinging herself in the shower under the guise of hurrying.

  Hazel preferred wobbling in heels to answering that question.

  She fixated on her escort’s brightly colored footwear. Somehow, Indira moved even faster and more effortlessly when she was in heels. The woman was, by all means, a marvel.

  Two rows of Peacekeepers bordered the path to the District Ten train station, forming a solemn channel to the idling train. Returning was a vastly different experience than her arrival.

  Overnight, the district had transformed. All the colorful Capitol citizens had dissipated. Muted tones were all that remained outside the intermittent streaks of red on the clothing of loitering district folk. More than once, she caught a brief smile or subtle nod from one of them.

  Despite the absence of pomp and circumstance, the atmosphere was more celebratory than the day before, like an execution-sized weight had been lifted from everyone around her.

  Letting herself be led, she couldn’t help but notice a lack of a particular smug blonde politician.

  “No Senator this morning?” Hazel questioned.

  “He’s gone ahead to Nine,” Indira sighed, glancing at Hazel out of the side of her eye.

  Hazel couldn't help but think that was for the best, considering their conversation the night before. Facing him this early would’ve been daunting.

  There was also a glaring lack of their newest Gamemaker. “And Trask?”

  Indira paused, “I’m not sure, actually.”

  So much for not losing track of the beast.

  Behind them, her three guards trailed silently.

  “Would’ve left early too, If I could,” Sable grumbled. “Can’t wait till we get the hell outta here,”

  Well, almost silently.

  “Not a fan of Ten, old man?” Bellona asked.

  “Would prefer we were somewhere that you couldn’t practically taste the air,” Sable replied. “And the flavor of the day wasn’t always cow shit.”

  “Not quite chocolate, is it?” Leo interjected, much to Bellona’s perturbation and Sable’s confusion.

  Festus mumbled, “I’m with Pytash; the sooner we get out of here, the better.”

  “I think you just dislike the lack of free alcohol here.” Hazel replied over her shoulder.

  Festus smiled, “Guilty.”

  “Prepare for continued disappointment, Mr. Creed,” Indira responded. “Nine won’t be much different.”

  “Aren’t you just a bundle of good news.” Sable shot a frown at Indira.

  The group's manure and refreshment conversation died as they reached the end of the peacekeeper line.

  Before them waited a small faction. Brindle and Naii stood side by side, along with another taller figure. His modest tan suit was rumpled at the edges, his jaw lined with fading lime-colored bruises, but his posture was sharp. His graying honey-blonde strands were slicked back. Light green eyes met hers.

  Mayor Garth Shepherd.

  “They insisted on seeing you off.” Indira’s soothing voice was in her ear, “Don’t feel obligated, dear. We need to be on our way soon.”

  The man’s spine straightened as she advanced, though his eyes wrinkled in a nearly invisible wince.

  “No, it's all right,” Hazel croaked. Indira nodded, relinquishing her death grip.

  Mayor Shepherd spoke first, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, “Miss Marlowe, It was truly an honor to have had you visit our humble district.”

  “The honor is mine.” Hazel swallowed, shifting her weight on her tingling feet. Your district has been more than welcoming.” She scanned Brindle and Naii before settling her attention back on him, “My condolences, sir.”

  “Mine as well.” The man’s eyes sank. “My son was… the greatest thing I ever did.”

  Brindle shielded his face, swiping his sleeve over his eyes.

  Her throat grew scratched and coarse, “If I could’ve done something…it just happened so fast.”

  Mayor Shepherd raised a wide, weathered hand, his eyes meeting hers once again, “Guilt is a cruel companion, Miss.” The lines around his eyes wilted, “I know better than most. Best not to allow it to make a home within you, or it may never depart.”

  Something about his words reminded her of Harla.

  “Choose your neighbors wisely,” Hazel whispered.

  “As best as you can,” he breathed, his face melted a fraction at the understanding that passed between them.

  Indira cleared her throat, “We must be on our way, sir. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

  Hazel studied the three, “I guess this is goodbye.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  At that, Naii surged forward, wrapping Hazel in an unsteady embrace.

  Hazel choked against the crushing force of Naii’s arms. “Thank you.”

  Naii whispered her well wishes as though saying them too loud might ruin them. Patting Hazel’s cheek, she backed away.

  Next, Brindle met her eyes with an unspoken message, “I apologize about the maintenance issue you had last night.”

  Hazel shook her head, pulse thrumming in her throat. “It’s all right. I’ve got a bladder of steel.”

  A few peacekeepers nearby snickered, “Pretty lousy maintenance around here. Can’t even fix a bloody toilet.”

  Hazel sent them a hard look out of the corner of her eye while Sable whispered in their direction. Though his words were low and vaguely about showing them something bloody if they didn't keep their mouths shut.

  “I assure you, you will not have such an issue in District Nine.” The Mayor spoke suddenly.

  Hazel’s attention swung back to the man. The edges of his eyes squinted as he smiled softly.

  Brindle must have told him about the player.

  She wanted to ask more about it, but they were all trapped by the present company.

  Hazel chewed her lip, “Better plumbing?”

  Mayor Shepherd shared a savvy look with Brindle, “Much better. Not that our maintenance department is not talented or highly skilled.”

  “Right,” Brindle agreed, “Plumbing has never been my strong suit.”

  Behind her, Leo’s breathing mushroomed closer, and a judicious expression flitted across his face.

  Hazel shivered. If he understood what they were discussing, he didn’t mention it.

  Hazel nodded as Mayor Shepherd opened his arms to her, and she pressed forward to embrace him. His hug cinched around her as he whispered lowly into her ear. The words meant only for her. “Find Cress when you get to Nine.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “When you do, tell him: And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow.”

  Her brows scrunched as her mind wheeled at the mysterious words.

  Was it some kind of code? A poem?

  The implications sent jolts of fiery anxiety surging through her. He patted her back, “He’ll know, and he’ll help you.”

  As he pulled away, his voice grew louder. “To demonstrate our gratitude, we want you to have a gift that will remind you of your time here.”

  Hazel dug at her bandaged hand, “That isn’t necessary, sir.”

  The Mayor’s gaze implored hers, “It is the least we can do. We can never fully repay what you’ve done, me in particular.” With that, he beckoned to a crew of peacekeepers approaching. They were hauling something between them. As they got closer, Hazel recognized it as the ceramic steer statue.

  “Since you seemed to like it so much,” Brindle explained.

  Hazel’s face warmed as the large figurine was loaded into the train beyond them. What were the chances it would actually make it back to Seven without shattering?

  About as much as I do.

  “It opens underneath.” Brindle’s voice dropped to a whisper as he hugged her last. “Check inside when you’re alone.”

  Hazel glanced back as the horned art disappeared inside the train.

  “Thank you again, Miss Marlowe.” Garth Shepherd said as he backed away, flanked by both Brindle and Naii. “May the odds favor you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Hazel whispered. “Thank all of you.”

  The three melted away into the streets, and a part of Hazel wished to see them again someday, but the chances were less than favorable.

  Behind her, the train doors hissed open. Hazel sent them one last look before her group was led inside the waiting train. They each settled into their seats, preparing for the journey to Nine.

  Hazel molded herself to one of the benches. Her body was overtired yet wired simultaneously. As she willed her bones to relax, a flash of white caught her attention. Up against the opposite wall was the pearly cow statue, staring back at her.

  Leo fell into the seat beside her, glancing at the thing himself, “Lovely gift.”

  She gripped her hands together, peering at him from the corner of her eye, “Yeah.”

  “Doesn’t exactly match your décor,” Leo said, sliding closer.

  “I think Sage will love it,” she argued. “Probably will give it a name and everything.” He had asked her to bring something home. And he was the only person she knew who might actually enjoy an awkward bovine sculpture.

  “He probably will.” Leo chuckled as the rest of the group entrenched themselves in the train car’s luxurious seats. “What do you think he’ll name it?”

  Hazel eyed their group, then settled on Leo, “Maybe he’ll name it after his favorite peacekeeper.”

  “Sable does seem like a proud name for a cow.” Leo teased.

  She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out. “I agree.” She smiled despite herself at the dark cloud flushing over the oldest peacekeeper's face.

  Bellona interjected with a wide grin, “We can call him Sabie for short.”

  “What a bunch of bull,” Sable grumbled, hissing as he stretched out on the seats.

  “I think he's actually a steer,” Hazel said before she could stop herself.

  "What's the difference?" Festus mused, clearly enjoying Sable's discomfort.

  "Castration," Leo answered.

  Sable crossed his arms, glaring out the window, “I want you all to know that I hate every single one of you.”

  The group littered the car with their laughter. Even Indira placed a fist in front of her mouth, though her chin quivered with a held-back laugh of her own.

  "Lighten up, old man." Bellona chortled, "Maybe pull that stick out of your-"

  She was unable to finish due to a brusk shove from Sable, which only had Bellona laughing harder as she teetered in her seat.

  Hazel let the change in atmosphere wash over her. It was a welcome reprieve from the intensity that seemed to define her nearly every waking moment. Finally, her scrutiny returned to the figurine. Was the tape player really inside?

  “Well, I think I’ll put Sabie in my room for the trip to Nine. Wouldn’t want to confuse the two.”

  Sable groaned as Hazel rose. Leo was at her side in an instant. “Allow me to move our fearless leader’s namesake for you.”

  Hazel hesitated, but Leo marched forward, gathering the horned ivory package in his arms. He sent her a look that wasn’t quite a command but left no room for argument. She sighed and followed as he made his way toward her bedroom.

  “If that thing goes missing, don’t be surprised,” Sable muttered.

  Hazel didn’t turn. “Touch my gift, and you’ll regret it.”

  “I regret everything,” he mumbled.

  Inside her room, Leo set the teetering statue down on its ceramic hooves.

  Hazel scoffed as she watched him attempt to stabilize it. Leaning against the table, arms crossed, she murmured, “Sabie isn’t really my style, is he?”

  Leo snorted. “It's a peculiar gift.” He turned to her, expression shifting from amusement to something sharper. “Though, I’d say there’s been a lot of peculiar things happening lately.”

  “What an understatement, Drayton.”

  His stare clung to her as he asked, “Your toilet didn’t really break, did it?”

  Hazel’s focus tore from the cow to Leo. “You know, Drayton, you’re wasted as a private. Should be a detective or something.”

  Leo exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand through his hair. “What’ve you done now?”

  Hazel chewed the inside of her cheek.

  “Marlowe.” He crossed his arms as he examined her face.

  “I swear, it’s nothing.”

  “Right, just like forcing the mayor’s pardon on live television was nothing?” Leo sighed, his gray eyes deepened, “You could’ve gotten yourself hung.”

  Hazel groaned, pushing off the table and stepping around him, “I don’t need a lecture from you, too.” Before she could get far, his hand circled her bicep, firm but careful. She paused, staring down at his hand before following it up to his eyes.

  His voice was soft yet cavernous, “Is that what happened last night? A lecture?”

  Her breath stilled, and her eyes shrunk away from his to the floor.

  The night shift's report must have been quite detailed and most likely included a slightly flustered Senator leaving abruptly from her quarters. She exhaled; no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't burden Leo with the details of that conversation. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  She was still grappling with the implications of it herself.

  “Does it matter?” she finally breathed.

  His grip flexed. “It does to me.”

  She glanced up at him once again. His eyes held that same intensity they had the night they listened to the tape together. She could practically hear Sable's warning in her ears.

  Lines.

  “It shouldn’t.” Her voice came out quieter than she wanted. “It can’t.” His scrutiny amplified as she gently curled her fingers around his wrist, peeling his hand away. He let her without argument, though his features fell. “Or has Sable not given you his lecture yet?”

  His gaze faltered, jaw shifting. It was as if he was replaying a conversation in his head.

  So he had. That answered that.

  “Marlowe…”

  "Can I trust you?" she asked suddenly.

  His eyes flashed back up to meet hers. "You should know by now. I am here to guard you with my life."

  "That's close enough to a yes."

  His scrutiny narrowed, and he crossed his arms, his forearms flexing beneath his sleeves, "Why?"

  "Because you were right about my gift being peculiar." Hazel hummed, stepping back.

  Leo exhaled, watching as she crouched next to the cow. Whatever protest he had died on his lips, “What are you doing?”

  Running her hands over the smooth ceramic underbelly, she felt a disturbance just behind the back legs.

  She dug her nails into the slight groove, prying at the hidden compartment. A small click sounded.

  It was there, just like Brindle had said. Her heartbeat skipped several pulses.

  "Our Sabie is definitely a steer, and..." Hazel grinned, eyes flicking back to Leo. “It seems Sable and our new friend have more than just their name in common.”