Mabel Elwyn // D11

She plucked a large, sticky pink flower from the rhododendron branch, taking along with it a few floppy green leaves. Her short fingers poked and proded at the light petals, tearing the fifth one off, spreading the remaining ones further apart and pressing them against the green like a compass. North, northeast, east, southeast, so on. Sitting down, she turned the flower so that a particular petal pointed toward the sun that was just peeking over the horizon – east. Green-hazel eyes turned their gaze to each of the other directions, looking through the rhododendron branches to see what particular landmarks lay each way. To the north, there was a hill covered in trees; to the east, the edge of the woods, an open field, and the rising sun; to the south she knew the savages lived in their wooden houses and had their cement suffocating any and all undergrowth; and to the west there was a pond bed that was only full whenever it rained rather hard.

A hand covered in mud stains ran through her wavy auburn hair, pulling out tangles and bits of tree bark that managed to fall into her hair from previous tree climbing expeditions. Altogether her hair was rather greasy from having not been washed in quite some time and the sun had lightened parts of it to a reddish brown color. Throughout the locks were feathers that she used drops of tree sap to make stick and stay (mostly blue jay but there’s also pigeon, a little hawk one, and even a mockingjay feather

North—
The hill. With callous-hardened feet and hands, she loves to climb up trees after her sister Orianna. Being small and frail, she can usually weasel her way up to the top and perch for about an hour, watching birds and looking off into the distance. She loves being at the top and feeling like she can reach up and run her fingers along the sky, or if she blows air hard enough she can change the shapes of clouds, and – sometimes – she feels that if she leaped off the branch, arms spread out, she could fly with the crows or join the formation of geese as they fly south. While up in the trees she is always on the hunt for seeds (acorns!) and sometimes, if there’s just too many to carry, she’ll shake the branches until a good number fall off and she’ll then scurry down to collect them. She doesn’t quite understand that some seeds need to have certain things happen to them in order to grow so she treats every seed the same and just shoves them all into the ground, covering with dirt, crushed up leaves, and finally spitting on it.

East—
The open field. There is nothing that she loves more than everything in nature; she adores animals, plants, trees, weather, insects, rocks, you name it. She feels as if she has to be a “protector” of the animals, speaking out against eating meat since it’s pretty much murder. The only problem is that, since she’s never willingly tasted meat, if you were to slip it into her food and not mention that meat then she wouldn’t know the difference – she even would tell you that it’s good and ask for seconds. In her mind she is just as much a part of the wilderness as any animal is and “to watch your brother or sister be slaughtered and served on a plate to hungry savages” is wrong to her.

South—
District square of Eleven. The vast majority of her hated things can be pinned on humans. She vehemently refuses to step foot anywhere near the center of Eleven and especially on the asphalt, claiming that the ”man poop” “not rocks” suffocate and kill her seedlings and nature in general. Once she tried to rip up the asphalt but as you can imagine it only hurt her and she didn’t get very far. She also despises “the others” because of the Games that she’s only heard about and never seen. The Capitol takes their children and kills them and yet they still eat meat! To her, all of mankind that aren’t her sisters are “psychos” and she refuses to associate with them.

West—
The pond bed. There have only been a few times where it’s rained so hard that the pond bed filled up and each of those times she was too scared to step foot into the water. She’s fascinated by the idea of swimming and Hester’s accounts of the ocean. While her eyes may be wide and full of curiosity whenever she asks Hester about the ocean, the young girl knows she’d never actually step foot into it. Like a cat she doesn’t take very well to water, hence why she very rarely bathes unless forced to. She isn’t afraid to admit that she hates water but I will never admit to not being able to read or write. It embarrasses her that she cannot even write her own name, let alone read it, and she refuses to let anyone know by quickly redirecting the subject to something else. An obvious fear everyone knows about her is her claustrophobia; she absolutely can’t stand any tight or constricting places, and when she feels trapped it doesn’t take long for her to crumble and succumb to a panic attack.

I’m the youngest of the six. Just barely over fourteen years, she had learned so little and still thought she knew so much. All she ever knew was the company of her sisters and the constant musky smell of the forest and that’s enough to keep me happy. The most she ever had to her name was the clothes on her back and a pair of socks that were always stuffed into her pockets, used for carrying seeds when she wasn’t using them in the winter. Often she slipped off away from her sister to collect seeds or go explore (I never once got lost and I’m proud to say that) and never really paid attention to whenever she was scolded for it. The forest is mine and I am its; it lets me know where I am and always has a trail for me to follow back.

It wasn’t too long before she started following Orianna in the trees once she discovered that there were acorns and pine cones up in the branches. She never was as nimble on the branches as her sister, but having a lightweight frame and a fair sense of agility made it easy for her to scale the trees and shake the branches. The only thing she didn’t understand was why her sister refused to step foot on the ground. Trees thrive on the ground – they get their food from it, squirrels bury their food in it, animals dig holes to live in it. At the same time, why did Imelda believe that she needed to be in the sky? When she lay in an open field, staring up at the clouds, what compelled her to reach up like she could touch them? Or Arletta – what made her believe she could breathe underwater?

None of them understand nature like I do. To her, none of her sisters knew how to plant seeds and turn something so small into a mighty oak tree that can weather years and years of storms and winds. Only I know how because I listen to nature. She tended to the trees that she planted, she picked berries by the creek, she collected mint and chewed the leaves to cover up the bad breath from never having a toothbrush. Her life revolved around the progress of nature and receding impact of the savages in the District, and she believed that if you could get rid of “the others” then things would be better. Saplings won’t die, vines can crawl up their stone structured homes, worms and maggots can feast on them in return for them eating their kin. She may not be able to read words but she was always able to read nature like an open book and it pleases her continuously.

I am part of nature.