Changing the world?

The air is cold, but certainly not as windy, which I'm thankful for. Snow is still falling, but I can deal with that. As long as there's no wind, I'm fine.

I find Jack leaning against the side of the house, looking toward me when I come trudging over through the deep snow. Even when he directs his anger toward me, it can't wipe the smile I have off my face. We are actually going to do something against the Capitol and have justice! I can't even begin to describe how excited I am. All these silent years, I've wanted nothing more than to give the Capitol a taste of their own medicine -- this might just be our lucky break. I don't care if I lose anymore fingers -- or an arm, or a leg, or both -- as long as I can be satisfied with seeing the candy-colored bastards brought to justice.

He then turns and slams his fist into the wall. We're so what? Crazy? Everyone's crazy in their own way. And we're just crazy enough to actually have the courage to step out of the comfort zone to do what's right. So, actually, that doesn't make us crazy. We're sane in a humane way. I take out the notebook and pen.

We're definitely not crazy or mad.

The smile's still on my face as I show it to him to read, hoping he doesn't think we're mental for even thinking we could try to stop the Capitol.

I snort and give a short laugh. Of course we couldn't fight the Capitol singlehandedly – that was just impossible. But we could get a group together and destroy them from both the inside and outside. I’m not sure if Luk would consider helping us, though, but it would be excellent to have someone on the inside to tell us what was going on. But hey, everything starts with a dream, right? One of my favorite quotes is: “Never doubt that a small group of people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” I believe it’s quite fitting to our current situation. The Uprising’s not doing very well, so maybe just siding with one determined person will do better.

Jack’s mother startles me by coming out from behind me, pleading with him to stay. The smile fades from my face. I understand where she’s coming from, but we’re trying to make things better for future generations. We don’t want anyone to have to face the horrors we’re up against now, and I, personally, don’t want to see anyone else have their tongues cut out. For me, this is personal. They took everything from me and now it’s time to get back at them. Give them a taste of their own medicine. And besides, I’m not going to let anything happen to Jack. I’m going to do everything I can to protect him and make sure he makes it back to his family. Hell, maybe I’d even find my own family along the way; but for now, Jack’s my priority. I stand there somewhat awkwardly, looking down at the deep snow and kicking it around with my boot until they’re done.

It doesn't take long before Jack and his mother say their goodbyes, and soon we're off. I glance back at his mother and give her a sincere smile of thanks, then turn back around and walk alongside Jack. It's cold, but since I'm moving, it's not as bad. And with the snow so high, I'm high-stepping like a pony, so that's getting the blood pumping more and keeping me warm. I keep my hands deep in my pockets, determined to keep them warm and to prevent frostbite better this time.

I shake my head a few times to get the extra snow out of my hair, but it's not working too well; freezing droplets of water slide down my face and neck, but it's bearable.

Umberland? I give Jack a questioning look. I've never heard of that place before, so I'm guessing it's something of a secret here, maybe. I'm probably horribly wrong, though. He then suggests that we stay at a friend's house, and for a moment I'm hesitant. Would they be alright with housing an Avox? I whimper lightly, unsure of that suggestion. I'm so used to just making camp anywhere and everywhere by myself and only staying with friendly people when it's life or death, and even though I trust Jack, people are unpredictable. They may be nice, but when their humanity is put to the test, they could crumble faster than a brittle leaf. I look over at Jack, waiting to see if I needed to pull out the notebook and write down my concern.

Where do we sleep tonight? Oh, that's easy. I don't mean to sound conceited, but I do believe that I'm a master of makeshift tents. Hell, I've built a new one nearly every night. I know how to keep warm even on the coldest nights excluding yesterday when I got frostbite and keep the man-eating critters away. A smile crosses my face. I may fail at other things, but I can certainly build a shelter.

Jack seems on edge, but it's understandable. No one likes fighting with family members, especially when all they want is to keep you safe. I can't really say that I remember what that's like with my own family, but worrying over the past isn't going to help me. I go over to Jack and lightly pat him on the shoulder as he's looking up at the sky, recounting a memory of his time in the DC. Oh, good Ripred, the screams. I remember when I was there: stuck in that cell, my wrist crusty with dried blood and red smeared all over the wall in drawings. I first thought the screams were a part of my dreams, but no, they were much worse. Living nightmares. It was incredibly disturbing to hear the tortured cry out in agony, begging and pleading for the Peacekeepers to stop but they wouldn't. They kept doing whatever they were doing and the person kept crying and yowling. I can honestly say I never slept well there.

Shaking the thought off, I turn and venture out into the woods to the point where we can't be seen from the road, and from there I start the task of building a shelter. I'm lucky to find a branch with a Y shape at the end that I use for a lean-to and lean it up against a tree, making sure it's stable and won't slip on the bark. Then I find some pine trees with low limbs and -- the best part of the whole experience -- jump up and hang on them, throwing my body weight up and down until the branches snap off. Sometimes I fall flat on either my back -- which happened this time -- or my rear, but the deep snow is like a cushion. I get up and shake the snow off, then take the branch over and use it as siding for the makeshift lean-to. I find another branch for the side, and then I get thick, bare brush and add that to the sides; sprinkle on some pine needles and dead leaves thick and even on each side, and then on the inside I use my good hand to dig out the snow so that it's down to the dirt. Spread some more pine needles and leaves on the floor of the tent, grab another pine branch for a little door, and viola: a tent to spend the night. It would be a snug fit for both of us, but hey, we can share each other's body heat to keep warm.

Honestly, I can't help but laugh at the joke. Damn, I haven't laughed in Ripred knows how long. I haven't seen much of the Games in years, either, though I still vividly remember everything that I did see. All the blood, gore, screams, everything. It's not something I'd like to think of, but sadly it's reality. Well, no one likes to think about it, really, except maybe the Careers and the Capitol. But us -- the real people -- obviously hate it.

Though I do take pride in being able to whip up a tent fairly fast. When I'm done, I step back to take a look at my handiwork, snorting at Jack's comment. Pft, I wouldn't strip down naked in the snow for anybody. Not after losing two fingers to frostbite, anyway. I'm so used to building tents small because usually it's just me, but at least we'll both be warm. I guess I just went on autopilot, but eh. I watch Jack as he crawls in, asking if we should build a fire. I turn my eyes and look at the surrounding trees. Everything was covered in snow and probably wet, so I wasn't sure about that idea, but it was worth a shot. I set out and pick the driest sticks I can find, coming back with a small bundle. It wasn't much, but it would do for some time. I use my boot and dig a little clearing in the snow and set the sticks down, take some dry pine needles and add them to the pile, and set to the task of using two sticks and rubbing them together. I settle down as I work, knowing that this'll take some time.

It used to be easier to rub sticks together, but since it's wet outside and I'm missing two fingers, this makes things more difficult. But oh well. Jack's sudden outbursts of profanity make me laugh again; it's really the only normal sound I can make other than dog noises, grunts, and moans. If you only heard me laugh, you'd probably think I was normal and not some criminal. And I never would've thought that I would be where I am now: out in the woods during the winter with a friend - a true and genuine friend. And laughing together. I don't know of any other Avox that's been able to experience this, and it's truly a memory worth remembering for the rest of my days.

I readjust my bandaged hand on the stick to start rubbing it again, but Jack hands me something: a lighter. Oh, thank Ripred. I throw the sticks down onto the pile and take the lighter, rolling the little wheel so that a small flame would leap up. Soon I have the fire going pretty well, so I hand the lighter back to him. Ah, warmth. I clear a spot for me to sit down beside the fire, relishing the warmth as Jack asks me a question.

What would make me happy? I don't know if he's being serious with the question, but I take it very seriously. Well, there's really only two things that'd make me happy. I raise my good hand and set my four fingers against my thumb like a puppet and move the "mouth" open and closed, open and closed, trying to tell him that I'd love to be able to talk again. That would certainly make me happy. Then I'd be able to actually say peoples' names, places, joke around, and just be normal. But then the smile fades from my face as my thoughts go deeper. What I want more than the ability to speak is to find Colton and Lily. I want to find Colton because he's my own flesh and blood, so obviously I'd want to go after him; and I want to find Lily because I really hate how I could never be there for her during the pregnancy or birth of Colton, or even to help raise him. I couldn't help her, and here I am, sitting by a fire in a snow storm, a long ways off from where they probably are. My boy's probably a year or a year and a half old now. The thought of him toddling around and exploring is enough to make me smile. I hope he looks like his mother. I look down at the snow and use my finger to write a few simple words in the white powder: and to find people I've had to leave behind.

The heat from the fire feels incredibly good. But how do we keep it going all night? You'd think I'd have a split second answer to this question since I've been living in the woods for nearly four or so winters, but I don't. Usually I just suck it up and bunker down in my lean-to and letting the fire go out when it does naturally. I give a little frustrated huff, staring at the fire and scrunching my mouth up as I thought. Well, I certainly don't want to lose anymore body parts, so it was a valid question. I'm not going to resort to old ways. Eh, probably we could just take turns watching and adding things to the fire. I swat away the snow on the ground in front of me and take a stick to write with.

Take turns watching the fire and sleeping?