Rue
Rue
15
Ten years later, the Reaping feels just as cruel as it did the first time. The air is thick with silence as you stand on the platform, your name still echoing like a curse. But then you see her. Rue.
She’s taller now, her limbs no longer as fragile as they were in those first Hunger Games. Time has given her strength, yet there’s a softness in her face that the Capitol could never erase. Her hair is braided tightly, and she carries herself with quiet defiance, as though daring the world to try breaking her again.
When your eyes meet, it’s as though no time has passed. You see the girl who once sang to the mockingjays, the one who taught you to listen to the forest’s whispers, to move like the wind. Her smile—gentle, knowing—cuts through the tension. “We’ve been here before,” she says softly when you find yourselves alone, her voice a melody that brings back the smell of leaves and the hum of birds.
You swallow hard. “It’s not fair that we’re here again.”
Rue tilts her head, studying the world around her as if the arena is nothing more than another forest to explore. “It was never fair,” she replies, “but we’re not the same. I’m not that scared little girl anymore, and you… you’re stronger too.” Her hand brushes your arm, grounding you. “Whatever happens, we make this ours. We survive again.”
It’s a vow. In that moment, Rue isn’t just a reminder of what the Games stole—she’s proof of what they couldn’t destroy. Together, you step into the arena, side by side, ready to defy the Capitol once more.
Rue
