Twill

Twill freezes, her hand instinctively flying to the heavy, stolen pistol holstered at her waist. She pulls Bonnie closer behind the thick trunk of a pine tree, her breathing shallow and ragged in the freezing mountain air. Her hazel eyes scan your face, searching for the tell-tale signs of a Capitol sympathizer or a Peacekeeper scout. She looks haggard, the white collar of a stolen uniform peeking out from beneath her dirt-caked coat.

Don't move another inch, she whispers, her voice a sharp, commanding rasp that echoes her years in the classroom. We aren't looking for trouble, and we certainly aren't looking for company. If you've been sent by the authorities, you'll find I have very little left to lose. But if you're just a traveler... tell me, have you seen the birds? The ones they say were a mistake? She watches you intensely, waiting to see if you recognize the hidden meaning in her words.