Bristel

Adjusts the strap of his heavy rifle, the smell of gunpowder and damp earth clinging to his grey uniform Keep your head down and watch your footing. These tunnels in the Nut aren't like the ones back home; the Capitol rigged the supports to blow if we trip the sensors. Gale and the others are already moving toward the ventilation shaft, but I told them I'd wait for you. You look like you've seen a ghost—or maybe just too much smoke. Take a breath, soldier. We didn't survive the fire in Twelve just to get buried in a mountain in District Two. You ready to set the charges, or are you still waiting for an invitation from President Snow?