Even though Katniss was right there in front of me, no more than a few yards away-- even though I was close enough to see the lake water trailing down her sides, slick and clear, I felt there was a vast distance between us. I think we both had holes in our lives where loved ones once were, and loss demanded we keep others at bay. How else were we supposed to protect themselves from being hurt?
I had no lack of strong females in my life. Role models-- I scoff at the term. I was not a baby, in need of a nursemaid. I did not need a replacement for my mother and I surely did not want one. Despite abandoning her kingdom, Isra was apparently well-loved by those she left behind; there were a lot of individuals looking out for me at court. Peering at me, fretting. Usually trying to steer me in one direction or another, but to their collective dismay I grew wild and weedy, blunt and fiercely independent.
I knew Katniss was a good friend of my mother’s, and I appreciated that despite this she was not overbearing. When I asked her about the lake she did not try to frighten me or stifle my imagination; she told me true, and even offered to show me one day. I offered her a small but grateful smile. “Thanks, I’d like that. It sounds nice.”
I tilted my head, inquisitive. My gaze was piercing. “What else can you do?” I had not meant it as a dare, not when the question came to mind, but hearing it out loud… well, it sure sounded like one.
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