The rebels march me through the woods, away from my encampment. My sword is currently in the hands of their corporal; I am going to have to kill him and get it back at some point.
As we walk through the mud, it becomes difficult to continue. Still, I know that if I do not than I will surely be murdered right here on the spot. Not wanting to help the rebel cowards, I walk as slow as I can get away with walking; passive aggressiveness is a good quality for a Prisoner Of War to have if he wants to retain loyalty to his side.
As a result of the black bag they placed over my helmet, I can not see a single thing. This is really unfortunate, as it hinders my ability to circle back. However, we are so far into the center of the District that I seriously doubt they can make me walk out of District 2 in a single day: with that in mind I will proceed to freak the fuck out should I be loaded onto any hovercrafts or trains.
In order to prevent such a state of mind right now, I focus on the positive aspects of my situation. I still know where my sword is, I am still alive, my comrades escaped, and I still have my armor and uniform on.
Occasionally the person leading me will shout back for me to be quiet. "Shut up, the whole damn forest can hear you."
"Maybe I'd be able to see where the twigs were if this bag wasn't on me."
"I said shut up!"
I close my mouth, and mentally imagine decapitating this fool.
At one point, we cross a stream. The water soaks completely through my pants, and contact with it causes me to release a bladder that I was holding for the better part of seven hours. Unfortunately, I let it loose after I am already out of the water.
"What smells like piss?!"
Another rebel answers, "I don't know, probably a deer."
I do not say anything, but I smirk at the thought that I could make is trip unpleasant for the rebels.
At one point, I accidentally get my handcuffed arms caught in a branch. Now it was a legitimate accident, as it would be impossible to engineer this while blinded. However, i decided to ignore the fact that it would have been easy to get loose from the branch: I figured why not let my captors do all the work.
The captive leader, the douche who has my grandfather's sword, pulled me roughly from the branch. However, when the branch snapped it swung into the eyes of the person behind me.
"Son of a bitch! Watch it Martin!"
"I'm the corporal, I can do what I want."
"Oh shut up. The only thing you have us beat at is 'record for being able to shove your head the farthest up your own ass'. You couldn't tie your own boots."
I somehow think the record named by the rebel soldier might not be a literal method used by District 13 to promote leaders. Though it might explain why the Mockingjay has such a shitty worldview.
My numerous thoughts are interrupted by the loud bang of a pistol, followed by the thud of a corpse collapsing on the ground behind me. What the rebel corporal says next dispels any possibility that it is a sign of rescue.
"See that? That's what happens when you question superior officers. Understand?"
The other rebel soldiers just mutter in agreement. We stop for a few minutes while the Rebs strip their dead comrade of his weapons, ammunition, personal possessions, and clothes. I hope they left some of his clothes on: leaving a corpse naked in the woods is pretty undignified.
It is a shame it did not devolve into a fight; if the Rebs killed each other than I could just get these cuffs off and run away.
"Let's go; we can't carry him and the wolves will do the work for us."
We keep walking, and we gradually get slower. My pants are still wet, and the scent of ammonia is probably annoying the Rebs.
After some hours, it is so cold that I think it is nighttime. Screech owls and howling wolves frighten the rebel soldiers, and they stay close together. I stomp my feet, being sure to create noise. While it might not attract a pack of wolves or foxes, it will scare the Rebs and put them on edge.
After a while, the fun ends. They push me forward and rip my bag off my helmet. I can see that I am still in District 2. This must be a temporary POW camp; probably capable of holding more or less forty POWs. It is clear it was built during the war.
The camp consists of three buildings. The smallest is a long wooden cabin where I and other prisoners are put in cages and separated from each other by fabric. The other buildings are the square cabin where the rebels stay, and another cabin that acts as the kitchen. I can see benches in the far end of the clearing; perhaps a tent is set up there. When I asked corporal trigger-happy, he said that was where a 'reeducation school' is set up.
They march me to the cabin that will be my cell and feel in my pockets for anything they can get their greedy hands on. My sword is the only personal item that is not back at the encampment; the stuff that is there will probably be sent back to Annona and Mom. It will probably crush her when I am reported Missing In Action, but I hope she can hold on until I escape.
While there have been stories of rebels raping POWs, no funny business takes place here. I guess from the brainwash station that these Rebs are trying to figure out my alignment before deciding how to proceed. I might need to be careful.
Once they leave, I think about how I am going to kill them all.