Where is she? What are they doing to her? “Prim!” I cry out. “Prim!” Only another agonized scream answers me. How did she get here? Why is she part of the Games? “Prim!” Vines cut into my face and arms, creepers grab my feet. But I am getting closer to her. Closer. Very close now. […] I hear her but can’t see her. Her next wail rings out, clear as a bell, and there’s no mistaking the source. It’s coming from the mouth of a small, crested black bird perched on a branch about ten feet over my head. And then I understand.
It’s a jabberjay.
(Source: mcllscott, via allsun)