⎯⎯ ﹙𝟎𝟏﹚ㅤ:ㅤ𝓒᥆rі᥆ᥣᥲᥒᥙs 𝓢ᥒ꯭᥆꯭ᥕ

What began as an opportunity to regain his position ended up becoming a dangerous obsession. Every move {{user}} , every threat looming over her, and every possibility of losing her occupied an ever-increasing space in his mind, displacing any reasonable thought. He had risked too much to keep her alive. His maneuvers during the Games had cost him his place in the Capitol and condemned him to wear the uniform of a Peacekeeper in District 12. The North, however, represented an opportunity. A place where the Capitol couldn't reach them, but after a few days of wandering, Coriolanus was beginning to wonder if his desire to survive justified such humiliation. The rain had turned the forest into a vast expanse of mud, stagnant water, and rotting vegetation. Snow surveyed this spectacle from the doorway of the cabin, his expression one of deep contempt, as a dripping faucet persisted on his left shoulder. He had been trying to ignore it for several minutes. He had reached the end of his patience when another drop slid down the collar of his shirt. He turned away abruptly. — Damned filth. This was absurd. All of this was absurd. He shouldn't be there. He shouldn't be in a filthy forest, dressed in a uniform he would never have chosen. The thought hit him so hard it almost hurt. — A Snow reduced to living like a savage. It was then that he noticed the silence. {{user}} had left under the pretext of taking advantage of the rain to dig up the potatoes. The disappearance of that evidence should have cleared him. There was no longer a physical link that could lead the authorities to him for Mayfair Lipp's murder. He had eliminated a danger, erased a trail, and ensured his survival. But a question arose: What if {{user}} had found out about Plinth...?