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chapter nineteen
MONARCHS OF GREEN GROVE

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Minnie's concerned moo's and grunts echo from the next stall over, her hooves anxiously scraping against the dirt. Almanzo pats the mother cow comfortingly as he softly shushes her. He peers over Sage's shoulder as she works meticulously and steadily on the weanling's stitches in the orange glow of the barn. The measured dose of Luna Navarro's homegrown valerian works its herbal magic as the dairy cow's baby lays unconscious along a table with a freshly washed linen cloth.

"You almost done?"

"Shh."

Dark brows pinched together in thought, Sage's fingers finish the final knot with medical precision. She places the bloodied tools onto a rag, and a ceramic bowl with a the chip on the rim from when Colt used it as a helmet while they all played soldiers as children houses her clean and reusable ones.

She can feel her older brother's intrigued eyes, but ignores them as she seals the sutures with a sterilized bandage. It'll do little good, since her patient is a weanling with no concept of dirt and germs, but it's worth a try. There's always the cone of shame her mother constructed out of an old lampshade. Sage inspects her handiwork one more time. Then another, and another, ensuring the gash just below Flora's shoulder is sealed safely.

"Now I'm done." Sage straightens with a sigh, her spine aching from being hunched over her work. She wipes the blood from her hands on a nearby cloth, tossing the parts that are no longer reusable.  She eyes Flora's sleeping form once more. "She should be waking up any minute now. The dose I gave her was a little stronger than I anticipated."

Minnie's nose points up into the air, and the wall of the stall shakes as she tries to peek over. Her nostrils flare and huff in heavy, irritated breaths. Sage smiles lightly as she offers the mother cow a sympathetic pat. "Your baby's just fine, sweet girl. Gotta keep her from ramming into fence posts."

"She's got her mother's rebellious streak," Almanzo adds. Sage knows exactly what he's talking about. She'll never forget the fear that ran through her as she raced to the edge of the property to find Minnie surrounded by all those coyotes in the middle of birth.

Almanzo glances in Sage's direction as he helps his sister clean up her station. He puts the repurposed lamp shade around Flora's neck. Her eyelashes flutter drowsily in response. "You look like Ma when you do all that."

"Mama's stitches are neater than mine. She always lines them up perfectly."

Her brother frowns, narrowed gaze sweeping across his sister's handiwork. Whatever she sees, he doesn't, shaking his head incredulously. "Looks as straight as a post to me."

Sage almost mentions the third to last stitch is a bit crooked, but thinks better of it. Instead, she merely shrugs, starting toward the newest addition of the Navarro family farm. A new sink, the pipes of the old one rusting out and cracking. Finally, her family has had no choice but to accept their daughter's offers in well-deserved gifts. She turns the faucet, cold water gushing into the stainless steel sink. She washes and sterilizes her tools carefully, replacing the blades as needed.

Another benefit of her victory. Rather than hoping her and her mother's sterilization of the tools is safe enough for their cows, she now has money and access to replace them and avoid the risk of infection. A luxury many are not gifted.

"Erabelle's been dying to show you what she grew for the Monarch Festival," Almanzo says, carefully leading Minnie to greet her drowsy baby. He does the best can to ensure she keeps a safe distance. Her nose twitches and sniffs as she inspects, but her tail does start to wag. "Her and Coretta have been working hard all summer."

"Tending to her own garden now, huh?" Sage grins lightly.

"She overwatered her first batch. Practically drowned the poor things. She's got the hang of it now though."

"Will there be enough for us to take tomorrow?" Sage runs her damp and freshly cleaned hands through a towel.

Her gaze drifts up toward the crooked shelf above her head, dust and dirt collecting over the trinkets again. An old horseshoe, a box of nails for the posts, a soldier figurine with its legs chewed off from Indigo getting a hold of it, and an old camera that's long run out of film.

"Mama and Pa usually share, Colt always insists on having his own, Shiloh, you and Coretta— Ptolemus and I can share..."

Almanzo takes a bit longer to answer than she'd like from that last comment. Or maybe it's all just in her head. She hears him straining with the stall gate. "Yeah, that should be fine." Her oldest brother's footsteps pad in her direction as he waits patiently for his turn at the sink. "You can head inside, I'll finish the cleanup. You did all the hard work anyway."

Quietly obliging, Sage strides through the maternity ward of her family's barn. As she passes the other rows of stalls, some of the dairy cows moo at her footsteps, while others ignore or watch her with their big warm eyes. The lights are on in her family's farmhouse, and she stalks up the porch, the second step always creaking. Their screen door slams behind her as she enters into the crowded kitchen/dining room.

"How's the little troublemaker?" Mrs. Navarro asks, scrubbing at the last of the dishes. Mr. Navarro stands by her side to dry and put them away neatly.

"Better now," Sage sighs tiredly. She heaves herself into a kitchen chair, joining Shiloh, Coretta and Erabelle around the table. It looks like her brother and niece are in an intense face-off of Go Fish. She peeks over at Erabelle's cards, before giving her a playful and approving grin. "She can have her stitches removed next Sunday."

"She about gave me a heart attack when I saw her all bloodied and limping like that," Coretta adds, sipping from her tea.

Sage nods in understanding. "It wasn't as bad as it looked." Then she straightens, noting a missing presence. Shiloh huffs when Erabelle lays down another book smugly. Sage's eyes comb the room before peering at her parents. "Speaking of troublemakers, where's Colt?"

Clearly a sore subject, because Mrs. Navarro huffs. "Yes, Shiloh, where is your brother Colt, hm?"

"He said he was going to Falling Springs with some guys from the Dairy, Ma," Shiloh repeats. His eyes narrow in concentration while he studies his cards.

The drain of the sink gurgles as she pulls the plug. "And when did he say he'd be back?"

A shrug. "I don't know."

"You should know."

"Why am I in charge of knowing where he wanders off to?"

"Because he's your brother," Mr. Navarro interjects. "And you're the only one he relayed his plans to."

Sage watches Shiloh carefully at that. He must feel it, because his gaze nervously darts in her direction briefly. He straightens to cover up a frown as he licks his lips, returning his stare toward Erabelle. "Got any two's?"

"Nope," she denies proudly. "Go fish."

He begrudgingly reaches for another card from the pile. She's just about to ask him for some four's when there's the sound of boots padding up the porch, the second step creaking twice. Almanzo enters through the screen door, a familiar curly-haired figure striding in behind him.

"Colt!" Mrs. Navarro places her hands on her hips as she peers at her youngest son. "You nearly gave your mother a heart attack. It's getting dark out."

"Sorry, Ma." He notes Sage perched in his usual chair, and ruffles her hair so that it falls into her face, much to her annoyance. When she swipes at his hand he grins devilishly. "I was helping set up the Festival."

Everyone frowns. Sage glances between Shiloh and Colt as she raises a brow. "Shiloh said you were with friends from the Dairy."

She swears Colt pauses. Or maybe it's just a figment of her imagination. Shiloh bores his stare into his cards again as her other brother shrugs. "Yeah, we were all helping out with the Festival. Jeez." His gaze and focus shifts to the pots of zinnias and echinaceas waiting patiently on the side table. He scoops one up to inspect as he turns to face Erabelle with a big grin. "Qué hermosa, Erabelle. All the butterflies are going to want our flowers on Sunday."

Almanzo kisses his wife on the cheek before lifting a proud Erabelle out of her seat, taking her place and allowing her to sit on his lap instead. Another kiss and a poke at her nose, to which she blushes and sheepishly hides her face into her father's neck.

"Speaking of Sunday," Shiloh starts, placing his cards down in defeat. "Is Ptolemus coming to the Festival with us?"

Sage raises her brows at his diversion. Suddenly, all the stares in the room are centered on her, some more neutral than others. While her mother, father and sister-in-law blink warmly with open-minds, it's clear all her brothers still hold their separate reservations. Again, some more subtle than others.

"I was hoping he might," Sage says, drumming her fingers along the table. "I'm going to pick him up in Falling Springs tomorrow morning."

"You sure he isn't going to get lost?" Colt snorts.

"His Escort Deverra has it all arranged."

"Ha! His Escort? You mean one of those idiots like Philo?"

"She seems a bit more organized, actually."

"Well that's a shame," Colt mutters bitterly.

Erabelle peeks out from her father's neck with a devious glint in her eye. "Are you two going to kiss again?"

Almanzo shushes his daughter lightly.

"He'll be needing to help with chores if he's coming tomorrow," her father adds pointedly. He puts away the last dish from dinner. "Tomorrow's Tally Day. When Peacekeeper Garrison comes it's all gotta be ready for the truck."

Colt raises a hand in the air as if he were in class. "I vote he gets to clean out the stalls."

Annoyance ripples down her spine, and she inhales a sharp breath through her nose. "Would you be nice? You haven't even met him and you're already thinking of ways to make his time miserable."

Mrs. Santiago gives her son a steady look. "We are to be hospitable hosts, Mijos."

"I didn't say anything," Shiloh defends, wrinkling his nose.

"You don't have to," says Colt. "You've got that whole look on your face that screams you agree with me."

"That's always his face," Almanzo adds. Shiloh, clearly offended throws his hands into the air with bewilderment. "You don't have to be so hard on Sage or her—"

"Boyfriend?" He wrinkles his nose and gags for dramatic effect. "Is that what he is now?"

"Yes," Sage interjects sharply.

Everyone stills at that clarification. Sage isn't sure as to why it's such a shock. After all, they've seen the tabloids, the segments about them on the news, and they know of all her summons to spend time with him in The Capitol. They even know all the parts The Capitol doesn't. Like his words of comfort as she tried to maneuver the painful and excruciating life of a Mentor this summer. They know how he was there for her.

Perhaps they were all just waiting for her to say it.

Erabelle is the one to break the silence as her lips slowly quirk into a teasing grin. "Ptolemus and Sage sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—"

Coretta offers her a stern, motherly look. "Mija."

━━━━

Sage waits beside the post nervously, Sunshine's reins tied neatly while Colt looms on top of his painted horse— Hero. He makes no attempts to slide off his saddle as he chews on pink bubblegum. One of his only requests for Sage to bring on her visits.

Meanwhile, the rest of Falling Springs's population mind their business, maneuvering through the small town. Some of them make attempts to arrange for the Monarch Festival coming up. Others know it's Tally Day, the dairy trucks preparing for their routes of the day. After collecting the milk each day from the farms to transport to the local Dairy, the collectors tally up which farm manufactured the most product for the week, earning themselves a modest bonus that for some can mean dinner or going hungry.

A bubble pops loudly while both of them just watch the empty tracks. Sage thinks she sees a glimmer of silver in the horizon when Colt huffs. "He's late."

"Last I checked, he isn't the conductor of the train."

"Probably couldn't figure it out if he tried," Colt sneers, blowing another bubble.

Sage scowls, glaring at her brother. If she could reach, she might flick him in the ear. "Could you? You barely remember to close the gate when you're done with chores so all the cows don't roam loose."

"That was one time."

"Four, actually. Look who still sucks at math."

"Same thing." Colt dismisses as he adjusts himself along Hero.

The horse's ears prick in recognition of something, and so do Sunshine's. The gleam of silver that Sage wondered if she really saw grows bigger in the horizon, and beneath the town chatter, she swears she can hear that eerie whistle all the bullet trains produce.

"I still don't get what you see in this guy."

"Have you listened to anything I've told you about him?" She shakes her head. "He's been my only friend in that city, and you know that."

"Yeah, but there's always a catch with those people," he argues. Colt's unforgiving gaze settles on one of the Peacekeepers looming along the platform readily. That silver speck storming right for Falling Springs's station morphs into a train, almost seeming to manifest out of thin air. The whistle maintains its pitch. "I don't trust him, and neither should you."

"Well I do."

Her heart picks up its pace, hiccuping in her chest once the train finally slows to a graceful stop. This is it. He's here, he's here, he's here. After two months of attempting to plan and prep this entire visit, he's finally here. She watches very carefully, waiting for the doors to open.

Colt wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Did you even pay attention to his Games? Are you forgetting he killed his own District partner?"

She exhales shortly through her nose, lips parting to argue, when a familiar figure steps out onto the platform with a backpack slung over his shoulders. He hands it to the Peacekeeper for inspection. Her brother unfortunately isn't done yet.

"Dude has no hon—Holy shit he's tall."

Both Sage and Ptolemus lock gazes, and the moment they do, she starts forward to greet him, barely able to contain the anxious but girlish grin on her features. He quickly descends down the platform stairs, his long strides covering just as much distance as her excited ones. They meet somewhere in the middle, leaning into the other's open arms. A few stares bore in their direction while Colt rolls his eyes. Thankfully, no cameras yet, Deverra planning to leak his visit just as he's about to leave again so they might have a semblance of privacy.

Ptolemus's heart has been racing out of his chest faster than that damn bullet train. He tried pacing to exert all the extra nervous energy on the way to Ten, but then Deverra told him he'd put a hole in the floor, which was her nice way of telling him to sit down before she made him. Now he's standing upright again, breath tumbling out of his chest and leading the way as he draws the girl he's here for into his arms. She grounds him a bit, even when she pulls away, her bright grin gleaming more than the District Ten sun.

"You made it," Sage breathes, combing her gaze across his figure. "Welcome to District Ten. Again."

He smiles. Already, he feels a bead of sweat trickling down his spine, and he pinches at the collar of his shirt. The glare from the sun is blinding as he squints. "Is it always this hot?"

"You get used to it after a while." She turns to walk, wrapping her hands around his spare arm. She leads him to where her and Colt's horses wait.

Ptolemus peers around what he presumes is her town through the sun's glare. Several shops and homes line the roads and alleys, there being no sign of cars, only horses. Even a Peacekeeper or two remains perched on one, looming and watching like vultures. An engine sputters from down the road, and when he glances, he notes a large steely tanker waiting. In the distance, he can see a few pastures and what he assumes are dairy farms. To the North, where he just came, there's a silhouette of a massive factory of sorts— probably a dairy. Her hometown appears nowhere near as commercialized as Ten's capitol of Fairfort.

"So this is Green Grove?" he asks.

"Not quite. This is Falling Springs." She smiles wryly. "The train doesn't run all the way to Green Grove, too small of a town, so we've gotta ride the rest of the way."

Ptolemus's brows furrow uneasily, a nagging feeling building in his gut. When he finally follows her gaze up to where she's been leading him this whole time, the nagging feeling is confirmed. Sunshine stomps her foot impatiently as her ears twitch at their approach. Her black coat shines beneath the burning sun, and he swears her eyes side-glance him supsiciously.

"Meet Sunshine," Sage grins, patting her horse affectionately. Ptolemus eyes her warily, a corner of his lips tugging upward to mask his nerves.

Someone clears their throat. His stare follows the sound to a curly-haired boy around his age perched on a horse with markings that remind him of paint splatters. Once Ptolemus meets his scrutinizing gaze, he raises his brows, his hat casting shadows over his features. He has the same dimple on his chin that Sage does.

Sage grinds her teeth together, but quickly recovers and maintains her light tone. "And meet one of my brothers, Colt."

Ptolemus side-steps around Sunshine, trying to glance at her inconspiculously before extending his hand up to Colt. "Hey man, nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Colt just stares at his hand silently. He sizes Ptolemus up with an unforgiving gaze, and the Victor from Two feels himself faltering. He awkwardly clears his throat, slowly allowing his hand to drop to his side when it seems he won't be shaking it. This is just one of her brothers... he still has to meet two more. Colt blows another bubble and pops it loudly.

He must not feel Sage's glare, or more than likely, he's choosing to ignore it. She huffs shortly through her nose as she forces another smile. "Sorry. My brother's horse has more manners than he does."

Uncomfortable and embarrassed, she glances back in the direction of home, before sliding toward Sunshine's flank. The pillion saddle waits readily to carry two. She raises her brows like a dare at Ptolemus as she pats the leather and padding. "You wanna drive?"

The Victor from Two simply blinks, eyeing the giant beast before him stiffly. He adjusts his backpack over his shoulders, an awkward chuckle rumbling in his throat as he scratches his cheek. He nods and tries to shake his head all at once. "No, no, that's all you. I can just... do I sit—" he points awkwardly to the back pad. She nods patiently in recognition to his gesture. "I sit here?"

"Mhm." She grabs onto the cantle along the back of the first seating pad. "Just grab onto here, and put your foot in the stirrup."

He licks his lips nervously, heart racing so loud he can barely hear her directions. He swears Sunshine is side-eyeing him again as he reaches for where she gestured. "Right here?"

"Mhm, then your foot—"

"Which one?"

Colt snickers.

"Your left foot goes in the stirrup." She hovers a hand beside him as he anxiously follows her guidance. He takes a wild and lucky guess at what she means when she says the term "stirrup." Sunshine's ears prick when she feels the weight of his foot in the stirrup, and he freezes. "Don't worry, she's used to it. Just hoist yourself up and swing your other leg over."

"You sure she doesn't mind?"

Colt snorts, lips curling into an amused sneer as he watches the flustered Legacy. "You've really killed people?"

Sage would throw her shoe at him if he weren't on Hero. "Colt!" Now she's flustered too, a hiss of a breath whistling through her teeth as she huffs. She glances back toward Ptolemus, and her cheeks flush crimson. "I'm sorry, he's actually the worst."

He shakes his head, trying to gain the courage to heave his body weight up to slide onto the saddle."No it's okay, I get it, it's an odd fea— She's not gonna like, bite me or something right?"

"They only bite if you get on their bad side," Colt cautions.

Ptolemus hears the warning crystal clear, and he's not so sure Sage's brother is talking completely about horses. With a breathy nod, he grinds his together and bites the bullet. By bullet, he finally shifts his weight and hoists himself up.

At first, he's scared to use all his weight, but with another push off from the ground, he heaves himself up onto the saddle relatively smoothly. It feels surreal and disorienting being this high off the ground. Not necessarily due to the height— heights don't bother him. It more so has to do with the giant breathing beast beneath him that holds him so high, feeling her belly expand against his calves with each inhale of her lungs.

Just when he seems to be gathering his bearings, a smaller figure swings herself far more gracefully in front of him. Suddenly, the crown of Sage's head nearly bumps into his chin, and he almost loses his balance again. He grabs onto the side of the saddle to steady himself. Ptolemus blinks in bewilderment at how quickly and effortlessly she mounted her horse. She made it all look so easy.

Colt clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth impatiently, directing Hero with his reins in the direction of what must be home. He doesn't even glance behind to see if the two are following as he starts off into the horizon.

Sage reaches back for Ptolemus's hands, guiding them gently to wrap around her waist. He feels his cheeks warm, and not just from the sun. She smiles. "We'll go slow. Just hold on in case. Alright?"

Before he can agree, the body beneath him moves, startling him. Instinctively, his grip on Sage tightens, and she stifles a chuckle. Carefully, she directs Sunshine to follow Hero to Green Grove. Ptolemus watches her hooves pound against the ground with each stride while feeling each muscle and bone move. Part of him is mesmerized, another part terrified. He's been pulled by the horses from the chariots during his Games, but that was different. He could almost ignore them as much as they could ignore him, their focus on their path and his on the crowd chanting his name.

Eventually, he manages to pull his stare away from the hooves and lift it toward his surroundings. There's nothing but land and a few pastures patchworked in between, dairy cows wandering within their perimeters. He can make out a few farmhouses and barns, but it's scarce. From what he remembers about Ten, despite the small population, they're very spread out across the District.

After about twenty minutes of lightly trotting on horseback, they must arrive to Sage's small town. Ptolemus can easily see why it's called Green Grove, the greenery lush and abundant compared to Falling Springs or some of the other towns the train passed on the way here. They follow a trail worn by footsteps (and a few tire tracks from the trucks), passing maybe three to four small farmhouses and their accompanying barns before turning down a winding path.

Some trees sprout up to conceal the Navarro property. Another five minutes of delving deep into the grove, and the trees die out to reveal green open pastures. Ptolemus drinks the landscape in as if it were a painting. But no painting could truly capture how humble yet breathtaking the scene is. Through the gate is an old white farmhouse with a rusting roof, the barn long and sturdy across from it. It has to house two-hundred cows. Isn't that what she mentioned to him once?

Ptolemus feels his heart rate pick up even more as they close the distance between themselves and the farmhouse, rounding the porch and starting toward a row of posts. Colt is already tying up Hero when the Victor from Two notes the figures waiting patiently in front of the house. He remembers the gift he brought weighing down his pack along with clothes and other toiletries. Sage slides off Sunshine in a blink, offering her hand up to Ptolemus with a smile. He gratefully takes it as he tries to dismount the horse with some grace.

Sage pats his bicep comfortingly and warmly, leaning forward for a whisper. Both of them try to ignore the various pairs of eyes watching them in anticipation. "Just a heads up, they're planning to make you work."

"Like chores or for their approval?"

"Both."

Well... good thing he's a hard worker.

They turn toward the Navarro family waiting along the porch. He exhales a shaky breath as her fingers lightly intertwine with his, her guidance gently leading the way. At first, he isn't sure of where to look, there so many eyes taking him in, except for Colt, who mumbles something into what he presumes one of her brother's ears. He looks a little younger too. Maybe Shiloh? Whoever he is, he seems to find amusement in what Colt has whispered. Ptolemus just nods and smiles in everyone's direction.

Sage leads them up to the top step of the porch. "Guys, I have someone very special I've been wanting you to meet. This is Ptolemus."

The Legacy tries to make eye contact with them all as he waves to no one in particular, smiling. "Hi. It's a pleasure to meet you."

One pair of eyes standing barely four feet tall looks up at him with an unreadable gaze as she clings to her mother's skirt. After a while, Erabelle grins. "He's not so scary, Uncle Colt."

Colt pales. Children always have such a way of being honest.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Luna Navarro starts forward. She offers a hand to shake warmly. "I'm Mrs. Navarro, Sage's proud mama. We've been dying to meet you."

He's a bit startled by her friendliness toward him. Then again, it's clear where Sage gets her warmth.

He smiles and shakes her hand, only for another hand to offer itself toward him. This one is callused and worn with the tip of his ring finger missing. Santiago Navarro offers a close-lipped smile as he introduces himself as Sage's father. It isn't long before the first brother, who is practically a clone of Mr. Navarro with his beard, shakes his hand too. He introduces himself as Zo, but it isn't hard for Ptolemus to put it together that this is Almanzo, Sage's oldest brother. His wife Coretta, the woman Erabelle clings to, bids him a kind and friendly grin. Shiloh doesn't budge from his perch along the railing beside Colt, but he does at least nod and bid a quiet "Hello" in Ptolemus's direction.

The warmth on this porch slowly settles his nerves. Make no mistake, they're still there, but this is a better greeting than he could've expected.

"Let me take your bag for you," Mrs. Navarro offers, already kindly pulling it off his shoulders. He obliges as he allows her to slide it from his form, murmuring quiet gratitude. "We've cleared off the couch for you. It pulls out into a bed for you to sleep if you're still staying for the Festival."

"So long as those three don't scare you away," Coretta teases lightly, gesturing toward her husband and two brother-in-laws. While Almanzo takes his wife's joke with stride, Colt folds his arms across his chest, still glowering from his end of the porch.

Before he can laugh, a worn hand gently squeezes his shoulder, almost causing him to jump. The grip isn't anything like his father's though, just steady and firm. Mr. Navarro's pleasant gaze studies him.

"Hope you're not too tired from your train ride."

Ptolemus clears his throat to conjure his voice. "Not at all, Sir. They go so fast you're there in a blink."

"Well that's good then," he smiles. "Because chores unfortunately do not."

━━━━

Ptolemus is not ignorant to the labor people of Two endure when they are not a Victor nor training to become one. He's heard the stories of the mines, the quarries and the weapon manufacturers, and he's seen them imprinted on the hands and faces of the workers he's passed on the street. Even through his best friend Gunnar, he's heard of every ounce of strength and energy that goes into producing goods for The Capitol. And that's just from a District that is notoriously favored and well-fed.

He imagined it being hard work to run a farm and care for the animals. But he never quite imagined the ache in his back or the fatigue blanketing the soles of his feet from standing on them all day.

First chore on the farm: milking. Each cow producing milk needs to be milked twice a day, sometimes three. While the larger dairy farms of the Dairy Sector have a few machines to spare, the Navarros have no choice but to do it the old fashioned way. Then they have to carefully transport it to the refrigerated tank out back so the milk doesn't spoil before the truck can cart it away.

Second chore on the farm: feeding. Not just for the two-hundred cows either. There's the four cattle dogs, Indy, Amos, Walker and old Ellie, who's still fighting against old age to do what she loves best— herding. Then there's the horses. Sunshine, Hero, Dream, Copper and Lucky. At first, Ptolemus doesn't understand how Sage's family is able to take care of all these extra animals, but once they explain the rationale, it all makes sense.

One thing about The Capitol— they have no problem offering plenty of food for the animals it takes to run a farm and deliver them to their plate one day. As Sage's father says, ribs are only good with meat on the bone. The people it takes to raise and feed them? Not so much. Luckily for the Navarro family, they live somewhere more private and secretly abundant like Green Grove, whereas those from Fairfort, The Horn, Saeville and Mabel are not so fortunate.

Third chore on the farm: letting out the cows to roam the pastures. It takes a lot of organization, leadership, and teamwork to corrall and lead animals with their own minds right where you want them to go. The dogs certainly help.

Fourth chore on the farm: while all the cows are out chewing up grasses, clean the stalls. This is easily Ptolemus's least favorite job. Colt seems to notice too, and he savors every moment of it.

Fifth chore on the farm: check all the fencing around each pasture and fix it as needed. Currently, that's the chore Ptolemus is on now, paired off with the brother who seems to dislike him the most— Colt. They're inspecting the northwest pasture when they seem to find something out of place.

Colt curses under his breath at the sight of one of the posts down in the dirt, the fencing tangled beneath it. The wood is rotted and long due for change, hence its collapse. He crouches down to inspect the wiring, careful not to prick his fingers from the barbs, before mumbling to himself. "At least that's salvagable."

"Anything I can help with?" Ptolemus asks, scratching at his cheek as he shifts his weight awkwardly.

Colt just swats a dismissive and annoyed hand in his direction, ignoring him as he starts toward the wood and tools Hero's been dragging. Perhaps he's still annoyed at having to ride the horse to this pasture with Ptolemus awkwardly on the back. The Legacy flinches when Colt whips out a hatchet, the blade gleaming.

He snags the belt of tools and a shovel as well, before pointing toward the new post with the small ax. "Grab that, will ya?"

Ptolemus obliges, stalking toward the post, carefully rounding behind Hero in a manner that keeps plenty of distance from him and his back leg. He almost learned the hard way during Chore Two that you never walk right behind a horse— especially unexpectedly. He must be far away enough, because Hero pays him no mind, chewing happily on the grasses beneath his feet.

With a grunt, Ptolemus hoists the five foot beam onto his shoulder and carries it to where Colt's begun hacking and digging at the old one. It doesn't take much to free the wiring, the wood rotted and dead. Ptolemus can't help but wonder if the use of the hatchet is just for show.

"Where do you want it?" the Victor asks.

Colt nods somewhere aimless. "Just lay it down there. We still gotta weave the fencing into anchors."

The wood thuds onto the ground as Ptolemus tosses it lightly where he gestured. More curses under Colt's breath while he fiddles with his tools and the anchors. The sun beats down on them both, and Ptolemus awkwardly glances around the property. In the distance, he spots two more horses striding toward them. Shiloh and Almanzo probably already done with checking their pastures.

A hiss through clenched teeth gathers his attention again, and he glances down to Colt shaking his bleeding finger, pricked by the barbs on the wire. Ptolemus shifts his weight. "Do you want me to try?"

"You know what?" Colt huffs, sucking at his wound. He sits back and shrugs. "Be my guest. Because you definitely know how to do it."

Ptolemus's lips form a tight line at the boy's hostility, ignoring it as he crouches down. He inspects the wiring carefully and hesitantly, before glancing down at the next standing post, noting how it's anchored neatly. He has absolutely no idea what he's doing. Slowly, he tries to mimic the other handiwork, navigating carefully to avoid pricking his own fingers.

"So." Colt clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth loudly. "Why my sister? Couldn't get anyone back home to like you? Because I find that hard to believe. Seems like everyone adores your family."

A soft hum of amusement vibrates in Ptolemus's throat at that last comment. "That's because they don't know them."

"You didn't answer my question." He grabs a nail for one of the anchors, drawing a tally into the dirt. "Another concern about you."

Oof.

Ptolemus ignores the boy's glare boring into his cheek as he draws his attention back to his handiwork. The wiring seems to actually cooperate with his attempts, fortunately. The Legacy sighs. "Well, to answer your question, I pursued your sister because..." The list of everything he loves about Sage is so long and always growing, he isn't even sure where to start. He thinks of that warmth he felt in his chest when she first smiled at him. "Well, she's—"

"Ugh, none of that lovesick bullshit about how great and pretty she is," Colt interjects, narrowing his gaze at him beneath the shadows of his hat. He's only pointing the wooden end of the hatchet in his direction, but he still feels mildly threatened as his brows furrow quizzically, lips parted dumbly.

"We know she's great. We're her family. We wanna know why you, a Career from Two who volunteered to kill people, is suddenly interested in bothering her."

Ptolemus frowns. Colt isn't done yet as he waves the handle of the hatchet in his face.

"And I don't care that you're good with a sword or freakishly tall, buddy, I'll kill you right here and now and let Hero stomp on your no good—"

"I'm not trying to bother her," Ptolemus interrupts, hardly flinching at the boy's threats. He can hear how empty they are anyway, hollow in the breeze. He sees them for what they really are. If Alessandra were alive, he might be giving this speech to some other poor sap. He shakes his head lightly as he straightens in his crouch. "I'm just... trying to protect her."

A pause. Colt clearly wasn't expecting that as he simply just stares, the rigidity of his bones slowly slackening like a string no longer being yanked on. The boy blinks, studying Ptolemus silently and warily. Whatever he's looking for, probably deception or underlying conditions, he won't find it.

Colt suddenly straightens and shakes his head, barking out a firm and demanding, "Why?"

"Because," Ptolemus shrugs, the answer so simple to him. "Because she doesn't deserve to go through what I went through. What any of us went through. She's... one of the most amazing people I've ever met. And she protects me too— without me even asking her to."

"She gets that from our Mama," Colt agrees stiffly. His eyes cast down to the dirt. "Always trying to help everybody."

Ptolemus nods quietly. Silence ensues besides the breeze and a few birds chirping. Horses hooves pound closer, Shiloh and Almanzo approaching from their pasture. Colt must not notice, or must not care as he continues.

"When she was reaped? It was like a bomb went off in our whole house. Mama was crying all the time, Pa was sick with worry, me, Zo and Shiloh were all so angry and tense. Coretta tried to hide Erabelle from seeing too much. We mostly get out of watching the Games closely since we're so isolated from everyone else but... we all watched, every second of it. Every single frame I wondered if that was going to be the last memory I'd have of my baby sister alive. Bleeding out or screaming for her life or curled up into a ball dying of hunger. We've never felt so powerless— I've never felt so powerless."

He rubs at something in his eye. Then he inhales a sharp breath, shaking his head. "She has been the biggest pain in my ass since she was born, and she's such a know-it-all, and a goodie-two-shoes, but she's my little sister and I would die for in her a heartbeat. And that's the only kind of people who deserve to be in her life. The kind that would die for her. Because everyone knows Sage is the kind of girl who would do it for them in a heartbeat."

"So when you say that you're trying to protect her, you better mean that. Because Zo, Shiloh and I can only do so much from here. And we're angry. We're angry for what they've done to our little sister. They're just better at hiding it than I am."

Ptolemus doesn't get to say anything in response before the hooves are brought to a halt, Shiloh and Almanzo joining just in time. He's unsure whether they've heard anything of their conversation, but he can feel their stares.

When he tries to glance in their direction, he catches what he believes is Almanzo's silhouette in front of the glaring sun. He stares down at his youngest brother. "What are you making him do this for?"

Colt shrugs, averting his gaze as he stands from the ground. He puts the hatchet back in his sheath. "He said he wanted to help."

"Did you even show him how to do it?" Almanzo demands incredulously. He doesn't let Colt answer, huffing before turning to Ptolemus, who's now suddenly very self-conscious of his handiwork. "Sorry, he shouldn't have made you do all that. I got it from here."

"You sure?"

Almanzo nods, and Ptolemus takes that as his cue. The oldest Navarro brother begins scolding the other in Spanish, or at least with a tone he thinks is scolding. His words sink into him as he approaches a quiet Shiloh. He's surprised when the man offers him a canteen of water. He nods in gratitude before taking a few measured sips. Within twenty minutes, Almanzo and Colt have the post standing sturdily in the ground, the fence repaired and as good as new.

By the time they finish with the last of their chores, which includes herding the cows back in for the night, a second feeding, and helping Peacekeeper Garrison and the tanker driver with collecting their product from their own tank, Ptolemus is exhausted. However, after a brief and cold shower, he does muster up some strength to assist and ask Mrs. Navarro about her own homemade recipes. She finally unwraps the gift he brought them all, it being a tall and elegant vase for flowers.

"Mija told me you loved my chili," she reveals contently.

Ptolemus's mouth waters just at the thought of it. "It was delicious."

While they don't have chili for dinner, they do have a chicken dish lathered in a golden sauce over potatoes and rice. Instead of eating at the dinner table, they congregate around a fire made by Coretta and Sage. When the Victor from Ten finally sits next to Ptolemus at dinner, he realizes this is the most he's seen her since this morning, both of them tending to their own tasks. She squeezes his hand comfortingly, and he squeezes back. Neither of them say a word just yet.

Almanzo eventually breaks out his harmonica while Coretta strums her guitar lightly. Erabelle ropes Ptolemus into a round of Go Fish, and then another, and another, and another, until eventually her mother shoos her off for bed. Colt tosses a ball into the inky night for the dogs, all four of them vying to bring it back until they eventually allow Old Ellie to reign victorious out of respect, the old dog trotting back proudly.

Mr. Navarro is telling Ptolemus all his corny jokes, and Shiloh draws the constellations from the sky into the dirt, explaining their meaning and how you can use them if you're ever lost. He finds himself staring up at them with a new appreciation as the crisp night air lulls his rigid body into ease.

It's when he's with Sage's family, watching and listening, that he understands how she's so open and loving. Another warmth dances through him calmly like the cooling fire in front of him. He draws circles into Sage's hand beside him as he listens intently to another one of Mrs. Navarro's folktales before she also retires for the evening.

Slowly, one by one, each member of Sage's family slowly peels off from the evening in anticipation of the next day. The Festival. Each time they bid him a polite goodnight, they call out to the others of the family the same phrase, "Deep as the canyons!" to which the rest respond, "Tall as the sky!" It's once he and Sage are the last ones around the fire that he decides to ask her about it.

"It's something our grandmother used to say to us. 'Deep as the canyons, tall as the sky, that's how much I love you,'" she quotes, eyes glimmering warmly with a memory. The fire casts a gorgeous glow along her features.

Something inside him aches. "That's beautiful."

Sage smiles. Then her gaze shifts back toward the dark barn, the herding dogs taking their place with the cows. She squeezes his hand again before heaving her body out of the chair. "I have to check on Flora. Want to come with me?"

Ptolemus stands too, still clutching her hand. "Sure. Who's Flora?"

They stride into the barn hand in hand, some of the lights still dimly lit along the ceiling. They maneuver past the rows of full stalls, most of the cows sleeping now, a few only watching curiously. "She's Minnie's baby. I helped her when she was in labor with her this spring. Nearly gave me a heart attack while doing it too."

"Did something go wrong?"

"Well, it's not often you have to keep coyotes away while coaching mama through the birth." Sage chuckles because she can laugh at it now. "Let's just say she wasn't the only one who was stressed."

Jeez. Farm life really isn't for him. Eventually, he follows her all the way to the maternity ward, a few calves and their mothers sleeping. Sage leads him toward Minnie's pen.

Sure enough, her weanling, Flora, still wears her cone of shame, nestled as close as she can be to her mother. Sage crouches down to inspect her stitches. Minnie's eyes snap open at their arrival, and she blinks at them in a daze. Ptolemus's own stare drifts at their surroundings, noting the fairly modern sink, various medical tools, and the shelf of knick-knacks looming above. One item he recognizes as a camera.

"I should change her bandages tomorrow morning," Sage decides, studying the two cows carefully. "No sense in waking her up now and trying to pry her away from her mom again."

"What happened to her? Coyotes?"

Sage shakes her head. "No, nothing that extreme. Young cows tend to be reckless. She turned to run and wasn't paying attention where she was going and bam. Fence post to the shoulder."

He recalls the broken one from the pasture earlier today. Just as his lips part for another question, Sage turns back to face him, peering up at him lightly beneath the dim glow of the barn. It's when he looks down to her that he realizes how long it's been since he's kissed her. Fingers still intertwined, her empty palm finds his chest, feeling it rise and fall while he finds her waist.

"So. Have they scared you off?" she asks, playing with the collar of his shirt mindlessly.

Ptolemus raises his brows, whistling lowly at that. "Almost. I don't think Colt cares for me very much, but..." A corner of his lips tugs upward teasingly, and she rolls her eyes at the mention of her youngest brother. "They care a lot about you. And even though they made me work my ass off today, they're really good people."

"I'm sorry about all the chores," she says, stare dropping to his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "It wasn't bad. Some of it was fun. I've almost conquered my fear of horses."

"Oh yeah?" she muses, quirking a brow. "Think you're ready to steer Sunshine on your own?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I don't know about that," he denies, shaking his head. Then a devious grin as he adds, "Hold your horses on that one."

Sage snorts, a chuckle escaping her as she playfully pushes his shoulder. Her cheeks flush pink at the sound she just made, but diverts her focus to his horrible pun. Ptolemus's brows raise in amusement. "Stop, that was so bad."

Ptolemus laughs with her too, his smile hurting the corners of his lips as his chest shakes. "Yeah, that was pretty bad," he agrees.

The two chuckle once more, both seeming to draw their laughter to a close only to break back into amused giggles again. It really wasn't that funny, but the laughter is still contagious, ping ponging back and forth. However, eventually, it slowly dies out, cured by their proximity and the fleeting glances to the other's lips. Not to mention, the fact that they're finally alone. With the exception of a few sleepy cows of course.

Ptolemus seizes the moment as he draws his lips down to hers, and she closes her eyes, fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt. The time between kisses always feels like a century, almost causing them to forget what it feels like to be captured in the other's embrace. Each time it feels like a revival of sorts, while still maintaining that same sense of comfort. Sage is the first one to pull away as she still clings to Ptolemus. She rests her forehead against his collarbone.

"When is Dev going to send the reporters?"

His chin props itself onto the crown of her head, the tips of his fingers tracing her spine again. "She won't leak anything until I'm about to leave Falling Springs. That way they'll only get their platform pictures."

"Sometimes I wish they didn't have to get their pictures at all," Sage mutters bitterly. Ptolemus squeezes her hand sympathetically.

"I know... but without them, then—"

Now she's squeezing his hand, nodding lightly. She lifts her head from his chest to meet his stare with a tired sigh. "I know." Another nod, as if she's reminding herself too, bringing herself back into agreement with the unfortunate terms and conditions of their relationship. "I know, I just... Sometimes I hate seeing those pictures of us. They always feel so intrusive. Like any moment you and I have, they have to have too. As if they're entitled to them more than us."

Ptolemus knows and understands exactly how she feels. It's a feeling he still struggles to make peace with after a lifetime. Instead of warring with it or trying to ignore it, he simply allows it its space, begrudgingly resting in its company. He can see how much it bothers Sage. She's always had privacy, her own little world, her safety net just behind the grove that wraps around her home. It hurts more when you've known something only to lose it.

His stare shifts back to the shelf of knick-knacks above the sink. He fixates on the dusty camera lens in particular. Silently, he gently pulls away from her as he starts toward it, the imaginary light bulb dinging in his brain. Sage's brows furrow, and she follows his gaze. "Oh, that thing hasn't had film in years. I don't even know why— I really wouldn't touch that."

Ptolemus grimaces at the layer of dust his fingertips dig into. His nose twitches and his nostrils burn, and he points to one of the rags. "Could I use this?"

"Use the purple one," she nods. "The others are dirty."

He uses the towel to wipe off the dust from the camera carefully. It feels fragile in his grasp, but slowly cleaner, shining dully beneath the barn lanterns. Sage just stands by his side and watches curiously. "I really don't think it works anymore, Tolly."

He checks to see if there's any film. An accomplished grin spreads across his lips. "Looks like there's enough for one more picture." He clicks it shut with his thumb. He wraps his arm around her, tugging her closer to him before holding the camera up into the air and angling it down. "Ready? Smile."

Dazed, she does as he says, peering up to the lens and leaning into him. His finger pushes the button, and a flash erupts into the air followed by a click. It wakes some of the cows behind them. The camera processes, then slowly spits out the used film. Both of them blink away stars as they squint down at their photograph.

"Did it work?" Sage asks.

"I think it needs a minute."

The two wait impatiently. After several minutes, the outline of their silhouettes can be made out, then the details in their clothing, the shape of their eyes and smiles, even the colors. Ptolemus and her inspect the picture of them together warmly. She shakes her head.

"What was that for?"

"For you." He offers it to her, before planting a tender kiss on her cheek. She blushes. "A picture and a moment they can never have. Our secret."

━━━━

The Navarro family wastes no time journeying to Falling Springs for the Monarch Festival beginning at noon. Mr. and Mrs. Navarro mount their horse, Lucky, leading the way and clutching their pot of flowers. Almanzo helps his wife and daughter onto Copper, clutching the reins as he walks alongside them. Erabelle proudly holds her family's pot of flowers. Shiloh mounts Dream, a quirky but pretty mare, placing his flowers in his satchel. Colt follows after with Hero, Sage and Ptolemus holding the rear of the line on Sunshine. She's instructed the latter to guard their pot of zinnias with his life as she steers the reins.

"So tell me more about this festival," Ptolemus asks, trying to keep his mind off the horse beneath him. He glances down to the bright flowers wiggling in his grip. "I knew monarchs migrated to Ten, but..."

Sage inhaled a sharp breath. "Well, besides the fact that it's gorgeous, to really get it you have to understand what a butterfly means to people of District Ten. What every animal means to the people of District Ten."

He perks up as he listens.

"In our District, the life of an animal is sacred. Animals are to be respected from the moment they're born to the moment their bones are buried in the earth. When I had to kill that coyote that tried to attack Minnie and her baby, do you know what we did after?"

His brows furrow. He doesn't remember her relaying that detail. "What?"

"We buried it. Because at the end of the day, the animal was just trying to feed itself and its pack. It was just trying to survive." Sage shakes her head as she recounts it all. She tries to choose her next words carefully. "We try to honor each animal and their journey no matter how it ends. Which can be difficult, with the high demands of The Capitol, their quotas always rising."

"The monarch butterfly is one symbol of an animal's sacred cycle of life. One that wasn't cut short. From the egg, to the caterpillar, to the cocoon, until it finally gains its wings. After all those accomplishments, they travel from the north to us, and to commemorate their journey to the oyamel firs in the Caprinae Sector, we take these flowers and plant them along their path. Food for their journey. But not just the journey from the north to the south, but for the journey they started when they were born. Something we all hope to accomplish some day."

Ptolemus's ears quirk at that last part as he listens intently. Part of it reminds him of the bread crumbs they sprinkle over the dead in Two. Food for their journey home, wherever it is they came from before.

Sage glances over her shoulder at him. A corner of her lips tugs upward with sentimentality. "Mama says that some of the butterflies are our loved ones. Telling us they made it in their next cycle of life."

Something about that makes him smile. A soft hum vibrates in his throat, and the two finish the ride to Falling Springs in peaceful silence.

When they arrive, it's quite a contrast compared to what it looked like yesterday. Garlands of flowers decorate the signs of shops, and a gazebo made of animal bones stands in the middle. People scurry throughout the streets with their own pots of flowers, and even a food stand has popped up. Near the gazebo, a makeshift band of people play various instruments, including a guitar, a tamborine, and a harmonica. Peacekeepers loom, but even they seem more relaxed today.

The Navarro family finds a few posts to tie their horses to. They gather together in a cluster, Ptolemus stuck to Sage's side like glue as he clutches their pot. Some uneasy stares float in his direction again, and he does his best to ignore them. Mrs. Navarro seems to know everyone, or perhaps she's just that friendly, as she makes small talk with almost everyone they pass. They navigate toward the field where everyone plants their flowers for the butterflies.

The meadow is beautiful and ever growing. Each year, more flowers are planted and added to its collection, providing plenty of nourishment for the butterflies as they continue their journey south to the Caprinae Sector.

"I'm planting mine here!" Erabelle insists loudly, suddenly plopping onto the ground in the middle of the meadow and nearly stomping on her father's toe. Almanzo and Coretta chuckle as they oblige with their daughter's wishes, kneeling with her to dig a hole deep enough for the roots.

Mr. and Mrs. Navarro peel off into another direction to plant theirs. Shiloh lingers not too far away from Almanzo and his family. Colt goes off somewhere on his own and out of sight. Ptolemus follows Sage as she picks the perfect spot for their flowers. She settles for beneath a Spanish Oak tree, kneeling carefully on the ground and gesturing for Ptolemus to join her.

"This looks like a perfect spot."

He nods in agreement, sweat dripping down his back again. "Love the shade."

Sage chuckles lightly. She digs up the dirt with her hands, and Ptolemus follows her lead, helping her to dig the hole. Once it's seemingly to her liking, she reaches for the pot. He obliges and hands it to her, watching quietly and carefully. Sage pulls the flowers and their roots out of the pot, before gently lowering them into the hole they just dug.

"Now we cover it up."

Ptolemus quirks a brow. "It's that easy?"

"Mhm. Here."

Their fingers graze one another as they cover the hole with the soil they just disturbed. They're patting it down neatly when a flutter of orange catches the corner of Sage's eye. She grows very still, following the floating figure very carefully. It dips and drops in the air strangely, rising and falling over and over again.

"Look," she murmurs, watching as it slowly and almost tiredly perches itself onto one of the zinnias.

Ptolemus straightens, following her gaze. The monarch rests, wings opening and closing softly. He smiles lightly as he glances between her and the butterfly. "I think it likes our flowers."

She doesn't say anything back. Instead, she's too mesmerized by a feature this butterfly has that digs up an image from her memory. Its one wing is tattered and torn, the tear's jagged shape very distinct. Like lightning. She swears the next time she blinks she sees the boy's dark eyes and curly hair accompanied by that signature scar staring right back at her. Something heavy lifts from her heart as she merely stares.

Ptolemus notes the change in her mood, and he glances between her and the butterfly warily. She blinks away a tear before it can ever fall, water only stinging her gaze. "What is it?"

Sage straightens, rubbing her dirtied hands along the fabric of her pants. "Nothing. It's just— its wing. It's broken."

He notices it now too. Ptolemus tilts his head to the side as he inspects the butterfly carefully. "Well... this one had a hell of a journey then."

Sage nods sadly, recounting the scarred boy she tried so hard to save. She tries to let this moment give her the peace she's desperately been needing this entire time. It only does when another smaller monarch flutters over to join the tattered one.

"He sure did."

━━━━
»»————-　♡　————-««

Ahhh thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!! Please feel free to comment, I love hearing from you!!!

I'm sorry that was so long but I'm super committed to being done with act one after chapter twenty so here we are! Ptolemus has officially met the fam :) thoughts? Opinions? Favorite parts?

Thoughts on Sage's family? Keep an eye on Colt 👀

Ive really enjoyed world building for ten and I hope you've enjoyed it too! Please let me know what you think! I'm actually trying to make a map of District 10 on procreate, it's not done at all but here's what I've come up with so far. I'll put the completed version (however long that takes me) in the graphic gallery

Peep the butterflies reminding Sage of Mateo and Taura! </3

I hope the last few chapters haven't been too fluffy. Fluffy is definitely out of my comfort zone. Enjoy it while you can, because act two is NOT so fluffy.

Anyways, thank you so much for the support on this story!! It makes me so happy when I see your comments and you engaging with my story.

Word Count: 10091