Okay, I promise that we are done with the dark stuff for a while. Cadmium has reached, what I hope is rock bottom--not that I wish any person, but especially a child, to find out what rock bottom looks like-- He has reached out to Scarlet for help and if we know anything about Scarlet, it's that once she makes up her mind to do something, she'll do it. 

Thank you so much for reading. If you have made it this far, then you have really been through the emotional ringer. I am so grateful for your continued support. 

Like, comment, laugh, cry, voice your opinions and share your frustrations. I really want to know your thoughts and feelings. 

This story hasn't been easy to write, but I hope it's worth it. 

Kindly vote!

Take care and stay safe!~CANGEL

***

District 14

Scarlet Wolfe

     In District 14, the education that school provided was intended to prepare its' children with knowledge they would need to assist in their adult livelihoods. Its main occupations were fur-trapping, fur styled or thick winter clothing, and crystal carvings. There were other jobs, of course, however, these were the three that most wanted to pursue, as they paid the most.

     Though their District was equal opportunistic, and women could and would do any of these jobs, many would find themselves pregnant and married by the time they were eighteen or nineteen years old. Once they found themselves pregnant, many women then married—if they were single—and stayed home, choosing to sew clothing or furs if they needed the extra income and could find the opportunity, but taking care of the children took priority and that left their spouses to provide financially—a very heavy burden to take on here in District 14.

     After becoming a Victor of the Hunger Games, Scarlet wasn't required to attend school. With more money than she—or her family, could spend in a lifetime, she would have little need to ever work again, and therefore, she had no skills that needed to be gained.

     It was—Scarlet thought—not a written law that she could not attend school, but there was a heavy undercurrent in the expression of the Mayor as he informed her of this, that left her thinking it wasn't so much a choice as they were making it seem.

     Not attending school was the least costly of the rewards she'd been given as a Victor, and without protest, Scarlet accepted it as fact.

     Instead of schooling, Scarlet had been given the task—and she suspected most, if not all, other Victor's had as well—of living a leisurely life. Devoting their time to their hobbies and pastimes and talents. When Scarlet visited the Capitol next during the Victory Tour that would come in only a few months' time, she would be expected to showcase that special talent of hers and prove that her life as a Victor wasn't a complete waste to Panem.

     Scarlet only had one talent. Carving. She had done it before she'd left as a tribute, and it was something that she had continued to do after coming back from the Capitol, if nothing more than to stave away the empty days and cling to even a modicum of normalcy.

     Glory. Honor. Leisure. Luxurious.

     Prison. Nightmare. Trap.

     Lie.

     They were all words used to describe a Victor's life—by different people, of course. Different as they were, all could be said to be accurate to some degree or another. But she found it interesting that not a single soul—that she had witnessed—had ever mentioned boredom.

     Day after day after day of nothing.

     The first few months hadn't been so bad. She'd been too busy trying to adjust to her new life while clinging to the past for her dull reality to truly set in. When Cadmium was at school, Scarlet would go to the basement and carve and then he would go there too, and they would carve some more, before returning to their new house in the Victor's Village.

     Carving was usually done in silence—at least that's the way that Scarlet preferred, and that's the way Cadmium was taught—but the quiet didn't mean there was idle time to think. Every thought was centered around the small piece of stone in hand and on where the next scrape and cut would be made. One small flaw could ruin a week or a month's worth of work.

     The mind couldn't wonder or think about things past—and that was something that Scarlet craved. With a mind like hers, one that could hardly forget a thing, sometimes focusing on a single task was the only way to get some peace from the images, words, or hurt.

     Carving was an escape, one that she treasured. It wasn't until she found herself missing school that she knew she had a problem. As it turned out, even carving, when overdone, could become another sort of cage.

     Scarlet couldn't pinpoint exactly when the feeling of being trapped in her monotonous routine had first arisen, but once it did, it became impossible to shake. It was much easier to ignore if Cadmium was with her, with a variety of options available to them while avoiding home and the District 14 citizens.

     Sometimes they sparred, and Scarlet liked that—the feeling of power that settled over her bones as she sank into her defensive stance. The skills that had been taught to her during the two days of training had not disappeared after she'd left the Arena, and she had made sure to train Cadmium much the same, giving him every insight that she'd been given. Sparring seemed to help both of them—though in very different ways—but the outcome was nearly the same. Sweaty, calm, and aching, Cadmium and Scarlet were both steadier afterwards.

     When neither sparing nor carving offered relief, sometimes they went to the crumbling fabric shop that was both home and work to one Mr. Arctic Fox and his granddaughter Aurora.

     The shop had a weathered, forgotten look about it, like a relic from a time when people had cared more about appearances. Faded blue paint peeled from the wood-paneled window shutters, and the once-bright sign that hung over the entrance had dulled to a shadow of its former self, the name "Fox & Stitch" barely legible. The windows were constantly frosted with ice, making it hard to see inside, and the door always creaked on its rusted hinges, even after Cadmium had helped her fix the frame. The scent of old fabric, dust, and something faintly earthy—mildew, maybe—always greeted her when she entered, even after she had cleaned the shop up.

     Inside, the shop was cluttered but cozy. Rolls of fabric—some bright, others faded and worn—lined the shelves that stretched along the walls. The mannequins, though most had seen better days, stood in a crooked line near the windows, dressed in half-finished garments. The floors shuttered beneath her feet, and the dim lighting came from a few candles scattered around the shop, their yellowish glow casting long shadows in the corners. It was empty, save for Mr. Fox's who would typically be sitting behind the front counter, fabric and needles littered everywhere as he shifted from one project to another.

     Cadmium wasn't shy about embracing the two of them, talking to them freely until Scarlet decided it was time to go. As often as they began visiting, Scarlet wasn't ready to admit that she liked going there.

     As the weeks passed, and more often than not of late, Scarlet found herself in that little shop with just the old man as Cadmium and Aurora were at school, it was impossible to deny she was coming out of desire and not simply because of Cadmium.

     Today, as Scarlet had watched Cadmium and every one of her siblings, apart from Ash, Ebony, and Marigold, who were too young to attend, the itch had been too much to ignore, and she had found herself sitting behind the back counter next to Mr. Fox.

     He sat hunched over a sewing project, his white hair glowing faintly in the light of the small candle beside him. The cracked pair of glasses hung precariously to the end of his nose as he focused on the task at hand. His hands, though weathered and aged with spots, moved with surprising precision as he stitched the edges of a heavy fur coat. It wasn't too long though, before he grew tired though, his hands shaking and his pauses growing longer.

     She tried to get him to go rest, but with Aurora at school, he had stubbornly insisted to man the front in case of any new customers, while pointing to a small list of orders from current customers. She hadn't protested, accepting his answer even though it irked her. Not my family. She reminded herself. Not my problem. Still, she insisted, with the same stubbornness that he had, that if he—at his age—could produce quality goods, then so could she.

     Scarlet wasn't skilled at this though and it wasn't nearly as easy as Mr. Fox had made it look. The needle pricked her fingertips, the fabric never aligned right, and her stitching often tangled. She could tell that it nearly pained the old man to let her butcher his fabrics. She wouldn't bother, but it wasn't like she could sit around here, doing nothing, while watching him work his own fingers to the bone.

     The man was too kind for his own good, and it screamed 'vulnerable'. She'd caught many of his current customers trying to take advantage of his easy nature and old age. She had tried to talk to him about it and when that failed, she had tried arguing with him—the result being about the same as if she'd argued with a brick wall. And when her anger had finally gotten the best of her and she'd lashed out cruelly calling him a stupid fool, he'd simply patted her head with sad eyes and offered her a patronizing smile that screamed, 'I'm older and know better than you'. Scarlet hated that smile

     But she didn't hate Mr. Fox.

     Over the past couple of weeks, Scarlet had found many things to occupy her time. Somedays she swept, cleaned the fabrics that hung from the walls, and other times she dusted. During one of their visits, Cadmium had even helped her fix that front door—not that it had encouraged any customers to come in. All Mr. Fox's current customers were those that had used him for years and years and their clothing was delivered directly to their homes by Aurora.

     In return for their work and company, he had agreed to give her lessons in making the fur and fabric into clothing. She didn't want to learn, but at least he let her stay here during the days. He didn't seem to mind her company, and his kindness had never wavered, no matter how many times she pricked her fingers or tangled the threads.

     He tapped her shoulder. She looked back over at him, raising a brow.

     "You look tired today."

     Scarlet considered telling him about last night—about Cadmium's breakdown, the blood, and the promise that she'd made without really thinking—but thought better of it. It wasn't her story to tell. And besides, Cadmium liked Mr. Fox and Scarlet didn't want to be the thing that came between them.

     Cadmium needed, much as it pained her, more than she could give. And Mr. Fox seemed to be one of the last decent role models left here in District 14.

     Mr. Fox was right, though. She was tired. Scarlet had been up long past when Cadmium had fallen asleep wrapped in her arms. Her brain had refused to shut down because of the promise she'd made.

     She couldn't allow him to go back there. So, when he had broken down, of course she would help him. But how?

     Fighting? Whipping? Lashing? What would he need from her? What did he get there from those people?

     And what the fuck had they done to her brother last night to send him back home, bleeding and broken and crying into her arms?

     Scarlet wanted to fight them.

     But she didn't know who they were. Cadmium might, but he wasn't exactly forthcoming with the information. Getting what she had from him had been more a stroke of good timing than a willingness to confide.

     "The Victory Tour is coming up soon." She offered up instead of the truth. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but she worried about that a lot less than she did her brother. She would be leaving District 14—not for long, only a few days, but she was worried about Cadmium. About what he would do whenever she had to leave.

     "Ah." Mr. Fox nodded. "Do you know what you will be wearing? Need any more clothes?"

     More clothes? She snorted. "Old man, if we get any more clothes, we'll need another house to store them." Her words might have been exaggerated, but there was a sliver a truth layered within. Since coming to this shop the first time, Scarlet didn't think that Mr. Fox had ever truly stopped making them clothes. Their small dressers and closet were packed with clothing, and they'd even taken to keeping a few changes of clothing in the abandoned basement and in the shop.

     She didn't understand why, and if she thought too much about it, it made her antsy and defensive. So she tried her best not to think too hard about it and accepted it as another faucet of the old man's kind nature.

     He laughed, the wrinkles around his mouth deepening as his eyes lit up. "A special occasion requires special clothes. Trust an old man who knows clothes inside and out. You could do with an authentic District 14 attire."

     Though they didn't share the same passions, with her liking stone and him liking fabrics, she could honestly say that she appreciated the depth of his love for his work. He hadn't inherited this shop from a family member, but rather he had started the business on his own. It wasn't for money, as she was slowly coming to grips with, but for the love of fabric and clothing.

     She had once asked him what it was, about fabrics and stitching clothing for people while living in dire straights, that he loved. He had answered, There is freedom in every kind of expression. Scarlet had left the shop with his words echoing in her head and those words had drawn her back for another visit a few days later.

     Now, as she fingered the bottom of the shirt she wore, her lips curled. The image of her in quality District 14 clothing took root. What would everyone think of her then? Thick clothes tailored to her size, covering her body nearly from head to toe? It would be a stirring sight, one that was completely opposite the image the Capitol wanted her to have.

     Or maybe not, she mused internally. If the clothing had a little fur stitched on it, no matter what animal, it would enhance the mask she would no doubt be forced to wear and the fake wolf ears that would be clipped into her hair. She would still look like a wolf—more so even, if the image in her head was anything to go by.

     Unfortunately, she already knew that it would never be allowed. Verra had been very clear before she'd left the Capitol. Her clothing attire was no longer optional or her choice. Her image was already chosen, and it was not to be altered.

     At the thought of her new stylist, Verra, a heavy weight settled in her gut. Thoughts of Cassandra, her first stylist, followed. Pain lanced through her heart as she briefly recalled what had happened to Cassandra.

     Though Scarlet had no doubt that whatever the reasons behind her punishment were, it was all a lie. Scarlet could do nothing about it though. Somewhere in the Capitol an Avox served silently. Scarlet never wanted to see her. She had never seen a happy Avox, or even a content one. And seeing someone who looked like her stylist and budding friend, but having none of the life or fire or passion in her eyes was not something that Scarlet thought she could accept.

     "My stylist and prep team will come here from the Capitol. They'll bring clothes for me from the Capitol." Scarlet finally answered. She had no intentions of angering President Snow and she hoped that if she wore the clothes and played the role they wanted her too, there would be no more consequences for her or anyone else around her.

     "Mmm." He said, his lips downturned in disapproval. Scarlet chewed her cheek, uncomfortable at the thought of him seeing her dressed like the Wicked Wolfe—though she was sure he had seen it before.

     She could tell him that it wasn't her decision. That she had to maintain her image. That she hadn't even been given a choice about the alterations to her body—a fact that she had not voiced aloud to even Cadmium. That was a fact that only Finnick knew—and only because he had been in the room as she'd first woken up after being taken out of the Arena.

     She could also tell him that the Capitol had chosen this image and persona for her, but that they had chosen it because it is who she had been since volunteering as tribute. Every choice that she had made in the Games, and every action that she'd taken had been her choice. She had wanted to survive. She had been willing to do the absolute worst in order to live.

     She was the Wicked Wolfe.

     Letting out a sigh, Scarlet decided to keep quiet and not give any response. She was a coward. Not normally, but here and now, under the weight of Mr. Fox's disapproving blue eyes, Scarlet was afraid.

     Afraid that the warmth in his eyes would turn to fear like everyone else and she would no longer be welcomed by him. Afraid that he would finally understand that she really was a monster and didn't deserve his kindness at all.

     Cassandra. Scarlet's Wave. Cadmium's Crest. Crimson's Tide. Augustus. Ayoel. Linux. Keenen. Derrick. Wolver. Flax. Valerio. Dawson. Lilian.

     And Crimson. Always Crimson.

     Mr. Fox's hand rested on her shoulder, drawing her attention away from her memories and the deaths that haunted her.

     He wasn't going to let this go, was he? She set the fabrics down on the counter and turned to the old man, making sure to let her annoyance and anger show clear on her face, prepared to deliver a devilish speech making sure to no question as to who and what she was.

     Her attitude doesn't faze him though, as he met her frustrated gaze with a steady one of his own, his words heading off any that could spout from her mouth. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks they know about you, Scarlet. As long as you know who you are, in here." He pointed to her chest. Her heart. Then he pointed to her head. "And remember it here."

     Her anger dried up like a puddle that hadn't seen anything but sun for days, leaving her feeling off kilter. "What if I am what they think?" She whispered back to him.

     His lips curled up, amused even though she didn't see anything much to be amused at. "You're young, Scarlet. You've got time to figure it out. Don't trap yourself in the image that the Capitol wants to paint you as."

     His words loosen her tongue as a bitter laugh escaped her. "That's just it, though. They didn't choose this for me. I chose it. The moment I volunteered for Violet. I chose to be the Wicked Wolfe." The Capitol was just ensuring that nobody ever forgot it.

     She stared at the black claws that tipped each of her fingers and pictured her golden wolf eyed stare with her lower face covered by the metal wolf mask. The blood red silk that always surrounded her.

     Paper wrapped gifts, but didn't change what was inside.

     His weathered hand covered her smaller smooth one, drawing her attention back to his face. "I believe in you."

     She swallowed. "Why?" Why? It was what she desperately wanted to know but could never figure out. Why did he see her differently?

     His smile didn't waver as he patted her hand once, while cocooning it in his warmth. "Someday, you'll know the truth, Scarlet. Maybe then you'll understand."

     The answer didn't satisfy her in the least. "I'll understand now, if you tell me."

     "Let me have a little more time, my dear." His lips were still curled in a smile, but his eyes seemed sad and his shoulders shrunk in a bit more. As if something heavy weighed on him. Anxiety prickled at her insides, the unease pricking at her anger.

      Time? How much time did he expect to have left?

     It was cruelty and anger that nearly had those words leaving her mouth, and only by a shred of remaining control, did she manage to keep them in.

     Even though she was reluctant in her attachment here, she already knew that when Mr. Fox did die—and that in reality it really wouldn't be too long now—she would be saddened at the loss.

     Besides, shoving his age and failing health back in his face wouldn't change his mind. He was, probably, the only person more stubborn than her.

     That knowledge didn't stop her from being annoyed though, and it didn't stop her from pulling away from him, standing from the chair she'd been sitting in, and walking through the small front of the shop to the front door.

     "I don't like secrets." She said, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. "I will find out whatever it is that you're hiding from me."

     Scarlet pushed the door open and walked out of the shop without waiting for a response.

----------------

Not much happens here in this chapter, but it is important to me to show Scarlet having relationships that don't revolve around Cadmium and showing Cadmium forming other relationships. 

Mr. Fox and Aurora are probably the first people that are actually healthy to be around, showing them a glimmer of what love and affection and family can mean. 

Do you have any guesses on what Mr. Fox is hiding? (Take all the guesses you want! I won't tell you if your right or wrong, but I'm actually curious to know if any have figured it out yet) 

Stay safe and take care!~ CANGEL