As soon as Katniss hears the news, she rushes to the direction. She does her best not to rush too fast, to avoid destabilizing her younger sister's already fragile psyche, especially considering everything she's been through.

Katniss looks around, her movement so fast it feels like her neck has become a whip, she turns left and right, her gray-blue eyes scanning the surroundings, desperately searching for some fragment of your dark hair, your sky-blue eyes, so soft and happy.

Katniss knows you'll never be the same again, or that there'll be work to do to get you back. Her nightmares have recently given way to the torture you may have endured at the hands of the Capitol. She clenches her fists, an innate reflex of anger. Since your capture; she's found herself doing it quite often.

"This way." Katniss barely hears the words of the rebel from District 13, so busy searching for some fragment of you and too busy trying to keep her desperate heart and overflowing emotions under control. Her little sister, the little one whose hair and forehead she caresses, 'the family nightingale', as she and Primrose have always affectionately called her... What have they done to that sweet little girl?

Katniss has entered the room; her little sister is sitting on the bed, staring straight ahead. "Hey, nightingale." Katniss whispers, slowly approaching, holding out her hand to her little sister, her movements calm and calculated, taking deep breaths to keep her heart and emotions under control, to try not to cry, to be strong. For her little sister.