Hey guys! This is the sequel to my story "Young Pilgrims" and I will try to make it where you don't HAVE to read the first, but I don't know 1) how well I am going to be at that or 2) if it will even work in the least, so I would personally go and check out the prequel to this. Without further ado, here is the first chapter of "FINDING THE NOMADS."

CHAPTER ONE

I am talking with Sara, sitting on the couch in Finnick's living room, watching the mandatory viewing with Annie, Finnick, and Mags when President Snow stands before Panem with the small square of paper in his hands.

"In the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Annie lets out a shriek, and her hands cover her ears. Finnick is comforting her. Mags is gasping her chest. I would be by her side asking her if she was okay if I could speak.

With one glance around the room, I know that I have to go back.

"Capri," Sara whispers to me, but the only thing I can focus on is Annie's hysterical crying. Sara's hand clasps the two of mine. Suddenly the eight years that seemed like such a great expanse of time yesterday now seem like a week ago. All the voices and memories that I had blocked out came flooding in: Mason's goodbye, Ceaser's cries for mercy, the tributes that I've mentored meeting their deaths, hearing their cries of horror and for mercy.

I look at Sara with silent smile before leaving the house as quickly as I could, across to my house and down to the beach. I find myself sitting in the ocean, staring into the horizon, breathing in the salty air. Breath by breath, the sounds of the ocean calm me down. I don't know how long I'm there, but I know it's darker when Finnick sits down beside me.

"So we're gonna go back," it's not a question; I just feel like if I say it out loud he might correct me and tell me I imagined the entire broadcast.

"You don't hav-"

"Yes," I cut Finnick off, "I do. I couldn't sit and watch Mags die in the arena, and I certainly couldn't make you go into the arena with Annie." I pick up a seashell that had washed ashore, rolling it about in my hands, "I'm not just doing it for you . . . I'm doing it for me too." I stand up, and with all the force I can manage, I launch the shell back into the ocean. "We should probably start training."

A/N: Once again, I hope you all are enjoying this story. Thank you to everyone who commented, favorite, and followed since the last update.

If you don't like something about my story, I would love to know what it is. Please leave a review about what you do and don't like about what I'm writing so that I can get better. Thank you and have a splendid day!