She doesn't answer. She can't, not verbally, anyway. She's too overwhelmed, too exhausted and too frightened. Instead, she just tightens her grip. He's here, he's here, he's here, he's here. That's all that matters.

Annie is quiet as Finnick starts to walk. For the start, it's a witless quietness, unthinking and almost uncomprehending. Then she starts to come back to herself, a piece at a time. Words are still beyond her, as is the ability to focus enough to make them, but she can take stock.

A little, anyway.

Smells, sounds, how Finnick reacts and doesn't. Gradually, the terror of he's gone, he's gone, other people are vanishing three by three, where is he lets other thoughts in.

But she doesn't understand the information coming in. Same smells, same sounds as before. When she turns her head, a little, to peer over Finnick's shoulder, she can see the same track that they've travelled for months back and forth, to the village and back to the house they'd claimed.

But they'd vanished. They'd been back in the water. They have a watch, which must be a tracker.

Annie feels like she's missing something, but she's in too many pieces to put anything else together.