Chapter one
Gale sat on the boulder that jutted out over the woods somewhat precariously, his legs dangling over the edge. He imagined the scene from the Lion King, where Simba was told he owned all that light touched. Of course Gale had never seen this film himself; he only knew what his grandfather told him from when he had seen it, before the dark days.
Exposed high above the rest of district 12, Gale knew that he should be conscious of his surroundings, or at least consider the possibility of a Capitol hovercraft flying over head and spotting him; but to be completely honest, he had more thought consuming matters to deal with. You see Katniss Everdeen, his best friend and trusty hunting partner, had recently entered the hunger games on behalf of her little sister Prim, and the contestants in this years games were brutal. As if the contestants weren't awful enough, the other tribute from district 12 was blond haired, blue eyed baker boy Peeta Mellark, who has little skill in anything other than bread making and cake decorating, and by the looks of it, Haymitch Abernathy has meant for Katniss and him to team up, making her chances of survival questionable if not completely hopeless.
Out in the woods was Gales only time to be completely himself. He could shout, scream, cry and no one would be any the wiser, but he restrained himself because the mockingjays imitating him at times like these only made him feel week and helpless. Instead today, he let the tears slide silently down his face, wishing there was a way he could feel whole inside, he could feel happy again in the only place he belonged. Gale sifted through his thoughts one by one, the air being much purer here than in the seam enabled him to think more clearly.
He thought about his family, his brothers and baby sister Posy he would see face the reaping ball for many years into the future. How he could see their names being picked and him being able to do nothing about it, unlike Katniss because he was too old. Katniss. Catnip. Miss Everdeen. The one that got him. Just the thought of her made him smile a sad, watery smile. Baker boy you better get your act together.
He thinks back to last night's recount of the games so far. It was too much for him to take so he left the room about half way through, claiming he needed some air, that the room was too stuffy. Gale recalls what he'd heard his brother talking to his mum about. How Peeta hadn't been shown at all that night, not even a mention, where as the others got a fair segment each, and the careers even more. Last night this meant nothing to him. But today he felt the anger rising up in him. He didn't trust the Capitol one bit. He knew that if they missed things out, even seemingly innocent things, something was going on.
Gale pondered on what the Capitol neglecting Peeta's game time could mean for what must have been hours. The sky was an orangey-pink colour by now and Gale had been in woods since noon. He knew he should be getting on home but he couldn't go home like this. Empty handed, tear stained and to what could be considered clean. He was meant to have been hunting after all.
Gale couldn't shoot like his hunting partner. No she was utterly spot on, straight between the eyes every time. He could manage a bow though, she'd taught him how when they first met in exchange for him teaching her about snares. Snares. That's what he needed to check. On the way to the various lines he had set, Gale attempted to hit a rabbit, a squirrel and a wild turkey but with no avail. It only left him exhausted from chasing after it and empty handed. On the upside he looked like he'd been at it all day because he was caked with mud from trying to locate his arrows.
As he approached one of his snares, even through the thick foliage and above the hubbub of the woods, he could hear a noise that was definitely not animal. A range of curses and grunts was being muttered from what could only be a human. No mockingjay could recite that realistically.
As Gale rounded the cluster of dense bushes he been stood behind, he saw he was right. It was a human. A man hanging from the snare by his feet, his hair grazing the ground, covered in leaves.
The intruder swung his head around, scooping debris on the forest floor into his mouth as he went. He face was the colour of beetroot and as he hastily spat out leaves, Gales jaw dropped.
The snare hanger was baker boy, Peeta Mellark.
