Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of the Hunger Games series.

Gale Hawthorne

I always loved the forest. It is my paradise, away from the sad realities that are the nation of Panem and much maligned District 12. It's where I get to be with Katniss, the most important person in my life other than my family. However things are different now. Now, I'm a miner. I spend six days of the week in the deepest, darkest pits of hell, providing coal for the benefit of the Capitol. I used to think that the thick layers of coal dust that covered the Seam were irritating, but it was really nothing compared to actually being inside the mine for hours at a time. Even now, in the middle of my favorite place, with the clear and refreshing air, I can feel the dust still sitting in my lungs, quickly removing days from my life.

The sad part is, that a life in the mines is some sort of sick prize. If you're lucky enough to make it to the age of eighteen without having starved to death or been Reaped into the Hunger Games, then it's a nice, safe, life underground for you. I knew from the time I was young that it was waiting for me. It was my future. I watched it steal my father from me, steal Katniss' father as well. It left our mothers widows and us and our siblings fatherless. And it made me a tough, bitter man; bitter towards the Capitol, bitter towards the rich merchants in town who don't have to worry about where their next meal is going to come from.

Today is my day of escape from the tolling labor. I crave these Sundays now more than anything. I walk casually over fallen branches and forest floor, already watching for wandering game, until I reach the spot where Katniss and I store our weapons. She isn't here yet which doesn't surprise me much. She still comes hunting every morning during the week even though she goes to school. I hate it that she comes out alone, and I hate it even more that she still splits her catch with my family. It may sound stupidly chauvinistic, but ever since my father died I've been the man of the house and provided for my family with the skills he taught me. Now, I have to spend my days in the mine, which pays a pittance, barely enough to support myself, let alone a whole family.

But I let her do it-let her help even though it takes a shot to my pride. The only reason is that the alternative is even more crippling to think about. The 74th Hunger Games have just ended, and I'm no longer eligible to be Reaped, but my siblings still are. If Rory, or eventually Vick and Posy, are chosen by that flighty Capitol escort then there isn't anything I can do for them. Which means that my only choice is to make sure that their chances are as low as they can get. I can't let them put any extra slips with their name into that stupid bowl of death. That means accepting help from Katniss and avoiding taking tesserae at all costs. At the least I have tried to convince her that she doesn't have to come on Sundays, but she stubbornly refuses. And though I argue, I'm secretly relieved because seeing Katniss is the best part of my week.

As I reach into the hollow log where we store our bows, I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching behind me. I've heard her steps so many times over the years that I know they belong to Katniss. I also know she's emphasizing her steps for my benefit, to let me know it's her approaching and not a Peacekeeper who managed to follow me into woods. We've become experts in stealth together, both in sneaking through the fence that surrounds the woods and in tracking down our various forms of elusive prey. Sure enough, when I turn around I see a bleary-eyed Katniss trudging towards me, game bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Good morning Catnip." I still, even years later, find it incredible that she hasn't directed one of her arrows at my back accidentally, even once. Especially with the way she despises Prim's damn cat. She looks back at me, casually pulling at her long, dark, braid, but it's clear she doesn't agree with my assessment that the morning is 'good.' "Or not. You look dead on your feet."

"That's probably because I spent all night with death lingering throughout my house," she replied.

I know immediately what she means. "Your mother had another patient?"

"Mmhmm," Katniss mumbles just audibly. "Not that there was any point to it. He was pretty much dead by the time he walked in, but his body just hadn't realized it yet. My mother did what she could, but he just coughed for hours until it finally stopped. Well past midnight."

"Sounds pleasant," I cringe in sympathy.

Katniss gives a groan of pure frustration. "I'm nothing but grateful that my mother is lucid is again, but we've had streams of people in our house lately and it's so depressing. I know I'm being selfish, but-"

"It's not selfish, Katniss." I interrupt, knowing how she can drive herself into a small frenzy. "No one should have to see that kind of thing everyday. It shouldn't be your mother who has to take care of everyone in the Seam. It's not your fault that no one can afford to see a doctor in town, or that we have to live in a place where the air slowly kills us."

We are quiet again for several moments after my own rant, which I know was hypocritical considering my purpose was to stop Katniss from having hers.

Eventually Katniss brings an end to the lull. "Will that be your only comments on the Capitol today or should I expect more?"

I can't help the small laugh that escapes me. "You know me, Catnip."

"So that's a no," she remarks, stepping forward to pick up her own bow.

Once we're ready we set off and get to work. Yesterday Katniss set some snares, so our first job was to check on them. Out of the four that she set, we managed to get two very decently sized rabbits, and a squirrel. We quickly stash them away into our bags, and I reset the snares for Katniss to check tomorrow. She does a good job with them, but I know that I can do them better. I don't remind her of that fact because she wouldn't be hesitant to remind me that she is slightly better than me with a bow. Only slightly-at least that's what I tell myself.

Sometimes we hunt side by side, but today we decide to try and cover more ground. I'd much rather, for my own selfish reasons, stay close to her, but the hunt is more important. Katniss goes left through a thicker concentration of trees and I go right and follow a stream. It's slow going to start with. I probably walk for about an hour, not seeing anything bigger than an insect. I've been this way many a time before so I have my favorite spots that I like to sit in and wait. Today, I choose a spot in between a small ring of bushes that gives me adequate cover. I sit in my blind, arrow nocked, but I don't apply any tension. My vision sweeps the area, searching for any sign of movement.

My waiting pays off. I see what looks like a small, brown ball moving slowly behind a tree. I can't discern what it is right away because it's about twenty meters off and blends in with the bark, but as soon as a see the small white tusks I recognize the wild pig. The pigs are pretty common as they breed heavily. This one isn't very large, but it's big enough that I don't pause in aiming my shot. There isn't any hesitation. As soon as my right arm stretches the bowstring to its farthest point, I release a fraction of a second later. I know my shot was true because I hear a short squeal and then nothing.

As I approach my target, I slip my knife from the sheath at my waste incase I need to finish it off. However, I see the arrow protruding from the center of its head and realize it won't be necessary. I pull the arrow from the pig and wipe the leftover gore onto the ground. Soon enough, I'm making my way back to our meeting spot and find Katniss already there, lying in the grass and using her jacket as a pillow.

"Took you long enough," she remarked as I got close enough to stand over her.

"It's barely been two hours," I respond, putting down my game bag, and taking a seat next her. "Shoot anything, or did you just come back here and nap?"

She keeps her eyes closed, but points over to where her own bag is sitting with a noticeable bulge in it. "Two more rabbits. It's not much but after I tried to shoot a tree stump and pile of leaves I realized my lack of sleep was affecting my judgment."

I just shake my head at her, though she can't even see it. "Then it's probably a good idea we split up. I was safer on my own."

"Shut up, Gale."

I decide that Katniss' current position looks appealing and settle myself down next to her, enjoying her presence. It's an amazing moment of peace where nothing else enters my mind, but the amazing surroundings and the pleasant company. I'm in a different place where the Capitol doesn't exist. Or I was until Katniss decides to open her mouth again.

"They're doing the Victor interview tonight-mandatory viewing as usual," she informs me. "I'm actually surprised it's so soon, with what the Careers did to him."

The 74th Hunger Games had ended just two days prior. I normally try to ignore the events that take part in the completely disgusting show that the Capitol uses to keep us in our place, knowing that it could have been me going through the madness. However, this year was different (not for the quickly killed Seam boy and girl tributes for 12) because I had by some miracle not been chosen in my last opportunity to be Reaped, even with forty-two chances. And also because Katniss had become emotionally invested in the contest when she saw the small girl from District 11 who reminded her of Prim and made it into the final four Tributes. She would have been better not doing so though. It was thoroughly sickening to see what the Career tributes from District 2 did to her when they found her. The Careers weren't quick or merciful, primarily because the girl, Rue, had managed to drop a hive of tracker jackers on top of them while they were sleeping.

It was District 11 that got the last word though. Unbeknownst to the Careers, the male tribute from 11 saw them standing over the carnage that was Rue's broken body. Unfortunately for them, he also wasn't a wisp of child like Rue. Thresh was eighteen, tall, and built like a brick wall, and he was absolutely enraged when he saw the remains. When Rue's cannon sounded, he completely ignored the fact that he was outnumbered two to one, and charged, a short, curved sword his only weapon. What followed is something that I'm pretty sure will never leave my mind. By the end of it, Thresh stood on his own, slashed countless times, covered in blood, with knives embedded in his torso. The Tributes from 2 were on the ground, lifeless, and no longer completely whole.

Thresh had been in such a rage that he had no idea that he had won the Hunger Games, if it can really be called winning. I actually managed a laugh when the hovercraft came to retrieve him. Instead of grabbing on to the ladder, he crazily ripped two of the knives out his abdomen and tossed them at the floating vehicle, one of them hard enough to stick in its hull. We have no clue what happened after that, because a moment later the feed cut out, and switched to a recap of the final moments. Though we didn't see it, I doubt Thresh went quietly, something I admire-anything to make President Snow's and people of the Capitol's lives uncomfortable. It wouldn't do at all to have a Victor not be appreciative of the fact that he gets to live, even if it means that twenty-three others don't.

"I'm looking forward to it more than other years. Although, if it was anything like his first interview, it will probably be short and uncomfortable. He didn't look like he was a fan of casual conversation," I note to Katniss, who still hasn't opened her eyes.

She immediately frowns. "The Capitol might not give him a choice. It wouldn't surprise me if they force-feed him lines. Especially because everyone saw him attack the hovercraft."

"Yeah, it wouldn't do to have people from the Districts try the same thing with a Peacekeeper," I mutter lowly, but Katniss still hears it, and this time she opens her eyes and stares at me harshly.

"It wouldn't Gale."

"Why Katniss?" I return, not backing down. "The Rebellion was over seventy years ago. Most of us don't have relatives who were even alive during it. The Capitol is sacrificing children for things that they have no responsibility for, whose parents have no responsibility. It can't go on forever. I still have almost two decades worth of worrying to do over whether one of my brothers or my sister is going to be taken. Somebody has to stop it, and I'm more than willing to help."

"Why does it have to be you, though?" Katniss asks passionately, her grey eyes flashing. "Let somebody else handle it."

I run my hand harshly over my face before answering. "Because how many people are going to think the same exact thing? Leave it to someone else, because I don't want to get my hands dirty. If that's the case then any rebellion is doomed from the start."

"Innocent people would die, Gale, a lot of them," she challenges again, continuing the argument we've had so many times.

I look at her critically. "They already are Catnip, twenty-three every year, not even counting the Quarter Quells or the people who die everyday because they can't get enough to eat. And it's not about forestalling a rebellion anymore, if it ever was. It's all just a fucking show to them. They even dress us up and put us in makeup before they slaughter us like it's some kind of privilege."

I know she's scared of the possibility of rebellion. I am too, but I'm even more scared of starving to death, of dying down in the mines like my father, of watching my brothers or little Posy being killed for fun. I don't even know what I would do if they tried to take Katniss. It's always been a possibility, one that we've contemplated, but that was just talk, meaningless words. My temper is something I can barley control as it is, I'd most likely break the nearest Peacekeeper in half, take as many down as I could before they could stop me. All for someone I love, but who wants nothing to do with those sorts of feelings.

Katniss was so scared for Prim this year in her first Reaping, but she knows she could still volunteer next year if it came down to it. Reality hasn't set in for her about what it will be like when she no longer has that option. It would be better to die standing tall against the Capitol with a sense of pride in a war instead of letting them keep us beaten down our entire lives. I know deep down she agrees with me. The death of her father and years of struggling to live have made her a fighter.

We're quiet again. Though we argue, it never crosses a certain line. We have too much affection for each other that developed over the years of dependence on each other. The Capitol has seen fit to make sure we have as little as possible, so it won't take our friendship as well.

"Would you consider taking Rory with you one day this week?" I ask her, changing the topic.

She shifts her body towards me, leaning her head on her hand. "If it's something you want. But I do like Rory, so if he ends up being better than you with a bow, I may take him as my new hunting partner."

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried Catnip," I smile at her lightly, enjoying when she returns it. I do love to see her smile. "Plus, Rory's a novice. I wouldn't say patience for teaching is high up on the list of characteristics I admire you for."

"Care to fill me in on what is on that list?"

Oh, if you had any idea. Well, I think she probably has a good idea, but there's no use in me saying it out loud because she wouldn't appreciate it. "Maybe another time. We need to get to the Hob." She just nods in acceptance, and I'm glad she didn't inquire any further into the Rory question. It's something I've meant to do, but unfortunately have neglected. It would be nice if Rory could hunt, but it is about more than that. It's always been about surviving, no matter whether that is surviving life in the Seam, surviving in the Hunger Games...or surviving in a rebellion.

As Katniss and I walk side by side back towards the, hopefully, harmless fence meant to cage us in, I can't help but believe that something is going to happen, something that will change the status quo. I know there are people like me who don't want to take the Capitol's oppression anymore. Maybe all they need is a push. Something about the end of these 74th Hunger Games, and the new Victor from 11 makes me think the interview tonight will be a push in the right direction.