A/N: Yo, Winged Wonder here. This is my first Hunger Games story, and I hope you enjoy it. Well, there isn't much to say here. On with the story…
I move swiftly through the forest, barely making a sound as my feet hit the wet grass. I suddenly stop as a twig snaps and whirl around. Yes, right there, silhouetted in the dark morning sky is just the animal I'm looking for: a plump, clueless squirrel.
I move back slowly, holding my breath so the tiny animal won't hear me. I hide in the nearest bush and observe. The squirrel looks around quickly and scrambles up a tree. He's only halfway up when my arrow drives into his neck and pins him firmly to the tree. Not a clean kill, like Katniss', but a good one, nonetheless. Katniss. I can almost see her now; see her eyes shine when I show her the hot loaf of bread I will get for this small animal and the other one to come. I'm not one for arrows, really (not that I mind them) but today is one of those days when a snare just isn't fast enough.
Reaping day. I shudder as I think about how likely it is for me to get picked. Forty-two times is a lot. So many slips of paper…The chances of me getting picked are so likely I don't even want to think about it. It would be a relief to think that Kat could take care of my family if something happened to me, but the chances of her getting picked are high, too. What if we both get picked? I can't even imagine that. Me, in an arena, fighting to save myself, looking at the girl I love as an enemy. I'm not much of a prayer, but whoever's up there: Please don't let us get chosen. We have mouths to feed, people that need us to survive. Please.
I shake my head, trying to clear it of those horrendous thoughts. Damn the Capitol and its stupid rules.
I wait for some time after cleaning the first squirrel before I decide to move again. This time, I climb a tree, something Kat is also much better at, and wait. Patience is what hunting is all about. You always have to wait.
Soon, I hear a scrambling noise and look down to see a little squirrel climbing the tree next to me. Before he has time to do anything, my arrow catches him, once again in the neck.
"This'll do," I say as I jump to the next tree to retrieve my prize. I can come back later and hunt down a rabbit or some other small animal to trade for some food for the kids and Mom. Right now, all I can think about is the warm, fresh bread waiting for me. As if on cue, my stomach grumbles.
I clean out the squirrel, skin it (I'll trade it in later, maybe to get something for the kids) and put it in my sack.
I knock on the back door, hoping the baker, and not his witch of a wife, will open it. He does. The baker isn't a man of many words, but today something's different. Maybe it's the look in his piercing blue eyes, the look that tells me to be careful.
Careful for what? I think. I'm good at reading expressions. It's something you pick up after studying people for so long.
"I got you the squirrels," I say, shifting awkwardly. I hold out my sack, and he looks inside and nods.
"I'll take that one," he says, pointing at the plump squirrel, the one that I shot first.
I'm surprised. Usually one loaf of bread costs us two squirrels, but I'm not one to argue. If he's feeling bighearted, then that's fine by me. I don't question him, just hand the squirrel and wait for him to return. He does shortly, with a fresh loaf of brown bread in his hands, and it takes all of my willpower not to gobble it down right there and then. I nod my head in a sign of thanks and turn around to leave.
"Gale!"
I freeze. He knows my name? I slowly turn around.
"Yeah?"
"Good luck today. At the reaping."
"Thanks."
I turn around and leave quickly. It's not like the old man to say stuff like this. Usually he just takes our squirrels, gives us the bread, and that's that.
Odd.
I don't give myself much time to think about it, so I run. I want the bread to be hot when Katniss and I eat it. I climb the hills quickly and sit atop the rock ledge. I wait. She'll be here soon, and we'll eat. And talk.
This may be your last moments together, Gale, my little voice peeps up. I shoo it away. I don't want to think about that. If I were to be chosen for the Games, it wouldn't be so bad, but if Katniss was chosen, I know for a fact that I'd kill someone. Even if I know that she's able to take care of herself, I always feel the need to look out for her.
That's because you love her more than anything in this world.
That I cannot argue with. Even though I haven't told anyone, I love Katniss. Love her like she was my only hope of surviving. Love her like there isn't anything else in the messed-up world that could be more important than her. I love her when she's mad, when we're talking about the Capitol, her gray eyes flashing with hatred. I love her when she's laughing at a joke I made, the same eyes shining like the moon. I love her when she's frustrated, trying to come up with a plan. I always love her, and I always will. My love for her is undying, and I can't bear to stand here, doing nothing for her, or her family. Sure, we hunt and keep them alive, but it never seems like enough. I want to take both of our families to a place where we don't have to worry about starving to death, getting chosen for a stupid game and leaving our families with nothing, getting caught while hunting. I want to just…run off. Get away from this place, with its stupid system and stupid people who live stupidly in their fancy, stupid houses, eating their stupid, scrumptious dinner while the rest of the people around them die of hunger. So many stupids in one sentence…
A rustling noise snaps me out of my thoughts. I look around, and soon, I see the smiling face of Katniss. I swiftly stick one of my arrows before she can see, and motion for her to sit down next to me.
"Hey, Catnip," I say. "Look what I shot." I wave the bread back and forth in front of her face and she laughs. Just that sound brightens my day. I wish I could always hear her laugh like this, see her smile the smile that brightens every corner of my dark world.
…God, I sound like such a sap. I guess that's what love does to people.
She takes the loaf and closes her eyes in bliss as the smell wafts out from the hole of the arrow.
"Mm. Still warm. What did it cost you?"
"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental today," I reply. "Even wished me luck."
"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" she says. One of the best things about Kat is her sense of humor, mixed with a pinch of sarcasm. "Prim left us cheese."
I must be smiling because I feel the corners of my mouth tug up. I only smile around the kids and Kat.
"Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast." And now, for the icing on one of those cakes that I've seen at the bakery but never had before, "I almost forgot!" I shriek in a high-pitched, Capitol accent. "Happy Hunger Games!" I strip some berries from the nearest bush. "And may the odds—" I throw one of the berries at her.
She catches it and pops it in her mouth. "—be ever in your favor!" It's like an unspoken rule we have, joking about the Games. If we don't, the seriousness of all of this will surely make us go mad.
I take out my knife and cut the bread up. I then proceed to smear goat cheese all over, while thinking about who will get picked today. Katniss plucks berries out of the bushes around us while I place leaves on the slices. We sit down and quietly eat, both of us lost in thought.
I don't know where her mind's at, but I'm thinking about running off. I'm always thinking about it: what it would be like to live with my one true love, away from all the worries, in a place where I can just sit and stare at her beautiful face, hear that rare tinkling laugh of hers, all day.
"We could do it, you know." My voice is barely audible.
"What?" she asks, her mouth full of bread.
"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it."
She's quiet. She hates the idea, I can tell.
Of course she hates it, you idiot! I mentally slap myself. She cares about her little sister more than anything—more than you! Do you think she'd just leave her to run away with you? Not likely!
"If we didn't have so many kids," I add quickly, worried that she may be angry with me.
"I never want to have kids," she declares loudly.
"I might. If I didn't live here." I'm thinking about how our kids would look, if we married. We're so alike, they'd just probably look like everyone that lives in the Seam.
"But you do," she snaps.
"Forget it," I say angrily. If she doesn't want to think about anything besides her little sister, that's fine by me. I don't care if she doesn't want to consider my idea, if she doesn't want to think about herself and what her future may be like.
"That idea is so messed up and stupid!" She doesn't say it, but I know she's thinking it.
Yeah, just like everything else in our lives.
A/N: Yay, first chapter done. You might not get another one soon because I just found out I'm moving to another country. Tomorrow. Shizz. Sigh. Yeah, okay, so sorry if I sound depressed and not like myself, but it's hard, you know? Moving to—wait, why am I even telling you guys? Can I just kindly ask for reviews? Please and thank you. :)