A/N- Hi, everyone! This is my second Katpee story. This one, unlike my other one, will be chaptered. It is also post-Mockingjay, pre-epilouge, and slightly AU. Anyway, I also have two announcements to readers of my other stories:
IF YOU READ PEETA'S ADVICE: I still need one more reader-submitted letter to write the next chapter.
IF YOU USED TO READ DEAR 16-YEAR-OLD ME: There is a note for you on my profile. Please read it, because it's very important; in my opinion, anyway.
Now let's get to the story, shall we? :-)
Katniss' point of view:
Pale orange sunlight dances through the open window on the other side of the room. Obviously the weather doesn't know what the day marks the anniversery of; seven years ago, the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games began. For me, and twenty-three others, it was one of two. The begining of the second came a day earlier than the others, as the reaping pools were so drastically decreased. Yesterday was not easy in the slightest, but I was hoping today might be a bit better; I was wrong. I suppose it was a combination of yesterday's stress and drama and the impending panic throughout the night that made today start off worse. It's only six in the morning, but I am as alert as I know that I will possibly get.
By alert, I mean physically. Emotionally, I'm an absolute wreck. I give myself a second to try to steady my fast heart rate and equally quick breahing. Unable to do so in the time I allow myself, it starts to feel as if the room is spinning. Suddenly starting to feel sick, I bite the inside of my left cheek and breathe deeply through my mouth. I guess Peeta sensed something was wrong, because a minute later, he is behind me. Leaning back into his open arms, I try to find the words to explain. If such words exist, I have never discovered them. Thankfully, words aren't needed. Understanding is passed through our eyes.
I jump up the second that I start to feel back to normal. Peeta says my name and reaches for my hand, but step away.
"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I just can't take it anymore! The whole district is just... too full of memories. I just need a little time to think. I promise, it has nothing to do with you. I just..." I allow my voice to trail off as I run out the door and towards the forest, not pausing until I am several; dozens of yards past the remenants of the old electric fence that tried to keep me out of the one place I can think clearly.
I find myself at the base of a towering oak tree. Eventually I am gasping, not from the run, but from the strain of holding back the tears that are threatening to pour down, uninvited.
After a few minutes, I find myself up in the tree. Although I'm not certain how I ended up here, I'm glad that I did. Thoughts come a lot clearer up here than they do while I'm on the ground. But within the next minute, I'm not alone. Peeta has followed me. As I only have one real place that I enjoy escaping to, I doubt it was hard to find me. Lesson of the day; find a new hiding spot- sometimes I just really need some time alone.
"Go away," I manage to sniffle, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Unfortunately, Peeta refuses. Well, two can play at that game.
"You do know I'm not coming down until you go, right?" I respond drily. But Peeta only shrugs and smiles. The next thing I know, he is uncertainly and slowly, but surely, working his way up to where I am perched across a wide branch.
Suddenly all previous thought is driven out of my mind. I vaguely remember from our first Games that Peeta mentioned something about not liking jeights. I know from when I tried to teach Prim how to climb that nervousness can very easily make someone freeze up.
"Peeta, go down. I'm serious." I don't know where the authoritive tone comes from. "Look, if you go down, I will too. Okay?" I add with an attempt at gentleness to make up for my random flight and previous argument.
I get into position to climb down as Peeta starts. All seems to be going smoothly. But then, it all goes wrong; a branch snaps, and I look down just in time to see Peeta falling.