I'm in a Gale mood :) I've never written anything from his perspective, though, so we'll see how it goes...

...

I stand huddled in a clump of eighteen year-olds from the Seam. Our Square isn't very large compared to the other Districts - needing to hold only about eight thousand - so naturally, there isn't too much space to move around. Or breathe.

I look through the crowd, trying to find Katniss. At last, my eyes land on her in the group of sixteen year-olds, looking a deathly calm. But anyone who knows her as well as I do would know that she is nervous; she's put on her Mask. That's what I call it, anyway, her way of hiding what she's feeling so that others don't pay any attention to her. She doesn't want to draw attention to herself.

It's hard for me not to look at her, though. She looks so beautiful in that blue dress, but at the same time, so unlike herself. Not that I'm complaining.

I try to catch her eye, to make her turn her face towards me, but there are always people in the way. The Square becomes more crowded by the second, and I'm starting to worry that I won't be able to see the full view of her face before they call out the names. I need her to look at me, really look at me, so that my nerves for her will calm down.

It's not that I'm not nervous for myself or Prim, of course, but with Katniss it's different - everything is different. Losing her to the Games would be more painful than losing myself to them. She means more than the world to me, but I'm just too afraid to tell her; I don't want it to ruin our friendship if she doesn't feel the same way as I do.

My attention is brought back to the stage as Mayor Undersee makes his way to the microphone. He adjusts his glasses and starts to read the same thing we hear every single year: how Panem rose from the ashes of a place once known as North America, blah blah blah, Dark Days and destruction and all that crap, blah blah blah. We've heard it a thousand times, and quite frankly, it's not really a story I want to hear, it being the reason our friends and neighbours -sometimes ourselves- are sent into the Hunger Games to die.

Next, he repeats the rules of the Games as if we all don't already know that it's where they send children to be brutally slaudered by their own country. I'm guessing that most of his script wasn't written himself, because he probably isn't as ecstatic about it as President Snow. He finishes the explanation with, "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks."

I have to stiffle a snort when he says that. What exactly are we thankful for? Being sent out to kill eachother and most likely die?

I clench my jaw and try to control myself, because there's a small chance that the cameras could be trained somewhere near me, and I don't want anyone from the Capitol seeing my annoyance. I can just imagine them replaying this when I'm Reaped and having the Gamemakers kill me in some horrible way. I wouldn't be surprised.

Our past victors are announced -which proudly consist of two people in seventy three years- and Haymitch Abernathy makes his way onto the stage, swaying from side to side. He's drunk, as usual. Our only living victor makes us so bubbly with pride that we can hardly stand to have him around. Really. We can't.

He looks confused, then launches himself onto Effie Trinket for a hug. Her face is absolutely priceless, momentarily taking some of my nerves away. She yelps and tries to move away, causing her Capitolized wig to fall to the side. She must not have noticed, though, because she steps up to the mic to speak.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she hollers. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I glance back towards Katniss again. Her mask is still there, but it's beginning to slip as the time to choose the tributes draws closer. Finally, she feels my stare and locks eyes with me. I smile at her, still slightly amused by the Reaping so far, but mostly trying to ease some of the tension. I wait for her to return the smile, but she doesn't. Instead, her face darkens and her eyes become more wide and scared as she looks at me. I'd give anything to know what she's thinking, but I think I have a pretty good idea.

This year, I have forty-two slips in the boys' reaping ball. Compared to the six slips most of the boys my age have, the odds are definitely not in my favor. But I've accepted that, accepted that my fate might already have been sealed for me. But I don't want Katniss to worry about me right now - she needs to worry about herself. I need to worry about her. The odds aren't in her favor, either.

I turn my face back around right as Effie Trinket announces, "Ladies first!"

I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut. Not Katniss, not Katniss, not Katniss, not Katniss. My panic increases as the crowd falls silent, and I wait for my life to be over, for the beginning of her name to be called out. Please, I think. Anyone but her. Anyone but Katniss.

And it's not. It's Primrose Everdeen.

...

As soon as I hear the P, I let out a collective breath. My Catnip is safe. She isn't going into the Hunger Games.

But as my brain reboots itself, I realize just exactly what's happened; I realize who was called out.

Prim.

"No," I whisper. My heart drops to my stomach as I figure out what I'm about to see. If there's one thing Katniss won't allow, it's for anything to harm her little sister. And so in that moment, standing in the square, I experience vertigo for the first time ever. My head spins, and it feels as if I'm about to do a face plant into the cement.

In the distance, I hear the unmistakeable cry of anguish from Katniss. The absolute worst sound I will ever hear, I'm sure of it.

"Prim!" she screams. "Prim!"

Someone is holding me up, but I don't wait one second to see who it is. I sprint from my place and over to the front of the stage, where Katniss is throwing Primrose behind her as if she's shielding her from oncoming bullets. They might as well have been bullets shooting at us; I'm not sure I would have noticed. All I can see is the girl I love's horrified face as she blurts, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

I'd been expecting nothing less. But still, her words hit me like a knife to the heart. I want to grab her and run right then and there, but I know it's impossible. We really should have taken off this morning, like I'd suggested. We would've been loads safer than we are here, and she wouldn't have to volunteer to die for her sister.

My own thoughts repeat in my head and I feel my eyes stinging.

No, I think to myself sternly. You can't cry now. Be strong, for Katniss. She needs you.

I grab Primrose from behind and hold her away from Katniss. She squirms like hell, but I have no choice. Katniss catches my eye again, and for a moment it feels as if everything around us has gone into slow motion.

"Go on up, Catnip," I whisper. I'm not sure if she heard me, but that might be a good thing. My voice was probably shaking.

She mounts the stage, and I take Prim over to stand with her mother. They're both sobbing uncontrollably now, so I can't stay with them any longer. I need to get away so that I don't start crying, too. I can't look weak infront of all these people, especially since they'll probably show Katniss later in the Capitol. She doesn't need to see me crying over her before she goes in, as if I've already given up all hope. Because I haven't.

"Well bravo! That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?"

I hear Katniss announce her name, but it seems as if I'm listening from somewhere far away. This can't really be happening.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Dont want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" trills Effie Trinket. I clench my fists and wait for the crows to go wild, but not one person claps. A silence more harsh than any proclamation could've been rings out through the Square, leaving our escort standing onstage awkwardly.

I look around me at the solomn faces of my neighbours, and bring my three fingers to my lips. My friends quickly follow suit, and before I know it, the entire District is raising their fingers to the stage to the dark-haired girl staring back at us with wide eyes. I extend my hand out to my Catnip, silently sending out all of the love I've been holding in for her up onto the stage.

My respect for our District increases immensely in that moment. In our own quiet way, we have just defied the Capitol like no one has done in decades.

Katniss' eyes fill up, but she quickly swallows down her tears and regains her composure. That's my girl, staying strong to earn herself some sponsers early on.

Suddenly, Haymitch Abernathy is right up in her face, probably forcing her to smell his horendous alcohol breath. "Look at her. Look at this one!" He throws an arm around her shoulders, making me want to slice it right off infront of everybody. "I like her! Lots of..." He ponders for a moment, his head lolling from left to right. "Spunk! More than you! More than you!" The drunken idiot releases Katniss and points directly into the camera. He must be so drunk that he's actually brave enough to taunt the Capitol. He then sways for a moment before passing out right infront of our eyes and falling off the stage.

I want to laugh, to do something, but I can't. I can only keep my eyes trained on Katniss as she lets one single tear fall now that the cameras aren't on her anymore. Almost as soon as it falls, she swipes it away and her usual mask returns. But I didn't miss it; I saw it as clearly as I can see the color of her hair.

I yearn to reach out to her. More than anything, I want to run up onto the stage and wrap my arms around her, protecting her from all of the terror that are bound to follow. Unfortunately, there are Peacekeepers lining the stairs.

Effie Trinket waddles back to the microphone, her face flushed from the day's excitements. "It's time to chose our boy tribute!" she exclaims. I barely have time to be scared before she calls out the name. "Peeta Mellark!"

A blond haired boy that I recognize from the bakery walks up to the stage. It would be impossible to not see how terrified he is; his face is pale as a sheet and his eyes have the wild look to them that I'm used to seeing in my prey before delivering the death blow.

His eyes train on Katniss, and I follow her gaze. To my surprise, she looks panicked. I wonder if she knows him somehow, but decide not to worry about it. After all, she's probably just imagining herself killing him, or the other way around.

They shake hands, and the Peacekeepers lead them away, making walls around them so that they can't run off. "Anyone who would like to visit the tributes before they leave need to report to the Justice Building immediately," calls out Effie Trinket.

My heart beating so fast it feels as if it will explode from my chest, I shove my way through the crowd and towards the small crowd of people headed that way.

...

When I reach the Justice Building, I'm directed over to a narrow hallway. At the end are two metal doors that I assume contain Katniss and Peeta.

"Wait here." The Peacekeeper actually looks bored as leans back against the wall, as if he has the most boring job in history. Does he not realize how much heartache he's around? There are friends and family of both Katniss and Peeta who are waiting in the same spot I am, crying and leaning on eachother for support. What if it had been one of his children being sent out?

I suppose he'll never be able to relate to this unimaginable pain that we are feeling, because he works for them. He actually serves the discusting, bloodthirsty Capitol.

He must realize that I'm staring at him, because he looks up. "What do you want?" he demands.

I feel my face heating up with rage, and I let out a low growl. I don't know if it's the emotional trauma of the day or just how big of a jerk this guy must be, but I want to punch his face in.

He takes a step forward, trying to intimidate me. "Well?"

My arm twitches as I fight the strong temptation of hitting him, but I don't want to upset these people any more than they already are. I step away from him and mumble an embarrassing, "Nothing."

He laughs humorlessly and goes back to stand by the wall.

I barely have enough time to turn around before someone small flies into my arms. Primrose.

I hold her as she sobs into my chest, suddenly wishing that we were alone so that I could cry with her. But I know that if I let myself break down, I'll never find my way back up. And I need to be strong now, for Katniss and our families. I hold Prim in my arms until her and and are called away. Once they're gone, I see Madge in line to go in next, but don't wonder what she's doing here. I always knew that her and Katniss would have some kind of friendship together. They're alike in many ways, even though their lives are so different.

She goes in, and then even Peeta's father, the baker, does. But I don't care anymore. I'm too numb to feel much by this point.

At last, the door is being reopened and the worker is gesturing for me to go in. I step inside with my arms held open, not wanting to go one more second without her with me.

Luckily she doesn't hesitate before jumping into my arms. Maybe there is nothing romantic between us yet, but it makes me wonder if there could have been. The way she cares about me so much that she can just throw herself into my arms and just react the way she's wanted to since they called Prim's name means everything to me. I want to stay here with her forever, never needing to see her in that arena.

She tightens her grip on me, holding onto me like a lifeline. It breaks me even more when I realize that this could mean she loves me back after all. But what good would it do now? She's going into the Hunger Games, and only has a one in twenty-four chance of coming home to me -

No. She has much more chance than that. She's my Catnip, after all - the strongest, most skilled hunter I know. If anyone in District 12 has the ability to win this, it's her.

"Listen," I say urgently. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance." It may be an obvious thing to say, but I need to make sure it's fresh in her mind when she goes into the Capitol.

"They don't always have bows," she says quietly. She must be thinking of all the horrible weapons and equipments they've used in the arenas instead of practical ones.

I search my brain for some way to solve this, and finally blurt out, "Then make one. Even a weak bow is better than no bow at all."

Katniss' brows come together in worry as she mentions that she doesn't even know if there will be any wood. I want to run my finger across them and smooth them out, taking away all of her worries. It seems like a pretty impossible job now, though.

"There's almost always some wood," I tell her. "Since that year half of them died of cold. Not much entertainment in that."

"Yes, there's usually some," she whispers.

It looks like she thinks she has no chance at all of coming home, of winning this thing. I let out a breath, exasperated. "Katniss, it's just hunting. You're the best hunter I know."

"It's not just hunting. They're armed. They think," she argues.

"So do you. And you've had more practice. Real practice," I say. "You know how to kill."

"Not people."

I feel horrible saying it, but I tell her grimly, "How different can it be, really?"

She looks back up at me, her gray Seam eyes big and scared. Suddenly the Peacekeepers are opening the door, forcing me through.

"I need more time! Just a couple minutes, please!" I yell. But it's too late. They're pulling me out without even listening to what I'm saying.

Katniss springs forward and grasps my hand. "Don't let them starve!"

"I won't! You know I won't!" I say. I'm being dragged farther and farther away from her at an alarming rate, but there's still one more thing that I want to tell her. Need to tell her. "Katniss, remember I-" The door slams shut just as the last words, the words I've been wanting to tell her for months, pass my lips. "...love you."

I fall to a heap on the floor, feeling miserable. Why couldn't I have told her sooner? Why did I wait so long? I want to scream at myself.

But all of my energy has been taken from me. I'm left feeling lost, like my brain is wandering around some faraway other world where I can't reconnect it with my body.

"Go home," grunts one of the Peacekeepers. Insensitive jerks.

Numbly, I stand up and leave the building. I walk through the streets alone, trying to act like I can't hear all the celebrating going on in all of the houses. Most people right now are cooking up great celebratory meals for their families -maybe even taking out gifts- because their own children have been spared for another year. But meanwhile, there are two familes who will close up their curtains and block out the world around them so that they can grieve, preparing themselves for the weeks that are to come. Looks like my family will be one of those, along with the Everdeens and Mellarks. But for me, I won't be grieving for a sister or friend - I'll be grieving for the girl I love. The only girl I will ever feel this way about.

All the way home, she's all I can think about. Her image fills my head: long, dark hair, gray eyes, beautiful features. She probably doesn't even have any idea of the effect she has on boys, and I'm not sure she ever will, but I wish I could have told her all those times in the forest.

The forest. I mentally groan. Will I ever be able to hunt again? I suppose I have to; our families need to be fed, no matter what.

No matter how painful it will be for me, knowing that I don't have to watch her back, and she doesn't have to watch mine. For a moment I wonder why I hadn't volunteered to go in with her. We could have been unstoppable together... but then I think of Prim, Rory, Vick, Posy, and our mothers, and the thought dissapears.

My house is dead silent when I enter. Posy is asleep on the couch, too young to really understand what has just happened. Vick and Rory have obviously been sent to their rooms by Mother, because she knows me well enough to be able to figure out that I don't want them around me right now. I don't really want anybody, except for Katniss and maybe her.

I slip my boots off my feet and go into my bedroom to change, not wanting to be in these clothes for another minute. I'll probably burn them later if Mother lets me. I don't want any kind of reminder of this day, ever.

"Oh, Gale."

My mother enters my bedroom, but I don't acknoledge her just yet. I stand by my dresser in my jeans and a t-shirt, trying to distract myself with anything, but everything I take out reminds me of days I've spent in the forest, hunting with Katniss. My jacket, warmest clothes, ropes.

I spin around, unable to hold it in anymore, and let my mother rush up to embrace me. She holds me tight as the tears I've been trying not to let out fall down my face steadily. I can't remember crying since the day my father was killed in the mines, but the pain I'm feeling now is unlike anything. I can't help it.

"She's gone. She's gone," I repeat over and over again.

My mother pulls back and looks me straight in the eye. "Don't think for one second that she's gone, Gale. She's the biggest fighter out there. There's no chance she won't win this."

I squeeze my eyes shut as more tears fall down my face, but my mother brushes them away swiftly, just like I'm six years old again and have fallen down and scraped my knee.

"What if she doesn't, Mother?" I say. "What will I do then?"

I tip forward into her, taking small comfort in her familiar scent. "You''ll remember her with fond memories, and forget about these awful Games. You'll forget everything you see on that screen, and just remember her the way you've known her all of these years. You'll remember her as the girl you've fallen in love with, not the girl who's been taken away from you," she tells me. "Because sweatheart, she never would be gone, even if something were to happen to her. She'll always be with you, here." She takes me hand in her own and places it over my heart.

I guess I should have known that my mother would know about my love for Katniss. She seems to have always known everything about me. Maybe it's her motherly intuition, or maybe I'm just really easy to read, but she has definitely figured things out. And she probably did a while ago.

I swallow hard, then tell her, "Thank-you, Mother."

"Anytime, sweetheart." She kisses me on the forehead and leaves the room. Watching her go, I'm filled with loneliness. But at the same time, I know that she's right. Katniss is the biggest fighter out there, and if she doesn't win this thing, then no one will.