"And this," I explained, "is how you set a snare."
"Okay, I'll try again," she said with determination, pushing her long, waist-length blonde hair out of her face, but it kept falling and her attempts were futile.
"You know, you better be careful with that hair, I think it's considered a hazard," I joked with her.
"Oh, shut up, Rory," she snapped.
I walked over to her and softly put her hair behind her back.
"Thanks," she answered, her face blushing against her fair skin.
I had been trying to teach Prim to set a perfect snare and other hunting tricks for the past four years, since she was twelve, but she can never get it right.
She gathered the berries and herbs as I hunted.
"I'll be over here, and I won't move until you get it right," I said teasingly, sitting up against a tree munching on tea leaves.
"You know, you're going to be there forever," she responded with her back facing to me.
About ten minutes later, and many tea leaves later, Prim calls me over to look at her "successful" trap.
"It looks, um.. Great!" I answer, hoping she can't detect the falseness in my voice.
But it's Prim, the smartest and prettiest girl in know, with her sparkling eyes and long, long, long light blonde hair that blows in the wind. Of course she would know, she knows me better than anyone else, just as my sister-in-law knows my brother, like the back of her hand.
"Why don't you just give up on me, Rory?" she asks me, looking me straight in the eye which is almost a foot taller than her.
"Because," I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "I know you can do it, Prim, you're smart. You can heal people with the touch of your finger. You affect everyone around you, including me," I explain truthfully.
"But Rory, I'm horrible at this, and you know it," she says matter-of-factly as she stomps say into the woods.
"I guess then you'll just carry all of the game for me as I hunt everything," I say jokingly as I lift a small boulder off the ground and put it in her hands, "if you can carry it, you little weakling."
She was the weakest and skinniest sixteen-year-old I knew.
"Come on, I'm not that weak, Rory. I bet you I could carry this all the way to the fence," she said, making a deal with me.
"And if you can't, and won't, you'll have to kiss me," I say teasingly, putting my hand behind her back.
She starts to run as fast as she can with the rock, but not much longer she drops it as I chase her. I come up from behind her and grab her 80-pound body and sling her over my shoulder.
"Rory Hawthorne, put me down right now!" she commanded as she thrashed in my arms, making futile attempts at punching at hitting my back.
We are complete opposites, she is blonde with crystal blue eyes, weak and incredibly skinny, while I am dark with grey eyes and strong and tall.
"Fine," I answer, not wanting to put her down; but I do and I place her down I a small meadow of flowers.
Primroses.
"You owe me in that bet, remember?" I question with hope in my voice.
"Rory," she calls my name, slightly running her fingers through my hair.
I lean down and gently touch her small, rosy lips with my own.
With whatever strength she has, she kisses me back, desperate and loving.
This is how I got to know and forever love Primrose Everdeen-Hawthorne.