Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the HG.

Note: I've changed the POV of this story from it's original. It will continue this way from now on. Enjoy:)

I walk quickly towards the Hob. My dad asked me to pick up buttons after work for my brother's recently burned shift. In my opinion, Cass is too young to be working in the forge. But I can't really argue. I was only eight years old when our dad finally caved at my requests to learn his craft.

We moved to District 12 the year after the war. Dad had never really fit in among the gun makers of District 2, so happily jumped at the opportunity to move our family here. Not that he was the only one that didn't fit in. Since I was seventeen at the time, having already finished schooling, I had no trouble helping him open and work his new blacksmithing shop in the merchant area.

I didn't know District 12 before the bombings, but I imagine it didn't look much different before than after. The citizens that have returned to rebuild their homes seem too accepting of the state it is in for it to have been a dramatic change. If you look closely, there are still charred patches of earth and some buildings on the outskirts of town that have collapsed. But certain areas have been renovated, like the merchant area and the Hob. The Victor's Circle escaped most of the blast, since the Capital knew its inhabitants hadn't been there at the time. The houses there are now inhabited by the first families that returned to their District.

As I make my way towards the Hob, I can't help but stop by the front of the bakery. It smells so wonderful, especially the cinnamon that they use in some of their rolls. Like everyone in the district, I know that the owner is Peeta Mellark, Hunger Games champion and a key member of the rebellion. I've seen him around town, but have never actually ventured into his shop. While my family had been well taken care of back in District 2, starting from scratch in a new district meant that things were tight. I've been happy to find prey in the woods around the district that are now more open to the public. At least open to those willing to risk the creatures that still roam there.

I stop at the door of the old building that has, surprisingly, survived most of the destruction. While many of the town's people have tried to make better lives for themselves, others are happy to return to what they know: trading. Greasy Sae is like the mother hen of the Hob now. I have heard through the grapevine that she used to be one of the key traders before the bombing. Maybe because of her experience, or just because she is an intimidating woman, she has fallen into the role of organizing the Hob into quite a respectable trading area. There is no need for back dealing and hiding anymore, so everything is in the open now.

I find her at her usual post, trying to sell a set of cups to an old man. I wait my turn patiently and grin when Greasy Sae scoots the man off. "How's the business, Sae?"

The woman flashes her usual, toothy smile at me. "Oh, it's been hopping today. Ever since the new announcement from the Capital. Makes me so mad I could spit." And she does, right into a cup that she proceeds to wipe out and put on display.

Sifting through the buttons, trying to find two that match, I look up at her in confusion. "What announcement?" The best part about working in my dad's shop is that there is no television there. I've been spared most of the terror from the rebellion, but the thought of the Capital still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. In my mind, what is the difference between one leader and the next? They all have a distorted view of what is good for their people.

Greasy Sae coughs awkwardly. It's unlike her to not simply blurt out her thoughts. This puts me on edge more than anything. She squares her shoulders and gives me a look that borders on pity. "I'm sorry, child. But the new president has brought them back."

I furrow my brow, not understanding. "Brought who back?"

"The games, girl!" she almost whispers, trying not to draw attention to our conversation.

My blood feels cold in my veins. I'm still seventeen, well within the reach of the Capital's twisted arms. "I have to get home," I try to say evenly. Paying quickly, I make every effort to appear aloof and unaffected.

Inside I'm screaming.

I practically run through the merchant square. I smell the cinnamon again, wafting out of the bakery. I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to try their bread again. Stopping abruptly, I rummage in my pocket and pull out a few coins. It's enough to buy something small, I'm sure.

Walking up to the door, I hear a heated argument inside. "How the hell could you ignore this, Katniss! You could have stopped it." It's a man. I figure it must be the owner, Peeta.

"You know I can't go near them. They make me sick! How could you expect me to go to the Capital after what happened to Prim?" The woman has to be the famous Katniss, the Mockingjay that I've heard so much about.

I don't want to eavesdrop, but I can't pull away from such an important conversation. I hear a loud thud. "So you just let them continue this bloodshed because you can't come to terms with your sister's murder, is that it? That's selfish, Katniss, and you know it."

"Well then I'm selfish. No matter what I did, no matter what any of us did, it didn't change anything! Children are still starving. There's still the rich, and the poor, and it's never going to get better. Why not let the games continue as well?" I hear her coming closer to the door and jump out of the way, just in time.

Katniss storms out, a fierce sight to behold. I've never actually seen her in person, since she tends to stay out of the public's eye, even in her own district. Her hair seems untidy, but pulled back into a braid. Her clothes are covered in blood, probably from the animals hung around her belt. In truth, she scares me, which is saying a lot. I don't scare easily, being a hunter in my own right. But Katniss is deadly.

Taking a big breath, still determined to get something sweet for my family, to calm their hearts after today's announcement, I quietly walk into the shop. The customer area is small, but clean. Racks of different sweets are organized and labeled. I see a room in the back where Peeta seems to be cleaning up a mess. He seems really preoccupied, so I take a few minutes to look at the pastries.

I quickly find the cinnamon rolls that I always smell from the street. The swirls are complimented by tiny swirling patterns in caramel on top. I am practically drooling when my thoughts are interrupted. "See something you like?"

Turning around, I am surprised to see Peeta smiling. Especially after that blowout moments ago. Deciding not to bring it up, I smile back. "Yeah. The cinnamon ones, actually."

Peeta walks over behind the display and gets one out for me, wrapping it and placing it in a bag. "You're the smith's daughter, right?"

I'm startled. I can't imagine how he'd know me, since we've never actually met. That is, until I look down at my clothes. I'm still covered in soot and wearing my work apron. Brushing away a loose hair I smirk at him. "Yeah, that's me. A modern Cinderella."

I'm surprised he gets the reference, even more so that he laughs. I'm startled at how blue his eyes are up close. "Well, I'm Peeta," he says, extending his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

I take it gently, surprised at his strength. "Briar," I clear my throat and place the money on the counter. I murmur a quick "Thank you," and quickly walk out into the street. For a few minutes, I forgot what drove me into the shop in the first place. I try to clear my head of any thoughts of the hansom baker and walk quickly toward home.

When I pass through the door, I'm gripped tightly in a hug from Cass. He is still only ten, so can't quite reach my shoulders. I hug him back, "Guess what I have for you." I try to hold the bag out of the way so they won't be crushed.

Cass pulls back and sniffs audibly. "Is that from the bakery?" His smile is the best part of my day. It really is one of the things that keep me going now.

"Yes it is. But we all have to share it," I say warningly.

Cass is his usual understanding self. He grins, "I'll go tell mom!"

Once our dad has returned, and we've all eaten dinner and the surprise desert, my mom puts Cass to bed. While they are out of the room, my dad takes both of my hands in his harsh grip. To most people, his hands would feel uncomfortably callused, but to me, they are home. "Honey, this was because of the Capital's announcement, wasn't it?"

He knows me too well. I never do anything irrational like this. "Yes," I reply. Normally I don't have a problem talking to my dad. I love my mom, but she never really seems to understand me like my dad. We both have iron in our blood. The fire from the furnace is like water to us. Cass is trying to follow in our footsteps, but is failing.

My dad looks me squarely in my eyes. "We'll deal with it if it comes, Briar. You don't have to take out tesserae, so that diminishes your chances greatly. And you only have these two years to dodge the bullet." He clears his throat. "We've been lucky in this new life so far. Maybe our luck will continue."

I try to be as calm as him. But inside I feel like a thunderstorm. Raging. I simply nod my agreement not to worry

My dad gently squeezes my hands before letting go. "The reaping is being held tomorrow. They're trying to avoid bad reactions by moving quickly."

Feeling my heart jump into my throat, I nod again, not able to form words. I try to sleep that night, but all I can think about are the videos of games past. How my family had feared me being reaped before the war, the peace and relief afterwards, and now having to go through it again.

I've barely shut my eyes before my dad is waking me again for another day in the shop. I'm determined to lose myself in work this morning. I want to act normal as much as I can.

As I say my usual goodbye to Cass and our mom before we head out, I hold back tears. Something in my gut tells me I won't be returning here again.