She's small, young – pretty, if you can get past the scowl wrought over her features, and the dead squirrel hanging over her back. Her steps are light as a doe's, never to be noticed, never seeming to break twigs. Light as a feather.
But he notices, and follows, watching her footfalls through the woods. Golden sunlight casts a soft warm look on her face, and he struggles to remember her, because she's vaguely familiar. She lurks in the back of his mind now. He's pensive for a minute, trying to recall her – even though Seam girls are the same, practically, she's different somehow. Maybe it's because even though her ribs are showing beneath her hand-me-down clothing, she's got the stubbornness on her face that he can't help but admire. He feels like he's admired it before, even if she seemed like she was sad…sad. But why?
He floats over the dead leaves, quieter then her. Until she halts, transfixed, then steps forward. Anger flashes; he works hard to keep his family alive, and here she is, fingering his trap, the delicate knots performed by fingers.
Her gray eyes take in everything, but he's out of hiding before he can stop, and he growls, "That's dangerous." She's silent, studying him, and he knows she recognizes him. But from where?
"What's your name?" He takes the rabbit from the snare and puts it into his gamebag, almost defiantly, and waiting for anger, fear maybe.
Instead, the girl doesn't look at him and mumbles, "Catnip." He hesitates, because it's an odd name for even a Seam kid, but he's still mad. His rabbit.
"Well," He says, studying his snare intently as he resets it, then stares at her hard, and he can tell she finds him menacing even though she's not exactly afraid, "Catnip, stealing's punishable by death, or hadn't you heard?"
"Katniss." She corrects, still not making eye contact, "And I wasn't stealing it. I just wanted to look at your snare. Mine never catch anything." She falls silent, and then she lifts her blue-grey eyes so that he can see that she's hidden all emotion. Void, sullen, waiting.
He snorts, because why should he believe a kid? "Then where'd you get the squirrel?"
Something flickers very briefly in her eyes, but he knows what it means – what, you don't think I'm capable? She brings a bow off of her back, and holds it in her dirty hands, "I shot it."
He's transfixed; he doesn't have one, but he wonders if she can get him one before he dismisses it. "Can I see it?" He asks nonetheless."
She's wary, and replies, "Just remember, stealing's punishable by death." A ghost of a smile flickers over his features, but she makes no reply. She's like him, he can see that. A young child trying to support her family, knowing that tessarae can't cover it all.
He wants one, a bow like it, and before he can tell her that, she says she can get him one. Teach him how to use it for a trade, but not food. Knowledge. She wants the wisdom of the woods, and he can already see she's athome here. She wouldn't be a bad partner, and so he agrees, though he's got a feeling that she might be a pain in the neck.
Too bad she walks off after they talk, and he follows her, far enough behind that she doesn't notice. He wants to see something.
He gets his wish – the girl pulls her bow off her back, and puts her arrow in place. She pulls the taut wire, and he can't help it – his eyes are wide because it's that good a shot.
That small little girl? That defiant child? Well. You learn something every day.
Not that it matters, because he'll teach her then let her go because trust is hard these days.