It's been two weeks since I finally woke up from the daze of sorrow the rebellion had put me in. The days passing by feel meaningless, but it doesn't seem to crush me completely now that I'm at least moving through some of the motions. Buttercup and I have been getting along even better than I expected. He hasn't hissed at me since the first day he came back to District 12, and he's started to enjoy sitting on my lap for a little comfort. It's like he knows that we share the same loss.
It's also been two weeks since I finally let the pain and sadness from Prim's death really hit me. I had been completely numb sitting in that chair while Greasy Sae took care of me, an empty shell just waiting for impact. I needed it though, after two hunger games and rebellion I felt all used up, like I didn't have enough of anything left in me to even stir an emotion. Mostly it just felt like I was dead but still trapped in my body, to forever suffer as a ghost of who I used to be.
Seeing Peeta again was like a wake up call. I'm not in this alone, and though I struggle to remember it, his reappearance has reminded me. Now that my mind is a little less muddled I know Greasy Sae has done a lot for me too. She comes by only every other day to check on me now, since I'm taking care of myself again. I've also been hunting regularly, so I make sure to bring some fresh game to her as thanks for all she's done and continues to do.
The air is crisp with the end of winter and fresh with beginning of spring. I'm off to the woods to catch the last lingering winter pheasants before they've all gone. It feels good to be outside, breathing fresh air. As I inhale deeply I feel freer than I have in nearly two years, now that I can leave District 12 bounds to hunt without fearing a death sentence by the Capitol.
My hair is getting longer. I can almost pull it into a ponytail at the nape of my neck, but for now it just hangs loose around my jaw line. I'm still week from months I spent sitting dormant, but I've gained a bit of strength and endurance back from the last week of daily hunting. If I were to be reaped for the Hunger Games right now, I wouldn't even stand a chance of living through the bloodbath. As I think about the games a shiver runs through me that makes me rigid. I close my eyes tight and try to remember what Dr. Aurelius taught me.
My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. There is only one more Hunger Games. This time it is the Capitol that will be reaped. I will never enter the arena again.
This manages to get me moving again.
As I trudge through town, I can see clean up from the bombing is moving swiftly; almost half of the destroyed buildings throughout the Seam have been cleansed of bodies, ash, and rubbish. All the streets and pathways themselves have been cleared. I wish I could be useful enough to help, but I can barely walk through town without being crippled with a potent mixture of grief and guilt. For now I hunt and bring freshly caught game for Greasy Sae to distribute to the people who have returned to the district. So far is seems the population of District 12 has grown to about fifty people. A few people have come as families, but most have come alone. Everyone has lost a lot to the Capitol and the rebellion, including the home we all once knew. But this is still home to many of us survivors, and so people have come back to try to restore life in District 12.
I can enter the woods at almost any point, since the fence that used to entrap the district is now barely stable being propped up by long sticks. Yet I still make my way to my usual point of entrance, sliding through the now gaping hole at the bottom of the fence. It's February and the sun's rays are warm but the occasional breeze still cuts across my cheeks with the edge of winter. I set up a few snares once I make it past the rock that always brings back intense memories of a friend that I used to have. Gale and I haven't spoken since the day I assassinated President Coin. I haven't figured out yet if he thinks what I did was treasonous and despicable or if he just doesn't believe I'll ever forgive him for Prim's death. My little sister, the only person I loved unconditionally, Prim…
I'm deep in thought, sitting on the ground with my arrows still resting in their sheath, when the crackle of a few broken twigs snaps me back to reality immediately. I spin around on my knees to look for the source, but I should have known. Peeta is walking towards me with a small sack in hand and a trace of a smile on his lips.
"I thought I might find you out here," He says, stopping just a few feet away, "I brought some bread and cheese, would you care for some lunch?"
Peeta and I have never had any semblance of a normal relationship. For many years he was the boy with the bread to me, the boy who saved my life before I had spoken a word to him. Then suddenly we were both reaped, and he was the boy I was supposed to kill in order to make it out of the Hunger Games alive. Then once we started playing the games he was my pretend lover, all the while I was terribly confused as to what I actually felt for him. He had always been willing to risk his life in order to save mine. I think I may have actually started to fall in love with him when he was kidnapped by the Capitol and tortured until he was a different person entirely. I was sure I had lost Peeta forever after he was hijacked, but most of the person I used to know stands before me today. However damaged he may be, I can feel the warmth of his being again.
I can't help but smile, a rare occasion these days. "Sure, pull up a few blades of grass." I pat the ground invitingly, although it is still mostly dirt at this point in the season.
Peeta sits down and pulls the loaf of bread out of his sack. He slices off two thick pieces of bread and I can see steam coming off them, dense like breath on a snowy day. The slices of cheese he puts on the bread are different than what I was used to in district twelve before the rebellion started, so I can only assume he traded his baked goods with someone who recently traveled to district twelve. Now that communication between districts is legal and trade is the free throughout Panem, there are plans to build actual trade centers in each district. I don't know how long this will take, though, since I only even learned of it from my mother and then Greasy Sae, both of who actually watch TV for updates from President Paylor. I don't really care to watch the broadcasts, just because I rarely feel much compulsion to do anything.
By the time Peeta hands me my share the cheese has melted slightly, but I can tell the cool February air has cooled it sufficiently. "Thanks," I say before I eat the whole thing in a matter of a minute, maybe less. It isn't long before Peeta finishes his portion.
I can tell he's thinking intensely about something when his expression becomes grim very quickly. "So, have you seen Haymitch lately?"
A pang of guilt flits through me briefly. "No, I haven't. I figured he was just too drunk to leave his house."
"That's the thing though, he was. And he still is." Peeta looks me right in my eyes and I see anguish. I can't help but think he's seeing nothing at all while he looks into mine.
"Peeta, Haymitch is always drunk. That's just who he is now." I know it sounds heartless even as I'm saying it. But what does Haymitch have to mope about? His family was dead a long time ago.
"I'm worried, Katniss. It's worse than before, much, much worse." He grips his sack tightly in his fist, "I went by to check on him yesterday and he wasn't conscious. I had to dump water on him twice before he even noticed anything. He looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks."
I watch Peeta as he anxiously twists his bag in his hands, waiting for my response. "But what can we do? I don't see how we can help, besides trying to force feed him."
"Well we could start by trying to wake him up again." He replies, and I know he doesn't just mean literally wake him up. We need to help Haymitch get out of his daze of sorrow. It tooks many months for Peeta to be brought back from being hijacked, and it took months for me to finally start to mourn the loss of Prim. Now it's Haymitch's turn.
"We're going to need a plan." I say, then I add, "but our first goal is to get him to eat." Peeta nods, and his expression lightens considerably now that he knows I'm willing to help.
"Let's get back to the village. We'll be able to plan a bit better in front of a warm fire." He stands up and offers me his hand.
"Okay, but first I have to check a few snares I set up," I say as I take his hand lightly. He lifts me with ease.
My snares caught two rabbits, a pheasant, and a squirrel. We walk back to the district in silence, feeling no need to fill the void with meaningless words.
So this is the first fan fiction I've written in a long time! I want to write something that focuses on the result of the rebellion all over Panem, and also about how Peeta and Katniss grow back together without a bunch of meaningless fluff.
I hope whoever reads this enjoys it :)