I pull back the string of my bow. I close my left eye and aim at the hare in the distance. I take a deep breath and shoot. It hits it, right in the eye. I smile. Suddenly, I feel cold hands gripping my shoulders and a gravelly growl. I spin around. Finch is standing there, dying of laughter. I roll my eyes and punch her firmly in the shoulder. "Finch!" I yell. "Don't do that!"
"It was only a joke, Katniss!" She says. "It reminds me of the mutts." I mutter. Finch's smile fades away and whispers, "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
I pull Finch onto the top of the Cornucopia. A tear rolls down my cheek. I let it sit there. The mutts go crazy, wanting food. I pull out the groosling and throw it to them. "There." I mutter. Cato is already in there, being eaten alive. "My God..." Finch mutters.
We stand there in silence for a moment. "Did you find the basil for our soup?" I ask. Finch nods. I gesture towards the hare I just shot. "And I've got the main coarse." We trudge up the hill in the forest, leading to our cottage. After the revolution, everyone just found a hunting partner and rebuilt their home. Finch and I paired up, and we now live in the woods, hunting animals and picking herbs for healing, soup, and sometimes salad. It took a whole year to construct the cottage, and we're proud of it. We come across the river, in which we jump over every day. Finch sometimes has trouble getting across, so I help her out. Once we get to the cottage, Finch immediately sets a fire in the fireplace. We sit by it, rubbing our hands to create friction, which causes warmth.
"Katniss?"
"Yeah?"
Finch pauses for a moment. "...Do you ever think about Prim?"
I scoff. "It's hard not to, with that mangy cat around." Buttercup walks over to Finch and rubs against her. He purrs. Buttercup loves Finch, mainly because to him she's Prim, like Prim never died.
"My sister...Irene, she reminded me of Prim." Finch says softly. "She's not with us anymore, she was forced to marry the mayor's was so young, too young to give up her independence to him. She was nine..." She whimpers.
"You can't see her anymore?" I ask with dismay. Finch nods. Her fiery red hair glimmers in front of the fire, and her blue-green eyes tear up. She sniffles. "At least I have you." She hugs me, and for once, I hug her back. "C'mon, Fox, let's make dinner."
"I still can't believe you called me Foxface." She laughs.
"Me neither."
