A year. It had almost been a year now, that she'd been solely providing for her family - her sister and her mother. She was strong. Prim cried almost every day for her father, but Katniss refused to. Even with the tight bond she held with her father, one that not one single person could tether or compare to, crying was not an option. If her mother and Prim were going to continue to wither, then Katniss would continue to nurture them back to life.
Of course it wasn't easy. Often, she found herself sat upon a rock in a forest clearing, bow and arrows set to the side, as she wept. Nobody could hear her out in the forest, she was the only one who dared to enter after her father's untimely death. They would go hunting together at every spare moment - swim, fish, shoot, climb and forage. He taught her everything she needed to know in order to survive and hunt in the forest, so she was not about to let her family down.
Today was one of those days, though. She had managed to forage a few berries so far, and that was it. She'd given up trying to set up a snare after it left her fingers trickling with blood. Her mind wasn't focused today, it was drifting far off. Drifting back to her father's death, to the day that the mine exploded and, with its ashes, snatched away the remains of happiness and sense in the Everdeen family. It had almost been a year...
Somewhere not so far behind her, between the sniffling that Katniss used to stifle her tears, a twig snapped. No, not a twig, something bigger than a tree. A branch - but what could be in a branch but light birds? Someone was here. Startled, she leaped to her feet and scurried behind the base of a tree, breathing heavily and wiping any traces of tears and weakness. Whatever this branch was, wherever it was, it was still snapping. Whatever was breaking it was probably very heavy.
Eventually, with a thud, it broke off, and Katniss heard a slight groan coming from its direction. Should she go and help? Perhaps they were hurt. They? Who were they? Who else ever dared to come in to the forest but her father? And he was dead.
Crunching footsteps were approaching her, until they seemed to dart in another direction. Katniss's brows furrowed as she crept around the tree anxiously, peering around to meet a pair of grey eyes. They were stood, peering behind, a large tree just opposite her. The eyes didn't belong to a grown up though, nor a wild and hungry carnivorous forest animal. The eyes that curiously bore into her belonged to a boy that seemed to be older than Katniss, but not by too much. He was tall, though, and his face was smeared with dirt and his hands lined with scars.
Cautiously, they both stepped fully away from their trees and towards each other. For a moment, they stopped, only a few feet apart. At last, she spoke.
"Who are you?" she mustered.
"I could ask you the same question, come to think of it," he raised his eyebrows, and Katniss smiled a little. The most she had done in a while - she let the corners of her mouth tug just a little.
As though considering it, she sighed. "I'm Katniss Everdeen." Next, she waited for his reply. Just by looking over his features, she knew something about the boy. Firstly, he had scars, meaning this was probably not his first nor last visit to the forest. Frequent visits, even. How had she not seen him around yet, then? Secondly, he was from the Seam. Everyone from the Seam, the poorer section of Distric Twelve, had similar features. Of course, their grey eyes and black, straight hair. Katniss always had her hair braided down her back, her own trade mark, that her father used to plait with the same concentration he had when setting snares. After his death, she decided to keep the style in a remembrance.
"Gale Hawthorne," he finally replied, and Katniss was sure she saw the corners of his lips tugging upwards, too. His eyes glanced toward the rock where she had been sat, and the result of failed snare attempts beside it. "You've been trying to set snares, haven't you?"
Katniss considered this for a moment. Wouldn't the humiliation be enough that she had hidden from him, and now that she couldn't even build a snare - one of her father's known specialties? But then, hadn't he hidden too? Hidden behind a tree, just as she had? And the branch that had been breaking...
"You've been trying to climb trees, haven't you?" she responded, some sort of smugness finding its way into her voice.
"I was trying my hand at foraging and archery," he began, now turning his gaze over to a tree where a rather large branch sat below it. "Fashioning bows isn't going all that well for me, if we're being honest."
If we're being honest. What was that supposed to mean? Katniss had to admit to the snares? Great. "Yes. Yes, I was trying to set a snare, and yes, it did go quite badly. If we're being honest."
"Well then, Catnip, snares happen to be my specialty!" he held his hands at his hips and raised one eyebrow. "If you insist, I'll teach you how to set one up."
"First of all, it's Katniss," she frowned, appearing not to be amused. Her tone lightened when she said, "But sure, you could teach me. That would be great. I just need to clear up that you're not going to attempt killing me, first, and then we're all set." She turned to her rock, beginning to usher him toward it.
"Oh, but Catnip sounds so much better!" he followed her, and something like laughter may have escaped him. "I can't promise anything about not killing you, though. For all I know, you might turn out to be really annoying, like Effie Trinket or something." Now Katniss did something like laugh. This year would be her first Hunger Games reaping, but she'd seen it plenty of times on her television at home.
"May the odds be ever in your favor," she mimicked, using a particularly high and posh voice, exaggerating each word. They sat beside each other on the rock, and almost immediately he began inspecting the cluster of snares, with a somewhat amused look upon him.
"Wow, these are some pretty interesting snares you've got going on," Gale commented, beginning to tie some intricate knots and mutter things beneath his breath. "Ah, I see. You've got the placement all wrong." Katniss groaned a little, burying her face in her hands. "You'll get the hang of it, though. Once I've taught you the basics, you'll get used to it. Snares will be easy then."
In sudden hopefulness, Katniss raised her head. "So you're really going to teach me?"
"Sure. I don't go back on my word, you know, Catnip," he assured her. Katniss made a mental note to correct him on her name after he taught her how to set up snares. For now, she'd just go along with it.
For the next hour or so, Gale showed her the knots and placements of a basic snare. Over and over, she failed, but she must've been doing something right. No longer did she cut her fingers or tangle the wire into an inexplicable mess as she had done earlier. As the minutes went on, she realised just how much she was enjoying the presence of this boy, Gale. It had been a while since she had spoken to anybody other than her mother and Prim for such a long amount of time. Katniss was finally realizing how lonely she had been.
"Like this?" she asked, holding up a knot that she had been attempting to tie for a great deal of time. Who knew that knots could be such hard work?
"Sort of," Gale looked up from his own hands, where he had made two complete snares already. Katniss sighed, wanting to throw her failure into the sky and never see it come back again. "You're getting the hang of it." He looked at her for a moment. Just took in her features. He recognized her, and not just because she had the typical Seam look. He hadn't wanted to mention it to her. Not just because it was a sensitive subject for her, but for him, too.
"Earlier, you had tear stains on your cheeks," he pointed out, and her head shot up, surprise evident in her eyes. His voice was no longer joking or amused, not even patronizing. Gale's voice was soft, perhaps even caring, understanding. "It... it was because of your father, wasn't it?"
"How do you know that..." Katniss began, voice quiet as though it wouldn't allow her to speak up.
"He died in a mining accident, didn't he?" Gale didn't allow her to finish.
"Shut up-"
"The mine collapsed-"
"Shut up!"
"Your father never got out-"
"Shut up!"
"Never got in the lift-"
"Shut up!"
"The mine exploded, and your dad was presumed dead."
"SHUT UP!" Katniss was no longer sat on the rock, she had jumped to her feet and turned on Gale, screaming. Tears threatened to emerge, but she pushed them back. Nobody had spoken to her about her father's death, not like this, not in so much detail. It was always, 'I'm sorry for your loss' and 'he was a great man', or just 'what a terrible loss'. Even then, she had to restrain herself from reaching up and hitting them, hitting them so hard that they couldn't say those things anymore. "You have no idea what happened to my father that day. You don't know what it's like, having to be the strong one. Having to take care of your own mother, having to be the one who provides!"
"Yes I do!" Gale retaliated, now also standing up, defending himself. "I understand more than anyone. I know what it's like!"
Katniss paused. What did he mean, he knew what it was like? How could he know what it was like? "No. No, it's my father who is dead! It's my father who died in a mining accident!"
"It wasn't just your father!" he yelled. A sound of wings rose through the airs, and flocks of birds flew away at the sound of yells. Gale gulped, in an attempt to calm himself down. Katniss was silent, realization drifting into her.
Memories flooded back. Families huddled in terror around the mine lift, waiting hopefully for their lost relatives - fathers, husbands, sons, - as more and more arrived, more and more of the families left, tears of worry dried. Katniss waited, encased in her mother's arms and with Prim holding her arm tightly. Their hope, whatever there was of it, deteriorated as the day went by. Less men were returning from the depths of the mine, until, at last, there was nobody left. The same realization filled Katniss that was showing in her eyes now. Prim's face was drenched in tears, their mother pale and weak. But it wasn't just Katniss's family that stood there. It wasn't just her father who never returned.
"Your father..." she clasped her hands around her mouth. What had she done? If anybody had spoken to her the way she had to him, she would've handled it very differently. "I'm... I didn't... Sorry..." was all she could manage.
"No. It's fine," Gale insisted, much calmer now. "I know what it's like. I've been setting snares since that day, providing the only food source for my family. But I remember you. You have a little sister, don't you? Well, I have a little sister, too. And two little brothers-" he stopped short, noticing the sudden presence of tears upon Katniss's face. "Don't cry!"
One of Gale's weaknesses was comfort. Sure, he could comfort his mother and siblings, but this Catnip girl was another story. So he did the first thing that seemed obvious to do. He awkwardly encased her in a hug. "Don't cry, Catnip."
"I'm not crying," she choked, wiping furiously at her eyes and stepping out of the hug. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, looking up into the sky. It was rapidly becoming grey and dull, any remainders of sunlight beginning to slip away. "I need to be getting home. Prim must be starving..."
"Right, yeah," Gale agreed, also coming to realize the time of day. His eyes glanced over to a pile of dead, skinned animals that were surely that of Catnip's catch.
She followed his eyes, feeling a little guilty. Gale had three siblings, his mother and himself to feed. She only had three occupants in her home, and five dead animals were more than enough for tonight. "Here, take some. We don't need many. Take three." After all, Katniss could just come back tomorrow for more food - she didn't need to sell any today, necessarily.
"Thanks," he said gratefully, stomach rumbling on cue. "I'll be back tomorrow, if you're here, and I could teach you more about snares."
Katniss wasn't sure she wanted to try that again. With a quick look at her knuckles where the crimson blood had dried, she said, "Sure. I can get you a bow and arrow, too, and teach you which plants not to eat." Perhaps it would be fun, having somebody to talk to in the woods. Someone to keep her thoughts away from that day and what it had brought her, how it had caused her to be here. Plus, it meant extra game.
"Sounds good to me, Catnip," Gale grinned, almost as though he knew it not to be her real name. Or maybe it was because he, too, was looking forward to tomorrow. Looking forward to not having to be alone anymore.
"It's Katniss," she frowned, but not long before a grin pushed through. "See you tomorrow, Boy with the Snares."
As she weaved through the forest's trees, he muttered, "All right, Catnip."