Look, to name my main character Katniss may have been a mistake what with The Hunger Games being overwhelmingly huge at the mo. But it seemed to me to be a name that suited best-so that's her name, and after all-it is just a name. Please don't associate this Katniss with the other Katniss! They are completely different people, personalities, and have a completely different story.
Thanks! Bethxx
Katniss walked through the village square, a paper bag loaded high with fresh crusty bread in her arms.
She avoided the wettest cobblestones, not wanting her sisters shoes to be returned soggy and wet. A light haze of misty rain was falling, leaving soft diamonds littered like a web in her dark hair. She yanked off her apron and threw it over the bread. She would get spanked if Ms Crysel found it wet.
Her thick, heavy grey dress sheltered her from most of the drizzle, but she didn't mind; Katniss enjoyed the rain.
She hurried through the square, then through rows of shops and stands. Then she hit a wall. A high grey cobbled wall. She hurried down, along the side hugging it for shelter, not for herself, but the bread. She came to a drawbridge, but she simply walked past and kept going.
Coming to a small gate in the wall she slipped through. Inside the gate there was a small path, hidden by trees. She ran up the path, until she came to the back of a stable and a kitchen door. Inside she dropped her parcel onto a bench and gently lifted out a loaf and held it to her ear, and gently squeezed it. She sighed with relief. It was still fresh.
She leant against a wall and surveyed the kitchen. It was huge, benches wrapped around every wall, giant cast-iron pots and pans hanging from pegs. She shivered to think about having to work under those hanging pots.
She heard fast footsteps clicking down the hall from the kitchen. Gasping she saw her apron clumsily tossed to one side of the bread. She lunged forward and grabbed it.
She quickly wrapped the ties around her waist and tied them at the front. Noticing one of the ends was soiled she pushed folded her hands in front to hide it and looked up in time to see Ms Crysel.
The whole kitchen froze when they saw her. Each maid or cook quickly smoothing their stained aprons and standing upright to face her.
She was tall, thin, and old. She had spectacles perched on her long nose, and her grey hair pulled from her face in a tightly coiled bun.
She paused at the door for a moment, then marched to Katniss.
She glanced at the bread, then turned to Katniss.
"Your late. Why." she hissed, making it sound more of a statement, not question.
Katniss curtsied to the head maid. "The drizzle ma'm, it was slow going on the cobbles, ma'm, and I wanted the bread kept dry."
"That is no excuse." She said. She went back to the bread and slowly felt it, her eye's still on Katniss. They paused over one spot.
Ms Crysel spoke. "This bread is wet, Katniss."
"Ms Crysel? I did try..."
"That is not good enough! How can I serve damp bread?!"
She marched over and slapped Katniss.
Katniss stood in the servants yard, waiting for the sound of clicking heels on the cobbles.
Sure enough, they came with vengeance. Ms Crysel sounded purposeful.
She appeared as she rounded a tree. Her face was twisted into a scowl but yet her eyes held a sadistic glint.
She carried a bowl, cracked and chipped. She tossed it at Katniss' feet. It clattered on the ground and a liquid spilled over the side.
"Yer' supper-Katniss." she hissed "The bread was soggy and I had to take a new trip to the bakery for a crisp loaf."
"Miss, I did try-" Katniss curtseyed.
"Well you didn't do good enough."
"But Miss-"
"Don't you dare talk back!" Crysel swung around with her hand and slapped her across the face again.
Katniss reeled backward and tripped. Twisting around she flew forward. Her body hit something warm and soft. She didn't care what is was-she buried her head in what felt like fabric and clung to whatever it was that had caught her.
She heard Ms Crysel snort, and say something about justly punishing 'the girl' and she heard her receding footsteps as she dissapeard into the kitchen.
She felt a hand gently holding her head to the warm fabric. Gently she pulled backward to see what exactly she had fallen against.
She looked up and saw a man, a boy really. He was young, maybe two years older than herself-he looked eighteen.
He was tall, with dark hair cut around his face. He had deep brown eyes. He looked down at her.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his hand still holding her head.
Katniss swallowed and nodded lamely.
Gently the boy let go of her. He put a hand just behind her cheek and studied it.
"She cut you" he mumbled, his brow slightly furrowed.
"What?"
He removed his hand looking embarrassed.
"Ah, she cut you when she slapped you. There are small cuts all over your cheek."
'Oh." Katniss stopped and went to feel it.
"No!" He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. "Don't," He finished gruffly "You'll get in infected."
He put a hand on her arm and led her round, out of the yard and to the stables Katniss walked past earlier.
He led her inside and went to a bag hanging on a peg.
"Sit down on that stool" he said.
He pulled from the bag what looked like a jar of the jelly she had seen Cook scrapping from the lamb roast and making gravy with.
He unscrewed the lid. Katniss almost gagged-it smelt dreadful-like a mixture of half chewed cud covered in cow globber and boot polish.
He used his finger to scoop out some and smeared it on her face. It stung at first, and it still stunk.
She went to touch it again, but stopped. This man was serious about her not infecting it.
"Who are you?" She asked.
The boy had his back turned to her, as he was placing the ointment back in his bag. He lifted his head up, and paused for a moment. Then slowly, turning his head slightly in her direction, answered.
"Caleb."
Katniss studied him for a while, then spoke;
"I'm Katniss"
"A pleasure." Caleb said, still turned away from her.
Katniss noticed a piece of a mirror hanging from a nail just outside the stable. She walked out to inspect her face.
Just then a light drizzle started again, and she started to go inside, back to Caleb.
She turned, but then she noticed. Caleb was no longer there.
Katniss opened the door of her family home. The drizzle had stopped, leaving the skies still grey. She had already removed her sisters shoes, and dried them as much as she could with the skirt of her dress. The first thing she saw was the fire going - Her brothers must have found some dry wood today. Then she saw her sister -standing by a window, in her white starched dress and neat hair, folding washing. She must have already finished her shift serving Her Ladyship.
"Your shoes, Lucy." Katniss curtsied "Thank you for lending them to me."
"Good, I'm glad you used them-you do know you can have them, do you not?"
"But Lucy...?"
"I was just given a new pair for serving. I do not need those old things any longer-I despise the very sight of them!"
"Oh, thank you Lucy!" Katniss giggled.
"I heard from Lidia that Crysel scolded you for merely a spot of rain on the bread this morning. I hope she was not too unkind?"
"She is never nice. She was her usual self. An old, batty, coot."
Lucy giggled. "Too right!"
She paused and fully turned toward her sister. "Katniss, what are those marks on you face? Crysel did not do this to you did she?"
"She did. But.." she paused
"But what?"
Katniss studies the ground, frowning. She looked up. "I'll tell you tonight."