Sugar and Soot

In District Twelve, friends can be hard to come by. There's always too much to worry about- whether it be too many mouths to feed, too many jobs to work, or too many children in the reaping. But Katniss always had Gale, and Peeta always had Delly. Always.

One pair had halos for hair and blueberries for eyes, with wide smiles and full stomachs; they always seemed decorated in sugar and a glow of warmth. They spent their time among the spices of the bakery and the leather of the shoe shop.

Mrs. Mellark was always unfailingly kind to Delly; most likely hoping Peeta would give up his infatuation with the Seam brat for a merchant girl like her, even allowing them to play with the spare scraps of dough in their free time.

Sometimes, as they sat at the small table in the bakery with their morsels of cookie crumbs, or the bench at the shoe shop with cheap candy from across the street, Delly would drag Peeta up to the passing customer by the hand and announce proudly that he was her brother.

If Peeta's brothers weren't so keen on his love of Katniss Everdeen, they might've teased him about her, about the fact that he spent nearly all of his adolescent life at her side. They might've bullied him for pulling away when she gave him his first kiss. But they didn't. They couldn't. Not when Katniss Everdeen was always with Gale Hawthorne, around town or at school. Not when his unspoken rejection was thrown at him every day.

Delly never took any of it personally, she was just hardwired that way, and when he told her of his feelings for Katniss, she merely comforted him. When she caught him staring at her in school, all she did was intertwine their fingers beneath he coal dusted desks, calloused baker's hands on calloused shoe maker's.

The other pair had hair of soot and eyes like the glittering head of a mining pick, silver in the hard leather of their skin. Clothes always hung a little too loosely off their fragile bone structures, and the aura of brooding surliness blanketed them thickly. Yet, together or apart, people were enchanted by them.

They spent their time among the fragrance of the woods and the sweat of the Hob. But most people they traded with were always unrealistically fair, for their fathers had been respectful and kind-hearted men, who never wronged any of them. In the Seam, the people were rough but honest and hard-working, always willing to bend the rules of their culture for those who deserved it.

Sometimes, as they sat at their rock ledge in the woods or Greasy Sae's stall in the Hob, Gale would tug playfully on Katniss's braid, earning the ever present scowl, but also a begrudging smile. If Katniss's sister weren't so innocent and kind, she might've teased Katniss for the way she chastely kept herself locked away. And Gale's brothers might've bulled him for the way he refused to acknowledge any feelings for Katniss, had they not been so aware of how sore the subject was.

But they didn't. They couldn't. Not when it was those two emotionally damaged and reserved people that kept them alive, parented them, provided an unconditional love they might've missed out on otherwise. Not when they worked tirelessly to replace the fathers they lost in a mine explosion.

And when Vick fell ill, Katniss sat with Gale for hours in the peaceful serenity of his home, tangled together on the old dusty couch, separated by nothing but their clothes. Huntress on hunter, they were inseparable. But all of that would change the year of the 74th Hunger Games.

But there are some things that friends are always good for, no matter the time.

Comfort

When Peeta was fifteen, his father attempted to teach him a new recipe. It was complicated, difficult, and the writing in their tattered recipe book was barely legible at best. The first batch failed when he misread the baking time, and Mrs. Mellark was furious.

She took out her frustration on him with the rolling pin she always kept on hand.

The aftermath was severe enough to have kept him from school for at least a day, but Peeta woke up the next morning with a smile. He ran a comb through his halo, splashed some water onto his red marks, and was out the door before anyone could tell him otherwise.

Delly was chatting with Madge when he approached, and at the sight of his ghastly face she nearly screamed. "Peeta! What happened?" Her voice was sad but reproachful, and she brushed her fingertips over the welts rising on his cheekbone and forehead.

He blushed sheepishly, too embarrassed to push her prying hands away, instead scratching at the back of his neck bashfully. "I, um, messed up some cookies." Madge shifted her gaze to her shoes, a frown creasing her face downward.

"Meet me at the back door of the bakery this evening," She told him, turning to trudge off in another direction.

"Why?" He asked, finally pulling gently away from Delly, who huffed with concern.

Madge turned, her soft silk dress flowing around her calves at the motion, and smiled sadly at him. "My mom has some medicine that will help with the bruises."

He began to protest, but his efforts were futile, and Madge was already marching in the direction of none other than Katniss Everdeen, who stood with the always brooding Gale Hawthorne near a cluster of trees on the fringe of the school yard. Gale's expression only darkened when she approached them, but Katniss forced the scowl off her face and made what Peeta judged to be polite conversation.

In the meantime, Delly's fingers had wandered back to his face, and she inspected each mark thoroughly. He could do nothing but let her, his eyes still trained on the beautiful huntress and her sullen hunter friend.

When an illness traveled around Town, it meant slightly smaller meals at breakfast and dinner, and less everyday luxuries, like sweets, to pay the extra expense of medicine. When an illness went around the Seam, it meant death.

So when Vick Hawthorne fell ill, the necessary steps were begrudgingly taken. A mostly white sheet was hung on the door, the children sent to stay with the Everdeens, and all household items were sanitized. Katniss and a depressed Gale were sent to care for the younger children while Hazelle and Mrs. Everdeen tended to Vick.

They were fourteen and sixteen, and the reaping was but a week away. On the sixth night of the sickness, after the children were put to bed, Katniss found Gale slumped on their old couch, staring hopelessly at the fire before them. Forever tuned into her presence, he mumbled dejectedly when she came in, "He's never going to make it."

Katniss bit her tongue, unable to tell him that she agreed, that the odds were stacked against them, poking at the fire before making her way over to him. The couch was small and Gale was large, so she found herself practically perched in his lap, but that was okay with her. They were used to close spaces, having lived in poor conditions with younger sibling all their lives.

"You don't know that," She told him, resting her head on his large shoulder. He heaved a sigh, and tears threatened the brim of his eyes as he thought of his eight year old brother succumbing to the hacking and sneezing of his sinus infection. Another thought, this time of him beneath a cold white sheet, motionless, is what finally made him sob.

He clutched his tiny best friend as close as possible, burying his shaggy head in her chest and winding his arms around her torso. Katniss, unfamiliar with this vulnerable and scared side of Gale, could do nothing but run her fingers through his hair and rest her chin atop his head. She too was afraid for Vick, who was almost as much a little brother to her as he was to him, and she held Gale in their own miserable bubble for hours.

By the time he stopped, both their soot covered faces had tear-tracks running through the grime, and the fire had long since died out. But neither of them moved. And the next time Gale cried was a week later, when Vick made an amazing recovery.

That day, with disbelieving tears of joy, he held Katniss in a bone-crushing hug, lifting her clean off the ground and dancing her around the kitchen of her tiny home. She couldn't help but smile then.

Kisses

Around the same time, Delly taught Peeta how to 'properly' lace his shoes. They sat in the back room of her family's shop, amidst the stacks and stacks of nearly completed or just begun pairs of shoes, toying around with the spools of lace material.

Delly had made a space near the back, and when sitting became too much for their backs they found themselves sprawled across the ground, leaning on their elbows to carry on the conversation. "It's almost dinner," Peeta said after a while. "I should probably get home." Delly pouted, but let him stand.

It was only when she caught sight of his shoes that she latched onto his pant leg and pulled him back. "Peeta Mellark! What in Panem have you done to your laces?" His brow furrowed as he glanced down, finding nothing wrong with his attire.

Delly, on the other hand, saw a monstrosity of double-knotted chaos. "They're," She gasped dramatically, peering at the leather material carefully, "double-knotted!" Peeta laughed, falling back into a sitting position as she tugged on the long strings.

She inspected them carefully, untying them with her dainty fingers. Her nails were painted deep orange, he noted, his favorite. Once she had them straightened out, she took a delicate pair of scissors to them, holding the lace out with one hand and cutting the other.

When she was done, she smiled sweetly at him, retying them with only one knot. "Thank you," Peeta mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up as she placed one hand on his shin. The skin there burned hotly under her touch, and Peeta suddenly became very aware of just how close they were sitting.

"No problem," She answered, a blonde curl falling over her full cheeks. A light dusting of makeup coated her face, and Peeta couldn't help but compare her to Katniss, who hand neither the money of use for such a trivial thing.

And then, before he could push himself away and run home to dinner, her glossed lips were pressed to his, soft and malleable on his own. It gave him a rush, a swoop in his chest, a fluttering deep in the pit of his stomach, but suddenly the poison of guilt swept over him and a pair of silver eyes flashed through his mind. They weren't together, and yet it felt like cheating.

He pulled himself away, his head smashing into the wall behind them, and scrambled to his feet. Delly looked up at him, innocent and flushed, her lip gloss smudged slightly from where it had rubbed against his mouth. "I… I'm sorry," he stammered, his eyes cloudy and expression dark.

Delly shook her head, lifting herself to her feet and brushing a curl away from his forehead. He nearly flinched at her touch. Traitor, he thought harshly, my body is a traitor. "Don't be," she told him. "I never should've done that, I just… I just wanted to see what was there. But don't be sorry for loving Katniss. One day she'll notice you, and you'll never understand why you ever doubted it in the first place. I promise."

She took his and stared directly into his eyes, as if willing him to believe the message. Then, she leads him, dumbstruck from the shop and gives him a push in the direction of the bakery. "Go now, baker boy. We've kept your family waiting long enough. And tell your mother I'm sorry!" She added, if only to spare him from the wrath of Mrs. Mellark.

Peeta nodded, waving at her weakly, before heading across the square and into the glow of the bakery. When he arrived in the kitchen, his eldest brother gestured discreetly to his face, and Peeta wiped frantically at the smudge of lip gloss left on his cheek.

Barley was smart enough to know it was not Katniss who left it there, and in sympathy of his little brother's turmoil, chose not to say anything snide on his behalf.

That night, Peeta goes to bed without eating dinner. And the next day, when his shoes are double-knotted once more, Delly says nothing.

Katniss wished she had never told Gale. He could barely look at her without letting at least one snide snicker filter through his lips, and it struck Katniss somewhere deep within her. They trekked through the woods casually, watching the summer greenery flush and blossom in the heat, and she couldn't help but notice the clever smile that tugged at his lips.

"Quit being such an ass, Gale." She bit at him, but this only encouraged him further. He had the decency to look remorseful for half a second, before the smile broke through and he tumbled into a bush with laughter.

"I'm sorry, Catnip, it's just so hard to believe! I mean, no one has ever kissed you?" He glanced at her incredulously, tugging a hand through his shaggy hair and leaning to rest on a large pine tree. She glared at him; her lips twisted down in a lemony pout, and dug the toe of her boot into the dirt.

"No! I don't see why it matters. There's no one that would want to kiss me anyway, and when would I have time?" She growled defensively, pulling on her braid. Gale couldn't help the rueful smile that grew like a weed on his face, but it darkened into a scowl the more he thought.

He shook his head at her. "Please, Catnip. You should hear the boys at school, you're pretty much all they talk about. It's disgusting. Hey, man, have you seen that Everdeen chick? I bet you I can bang her by the end of the week! Seriously. A quiet girl like her… I bet she screams like a banshee in bed. I'd love to unleash that huntress…" Gale trailed off, and Katniss smiled a little, despite the horrifying images running through her head.

"That… will never happen." He laughed at her words, nodding in agreement.

"I know. Sometimes I'm almost tempted to join the betting, if only because I know I'll always win." Katniss stared at him, agape, her fingers twitching on the string of her bow.

"Gale Hawthorne, I swear to God- if you're betting on my sex life I will-" He cut her off before she could get further, afraid of what came next in her rant.

"I never do! Just… the idea amuses me." He tried desperately to pacify her, and by the way she smiled he could tell she wouldn't shoot him through the heart just yet.

"Good." She muttered, stashing her bow and sheath in the hollowed out tree behind her and turning back towards the district's confines.

Gale trailed behind her, hands shoved deeply in his pockets. "Wait." She paused, looking at him questioningly. He grinned cheekily at her. "You have a sex life?"

"GALE!"

Hugs

When Peeta was young, his father bought a pregnant sow from Rooba the butcher. She was gravely injured, and Rooba was worried her meat would be tainted, not to mention the piglets still growing inside her. The buy was either a steal or a travesty, and had it not been for Mr. Everdeen the Mellarks could have been severely close to poverty.

Mr. Mellark was standing outside the shop with Rooba when Mr. Everdeen happened to stroll by with some game, prepared to trade. He saw the sow and the expression on Mr. Mellark's face and said simply, "I can help with that." Despite his connection to it, he was never very comfortable among townies, but he was so inherently good that he suppressed his nerves anyway.

Mr. Mellark agreed somewhat begrudgingly, and did his best to mask his surprise when Mr. Everdeen led him into the Seam and then straight into his own house. It was small but modest, with sturdy looking furniture and an aura of hominess to it, despite the layers of coal dust.

His youngest daughter, Katniss, was hardly five at the time, and she sat with the newborn baby on a worn out couch, making faces at her. When her daddy approached she flew from her spot, careful not to let Prim fall, and Mr. Mellark was struck by just how much the youngest girl looked like her mother.

Katniss, however, seemed all her father with tanned skin, a long brown braid, and glittering silver eyes. She launched herself into his arms, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck and squealing with delight. He tried not to think of how much he'd longed for a daughter, instead focusing on the sow in his arms. It was then that Lillian, or 'Mrs. Everdeen' he supposed, came bustling into the room with a smile on her face. Although surprised to see Mr. Mellark standing there, she made quick work with the sow, and in hardly a week it was healthy.

And as soon as the pigs were born, Peeta was allowed to choose one of them to take care of as his very own. Unsurprisingly, he chose the runt of the litter, taking it away from the other eight newborns to give it special care and nurturing. It was the first thing to make him really smile that wasn't Katniss. Sometimes his middle brother, Rye, would say, "Gee Peet, you love that pig almost as much as the lovely Katniss Everdeen."

He would scowl, an odd look on his cherub face, but never gave up on his little friend. Until he was thirteen. It rained one fall night, turning the mud of the pig pen to slushy goo, and rattling the shingles on their home slightly. The next morning, though, the rain had lessened slightly and Peeta went outside with the bag of pig feed to find that a stray dog had broken into the pen.

He dropped the slop and ran forward to inspect the damage, slipping to his hands and knees to wiggle beneath the torn fencing. Most of the pigs had escape, he noted, to the secure part of the pen, where the fencing had held, but there was one unlucky casualty.

His little runt of the litter, which wasn't so tiny anymore, had been bitten badly in a few places before it managed to get away. It sniffled softly at him as he slumped deep into the suction like mud, and he cradled it in on his lap sadly. The carcass of the dog was still slumped on the fence, where it had cut itself gravely trying to reach the pigs.

It was then that he noticed the foaming of its mouth, ravenous snarl- it had rabies. Later, when his mother found him, she noted the damage, and then looked at her son with something that could almost be construed as sympathy. His pants had soaked through, and he refused to move from his station with the pig. When she saw the dog, coming to the same conclusion as her son, she disappeared back into the bakery and reappeared a moment later with one of the large knives they kept.

"It's your pig," She told him. "You have to be the one to do it."

Fat tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, and she placed her hand on the back of his neck as gently as she knew how, before leaving once more. "I expect you at the table for dinner." It was only after she left that he allowed himself to cry, burying himself in the pig's hide clutching it's weak form close, though it was too big to engulf completely. The knife was stuck limply in the mud beside him.

It was this way that Delly found him, waist deep in the pen's slush, clutching his pig close, a butcher's knife at his side. She looked down at her dress only once before slipping past the dog's snagged carcass and crawling over to sit beside him. "Rabies." Was all he said, his voice thick with anguish.

Delly wrapped her arms around his neck, burying his face in her blonde ringlets, and sobbed with him. She hugged him so tightly he wasn't sure she'd ever let go, but eventually, as the rain began to pick up once more, she did. Then, sweet and kind Delly, pulled the pig from his arms and laid it in the mud.

"Turn away," She said, wrapping her tiny porcelain fingers around the handle of the knife. Peeta couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't fathom his gently best friend ever having the kind of willpower and determination to kill a pig. "Turn away," she repeated forcefully, pushing him with her free hand, and he couldn't find it in himself to protest.

He sluggishly slid himself slightly sideways in the thick mud, burying his face in the crook of his elbow, and squeezing his eyes shut. If there was one thing Peeta Mellark could never do, it was kill. Delly was a different story. A choked squeal rang through the air, the spatter of blood showered Peeta's cheek and side. He could hear her grunts as she pulled the knife out and plunged it back in, until the sticky spray subsided and the squeals faded away.

When he finally had it in himself to look up, the first thing he saw was Delly, tears smudged on her face, blood dousing her face, curls, and pretty pink dress. Then he saw the mangled body of the pig, but his eyes could only linger on that for a moment, before he had to pry them away.

He felt the tears begin to creep their way back up on him, and before he could think to hide it Delly's arms were around them, the sticky blood on her face pressed against his own, the smell of death and flowers, the latter being a smell she always carried with her, permeating the air. Peeta pulled his stiff arms up and wrapped them around her, choking out apology after apology once he finally found his voice.

She just shushed him, but he could hear the tears in her words. The rain thundered down harder, and eventually they fell back into the mud, a tangle of blood, sorrow, and the fabric of a ruined pink dress. It wasn't until Mr. Mellark came out after a long day of work that they were pulled from the mud and stink of rotting flesh.

Years later, Peeta was sent to the Hunger Games, where he survived against all odds. And when the bombs rained down on District Twelve, Delly made it out. Some thought it was luck, that she had made it out purely under the guise of good timing and fate. But Peeta Mellark knew better. He knew Delly was a survivor, one that wouldn't be afraid to test the limits and survive.

He knew that while she wore a pretty pink dress and a warm smile, there was something inside her that could complete the things he never would be able too. That she could kill a pig one moment and hug him the next. That she was undeniably a fighter, more than anyone ever realized.

\

When Katniss was fifteen, there was turmoil in the woods. Gale sat at their usual rock nook, and she paced hysterically in front of him, shoving blackberries in her mouth every few seconds and releasing blackened sprays of spit as she ranted.

"She's turning eleven! Eleven, Gale! What the hell do you get an eleven year old girl for her birthday?!" Gale shrugged, pulling a bit of cooked squirrel from his hunting bag and munching on it idly. He knew just as well as she did that they didn't have the money for anything too fancy, and after they brought home a goat last year, anything Katniss did would seem unimpressive.

She huffed, clearly thinking the same, because even though Prim would be satisfied with anything Katniss gave her, the need to go above and beyond for her little sister trumped all. "Gale! Stop eating! I need your help!" She griped, running a hand through her scraggly braid and flushing in the heat.

He stood, his large frame towering over hers. "Show me what you have saved up." Katniss sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a few coins. That would've been enough to get a few hair ribbons at most, and Gale knew she wanted to provide more for her sister than that. They had prepared a meal for her with real meat from the butchers and actual bread from the bakery, but it all seemed measly to Katniss. This is her last birthday before the reaping- I just want it to be special. She had said it so many times over the last week Gale had reached his breaking point.

"Come with me." He told her, grabbing her arm and hauling her towards the fence. He led her through the Seam to his house, passing Hazelle and Mrs. Everdeen in the kitchen, who were mixing a special drink for the dinner that night.

They waved at the two kids, frowning slightly when they rushed through the house and directly into Gale's bedroom. "If I didn't know better…" Hazelle said, shaking her head slightly. Mrs. Everdeen smiled.

"Maybe someday. But not right now." She smiled. In Gale's room, Katniss sat on the bed with her hands over her eyes, just as he had instructed her. Her scowl was deeply engraved into her face as she heard him rummaging around the messy room, pulling out drawers and throwing things around. After a moment she heard him whoop triumphantly.

Something cool was placed on her lap, and he finally allowed her to open her eyes. When she looked down, what she saw was quite simply an old wooden box. Granted, it was beautifully carved, but she couldn't stop the look of confusion from flashing across her face as she placed her hands around the figure, her fingers tracing over the top.

"Open it," he prodded, sitting beside her on the bed and resting his chin just over her shoulder. Gently, Katniss unlatched the lid and pulled it up, gasping in surprise when she saw the contents. It was filled with coins of all values, and all that money could surely by something beautiful for Prim, something so grand she would think she was dreaming.

"Gale…" Katniss began, looking up at him with liquid eyes. Her voice faltered slightly. "It's amazing. But I can't accept. It must've taken years for you to save this much."

He shook his head at her words, pulling her from the bed after he placed the box beside them. "Please, Catnip. There's more where that came from, mom has plenty of things that she's willing to trade to get more. Old buttons, some twine, bits of leather… just take it. Make Prim's birthday special. It's more important than anything I could've thought to use this for."

Katniss looked at him uncertainly, but the moment he mentioned Prim she knew she couldn't resist. "Thank you, Gale." She whispered, flying into his arms and holding him close. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the woodsy scent of her charcoal hair.

"No problem, Catnip." After that, Katniss took as little of the money as she could and dragged Gale with her to the tailor's to find Prim a dress. They spent nearly two hours there, combing meticulously through the racks, before finally deciding on a yellow one the color of dandelions.

Briefly, a pair of bright blue eyes and blond hair flashed through her mind, but she ignored them and brought the coins to the register. The tailor's wife smiled at her, and as they left the store, Katniss realized she had 'miscounted' her change. When she turned to go back, though, she saw two pairs of blonde hair and blue eyes chatting within them, and new she couldn't.

Instead, she wrapped her arm around Gale and smiled up at him. "Thank you," she said again, and he pulled her into a fierce hug. She didn't know how long they stood hugging in the square, but by the time they made it home dinner was ready to be served.

From within the tailor's, Peeta Mellark watched as she threw her arms around the always brooding Gale Hawthorne with an ache in his heart.

Anger

A few weeks before the reaping, sixteen year old Peeta sat next to Delly in their 11:20 math class, staring wistfully at the back of Katniss Everdeen's head. His notes gradually became sloppier the more it went on, his attention fading in and out every so often.

Beside him, Delly fumed. All the time he spent staring at her, pining for her, and not once did she ever look his way. She had to know of his crush on her by now, didn't she? How can one go eleven years without ever noticing?

Her pencil tapped restlessly against the desk as she chomped her nails down without clemency. Who was she, anyway, to do that to her best friend? The bell finally rang, and she hopped from her seat, gathered her books, and stomped from the class without bothering to wait up. Madge found her a moment later, leaning against the wall in distress.

"Is everything ok?" She asked, smoothing down her blue dress and looking on with concerned blue orbs. Delly nodded at her, smiling slightly to ease her worry, before bidding her goodbye. She watched as Madge carefully picked her way through the lunchroom and sat down effortlessly next to Katniss Everdeen, who accepted her without a second thought.

Why couldn't Peeta just do that? Delly sighed, until a moment later, when she felt a slight pressure on her arm. "Delly?" Peeta. "Are you alright?"

Her eyes were ablaze as she looked up at him, staring straight through his walls and into his love-stricken heart. "No, God damn it! I'm not! I have to sit here and watch you pine for Katniss Everdeen every freaking day like a love sick invalid, and all you do is hurt yourself! Either make a move or prepare to spend your whole life regretting it, because we're not getting any younger!" Her face was red with anger, and she pressed her head against the cool stone of the wall before continuing.

This time, though, her voice was quiet. "It hurts you, Peeta, and it hurts me. You love her- do something about it. Time doesn't slow down, and your window of opportunity is closing. Who do you think she'll marry when it comes down to it? Her best friend or the baker boy that's never even approached her? I don't want you to be unhappy anymore. Please, now, or at least this summer- talk to her."

Peeta sighed, defeated, because she was right, even if her words bit into him like knives. "Fine," he agreed tiredly. "This summer."

And that was it, the argument gone. Delly smiled, took his wrist, and ran him to the next table to announce proudly that he was her brother. They never fought for very long, and she was content in the idea that during summer everything would change.

But that summer never came, for both Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen would be in the Capital, on their way to a death match. And almost no one was more heartbroken for them than Delly Cartwright.

Frost snapped sharply at Katniss as she crouched in the snow covered ground, digging her knee into the frozen ground. A thin, emaciated rabbit hopped into view, clearly caught out of its burrow by the freak blizzard, and she thought of Prim.

How the ribs of the innocent little creature jutted out just as her sister's did when food was scare, and the wobble of its legs reminded her sorely of Prim when she was desperate for salvation. Not a moment later it was dead on the ground and Katniss hoped the images went with it. Gale nodded at her, before approaching to pluck the rabbit from the ground.

It was tiny and nearly meatless, but the bones would make good stock for soup, and the little meat they would get from it could very well save their lives. But that, even combined with the haul from their snares, wasn't nearly enough to feed both their families properly, and Katniss was beginning to lose hope. It wasn't often that she allowed herself to speculate on the possibility of their loved ones not having enough to eat, but when she did it hit hard.

In that moment, she was on the verge of hysterical. "What if it's not enough, Gale?" She mumbled, and he looked up from his twitch up snare to stare incredulously at her. Sliding the rabbit in his bag, he stood from the snow and pressed his hand against her forehead.

"Are you feeling okay, Catnip? Do you want me to finish by myself today?" She swatted his hand away, staring at the toe of her boot and fiddling with the string of her bow. Her scowl darkened at his look of concern.

"No! I'm serious, Gale. There's no food, things are slow at the hob, the birds are gone… it's even worse this year than it was last year and… and I'm worried." The word tasted like bile as it vomited out of her, and she found herself spiraling downwards into the snow, tears pricking somewhere in the backs of her eyes. No. She would not cry.

Gale sat beside her, attempting to brush a strand of hair from her face, but his gentle touch was the opposite of soothing, and it only set Katniss off further. "Damn it! Why won't you just see things for the way they really are? We're starving and there's nothing we can do about it!"

She pushed at him roughly, scrambling from the ground and kicking at a large block of ice. By this point, he had just about finished with concealing his irritation. "Why are you mad at me? It's not like I'm any more capable than you! This is my fight too!" He tried not to glare at her, but he could feel it breaking through anyways, nothing left inside him willing to hide it.

Katniss looked at him, at the thin bones protruding in places of his baggy clothes, and shook her head disgustedly. But it quickly wore away as she thought of their families back home in the same state, if not worse. They didn't have the muscles Gale and Katniss had built up from hunting to help substation themselves, and when the food ran out they were hardly more than sacks of bones and skin.

"I'm not mad at you I'm just mad! Scared." She mumbled the last part, falling dejectedly into the snow. Of all the things to finally get to her, winter had to be it. Not her father's death, not nearly dying, not everything else that had been going on around her-winter.

Gale sighed, crouching next to her and placing an arm around her tiny shoulders. "It'll be okay, Catnip. We'll get through it. We always do." They sat there, nearly numb, as the anger subsided within them, and Katniss tried desperately to convince herself of his words.

And eventually, she found her resolve, and they brought home a haul that was good enough to get them through the next few days with some to spare. It's funny, she thought, the things anger can do.

Some people say best friends are forever. But in the Hunger Games, in the war, all those old terms are abandoned. Because while Katniss and Peeta found each other, they lost something else.

Sometimes, as Katniss and Peeta reflect on their lives before everything changed, they remember their old friends. Gale, who moved to District Two after his bomb reduced an evening Primrose to ashes. Delly, who came back to Twelve, but could never reestablish her life the way she'd hoped after a bomb burnt the shop she called home alive.

Katniss and Peeta had each other, and eventually Gale and Delly found others too. But there would always be the memories of sugar and soot. Because while best friends may not be forever, once they're there, they never really leave you.

Not really.

Fin.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you thought! I'm thinking of adding some other things to this story, if I have the time, but I'm not sure. I'm also thinking of doing something similar that approaches the relationship of Katniss and Peeta in full, so be on the lookout for that! Have a great day. - Knifethrower