Nemophilist
(n.) A haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude
The dead leaves coating the forest floor rustled slightly as she moved effortlessly through the woods.
It was a bitter cold March morning. Dawn was just beginning to break. She could see the streaks of vivid pinks and oranges begin to signal the start of yet another day through the icy limbs of the trees, where new buds were slowly starting to form.
She pulled her father's jacket closer to her body, as a frosty gust of wind whistled through the branches. It was mornings like these where she was extremely grateful for the small mug of herbal tea her mother always insisted on sending with her.
The forest was her haven. Her place of solitude. The place where she could just be Katniss, instead of her family's sole breadwinner, her mother's caretaker, and a surrogate mother to Prim.
The woods and its plentiful bounty had also been her, their, savior. It had provided them with enough food to keep them from horrible, painful death. Rabbits, wild turkeys, the rare deer, and the many plants and herbs that she harvested kept them alive. They had been so close to starvation in the months following her father's death, so close that they nearly followed him to the grave.
One day, as her empty stomach ached for any little bit of sustenance she could find, she had summoned the courage to go beyond the fence, the fence no one dared cross for fear of punishment and the unknown, into the forest.
She had been so terrified, that very first time. Any noise- the sharp crack of a branch, the harsh rustle of leaves, the feral howl of the packs of wild dogs- would send her scurrying back to safety. Eventually, she had gotten accustomed to the ways of the woods. She knew what was responsible for every crash, what made every rustle. Nothing went unnoticed by her heightened senses.
She climbed high into a tree and sat languidly, lying in wait for any unsuspecting animal to walk by. The hours dragged by. The sun lazily climbed high in the sky, then rapidly started to descend.
Suddenly, the sound of tree limbs breaking pierced the solitude. Something big, something heavy, was coming her way. She prayed it wasn't another pack of wild dogs...she had already seen two of those. Feral, yipping mutts that would rip into anything that moved. Although dog meat would do in a pinch, she had gotten spoiled and now stubbornly waited for flocks of wild turkeys, a rabbit scampering about, or a lone deer, prancing unaware through the woods.
She notched an arrow with ice-cold fingers (her hot tea having been consumed many, many hours before) and raised her bow, ready to fire. Her hazel eyes scanned the forest floor. Finally, she spotted a white-tailed deer below her; the only thing giving its existence away was its white tail.
The deer moved slightly.
Yes. A clear shot.
She took a deep breath, rechecked her target, and let the arrow fly.
Zing!
The arrow sailed straight to its mark. It ran a few steps, then stumbled and fell. She hastily climbed down the tree and raced over to its seemingly still form.
Still breathing.
She took the knife from her belt and quickly slit its throat. Hurriedly, she began to skin it. The sun was soon to set, and she had to get this to the Hob before dark.
She was extremely pleased with her bounty. Fresh venison was such a rarity. This would certainly get her the supplies she needed. Perhaps she would even get a few extra coins so she could buy Prim a piece of the brightly-colored candy she so coveted when they walked past the sweet shop together.
She hacked the meat into pieces, then, one by one, dragged them to the opening in the fence nearest the Hob.
Finally, the last piece had been brought to the fence.
She glanced around at the frosty wonderland, breathed in one last breath of the crisp, clean winter air, and headed back into District 12.
A/N: Hey guys!
Yet another in my #wordporn series and my first Hunger Games fic.
Thanks for reading! Please review :)
