(What follows comes from the few recovered burnt pages of Primrose Everdeen's diary, pages recovered from the ashes of the Everdeen home in District 12. Historians believe that she wrote these words near the time of her twelfth birthday.)
Dear Diary,
The strangest thing happened today that I have to share; however, to put everything into perspective, I should start at the very beginning in the predawn darkness of a very disastrous morning.
We are fortunate to be experiencing a warmer than normal spring at the moment. And with warm springs, the forest has sprung to life with foliage and critters that my old cat, Buttercup, finds tasty. Unfortunately for all concerned, he's a better hunter at night, and on nights when I sleep in my older sister's bed, his successful adventures usually lead to Katniss's elbow jabbed into my back.
"Prim, get your raggedy cat out from under my bed," said my very perturbed sister.
When I was about to ask why, the answer came with the disturbing crunch of bone between Buttercup's jaw. He may be old and sometimes slow, but he's quite a talented mouser. And for whatever reason, he always seems compelled to eat close to me, which means under whatever bed I'm sleeping, to my sister's ever-growing annoyance.
Rolling out of bed into the cool morning darkness, I knelt down to see the dark shadow of Buttercup beneath the bed. When I reached for him, he hissed at me. "He doesn't want to come out. Can't I leave him be?" I asked in a soft voice so not to wake mom on the other side of the room. "He'll be done soon."
My sister turned over. "No. I won't be able to sleep with him crunching away."
When I reached for Buttercup a second time, I heard a determined growl through his clenched jaws that caused me to withdraw my hand. I began to plead, "Mom doesn't take notice when he eats under her bed."
"Then you should have slept with mom," replied Katniss coldly. "Get him out or he'll be next on our dinner table."
"Mom and I would never eat Buttercup."
Katniss's voice sharpened. "It wouldn't stop Greasy Sae from adding him to her stew. Get him out."
Having seen my sister hunt, I had to get Buttercup out from under her bed since Katniss never kidded about killing animals. I promptly fetched our kitchen broom and prodded Buttercup from beneath her bed and out the bedroom door, much to groaning feline protests. Setting the broom aside, I sleepily crawled back into bed.
Katniss rolled over and through and arm over me. "Thank you, Prim," she whispered.
However, her subsequent words were not so loving when they awoke me later. "Prim! I swear that cat of yours is on its ninth life."
The bed covers flipped up on my sister's side of the bed exposing my back to the cool morning air. Turning over, I saw Katniss beginning to dress. "What?" I asked groggily. This was when I heard my cat begin to gag rhythmically as he does when about to vomit, which he did.
My sister pointed down at floor at the foot of the bed. "Ninth life, I tell ya."
Buttercup's second batch of rhythmic gagging only lasted a couple seconds when I heard it end with him retching his nighttime snack onto our wood floor.
"Prim, you're cleaning this up."
"I will," I reassured her. Pulling the covers across myself to hide from the cool morning air, I shut my eyes for a few more minutes of sleep.
"I mean now," exclaimed my sister, "before it stains my floor."
Groaning, I buried my face. "Our floors are nothing but stains. I'll clean it up soon."
Buttercup began to gag again, signifying that there was more to come.
"No entrails for you today, you mangy beast." Katniss donned her hunting jacket as she stomped out the door with one last reminder. "Prim, clean it up."
I'm not sure how long I had continued to sleep, but the sun had fully risen when I woke on this special Saturday to remember. Staggering out of bed, I began to stretch when I noticed that mom had already awoken and left for her morning errands. When I came around the end of the bed, yawning, I felt something wet and squishy lodged between my toes. "Buttercup!" I exclaimed to an empty room, hopping on one foot.
Walking on my heel to keep my toes from touching the floor, I hobbled outside and began using rainwater to clean the remnants of partially digested field mouse from between my toes. As I dried my foot with a rag, I heard a meow come from the open front door. I turned and eyed Buttercup. "Don't meow me," I groaned vexedly. "Do you know how annoying it is to step on your partially eaten critters? Why do you eat things that constantly make you throw up?"
Buttercup approached me and began to purr—which my sister claims to have never heard when I'm not around—to be honest, I think they both enjoy rubbing each other the wrong way, though neither would ever admit it.
Rubbing his fur against my back, Buttercup turned and rubbed against me a second time, meowing.
"Apologizing isn't going to work this time. Do you know how disgusting it is to clean up furry mounds of...goo from our feet, and the floor?" I crossed my arms to make my anger clear to my little friend.
His purring increased as he came around from behind and rubbed his head against my thigh. When the sun glimmered off his fur coat, the orange fur revealed traces of cat dandruff.
"Go away. I'm mad at you," I huffed.
Rubbing against my thigh and turning, Buttercup sat down and began staring at me, purring away.
I met his eyes with a cold stare, but as it often happens, my cold stare began to melt rather quickly in the presence of my friend. I'm not sure if cats actually smile, but I swear mine does since he knows that I cannot hold a grudge against him. Sighing, I began petting him. "I'm still mad at you."
Buttercup meowed.
"We should do something special today to make up for this morning? I don't have any homework."
Buttercup meowed as she turned in a circle between strokes of his fur.
"Our library got a new book yesterday. Well it's actually an old musty book, but the Capitol sent a small box of used fiction to our school. The librarian set this one aside so that I could be the first to read it. Do you want me to read a story to you?"
Buttercup meowed.
I began scratching behind Buttercup's ear. "I don't want to read it here." I confessed. "Let's go explore and find a new reading spot under a shade tree somewhere near the Meadow. The weather should be nice today, and we can bring Lady to let her graze on some different grass."
With his eyes closed, Buttercup pushed his head against the next stroke of my hand with a victorious feline smile.
Slipping on my shoes, I freshened Lady's water and told her my plan for the day. The goat seemed up for it as she licked my face and began to limp enthusiastically around her section of our small yard. I inspected her shoulder to find the scars barely visible. Lady had completely healed from her injuries from when she was mauled by another animal, but she would still limp from time to time.
Diary, my mother once said that some injuries never completely heal from the scarring left deep within; it sounded as if mom was talking about herself when she said it though. Lady seems to handle hers well and often doesn't limp at all.
Fetching a pail of water, I proceeded to clean up Buttercup's mess in Katniss's room. To my dismay, Buttercup had vomited twice elsewhere—quickly pointed out to me by my mom upon her return from errands. Dang cat!
With a small lunch packed and my chores complete, I went to retrieve my goat Lady. As I approached her, she began to hop with anticipation, bleating, for she always seems to know when we are going exploring near the Meadow. Using a makeshift rope as a leash, I tied it to my goat's collar.
"Hey, girl; are you ready for some of that yummy Meadow grass?" I asked her.
With a loud bleat, Lady began pulling me towards the gate. I followed her lead, and we soon found ourselves at the edge of the Meadow.
Peeking over my shoulder, I spotted Buttercup trailing behind, following in the shadows. It's quite common for my cat to follow me on my weekend excursions, though I never go far.
Diary, it has always amazed me how Buttercup knows when it's time for exploring versus going to school. We don't give animals enough credit for their inherit wisdom.
As we progressed along the edge of the Meadow, Lady unexpectedly began pulling me down a new path, and I soon spotted a perfect shade tree to lie under and read. Securing Lady to a smaller nearby tree, I made sure she had plenty of prairie grass to graze before finding a spot under the much larger shade tree. The grass was dry and soft, and made for a comfortable place to lie once I spread an old blanket. As I prepared to read, Buttercup finally arrived and propped himself up onto a nearby fallen log, stretching out in a small patch of sun. A light breeze was coming from the direction of the Meadow, which was welcomed since it would keep the mosquitoes at bay.
Stretched on my stomach, I opened the book and began reading to myself.
Buttercup meowed.
"I'm not reading to you today, naughty cat," I said coldly.
A low purr began to come from the direction of the fallen log.
"No. Don't even think that you can sweet talk me."
To add insult to injury, I watched Buttercup yawn unaffectedly and roll onto his side with eyes closed, basking in the sun.
I read for an hour before I began picking away at my tiny lunch of goat cheese, a handful of small wild blackberries that my sister had collected in the forest, and stale bread, which Katniss had received from the baker in exchange for some squirrels.
During my second hour of reading, I began to yawn incessantly due to the lack of sleep from the night before—due to someone aforementioned who always feels compelled to eat mice in my presence. To extend my reading time, I began to read aloud, and Buttercup began to purr. Besides bringing mice to me, I never understood why he enjoyed hearing my voice, but I continued reading until my interrupting yawning could no longer be ignored. Fortunately for me, Saturday's allow me to sneak a nap, so I closed my book and rolled onto my back to stare up at the tree. Partially covering myself with the blanket, I drifted off to sleep.
I'm not sure how long I napped, which could not have been long, but I awoke to the sound of Buttercup's low ominous groan. He may be a mischievous cat, but he's a smart feline, so I sat up and searched my surroundings. Lady was fine, grazing away, and I spotted nothing out of the ordinary. When I looked to Buttercup, I noticed that he was looking up at the tree. Scanning the canopy, I saw nothing. Still sleepy, I laid myself down to catch a couple more minutes of sleep before I would read again. "If you see an eagle or hawk, you better scoot next to me; otherwise, hush you naughty cat."
Half asleep, I began staring up at the dancing light leaking through the swaying tree canopy. I think the winds were starting to pick up as the sounds of the swaying grass and budding leaves had grown louder. Watching the tree sway above me was soothing and hypnotic. I began studying the various patterns of the branches when I suddenly felt as if I was staring at a reflecting pond, but this time, I felt as if I was beneath the water looking up at myself, my hair draped downward towards me. In this surreal moment, I began to make out my own face above me through the camouflage of the tree when the most startling thing happened, the tree smiled back at me.
I sat upright with a gasp, completely startled. My eyes finally awake, sharpened on a girl lying on the largest branch above me.
Sensing my worry, Buttercup moaned his distrust towards the stranger.
Frozen in place, I stared with bewilderment up at the girl, but Buttercup's protests pulled me back into a more cautious frame of mind. I cleared my throat. "Have you been up there the whole time?"
The girl repositioned herself into a crouch. Her smile had evaporated, and a worry began to creep into her stare. After a brief exchange of confused looks between us, the girl dropped effortlessly to the ground. Standing before me, she focused on the book from which I had been reading.
I continued studying this pale girl—who stood mere feet from me: She wore an old worn dress that had most of the color faded away from wear and rough hand washings; her bare feet were stained by coal dust and dirt; if I had to guess, she was of similar age as me with hair resembling my own.
Unable to put a name to the girl's face, I slowly rose to my feet. "Hello," I said cautiously.
Her gray eyes met mine, but she hesitantly returned my stare as she shifted her weight backward onto her heels.
"My name is Prim. It's actually Primrose, but everyone calls me Prim."
Hoping for any kind of response, I began to gnaw my lip. "Um, what's your name?"
The girl turned her head slowly as she next glanced at Lady and then Buttercup. Her soft, nonthreatening gaze began to put me at ease. When I offered to shake her hand—to calm my own unease—she looked down at my hand for an instant before running off through the nearby brush.
"Wait! I mean no harm," I called politely. I followed her direction and quickly discovered a worn trail that led through the brush to a dirt road that divided the Seam from the Meadow. The girl was nowhere in sight, so I took a moment to listen for her. Listening intently, I heard nothing until Lady beckoned me to return.
Diary, I have to confess that the surprise guest to my picnic had left me quite upset. I took a seat on the fallen log and stroked Buttercup until I felt my nerves settle, but even after that, I had no focus to return to reading. I retrieved Lady and we exited the Meadow through the mysterious girl's path. We followed the dirt road home, but we saw no sign of the girl or where she may have went.