When I see her, for a split second it's like nothing's changed. And then the fog in my brain clears and I'm jarringly reminded of why everything has changed. Katniss is sick of this. I can see it in the circles beneath her eyes, the crease between her brows as she stares at the small fire in the hut. A pang of sympathy hits me, but it's quickly consumed by the frustration I feel towards her. I do not want these gifts. No amount of money or food could ever compensate for what I want most. And I have lost what I want most to the boy with the stupid bread. I approach the doorway and stop. She looks at me, beautiful eyes filled with hesitant knowing. I feel penetrated by those gray pools, as if she can see right through the wall of anger and resentment to the hurt and betrayal I am trying so desperately to
hide.
"President Snow personally threatened to have you killed." Her voice fills the cold air with words I am not surprised to hear. I raise my eyebrows a bit.
"Anyone else?"
"Well, he didn't actually give me a copy of the list. But it's a good guess it includes both our families." This catches my attention. Katniss and I both would give anything, including our lives, to save our families. I walk to the fire and crouch down, letting the flames warm my hands.
"Unless what?"
"Unless nothing, now," She says grimly. Knowing Katniss, I won't get any more of an explanation than that for now. She stares into the fire and I stare at her. After about a minute, I say the only thing I can think of.
"Thanks for the heads-up." At this she turns to me, fury in her eyes. I prepare myself for a good minute or so of yelling at least, but instead, she breaks into a grin. All of a sudden, the anger and frustration melts away. And it's like something, at least, feels normal.
"I do have a plan, you know," she says.
"Yeah, I bet it's a stunner." I toss the gloves on her lap. "Here. I don't want your fiancé's old gloves." I say this with no intention of bitterness but she bristles.
"He's not my fiancé. That's just part of the act. And these aren't his gloves. They were Cinna's," She picks one up and absentmindedly rubs the material between her index finger and thumb.
"Give them back, then," I say. She hands them back to me. I slip them on and flex my fingers, nodding in approval. "At least I'll die in comfort."
"That's optimistic. Of course, you don't know what's happened," she says.
"Let's have it." I sit up and direct my gaze back to her. While she speaks, I put the gloves in my pocket and open the leather food bag I had intended to give back to her without eating. Now I make
a meal of it. Toasting bread and cheese. Coring Apples. Placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. When she finishes telling of her homecoming, I say the most honest thing I can think of.
"Well, you really made a mess of things."
"I'm not even done." I think I catch her roll her eyes.
"I've heard enough for the moment. Let's skip ahead to this plan of yours." I honestly don't know what she's got in mind. She takes a deep breath.
"We run away." This catches me off guard.
"What?"
"We take to the woods and make a run for it," she says. I can't even begin to describe the feeling that completely overtakes me right then. She rises, prepared to defend herself and only gets through a few sentences before I stand and wrap my arms around her, lifting her off her feet. I find myself laughing.
"Hey!" She tries to protest, but she's laughing now too. I set her down but don't let go, keeping my tight hold around her waist. Katniss. With her beautiful brown hair, breathtaking gray eyes, instinct to protect the ones she loves.
"Okay, let's run away." I say this through the first genuine smile I've had in weeks. Her eyes light up in surprise.
"Really? You don't think I'm mad? You'll go with me?" I pull back the slightest bit.
"I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you," I say and I mean it. Anywhere this girl goes, I will willingly follow. "We can do it. I know we can. Let's get out of here and never come back!"
"You sure?" She says. "Because it's going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don't want to get five miles into the woods and have you-"
I cut her off.
"I'm sure. I'm completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure." These words flow from a deeper part of me. One that loves her wholly, entirely. No need for my mind to work out the sentences. It's what I love most about being with her, is that everything I say comes from that place that doesn't think things over. It just does. I tilt my head so my forehead rests against hers and pull her close. She doesn't pull away, just closes her eyes and lets everything off her shoulders for the moment. I find myself whispering exactly what I now know I've wanted to say from day one.
"I love you."