Disclaimer: Hey, there. I don't own The Hunger Games. Okay? I mean, it's presumed, right? I'm writing FanFiction, so doesn't that mean that I'm indirectly saying that this isn't mine? I'm just basing a story line off the characters, not selling it out. I should stop talking now.
Author's Note: This is Gale's point of view during the scene in Catching Fire when he meets Katniss in the woods for the first time after the Games. We all know I suck at summaries, so I'm just going to let you read, because I think that should be the good part.
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"Mother, Rory! I'm heading off," I call over my shoulder, knowing they have full knowledge as to where I am going.
I push the front door open with ease; it is so rotten down that it would be easy to break in and out of the house. It is already getting late, and I have wasted precious hunting time in my late sleeping. The days of working in the mines have worn me out so much that I am constantly exhausted. I would come home past dinner time, and a half-sleeping Rory would ask me, "Gale, when are you going to eat with us?" For that, I would have no answer but to ruffle his hair and tell him that we would see. The mines have also prevented me from my usual hunting routine that I continue without Katniss, but working is necessary if I want my family to survive. Sundays are the only days I have free, and I think Rory resents the lack of time I spend with him. We need the meat, the food, and the money. But he wouldn't understand until my mother suggested he gather tesserae at the age of twelve. She had told him once at the dinner table when I was not present, and only then did he realize how desperate we were becoming. By the next time I'd seen him, my mother told me that he had run off to collect the grain and oil. I was silent and storming, furious over how my mother could allow my younger brother to turn the odds against his favor. I hated myself. If I had not told my mother to refuse Katniss' offers of food and money, Rory would have only one slip in the bowl this year.
I expect a short haul today, as the snow falls in buckets and I have already lost two to three hours of the morning. With an ear to the fence, I hear no buzzing of electricity and slip underneath the loose folds of metal chain-links. I approach the tree where my weapons are stored along with Katniss' and notice that it is half empty. Her bow, her sheath of arrows, and some snaring materials are taken. I take a step back in disbelief. It wasn't as though I hadn't expected her to come back. I knew she would eventually, but mentally, I wasn't prepared. After seeing her with Peeta for all those weeks, all those months, I don't think I can stand to look at her again. Part of me wishes it was a trick of the Capitol forcing her to act so unlike herself, but a more rational side of me pushes that aside.
I run through the woods lightly on my toes. My eyes are peeled for the occasional winter creatures as well as the girl on fire. I find myself so deep in the woods, to a spot where I'd last seen her, and stop in my tracks. She is sitting rigidly on the rock where we once shared a small feast. Her hands are gripping the edges of the rock so tightly that I'm surprised they're not bleeding. Her eyes are squeezed so shut that I'm sure she is oblivious to the woods around her. I trip over a fallen tree in shock and curse myself for the slip. She looks up and sees me watching her. She runs and wraps her arms around me, nearly making my legs lose the weight that they are supporting. The sounds she utters tell me that something is wrong, something is different. I hold her tight for fear of losing her again. For the fear of having her fall into the Capitol's hands. But already, I know that I'm too late. I bury my face in her shoulder and hair so she cannot see the tears I'm trying to stop. She runs off for water because of her hiccups, and I can't believe I've ever seen her so disgruntled. As though she's been ripped apart and as though she's trying to fight her way back to normality.
She opens a bag full of foods my family would be blessed to have eaten: chicken, cheese, oranges, and bakery bread, which I'm not surprised if it came from Peeta himself. We eat the meal and my stomach feels fuller than ever, but I leave the loaf of bread for her. Normally, I would not turn down good bread, but after seeing Katniss with Peeta, I don't think I'd be able to swallow it.
"Let's go," I say and am pleased when she knows exactly what I mean.
Her hands fly to the bow and arrows and she's on her feet ready to spring. By the time we're done, there are seven rabbits, nine fish, and several different types of nuts and berries to show. I always knew we were better as a team. And she knows it too.
I want so badly for things to return as they were before the Games. I know it's impossible, but my heart yearns for that feeling of closeness that I cannot retrieve from my own family.
She speaks, running words off her tongue that fight to sound normal. Words that pretend like nothing happened. Words that suggest that she wants to forget and reverse through time. I'm not listening. In fact, I haven't listened at all. I don't think before I act and my hands are pulling her face toward mine. My lips are on hers before she can say a thing. This. This is real to me. This moment with her hands curled up on my chest and her breathing slow and ragged. Her lips taste faintly like that natural pine, but not the musty coal from the Seam's atmosphere that I'd expected. The taste turns quickly to of fresh bakery bread, and I pull apart from her.
"I had to do that. At least once."
I run off before she can say anything. Before I can break something. Everything she does now, everything she thinks, will revolve around that boy with the bread. There is nothing I can do about it.
Author's Note: This is the third Hunger Games fanfiction that I've written, and I think I'm starting to get the hang of Gale's personality. Let me know what you think! :)