The wind whistles in my ear. Everything else is silent. The world around me is still. There is nothing else but me and my target. I draw the string back slowly. The arrow is already notched.

I suck in a breath, count to three.

I release the string.

The arrow goes flying.

It misses.

The deer runs off into the woods and I sigh, lowering into a sit on the log behind me. I haven't been able to get a damn hit since I've been back. I think I know why, too.

"Gale!?"

I throw myself to my feet and look around, quickly notching another arrow and lifting the bow. That voice...

"Prim?" I whisper into the woods. A few fallen leaves blow by, their autumn colors swirling through the air. No reply.

Swallowing hard, I drop my bow to the ground and claw lightly at my eyes with calloused fingertips. She's dead, Gale. She's dead, and it's your fault. It will always be your fault. No forgiveness.

"Prim!" I cry out, louder than before. I stumble forward, stepping on my bow by accident. It snaps beneath my foot but I don't care. It doesn't do me any good anymore, anyways. I can't use it worth a damn.

The wind continues as I move towards the forest towards an uncertain, unknown destination. It swirls leaves around me that knock against my bare arms, my neck, my face. I trudge onward, tears dripping down my cheeks.

A soft laugh, young and lighthearted, fills the air around me. I throw myself against a nearby tree, leaning against it for support. Why must her ghost haunt me?

The laugh sounds again, this time closer to me. I dig my fingertips into the bark, shaking uncontrollably. I'm terrified. Terrified of a little girl? No... I'm terrified of a little girl's ghost. A poltergeist, perhaps, meant to bring vengeance upon me at long last.

Something bumps into me. Something small, short; it's only capable of bumping into my legs. I squint my eyes shut for a moment then turn my head, staring down at the young girl standing behind me.

Her eyes are wide as they stare up at me - they're blue, like hers, but that's where the similarities end. She has brunette hair, tied in two braids, and her face is exactly like Katniss's. I can't refer to her as Catnip anymore. I don't have the right.

"W...Who are you?" she squeaks out, stumbling away from me. She's young, maybe six or seven years of age. I don't reply. I simply stare down at her.

"Rue! Rue!" a high-pitched boy's voice rings out. I turn my head just as a blonde little boy runs up to the girl, his gray eyes intense.

"Look, Gale! I found someone!"

"I don't like being called that, meanie. I like being called by my first name!" he snaps, punching her lightly in the arm. She squeals and bats at his hand as it draws away.

"Cinna isn't as pretty of a name as Gale!" she protests.

I simply stare at the two, bewilderment consuming me.

"What are you doing out here, mister?" the girl asks me. I swallow hard.

"I was hunting..."

"Ohhh, mommy likes to hunt! Mommy would like you, I bet!" she giggles and takes my hand, tugging on it. "You should come meet her!"

I kneel down slowly, shaking my head clear. My hand wiggles free of her grasp then lifts to grasp one of her braids, my fingertips moving over it.

"I'm not so sure your mum would be glad to see me," I say quietly, peering at the girl's blue eyes. A shudder passes through me. "But tell her that her old hunting partner says hello."

She looks as if she's about to ask something but I hold a finger to her lips and shake my head. Then I rise and smile at the boy.

"I agree that Cinna is a much better name. Gale is too...ominous."

And then I turn away and begin to walk off.

"What does ominous mean?" I hear the girl whisper.

"Beats me," the boy says, and then they take off running in the opposite direction from me. I continue walking slowly until their footsteps have faded away. With a sigh, I sit down against the ground and bring my knees up, staring up through the foliage of the forest.

"I'm happy for you, Katniss," I say quietly, closing my eyes. "I'm happy you found something to live for."