I am getting ready to start sharing my first Hunger Games fic and, to get me in the mood, I wrote this little one-shot. It's my idea of what Buttercup was thinking at the end of Mockingjay before finding scarred, despondent Katniss in the Victor's Village. I can't find a way to work it into my longer fic, so here it is!
Buttercup and his three people are characters of Suzanne Collins's fine imagination and belong to her.
The setting is late Mockingjay, District 13: all the Everdeens are absent for whatever reason. (Buttercup doesn't know what that reason is, but you do, don't you!)
Buttercup POV
My person's been gone so long I am starting to worry that she has forgotten about me. The moths have come out so many times in her absence, I have run out of stripes on my tail to keep count with. And that's my favorite way of keeping count!
It upsets me to think that my person is missing. I never got the feeling that she knew how to take care of herself. One of the other people, the dark one, she sometimes remembered how much I deserved a juicy glob of intestine, and she was certainly capable of supplying it. But the biggest person was useless, and my person, the little cream-colored one, really only had a way with knowing when I was in need of milk and how to rub that spot behind my lucky ear. You know the ear. The one that didn't get ravaged by that dastardly raccoon... Oh, that was so long ago. Let's not bring it up.
The point is: I think my person has wandered off and gotten confused. Why else would she leave me behind? No one can take care of any pests that hassle her like I can! Why, she could be covered in moths right now, and I could be her only hope of surviving their feely-things and fluttery-bits, but I have no way of knowing it! There could be chipmunks carrying her off into a hole! But here I sit in this crowded cave of gray. Not one person so much as offers me a hunk of cheese. It's probably just as well; I would have to refuse it, on principle, and that would be a waste. But with all these people around, you would think someone would stop and notice this fabulous creature in their midst.
Oh, scratch it! I am at my whiskers' end here! If my person doesn't return by next moth-time, I am going out to see if she has forgotten me or what!
Oh! Excuse me. I spy something scuttling toward the kitchen that must be dispatched with.
Well, the moths returned without a glimpse of my person, so I am going now to inform the masses that I am begging my leave. I know they will be sad to see me go, but I do as I must.
I beg your pardon, sir. Excuse me! Sir!
Scratch it, he walked right on past. I must speak louder next time.
Madam! Oh, madam, I request an audience with you!
Oh, good, that worked. She is shaking her finger at me. I have her attention.
Yes, good evening, madam. I just wanted to inform you that I will be leaving your … ahem, adequate abode forthwith. If any of my people return, especially the – what's that?
She is trying to say something, but her tone is rather squawkish.
Excuse me, but I was speaking first. I will be done in a moment. Ouch! No need to push, madam! I say! If you will just let me finish!
Good gracious, she is calling over a woman with a broom.
There is no need for this! I won't have it, I tell you! Ouch! I realize you are upset but – Ouch! Maybe it would be best for us all if I – Ouch! - just left now. But please be on watch for my – Ouch! - little butter-colored human, would you? I believe she may be addled.
And with that, I take my leave. The people in this cave don't take disappointment very well, do they?
I have been braving this terrain so long that my paws are tired. I don't want to rest in case my person happens by. She always adores me as much as she should, but I'm afraid she might lack the sense to find me here, were I asleep. Perhaps if I just loll about for a bit in this sunny spot. I won't sleep, but I will just give my paws some time off.
Ahh! Oh, indeed. This is a lovely little spot of sun. How unexpected, given how strange these woods are. I'll just roll over, here, and give my paws a little...
I seem to have blinked the sun out. I could swear on my lucky ear it was on just a moment ago! Someone has turned it off! Well, in light or in dark, I have a destination and I am to reach it. Now if I just head away from the moss...
The trees here are mean things. They are playing tricks on me. I know I am going the right way, but the trees do not look like the ones at home. And the ground here is spongy, not at all firm like the soil at home. Oh, I do hope my person hasn't let this mean and tricky terrain confuse her. Without me to adore, she has only herself to think about, and that must be very depressing indeed! If only something looked familiar, like the mountains over there, then that would be something.
I must keep looking. That is all.
Yes, mountains are a wonderful place for a great hunter like myself! Towering trees, fresh mountain air, plentiful wildlife... It's no wonder the cave people are so sensitive! They lack all the little pleasures of the mountains!
Mountains! I am so clever! I must head toward those mountains over there! I'll bet my stripes that's the way home! They don't look far, either. Just on the other side of the trees, really. How far could that be?
If there is anything I hate more than being dunked in a pail of water – and you can ask my dark person how I know what that is like – it is mean, tricky trees like these. They have been keeping me from these mountains for many moth-times now - if I had known it was going to be like this, I would have counted. In fact, I may have said scratch it altogether! I hate being deceived!
I can tell the trees are losing control of their witchery, however. The mountains are growing bigger. Soon, the mountains will be so big the trees can't keep me from them, and then I will have outsmarted the tricky things!
I am sorry to report that there is more land on these mountains than I was anticipating. I'm sure that home is here somewhere, but there are an awful lot of places to look for it! I can only thank the trees here for being more honest than those I had to prowl through before. If I see a place, and I think I can jump up to it, I can! None of that see-it-but-can't-get-to-it stuff.
When I allow myself to rest – surely you cannot deny me my right to cat naps, yes? - I dream of my person. It's charming, really. I know she is rather dim, and she couldn't catch a mouse if her life depended on it, but I do enjoy her company. My favorite dreams are of my person giving me a little dish of milk and then watching me drink it. If I don't wake up too soon, sometimes she scratches that spot behind my ear and ohhh I just never want to wake! When I find her, I will ask her for some milk. Then all this walking will be worth it.
It will be so good to be home again! The smell of the earth, the delicious flash of bird wings in the trees, and my special spot behind the stove where I keep my secret things... Nothing in that cave place could ever compare to home!
I hope my person hasn't found my secret things and gotten rid of them. Everyone was acting funny when we left, now that I think of it. Even the air was acting funny. I must hurry! I do not want my secret things swept out! It took me forever to find a mouse ear as perfectly round as that one! And that butterfly wing! Not a prettier wing exists anywhere, I'll bet my whiskers! My paws are asking me to stop, but if there is a chance my secret things are in danger, stopping is not an option.
Except for my cat naps. I'm entitled to those.
Searching is taking ages. I realize I have a lot of lives, but I've already used a few and I'd rather not waste the rest searching for my person. I have to be getting close to home. The seasons are changing and soon it will be too warm and wet for me to be prancing around in the woods.
What was that? Ssh! Stop breathing! Do you hear that?
Are those footsteps?
Could it be my person? No, there are too many feet. Stay still.
They are getting closer. We had better move toward the brush and take cover if we can.
WHAT IS THAT THING? RUN!
That has to be the biggest cat I've ever seen. And how it could stand up on its hind legs and roar! I've never seen anything like it!
Hiss! Ouch, it must have gotten me with one of those claws! They were the size of my head! Such a pity my person isn't here. I would give her my most dire mee-yow and ask for some medicine. And maybe some milk. Hiss! Yes, definitely milk.
My paws are in bad shape, too, but if I hadn't been able to slip into this hawthorne bush, that giant cat thing would still be after me for sure. As if walking all over my green earth were not enough to ruin my beautiful paws, I had to go and get a prickle back there. I had better get some decent praise out of this. Praise is all I ask. Praise and a good brushing. And some real sleep. And the medicine. Oh, and the milk. But that's all.
Some meat wouldn't be bad, either.
I have returned to my travels, but the thorn in my paw is slowing my pace. I am unsure how long I could get on at this pace, but if I had to guess, I would say only a few – do you see that?
That is the most perfect mouse ear I have ever seen!
And that bone! That could only be my favorite bone in a squirrel's foot! I LOVE squirrel foot!
Could I be home?
No, this cannot be the place. It is all charred wood and plaster dust. It does not smell of my person at all. But there – that moth wing – there is no doubt that that is mine!
Person! Oh, Person, I have returned! You have not forgotten about me, have you? Are you lost?
You don't suppose my person went to that other house, do you? That ridiculous place is no good to me. Hardly any pests at all for me to hunt. Full of dangerous things like chair legs and wires that come out of the wall and threaten to wrap around my arms and legs and neck and choke me until I die. But maybe my person likes chair legs. I do not know. I never thought to ask her.
The other house is not too far from here. Even with the old paw, I think I can make it.
I'll just take my mouse ear with me. Here we go!
It really is a beautiful day today. I would like to stop and appreciate the birds once I find my person.
It is odd how a place changes when you leave it. I could have sworn there were buildings here last time I walked this street. Humans are always building things and tearing them down.
My paw is really quite tender. But it is nice to have my mouse ear again. I cannot wait to hide it at the other house! Maybe I can find a lovely shoe to hide it in.
All right, after this street is the little road that winds up the hill to the other house. Ah, there it is!
Person! Hello!
Strange, I cannot smell my person here, either.
What? Who is this?
Who are you?
Oh it is my dark person.
Get away, you old bucket wrangler! I am looking for the cream-colored one!
She is saying something. I admit I do not understand. Oh! She speaks the buttery person's name!
Is she here?
The dark one is howling at me now. Ouch! And throwing things! The idea! I turn to go, but something in those howls strikes fear into my heart and stops me in my tracks.
My person is not here. She is not at the old place, and she is not anywhere in these mountains, and she is not in the cave place, or anywhere between.
Is she lost, Dark Person?
She only howls lower. I know the sound. It is the sound of despair.
I know despair.
I came a long way for my person, only to find that she got herself lost forever. But this was her home once, and I spied at least as many cans in the cupboard as I have stripes on my tail, so it seems I will be staying with the dark person. By the time the moths come out, I have located the softest, warmest bed in the place and prepared for my well-deserved sleep, but I am too relieved to be home, too saddened for my person, and too worried for the dark person's safety to sleep. I am watching the shadows of the night when she comes to take up half my bed. I am too tired to protest.
In the morning, she tortures me with the thorn in my paw, but she does give me medicine. I ask her for some milk, but instead she begins to cry. Perhaps milk is too much like cream, and it reminds her of the cream-colored person. I cry too.
It takes my new person a while to remember that I deserve some meat, but after a while she forks over bacon. Since I was watching her plate, I know for a fact that it was all of her bacon, and I accept the offering graciously.
It may take a while to get used to this mess of a human as my new person, but she is the only one around who could possibly see enough of my excellence to give me the worship I am due. And heaven knows I'm all the poor girl has.
Oh, scratch it. I kind of like her, too. Especially when there are intestines.
...Are there intestines?
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. My forthcoming fic will neither be a one-shot nor be in Buttercup's POV. Please check back when I start posting it! Thanks for reading.