My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am eighteen years old. I live in District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. The Katniss Everdeen that participated back then died there when she lost Rue. I escaped. I became the Mockingjay. The Mockingjay broke when Prim died. It's been two months since I returned home, a stranger. I l live here with Peeta, Haymitch and a few hundred other returning residents.
We pass the time trying to repair what has been damaged past the point of recognition.
The Katniss who lived here before the Hunger Games would have left whoever had made that noise outside to their own business, not even bothering to wake up to the slight clank of metal and the squish of feet on the muddy earth below her window at two in the morning.
I am fully awake in an instant. It's probably nothing and I'm embarrassed at my over-reaction, wondering if I've become paranoid after all I've experienced over the last two years. Still, there's nothing paranoid about simply peeking out the window; a quick glance to see what woke me.
Keeping to the shadows, I look to the street below where only a few small lamps light the rain-wet streets of our district, their warm glows flickering off of shallow, vein-like streams breaking up the ugly black ground.
My heart flutters erratically when I see them, a group of men in matching uniforms, which I can't recognize in the dark, creeping along the side of the road. There are four of them but after a quick glance over the rest of the street I spot two more making their way to my front door and another one as he slips out of view to the other side of my house. I would guess that he was trailing another group of three or four.
It's clear they're trying to be stealthy; too bad for them they have a dud in the group who made enough noise to wake me from my second floor.
Fear hits me hard as I take a step back, trying to control my breathing as my eyes shoot to my door and I get a mental image of someone busting it open before I can defend myself. The thought is enough to get me moving and in seconds I have on my boots, a jacket, and my bow and arrows in hand.
Silently I take another look outside to see an empty street. For a moment I humor the side of me that wants to believe I was seeing things but I quickly push the thought aside. The consequences of looking crazy to people would have much lighter repercussions than the alternative.
There is a squeak of old wood rubbing together from a boot on the hallway floor outside my shut door.
Someone is definitely coming, and for a brief time I will have the element of surprise, assuming they still think I am asleep.
I take a heavy paper-weight in my right hand, leaving the bow unarmed in my left. The last thing I want to do is to kill somebody before I know their intentions. Surely they'll reveal that to me when I knock the first one unconscious.
Crouching in the shadow of my dresser, I steady myself for action, my heart racing at a frustratingly fast rate (which I try to calm through slow breaths but it is irreconcilable).
The squeaking wood can now be heard throughout my house causing me to wonder if it would have been wiser to slip out the window, but the time for that has come and gone.
Seconds pass.
Finally the door-knob is slowly twisted and I tense up, anxious. They must still think me in bed because whoever it is, is trying to be quiet as he pushes the door in inch by inch. This amuses me for some reason.
I don't move as he peeks in, waiting for a clear shot. He doesn't see me in the dark spot of my room but pulls what can only be a gun from his belt.
Ok, so now I know their intentions.
The second his head comes into view I burst into action, an explosion of pent up adrenaline as the paper-weight flies from my hand, propelling with a crunch into his face. His lack of vocal displeasure leads me to believe I've done some serious damage as I charge him, using his collapsing form as a shield and distraction to the other men in the hallway.
I don't want to do combat with these men. I've only had a bit of martial arts training from the Hunger Games prep the two times I'd done in and I have no idea what manner of men I am facing, so when I see a slight opening between the two disoriented intruders I slip through, charging down the hallway towards the staircase that zigzags to the living room below.
Hearing shouting behind me and the blast of a handgun, I waste no time in jumping the entire set of stairs to the first floor, the roll I take to lessen the impact keeping me from serious injury but unable to keep a painful jolt from coursing up my body as the landing is absorbed.
I'm running again, cursing the limited amount of exits in my house. The two men from the hallway are making their way down the stairs and I can hear the sounds of boots running on wood flanking me. Of course they're covering all of the exits.
Thinking quickly, I dash for the kitchen where a door leads out back towards the woods. I know I'm running into a crowd of armed threats but an idea has come to me and I don't have many options to work with.
The second I swing the kitchen door open I see a swarm of men, the darkness of the room making them look like one massive entity. Before they can reach me I sweep my hand to the wall to the left of the doorway and flip a row of switches from down to up, flooding the room with the blinding light of white neon bulbs.
More shouts erupt from the crowd as the squad is temporarily blinded. Using the ironic cover of light, I clatter over the table dividing the men, splinters finding their way into my skin as I skid to the opposite edge and dive for the door.
Curses explode from the crowd behind me and multiple gunshots are fired though none hit their target as I break for the black woods and I can assume the men are having a hard time spotting me with their vision still struggling to adjust to the sudden change of lighting. Light bubbles are floating in my line of sight as well but they are much less hazardous to someone aiming for the woods.
I don't stop running when I make it to the cover of the forest, though I already feel safe in the embrace of darkness as the tree's block out the moon's blue rays that can only trickle down defiantly in the wake of their full branches.
Left in only my nightgown, boots and jacket, I'm starting to regret not layering up more in the house as a cool Fall breeze courses through the thin fabric against my skin. The chill doesn't last long though as I grow short of breath, my lungs heaving large swallows of air as I make distance between me and my pursuers. I can hear them behind me, plowing through the underbrush like clumsy bulls. The advantage is mine, as I am the smaller, more nimble being and these are my stomping grounds, so soon I have made enough headway to be out of hearing-range.
This is a very good thing because my breathing is loud enough to be heard from quite a distance and I feel like I'm going to vomit. I fight the urge, heaving two or three times before I get control of myself.
Once my breathing is back to a contained, rhythmic pattern I begin to look for a good hiding place, deciding on an old oak-tree to camp out in (that worked well enough in the Hunger Games after all). Finally I can take a moment to organize my thoughts and plan my next course of action.
First of all, who's after my life now? Had those been Peacemakers back there? More than likely rebels out for vengeance against the girl who assassinated their fearless leader. I can't make any solid assumptions but I can know one thing for certain, they're here to avenge someone or something that I destroyed.
I could easily slip away into the forest; snag some clothes and food from a resident living on the outskirts of the now fenceless district, but if these people have personal issues with me, they must know of Peeta and his relationship with me.
Whether these people have beef with Peeta or not, he will be a target, and possibly Haymitch as well.
Haymitch I could leave and count on to be ok, but Peeta will definitely be caught if I don't go get him, and then he would be in danger once again for my sake.
I can't let that happen. Not again.
I shoulder my bow and quiver, knowing that every second wasted in this tree was a second I can't guarantee Peeta's safey, and I climb back down, listening for breaking twigs or the rustling of leaves in case someone managed to wonder this far looking for me.
No one came, so swiftly I made my way to a deer trail I knew headed down near Peeta's house and began to tread quietly on the moist earth. Two or three times I lost the narrow trail, the ground beaten down only by small deer hooves difficult to follow in the dark. Only once did I spot someone sneaking about in the woods, a flashlight flickering in and out of my vision as its wielder searched in frustration for what could only be me. It was a hopeless endeavor.
It took me only forty-five minutes to make it around to the side of town where my friend lived. From my house it took only ten minutes but the woods wrapped around the district and I needed to walk with care to be sure I didn't attract attention to myself.
As I neared the edge of the woods I lowered myself to a crouch, keeping to the heavier patches of foliage though there didn't seem to be anyone looking for me this far from my house. This is a good sign because that means that these people don't know me well enough to predict this obvious action on my part.
The calm that had come over me when I came up with a plan of action was erased when I saw the armed men scattered across Peeta's property.
So much for getting to him before he got caught.
The light is on in his house and I can already hear indiscernible voices from where I am. I can see a shadow interrupting the light-source from the living room, followed by a figure much taller than Peeta crossing the window.
Ok, so there's at least one other person in the house.
I fight the panic squeezing my gut as I begin to rationalize the chances the Peeta is still ok. More than likely these people are after me and if they know anything about me they know I'm hard to catch, so they would more than likely keep my close friends as leverage; and right now my number of close friends are narrowed down to Peeta.
I need to get closer to find out where they're holding him and hopefully I'll also be able to figure out who these people are. There are "guards" all around the house and at first I begin to doubt my initial plan to sneak up to the back-porch but upon further observation I decided that it wasn't entirely impossible and I needed to get Peeta sooner rather than later; I'd guess most the men were out looking for me anyway.
It was dark enough and I could see a few routes I could take that would be the safest option, and in the worst-case-scenario I get caught and hopefully my life will be enough to appease them and they let Peeta go.
Mind made up, I wait a few more seconds for a space to be cleared between the two men out back before sprinting out into the open, lack of cover pushing my legs to move faster and in seconds I've skidded to the back porch, slipping under the wooden stairs and back into the safety of darkness.
Immediately I can hear the conversation going on inside much clearer through the floorboards of the deck and thin walls. Ignoring the mud ruining my already filthy nightgown, I crawl on my knees till I'm right up against the house, finally able to discern what is being said.
"-we're trying to keep a dignified organization here Mr. Mellark, but the actions of Miss Everdeen might lead us to more… unfortunate methods to get her to come quietly. She violently resisted arrest tonight and has already caused us enough trouble."
I hear a snicker from the sofa near the back door that could only come from Peeta.
"You mean you didn't think Katniss would be a handful? And who the heck are you to be arresting anyone?"
Relief melts through me upon hearing Peeta's voice, and he sounds like he hasn't been harmed yet.
"I already told you boy, we are the Law Keepers."
"Aww, that's cute. It's like a spin-off of Peacemakers. At least you're original… and that still doesn't answer my question as to what gives you the right to be arresting anyo-"
I hear a loud smack cut off Peeta's question and tense in anger as the man snaps back at my friend.
"We have the right because the justice system has been corrupted and someone needs to come in and fix what no one else will, starting with carrying out the sentence that Katniss Everdeen truly deserves for murdering President Coin! Now if I were you Mr. Mellark, I would be very careful with what comes out of my mouth, because I would know that I am at the LK's mercy until Miss Everdeen has been caught and tried."
"You… you're going to kill her?" Peeta stuttered, his fear for me evident in the break in his voice. "Well fat chance! Katniss is too good to be caught by you self-righteous pricks! And you can bet your purple space-suite I won't cooperate!"
It took everything in me not to slide out from my hiding place and peek through the window to catch a glimpse of the suite he had mentioned, but even more-so not to charge right in when the man responded.
"Oh we know you won't cooperate" I could hear the voice drawing closer, probably leaning towards Peeta's face "we saw that from your time in the Capitol; apparently you're quite the strong-willed lad."
There was a pause, as if the man was giving Peeta a chance to respond, but the room stayed silent. Just hearing someone talk about Peeta's time in the Capitol broke something in me and I couldn't imagine what it would do to the boy inside. I would have no problem killing the man in that room if the occasion called for it.
"But we also know that your cooperation is not necessary to catch our Mockingjay's attention" the man continued before pausing again. Still there was no response from Peeta and I didn't try to imagine what was going on in his head "Now, I'll ask nicely once more. Will you help us find Miss Everdeen or will you be the bait that brings her here?"
Another pause.
"I'll die first."
TBC…
Hope you enjoyed this first chapter of my first Hunger Games fic. Much more to come please let me know what you think and if there's anything I should fix in regards to my writing or the character personalities.