"You have got to be kidding me."
Oh, yeah. You've said it all Greasy Sae.
"Look at the girl's face!", a loud and short laugh escapes the Head Peacekeeper's mouth, Cray. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and puffs out the smoke with a smirk, glancing behind his shoulder at me. I quickly finish my drink in one gulp, averting my eyes from the screen, not wishing to see the inevitable blush on Katniss's cheeks. She can't know he was up to this. She would never agree. Would she?
I walk out of The Hob in long strides. The streets are deserted, everyone watching the interviews on their old televisions, which was what I should be doing, since it's mandatory. I don't encounter any safe keepers on my way to the woods, though.
I can't listen to any buzz coming from the fence, so I kneel down and in a matter of minutes, I'm running wildly. I don't care about the wind blocking my hearing, my vision; I don't care about the animals sure to be lurking around at this time, when the sun is going down with such subtlety and speed. I trip. I fall. I only stop when my lungs start aching, reaching for air.
I notice a small river, with a lake, which I've never seen in my four years of hunting. I stare at my reflection on the clear water. My skin is rough, dark, my hair sticks in every direction. But the look of complete desperation feels me with dread and I force myself to calm down.
Why am I here? This is ridiculous. I have my mother to think about, my brothers, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen. I should go back.
But he lies there, breathing evenly. All he can think about is how she will respond to that baker's son words. Given their entwined hands on the first day, I think I know what is bound to happen. "So what?", he cries to the emptiness around him. She's not his propriety, not bound to anyone. He should have forgotten this weird feeling creeping towards his heart, invading his mind, making him uncomfortable and self-conscious in her presence, right after she went away, engulfed by the Capitol's ways.
He realized then, he was already mourning her absence. She wouldn't be his Catnip ever again. Maybe a haunted, fragile girl, maybe a bitter woman, scarred for life.
The only light now was the orange, purple one of twilight, making it difficult for Gale to discern things in the woods. His paces were quick, his brain focused on his hatred for the Reason to all of this.
The Capitol. President Snow. These weaklings from the Districts. Myself.
He remembered how Katniss looked like, spinning in that sparkling vest. How care free and beautiful she seemed, how unawares of the reality around her, but even so, undeniably acting herself out of the situation. That shallow girl wasn't her, but somewhere, deep down, she wanted to be it. Not to worry about bringing food home, not to worry about her sister being picked on the next reaping, not to worry about taking care of her mother. Not to worry about helping him raise his family. Not to worry about anything and live glowing, smiling.
He wanted more than anything in the world to share that glow, share that smile with her.
By the time he got home, he was so miserable he couldn't even hide it from his siblings. Murmuring a weak "Good night" for all, he retired to his bedchambers, longing for his dreams, his too short dreams of freedom. Of undying love.
