Protect Her

The girl was laying on her bed, her knees tucked under her chin and her hands curled over her face like a shield. She was swamped by a tatty nightgown, a hand-me-down from her older sister. The thin covers did nothing to fight off the winter chill, but Prim didn't notice, too occupied with the tears oozing from eyes puffy with crying and the thoughts crowding her mind. Her blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, untidy and knotted.

Unable to bear it any longer, the girl slipped out of bed and crossed to the ancient chair where her mother sat, blankly staring into space. She climbed onto her lap, expecting no comforting from the distant woman but determined to draw every bit of reassurance possible from the closeness. She jumped a little when she felt a hand on her head, but welcomed the small gesture of recognition and snuggled closer. Soon, though, she drew back in surprise as her mother opened her mouth for the first time in months for anything other than eating, and began to sing in a cracked voice which grew in strength as she continued.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft pillow," she chanted, still staring straight ahead but caressing Prim's hair softly. Prim curled up quietly, listening intently and losing herself in the song.
"Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes, and when again they open, the sun will rise," she whispered. Tears coursed down Prim's cheeks with relief and sadness, and her mother looked down at her fondly, reciting the lullaby they both knew and cherished.

Katniss's hand had reached out to open the door, the other on her game bag containing the meagre supplies she had foraged from the forest, when she heard the singing. Torn for a moment, she pulled her hand back, putting her back to the door and listening silently.

When she reached the end of the song, their mother curled her arms around her daughter and rocked her gently, showing more presence of mind than she had shown ever since she received the news of her husband's death. Prim sniffed, drying her tears.
"It's Katniss's first reaping tomorrow. What do we do if she's chosen?" she asked plaintively.
"Hush, sweetheart. She won't be chosen," replied her mother, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"But what if –" Prim's appeal was cut short by her mother's shushing.
"She won't be. Your father will look after her, just as he looked after us when he was... with us. Now, go to sleep."

Katniss heard the voices stop and waited a moment before entering. She dropped the bag by the door and took in the sight of her mother and sister, wrapped around each other in the old chair, both sound asleep. A mixture of anger and envy tightened her lips for a moment, but she shook it off slipped into the cold bed, falling asleep almost instantly to the knowledge that her mother was finally, after many long months, coming back to them.


This was written for Starvation's monthly one-shot competition.