I look at the bakery oven. I remember that before we left for the Capitol it still needed to be cleaned. Not like there's any way to tell that now. There's so much ash where the bakery used to be there's no way of knowing what came from the bread and what came from, well, everything else. My father told me that the oven is even older than the first rebellion. I believe him now. It's a survivor. Like me.

If it weren't for the oven I doubt I could have found my old house at all. Every building has been completely obliterated. What few landmarks District 12 had that would allow me to orient myself is gone, with one exception. The Victor's Village. My new house. I have no idea why. Maybe they just figured that some shelter had to be left behind. I can see the cruelty a person would feel, trapped in the middle of a snowstorm, to find the ruins of District 12 and die there because there was nowhere to hide. I'm sure I'm giving the Capitol too much credit.

District 13 didn't want me to head back, but they didn't try very hard to stop me. I'm told I was very inconsolable. My first reaction on waking up was confusion. If the Capitol had me, then why wasn't I restrained somehow? I stumbled out of my bed with nothing but a hospital gown, feeling around until I heard Haymitch speaking with Johanna and the man I soon recognized as Plutarch Heavensbee, the Head Gamemaster. I didn't say anything when I got into the room. They knew what it was I wanted to hear. They wouldn't say anything. That was when I realized the worst. I remember Haymitch coming over, trying to shake me, but I don't know what he said. Maybe he was trying to explain, but I didn't have the ability to pay attention anymore.

It wasn't until days later when they found Delly that I could muster the strength to even remember anything anymore. She had nothing to do with the Games, the Capitol, the Rebellion. And she was so glad to see me, just for the sake of seeing me, that I couldn't let her down by just continuing to be catatonic. She explained everything. How District 12 was firebombed, how Gale managed to lead everyone out to the lake. How except for her, everyone I had known from since before the Games started was dead. If Haymitch had told me I wouldn't have believed him. But the genuine pain I felt from Delly, the tears she fought back while she tried to tell me, let me know that it was all true. I might have lapsed back then and there, but right before she lost control, head fell on my chest and she managed to tell me what I needed to hear-

"It wasn't your fault, Peeta. It wasn't your fault."

It's not true, of course. But hearing it from her let me believe it long enough that I could pull myself back together. So that I could see for myself what I had done.

There's no rain, no wind, nothing except the bristling of ash next to my feet as I walk. I try as best as I can to avoid looking at all the death around me. I've already seen plenty. I head to the Victor's Village. I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to come back here, so if there's anything useful still around now's the time to grab it.

I stop at Katniss' house, and shudder at the memories. She said that this was where President Snow confronted her, warned her to lay off the rhetoric of rebellion lest he kill us all. I don't think she was trying to provoke anything, but she has trouble being dishonest about her feelings. I feel like I should hate her for telling me that what happened in the Arena was a lie, but it's hard to stay mad at someone who's been trying so hard to save your life.

My only solace right now is that we know she hasn't been executed yet. President Snow would have made an announcement. He can't very well force Panem to watch the execution, what with the districts being in revolt, but we wouldn't have any choice. We'd all be glued to the screen, praying for a miracle to come in and swoop her away to safety. That's when the reality would hit. That the fate for all traitors is death. No exceptions.

Well, there is one other thing that almost makes me feel better. It turns out my rescue was an accident. The priorities for the retrieval were Katniss and Beetee. She's the Mockingjay, and Beetee is a genius. The rest of them in the Arena were all glorified bodyguards. That they protected me, too, was only incidental, since they knew Katniss wouldn't go on if I were killed. So here I am, still alive and not particularly useful to the cause. I agreed to see District 13's President Coin once I was finished with the trip, but I can't imagine what it is that she wants from me. The revolution must be in a lousy spot right now. They've got Lover Boy without a lover and Johanna, who as near as I can tell hates just about everyone rebels included. We're not going to be very inspirational to anyone. At least Finnick had a good love story, but he's stuck with Katniss and Beetee in the Capitol, almost certainly experiencing torture more horrific than I have the stomach to imagine.

I hear a sound from Katniss' house. Curious, I head in, and find a greatly agitated, annoyed yellow tomcat staring back at me. Buttercup. I remember him- Prim's cat. I could tell from the way Katniss looked at him that she thought he was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. I didn't mind so much, though, because of the memories. The bakery was one of the few places in town where a cat was justified. A few mice could ruin business by nibbling into the food, making it worthless. I was young and my memories are hazy- I don't remember our cat's name, or even if she had a name, but she was grey, tired, and a great hunter. I was amazed at how happy she was in a place like District 12. One time she killed a rodent and I just watched her eat it, clearly very pleased with herself. Always head first. Sometimes she left the hindquarters behind, as a lesson to other mice.

Before I saw Katniss for the first time, maybe a few month or so earlier, the cat got pregnant. My mother was furious when she gave birth. Usually, I found out later, you only drowned the kittens when this happened, for population control, but she was so furious that she forced the cat underwater, too, choking the life out of her. The cat died watching her feeble kittens, who hadn't even opened their eyes yet, drown to death, too. We never got another cat.

Buttercup looks at me indifferently. He doesn't seem to have any idea what's going on. I know Prim's back at District 13, so I say her name. His ears perk up and he moves in close. Suddenly I have no idea what to do. I decide to grab some things while I'm here. I dig through the closet and grab a bag. I toss some clothes in, a few pictures, a few books. I find the one that I made together with Katniss. I'm not sure I want to take it, but I toss it in anyway, trying to avoid looking at it.

I go to my house thinking I'll do the same thing, but quickly realize that there really isn't anything I care about in there. A few suits are a nice contrast to the drab things we wear in District 13, but that's really about it. Everything I cared about went up with the bakery. There wasn't much point keeping any of that stuff where I live. Of course, the same can be said of my family. Even if I had my own house, I always figured I could just go home for the homey stuff. So much for that.

I have to be glib to get through the pain of losing nearly everyone I knew. It comforts me somewhat to realize that it was better my family than Katniss'. I miss my family, but Katniss would be destroyed if anything happened to her mother and sister. Of course, there are plenty more ways she can be destroyed at this point.

Right when I'm about to leave Buttercup's ears flare up and he goes running up the stairs to the study, a room I can never remember using. He's looking up at the table, ears peeled back, hissing angrily. I don't understand what he's doing, and I'm only more confused when I see a single solitary flower sitting in a vase, one which I'm sure I've drawn before. I take out the book, taking care not to read anything except the flower's name. It's a wild prairie rose. Buttercup is still hissing. I decide to inspect it. I get close to take in a good whiff, but stop halfway through from sheer shock. I try it again without flinching, because what's happened doesn't make any sense to me.

The flower smells like Katniss.