Chapter Two – Too Good To be True
We set off around midday, hunting as we wound our way through the ever-changing woods. The sun was well in the sky now, beating down on our exposed skin. A faint, summery breeze refreshed our senses and the weight of our problems in district twelve seem to finally start to lift. That didn't stop me from wandering about Prim. About how she was and about how she was taking our 'disappearance'. She was only twelve years old, after all. Then another thought occurred to me – how was our families to survive now that Gale and I could no longer provide food? I could picture them, all huddled in a corner, their skin waxy and tight around their bones, their eyes wide in the hollows of their skulls. Begging for food, pleading with perfect strangers for a scrap…even the horrifying vision of Prim knocking on old Cray's door.
I shake off those unpleasant feelings and try to concentrate on our quaint journey. Gale was deeply enjoy himself as we moved further and further away from the Capitol, from the Hunger Games. We pass bubbling streams that lap at our bare feet, and rolling hills of evergreens. The sky is a crystal-clear blue, filled with tiny white clouds. Time passes quickly as we move silently, soaking in our freedom.
When we finally decide to respite, we fall back onto the sweet-smelling grass and just gaze at the sky. I breathe in deeply, inhaling all the different scents surrounding us; wild lavender, pine needles, even Gale's earthy fragrance.
"I love…everything, just everything," I breathe. Gale rolls his head around to look at me.
"Sometimes I wonder if all this," He gestures to the lush fields. "Is too good to be true,"
"You're too good to be true," I tell him. That was the greatest thing I could have said at that moment in time. Gale was wonderful, more than that, he was something else…
No more words were exchanged as we stared deeply into each other's eyes. His were a deep chocolate colour, not the dark gray I thought they were- gentle and kind. These were the eyes of Gale Hawthorne.
We were only roused by our stomachs rumbling. We had a plentiful pile of food, and we were both dying to eat.
"What shall we have?" I ask, propelling myself up on my numb arms.
"Why don't you choose?" Gale asked generously. I made a decision to eat plump wild turkey, stuffed with wild garlic, chives and rosemary. This would have been a spectacular meal back home, but as we could hunt and forage without restraints every day, Gale and I could eat what we wished.
Neither of us wanted to start a fire in the warmth of the day, so I needed to make a compromise. Down by the little stream, I rested on a colossal boulder, but jumped up immediately as its absorbed heat penetrated my clothing. That sparked an idea in my mind. The spark grew until it burst into flames.
"Gale!" I called, beckoning for him to come closer to the stream. "I think I know how we can cook food!" With that, he came racing over.
"Enlighten me," he joked. I began telling him my theory, and I could tell that he was listening, intently. "Will it be hot enough, though?" Neither of us wanted to get food poisoning this far away from the comforts of my mother's medicine.
"I can't be sure, so why don't we just…wing it," I say. Funnily enough, we did, and the food was fine, in fact, it was the best thing I have ever tasted. Licking our fingers greedily, we both sat in the presence of a huge birch tree. The copse had a humble feeling to it, just as the field did, and we sat, yet again, in silence.
"Sometimes, life is perfect," Gale sighs. Déjà vu hit us both as he says, "You're perfect,"
