Author's Note: I am SO sorry about the delay in continuing this story! It turns out I had terrible timing in starting to post, though I didn't know it at the time. (Some medical stuff in my family that became overwhelming, and now hopefully is mostly resolved though still makes it hard for me to get online much.) Thanks for being patient, and thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! I was happy to see how much interest there is, although I also feel bad because this is just a short, little fluffy piece that really didn't need to be dragged out this long. :/ Sorry! Like the old saying "my eyes are bigger than my stomach," when it comes to fanfic I suffer from "my goals are bigger than my available time." (Even for something as short as this. Sad, I know.)


Lesson #2: Set Up Camp Near a Water Source

Or, How to Fish

Despite their late start, Gale got them to the unnamed lake before sunset. It meant hiking at a pace a little faster than "leisurely," but he figured it was all right; Madge was in good shape and he put the heaviest gear in his own backpack. Their conversation consisted primarily of him instructing her about various plant species that were edible or otherwise useful for survival. Madge diligently took notes in her little spy notebook, satisfying him that she was taking the excursion seriously. He could tell she wasn't having as much fun as they usually did on their more relaxed trips, but at least she wasn't complaining.

They reached the lake as the shadows were growing longer, though the day was still bright and warm. "Check out this color," he said as he gestured to the water and unhitched his backpack. The lake's vibrant aquamarine hue had something to do with the types of minerals in the source stream. It was unlike anything he'd encountered before, which was part of why he'd wanted Madge to see it.

Madge glanced disinterestedly at the lake as she shrugged off her backpack. "So. Survival. What do we need to do?"

He wasn't sure he liked her tone. Maybe she needed a snack. He tossed her some dried fruit, but Madge set the bag aside and instead dropped to the ground to unlace her hiking boots. Fine. She could decide if she was hungry or not.

"Well," he said, scanning the immediate vicinity, "First, we need a campsite." He pointed to an area along the lake's shoreline. "There's a flat spot over there for the tent, under those trees. See how it's not as rocky? But still close enough to the lake that we won't have to haul our water very far for cooking. We'll also need to purify some water and start a fire..." Madge's head bobbed up at the mention of fire—she was still uneasy around fires after the bombing of 12. "I'll do all that if you put up the tent," Gale finished smoothly, not wanting to make a big deal about the fire.

Dragging her backpack, Madge followed him to the prospective campsite, where he gave her the tent and went over how to assemble it. She nodded impatiently and shooed him away so he left her with everything and went in search of kindling for a fire.

Things were going pretty well, he thought to himself as he located small, dry sticks amongst the trees lining the lake. When he had first been stationed in District 2 at the end of the war, the idea of hunting or even walking through a forest again had been out of the question. Katniss hated him—for good reason—and survival meant doing whatever he could to forget that bomb and the way Katniss had looked at him when she asked if it was his. No forests, no reminders of Katniss, nothing. He'd thrown himself into soldiering. He also didn't think he deserved to get away from the battle-scarred stone-and-concrete scenery of District 2.

Madge reappearing in his life didn't change any of that at first. She was a supernova: bright and amazing, and also overwhelming, considering how determined he'd been to punish himself. But she'd snuck her way into his life in District 12 and managed a repeat performance in District 2. Slowly, he found a way to get out of bed each morning. He started to take Madge on hikes, first out of necessity—investigating corrupt schemes—and later as something fun and an escape from being cooped up in meetings all day at work. When his job duties shifted to include conducting surveys of new land areas, he was actually grateful.

The ghost of Katniss—the old Katniss he remembered, growing up in District 12—still found him sometimes. Usually after he noticed the slight twitching of leaves in his peripheral vision, signaling that game was nearby; he'd have to stop himself from attempting to make eye contact with her to synchronize their approach. She wasn't there and wouldn't look at him if she were. But the mountains and forests surrounding District 2, punctuated by sharp peaks and steep inclines and unfamiliar species, were so different from the forest outside 12 that he found he could explore without ruminating too obsessively on Katniss and all their old hunting trips together in 12 and how irreversibly wrong he'd been during the war.

Most of the time. It was harder when he was by himself.

By the time he returned to the lakeside campsite with the kindling, he could see he'd made a mistake in leaving Madge in charge of the tent. Even from a distance it was obvious she was in a foul mood. She was sitting on a log and scowling at him, the tent a pile of poles and tangled orange nylon at her feet.

"I hate this thing," she fumed as he approached. "The poles don't match up with the fabric where they're supposed to!"

He knelt to unload the kindling, determined to tread carefully. Angry red splotches glowed on Madge's cheeks, but he figured it wasn't a good time to mention how cute she looked when she got worked up.

"It doesn't make any sense!" Madge picked up the tent and flung it farther away.

Gale wasn't sure what was so confusing; he'd put the tent together easily on his first trip with it. "Is there a piece missing?" He moved over to the tent and pawed through the pile of poles, stakes, and cloth to check.

"I wouldn't last five seconds in the forest without you, Gale," she continued in the same accusatory tone. "So you might as well just break up with me now. Our kids will die if they have to depend on me if the government falls apart—"

"Hey!" He abandoned the tent and crossed to where Madge was ranting on the log. She had her arms wrapped around her legs and a fierce expression on her face, which left her looking like an angry ball of frustration. "Madge. I want you to learn this stuff and I'm going to teach you—it doesn't happen instantly. So calm down—"

"I'm useless! And something is wrong with my feet and I hate that tent!"

He noticed that she'd taken off her boots and put on flip-flops. Her feet looked a little swollen. Before she could stop him, he scooped her up.

"What are you doing?" she squawked, squirming in his arms.

Undeterred, he carried her toward the lake. "Your feet are probably sore from being in those boots for so long. Conveniently, we have a nice, cold lake right here."

"Yeah. Cold," Madge huffed.

"You'll like it," he promised, setting her down at the lake's edge and quickly unlacing his own boots. Madge kicked off her flip-flops and ventured tentatively into the water. To his relief, she waded knee-deep.

"It does feel good," she admitted. She eyed him suspiciously. "I thought you were going to throw me in."

"Smarter than that," he said with a grin as he waded out to join her. "Survival tip: if someone's already pissed off at you, don't chuck them into a lake. C'mere." He reached for her shoulders so he could massage them, hoping he could drain her hostility away. Her eyes closed and she leaned forward into his chest, her head dropping slightly. He kneaded her muscles and let her relax for a few minutes before speaking again. "If you wanted to teach me piano, would you expect me to know everything after the first lesson?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed. "But you made this trip out to be so urgent and important, and you just sprung it on me..."

He sighed at his error. He'd meant to get his way, but not at the expense of freaking her out. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. There aren't many weekends of good weather left in the season, and that vote postponement got me worried..." He stopped massaging her shoulders and thought back to how he'd panicked when she'd resisted the trip. Madge looked up at him and seemed to be waiting for him to keep talking so he tried to explain. "Madge, if it came down to living like we did under Snow or taking off into the forest, I'd go for the forest. In a heartbeat. And that means making sure you all could get by even if I'm not around."

She looked down at their submerged feet and wiggled her toes deeper into the lakebed. A cloud of silty mud ballooned upward like the plume from a bomb. "I get it, Gale. It just seems... extreme. You've been so invested in rebuilding the country since the war ended. Would you really walk away from it all? A lot of people are depending on you."

It hadn't occurred to him that she might be upset at the prospect of him giving up on the rebuilding efforts. "I'd fight for as long as I could," he said. "But if things were bad enough, yes, I'd want us to leave." He would always choose his family over strangers. And he needed to make sure going off the grid it was at least a possibility. Being trapped in District 12 without options had taught him that.

"But, it's a worst case scenario," he added, starting to see that he might have overreacted or been overly ambitious with his timeline by insisting on taking this trip this weekend. He wondered if being cooped up in so many infuriating meetings with jerks each week had affected his judgment. Standing in the lake, surrounded by all the lush refuge the forest had to offer, already left him calmer. Even the air felt lighter, more optimistic. Why couldn't all the stupid committees he sat on hold their meetings outside?

Madge also glanced around them at the lake and the forest and cliffs encircling it. "And why did we have to come so far? Were you trying to trick me into an overnight trip?"

"I wouldn't say trick," he hedged, though he supposed he could have been more direct with her. "I really did want to show you this lake. And the hunting's better out here. The game get scared away by all the new construction closer to the district."

Madge didn't seem reassured. "So, you're saying there are more wild animals here? Just waiting in the bushes to attack us?"

He smiled. "You could think of it the other way around; we'll be the ones doing the hunting."

"I could, but I won't," she muttered. Then she stepped away from him and reached into the water to splash her legs. He realized she was trying to wash the trail dust off.

"Good idea," he said, pulling his hiking shirt over his head in one motion and tossing it to the shore.

That got her attention. Madge eyed his chest appreciatively, and a smile slowly snuck onto her face. "Going swimming?"

"Sure." He pulled her to him and started lifting her own shirt up. "And so are you."

"No way. This water is too cold." Madge looked at the lake distastefully.

"You'll get used to it. And conveniently you have your own personal swimming buddy right here to keep you warm."

She let him pull her shirt off, but crossed her arms over her bra and continued to eye the lake with disapproval while he threw her shirt to the shore. He drew her into his arms and leaned down to kiss her until she realized she didn't need to worry about being cold with the type of swimming he had in mind. When her arms twined around his neck, he started to steer them into deeper water. During the dusty, overheated trek up the mountain to the lake he'd spent a lot of time imagining this moment and now it was here. Even better, Madge's hands started to roam over his chest down to his waistline...

Suddenly he arched backwards and sucked in his breath. Icy water was running down his spine.

Madge watched him with a smug expression and he noticed that her arms were tellingly aloft. "The water is cold, isn't it?" she asked. She'd scooped handfuls of lake to pour on him. Typical sneaky Madge maneuver.

He shook the water off and caught his breath. "Yeah, it's cold. Which is why you either ease into it or jump in all at once, not dump it over someone's head—"

He was cut off by a cascade of water hitting his chest and face. That little weasel had splashed him!

Once he wiped the water out of his eyes, he saw Madge had moved a safe distance away from him. "That was for tricking me," she called.

He started wading towards her. "Fair enough," he said evenly as he approached. No point belaboring the tricking/not-tricking issue.

Madge took a step backwards, nervously watching as he drew closer. "Gale. How about we just rinse the dust off ourselves now and get the camp ready."

"Let's not." It was too late for diplomacy. He kept moving toward her.

"Gale," she started in a warning tone, but it was too late. He was at her side and picked her up again. She immediately started wriggling. "Gale! You said you weren't going to throw me in!"

"Well, I tried the get-used-to-it slowly approach but you didn't go for it. So now it's all-at-once."

Madge started kicking and splashing up a storm. But he could also feel her laughing. "You're horrible!"

"I am," he agreed, unceremoniously dropping her at that very moment. They were still in water only a few feet deep, so even though Madge fell into the water her head didn't go under. Which left her free to yell at him.

Only she didn't. She spluttered and wiped the water from her eyes, then glared up at him with. He felt a flutter of worry. Had he gone too far? He could usually tell with her, but she was probably tired, hungry, and now drenched in cold lake water.

"Madge, are you okay—"

She hooked her leg around his, destabilizing him so he fell backward into the lake with a thundering splash. He was so relieved to see the devious smile on her face that he leaned his head back and laughed. Above him the sky was clear, decorated only with wispy clouds starting to turn pink as the sun sank behind the mountains. He felt freer than he'd been all week, he was with Madge, and she wasn't upset with him. He did know her well enough to know she could take being tossed in a lake. Of course he did.

Seconds later Madge crawled through the water and leaned over him. "So. Do I win?"

She did. But so did he because he had her. He couldn't bring himself to say anything that cheesy though so instead of answering, he sat up to touch her cheek and soak in looking at her. She seemed to sense the subtle shift in his mood because the teasing glint in her eyes was replaced by that soft look she tended to get right before they kissed. It didn't take him long to pull her against his chest and kiss her with everything he had. Madge matched his enthusiasm and soon her hands were in his hair, which was his signal to start unbuttoning her shorts.

Madge made an adorable sighing noise that he promptly filed into his mental library of memories to be recalled later during boring meetings at work. Then he realized she was trying to work up the will power to talk, not sighing, so he paused to see what she wanted.

"Dinner," she said, trying to catch her breath but still trailing kisses down his chin. "You said we were going to hunt something for dinner. Or fish?"

He glanced at the horizon, where the sun wasn't far from sinking entirely from sight. There wasn't much daylight left and they could either use it to rustle up nourishment or stay in the lake. It wasn't even a choice.

"No-time-to-set-the-snares-and-we-already-scared- all-the-fish-away," he managed to get out. Then he grinned at her. "And I already caught the best thing in this lake anyway."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Madge laughed as she got to work on his belt buckle. Under other circumstances he might have quibbled with her about who caught who, but he was done talking. They'd figure out dinner later. For now he was glad she understood the more pressing lesson of why it was so important to set up camp near water.


A/N: Slackers. I am shocked, SHOCKED I TELL YOU, that they're procrastinating their survival lessons.