Days go by. The entire Seam is littered with white leaflets of paper that are dropped daily by the capitol. Bold black lettering shines up from each piece.

TRIBUTES FROM DISTRICT 12 DIE IN COWARDLY ACT OF DEFIANCE. NO WINNER THIS YEAR FOR THE 74TH. WARNING TO ALL DISTRICTS: SUICIDE IN GAMES NOW PUNISHABLE BY FAMILY EXPUNGEMENT.

Off in the distance a school bell rings, the sound of stomping feet echo into the square only to be drowned out by the howling of the mining whistle. Dusty coal covered men trudge out from the elevator after it screeches to a half. Another group of men enter the elevator with grim faces, lights clicking on from their hats as the car descends. Hope has official died with the star crossed lovers.

The men returning from the mines pass a building, stopping to look up at the graffiti painted on the side as a group of Peacekeepers try desperately to scrub it away.. An image of Katniss pin from the games stares back down at them with a single word painted below it.

REMEMBER.


Night falls on the depressed town, not a person can be found smiling. Primrose Everdeen sits on her porch, doing the same thing shes done for countless nights since the 74th games; crying and thinking of her sister. The man in the hood quietly approaches, noticing the young girl weeping and kneels down beside her.

"What's your name child?" He asks, revealing his voice to be gentle and warm.

The sudden voice startles her as she scoots away a step before turning to look at him.

"Prim...Primrose." she sputters, wiping the tears away from her face.

"Like the flower?" he asks, slowly sitting beside her with his hands raised.

"Yes," she nods. "I know who you are. You're the bad man. The one they call Hunter."

"I am," he admits. "But you aren't scared?"

"No. Everyone speaks about you in whispers. Gale says you're dangerous but Jenny in my class said you brought meat to some of the kids families who died in the games and you live alone out in the woods…"

"Gale is right, but then again so is Jenny," he confirms pulling out a mid sized parcel wrapped in white butchers paper and tied with twine.

"Why do you do it?" she asks, trying to get a look at his face under the hood. "Why do you give up your game when there's barely any food?

"Because," he starts, hesitating and looking down at the parcel in his hands. "I feel i owe them, each and every family. i took their children away out of selfishness, so i could live. Its a debt i can never fully repay, but i will spend my life trying."

"You didn't take them," she whispers quietly. "Snow did. Just like he took my sister and that sweet baker's boy."

"You're too smart for your own good, little one," he chuckles, hood swiveling her direction. A patch of moonlight shines down and for a second, Prim could swear she sees a boys face and a kind smile under that hood before it turns away.

"I wish i could make him pay, make them all pay. All those peacocks in the capitol…" Her eyes begin to well up again as she balls her hands into fists.

He sets the parcel down, hands gently placed on top and below her fists. His hands are large and warm, rough and calloused.

"I promise you, by these two hands, I will make Snow pay for taking your sister."

She turns to face him, hands unclenching.

"How?" she asks in a whisper.

Before he can answer, Mrs. Everdeen opens the door and beckons her inside quickly. The young man lets go of her hands as Prim wipes the tears from her eyes and quietly heads inside. Mrs. Everdeen stays on the porch, staring at the hooded figure before shutting the door and taking a step closer.

"Mrs. Everdeen," he says, picking up the parcel and handing it to her. "For your loss."

"So its true," she whispers, hesitantly taking the parcel. "I have heard rumors about you, feeding the families of tributes lost."

"Even so, i feel it isn't enough," he replies, pulling out an elegant brass key. "It will unlock a house in the Victors Village. I don't know the state it's in, i refuse to ever set foot in it."

"I can't accept this," she gasps, looking down at the key. "Surely Mrs. Mellark would…."

"I tried," he admits, placing the key on top of the parcel and taking a step back. "She refused. Said her son was no victor…..You have to take it. For your daughter's sake."

"The Peacekeepers…" she starts before being cut off mid way.

"They Peacekeepers won't bother you at all. They know whos house that is and are terrified of the owner." He finishes firmly, turning to leave.

"Wait," she calls, ducking into the house before returning with a folded up blanket. "I have something for you."

"You dont…." he tried, only to be shushed as she forces the blanket into his hands.

"Nonsense, it gets pretty cold out there." she urges.

"It does…" he agrees, holding the blanket close and turning away.

"Some of us still remember your name," she calls before he gets to far away. "I remember a little boy who used to laugh and play with my daughters…"

"That boys dead," he growls back without turning around. "The Capitol killed him just like they killed her."

She raises her hands to her face, shocked by his response. Tears begin to leak down her face as he disappears into the night. She turns, taking a breath and drying her eyes before opening the door and calling for Prim.


The young man in the hood walked through the woods before hesitating. A bright white line of lights was creeping forward along the fence. Two Peacekeepers were patrolling the fence line, checking for gaps in the wire or any sort of breakage. He crept out from his cover, walking loudly enough for the two to hear and began making his way towards them. After a few steps, they spun around, bringing their lights up to illuminate the hooded figure.

"You there! Halt!" they scream, voices glitching through their helmets.

The figure stops, hands disappearing under his cloak and slowly reaching for two long metal knives.

"Don't come any closer," he warns them, voice coming out deep and menacing.

"You are out past curfew, stay where you are and let us see your hands!" they shout, moving closer.

One of the peacekeepers freeze, light shining farther up on the hood to see an assortment of teeth sewn into it.

"Oh shit," the man breathes, static crackling from his helmet. "That's him."

"What? Who?" his companion asks panicking.

"The crazy guy who lives out in the eastern forest. Killed like 30 Peacekeepers in seconds. People say he's more animal than man now."

"It was 40," the man in the hood growls, knives slowly extending through his sleeves and reflecting the light back at them.

"Shit shit shit," the one mutters, slowly backing away.

"Look we don't want any trouble," the second begs. "We just got stuck on sentry duty, we never saw you ok?"

"No, you didnt," he growls, slamming his knives into the lights, shattering them both in a shower of sparks.

The two Peacekeepers drop their weapons, turn around and bolt up the fenceline. The hooded figure pulls the knives back through his sleeves and sheathes them underneath his cloak With a laugh to himself, he picks up the discarded weapons and tucks them into the blanket secured to his chest. After walking a few yards up the line, he ducks underneath the wires and strolls across the field and into the trees.