A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful reviews, they really made my day!

Since I only gave you the prologue so far, and nothing really happened, I decided to update this story with the first chapter first. Enjoy!


Chapter 1:

Katniss knows she has only seconds to decide whether to make the heroic choice, go an save the intruder from whatever is threatening him, or just pretend not to be there, turn around, run and continue her life as if she'd never heard it.

Strangely, maybe because of her earlier thoughts this night, she can't bring herself to choose the latter, easier one. Maybe this person, whose cries are now strangled and distorted with pain, is to someone what Katniss' father was to her. Whoever it is illegally out here, and the possibility of him being here with the same intention as the huntress can't be ruled out, he may have a family that needs him.

So, despite knowing the dangers, ignoring the inner, cowardly voice she wishes didn't exist, she moves forward, following the voice and the noises of whatever is causing this man to wail in desperation like this.

Katniss, however, is careful not to make her presence known. Being the girl she is, this isn't a new challenge for her, and one she can master easily. While slinking through the scrub she's loading her bow again and pulling the string back again, this time sure to hit her target once she finds it. And she's certain she will.

But then she almost drops everything she holding when the source of the sounds come into her view. The sight isn't what she expected; an animal baring its teeth, making it look more terrifying in the rays of moonlight that sneak their through the thick leaf canopy, or perhaps someone who got caught up in one of her snares and is being "guarded" by a wild dog. But it's neither.

And nothing could have prepared her for what is happening before her very eyes right at this moment. If Katniss had to choose one word to express what is going, she wouldn't have difficulty for once. Horrific.

What presents itself there, only a few feet away from her, makes the huntress' stomach turn. She's killed multiple animals, skinned and gutted them without so much as batting an eye. That's no problem for her. But Katniss always leaves humans to her sister; Prim is the healer, after all. There is also the fact that she absolutely hates injuries; killing is much easier.

But there is no Prim to save the man in front of her now. Or more like, what is left of him. Even in the dim light Katniss can make out the pool of blood which is forming on the forest floor, coloring the usually green grass a deep red. The liquid is literally streaming from the wounds, especially from the gaping hole where the patch of flesh that must once have been half his calf is missing. There's so much blood the girl can literally taste its stale, rusty smell when on her tongue. The boy's eyes alternate between fluttering close and, with much determination and effort on his part, being torn open. When his tired, battle-weary orbs, which must have held a shining, bright blue once, fall on her silhouette, there's a tiny, short-lived flash of hope glinting in them before his eyelids shut again. He's nearing unconsciousness; his cries and calls have stopped around the time the girl arrived here, and it's only a matter of time until the long vines death calls its fingers will close around him.

This realization lets her recover from her shock and without further hesitating, she lets the string go and the arrow that may save the boy's life pierces the brain of the wolf hovering above him. After a second of not moving at all, a second where the world seems to stand still, its body drops with its heavy weight onto the boy's, dead.

Katniss wastes no time staring at her kill. She can collect it later, if it's still there and not eaten by other hungry predators by then. But the money she would earn for the wolf is the girl's last concern right now.

She rushes over to the bodies and jerks the animal's off the human's. Katniss isn't very strong, but the adrenaline that comes with her want to keep this man alive equates this little weakness. Her gray eyes aren't met with the blue ones she'd hoped to see, only with the eyelids of their owner. She isn't sure if the idea that comes to her is the best one; it would be another slight damage to this already at the end of his ropes person, but decides it won't matter anyway. It's not like she has another solution.

"Hey!", she calls and slaps his cheek. Despite telling herself it's the best, she winces at the smacking sound it makes. "Do you hear me? You need to wake up!"

At the sound of her voice his lids lift just the tiniest bit, only enough for her to see the blue again. She doesn't expect him to reply; he seems far too gone to do so. She's only hoping she's going to get him to come with her. Somehow.

So naturally, especially in her tense state, she jumps when his lips open. "Are you an angel?"

Katniss has trouble understanding his breathed words, but when she puzzles them to a sense-making sentence, she shortly notes how far he must have drifted off to think of her as an angel. But her slight amusement is quickly replaced by sorrow. He believes that he's dead already. Is it even possible to save his life now?

"No I'm not. You're still alive, do you understand?" He mumbles something incoherent, but Katniss takes it as a yes, not wanting to make him talk more than absolutely necessary. It'd only weaken him even more.

"Is there any way you can walk?" She's talking in a loud voice and it feels somehow wrong. She never converses out here. But she can't afford to be quiet right now. He needs to hear her. She realizes how lucky they both are that they speak the same language.

She studies him for any signs of reaction and from the slight shake he's giving his head, the huntress sighs relieved. It's a nod.

But her relief only last for so long. Only until she realizes there's only one leg left for him to walk on, and from the way his lids are dropping she bets he's only seconds from being pulled into unconsciousness again.

Panic curses through her at that; how can she be sure she's going to be able to wake him again? She's afraid he might sleep forever if he lets the darkness consume him now.

"Wait a second," she tells him. He's leaning on a tree, a tree which can come very handy now. Two branches, roughly the same size, but Katniss really can't be picky, are quickly ripped off by the girl.

"Use them as crutches." They're improvised. They're not good. They won't help much, she is aware of that. But it's better than nothing, and nothing is the alternative.

But who would have thought of this? Katniss surely not. She has never encountered anyone out here, except for Gale Hawthorne. Both their fathers had gotten caught on the faithful day which changed their lives forever. They'd been hunting partners at night, how she discovered. Just like her and Gale. Well, they used to be. Until he started working. Now he only goes hunting on Sundays; the only days he doesn't have to rest after drudging from dawn to sunset.

If only this had happened on a Sunday, or a year ago. Or better yet, not at all. But if I had been one of the former cases, at least Gale would have been there to help her.

Luckily they're not very far away from the meadow and with that, the village and her sister, who can treat him. But Katniss is afraid the boy is too weak to make it there. She knows she will have to be -literally- the shoulder he can lean on, but she's isn't sure his weight isn't going to crush her. Judging by what he looks like -unkempt, dirty, shaggy hair, mud and grass stains on his clothes, scratches on his upper arms and not to mention his calf- he's lived in the forest for quite a few days. Before he came there, Katniss thinks, he must have been quite well-fed. Not plump, hidden under his skin she can still see the muscles, which make her just the slightest tad more confident about the crutches, but she can't imagine him ever having had to go to bed with an empty stomach, like she had countless times.

But he must be thinner now than he was back then, but he would weigh even less if her assumption wasn't the case. His cheeks show the first signs of hollowness, though, and if he stood next to Gale, Katniss is sure this boy would draw the short straw.

However, both of them are men. Built differently than Katniss, and she has to add her shortness to it. Even in his damaged condition, he still has easily fifty pounds on her.

The huntress, tough as ever, shakes her mind off those discouraging thoughts. They'll get her nowhere. She's hauled fawns before; it shouldn't be that different.

Spontaneous she grabs him by his armpits, making his struggle to get off the ground easier. For a second his eyes open completely and she senses something in them that has been missing the whole time; life. The corners of his lips lift, just like hers would, only they don't stop. He bares his teeth while smiling -she shortly wonders how he managed to keep them white- and Katniss can't help but notice how it brightens his whole face. He must be very handsome when he isn't minutes away from death.

She supposes this smile is his way of saying thank you. She shudders when she imagines how hard talking must be for him if he already has to draw on the simplest form of communication. A wave of guilt splashes through her when she realizes her feisty slap might have something to do with it.

Of course it takes them time, willpower and Katniss has to work as a third crutch and steady his waist more than once. His strength, especially in this state, is impressive though. The branches help; he's able to make it halfway through the meadow with those before his arms don't follow his wishes at all anymore. At first she thinks he just needs a short break to breath again; they'd waited a bit whenever his panting got to fast and desperate. Thus Katniss can barely react fast enough now. She catches him just before his body hits the ground.

Now she's the one to inhale long yet sharply. You can do it, she tells herself. Pretend he's a fawn and will bring you a bunch of money.

"Alright, try to make yourself as light as possible. We're almost there. You've almost made it."

She can tell he's really trying his best, pushing up from the ground with his good leg every time he gets the opportunity, but it's just not enough. Breathing heavily Katniss sets him down.

"My house is over there." She points at the dark silhouette of her house. It looks like a shadow; the full moon giving him a shape. In the night of the new moon even the huntress' trained eyes can't find it and she depends completely on her instincts. She thanks her lucky stars that at least one thing isn't going wrong tonight. "Do you think you can use the crutches again? I'll help, too, I promise."

Thankfully he's kept them with him; otherwise Katniss would have to go get help now, and she doesn't want to wake her neighbors. She doesn't really trust them to be fast enough either; every second counts, for he's still bleeding horribly. Katniss silently curses herself for not having made some kind of bandage to prevent it from spilling the way it is. But then again she feels her stomach turn only thinking of touching the red flesh that once was a human leg.

Somehow, scraping together their last straws of strength and willpower, they finally manage to stumble through the door of Katniss' home. Although the noise probably already startled Prim and her mother awake, the girl, who is carefully placing the body she has half carried half dragged to her home on the table patients are usually treated on, calls out for them anyway. Tells them to come down.

Her mother has been a healer once, and Katniss knows she still is. On a good day she can take care of them. She's in her own world when she's working and it seems to make her forget everything else. That is if she comes out of her bed.

Relief fills her as she hears a pair of footsteps coming from the room next to the one she's in. She knows they'll take over from now and she can wash herself off the already dry blood that's sticking to her skin as well as her clothes.

"Katniss!" Prim shrieks. "What…?" Then her eyes fall onto the table and widen for a second. "What happened? Who is this?" She sounds alarmed. True, she's seen worse before, but not in the middle of the night, not brought home by her sister.

Said sister, on the other hand, is looking at Prim with urgency in her eyes. "I don't know. It doesn't matter now. He's dying."

The younger girl nods. "Right. Go get mom. Tell her she's needed, and tell her to bring the strongest herbs and bandage we have."

But she doesn't need to. To her surprise, her mother bursts through the door the second a strangled cry leaves the patient's mouth.

She notices her daughter first, though. "Are you alright? What's with all the…?"

Katniss doesn't want her to waste time asking unnecessary questions. "It's not mine. Help Prim."

She doesn't make sure her mother follows her instructions, though. Now that she's not in charge of this guy's life anymore she only wants to get away from his injuries. Come to think of it, she isn't quite sure why she ever was.

She doesn't know him. Doesn't even know his name. Or his background. Nothing. And yet Katniss was so determined to save him. She wonders if this is what comes from living with Prim for so long. She remembers how the young man asked her if she was an angel, his first and only words to her so far. She almost smiles as she imagines him asking her sister the same question. It would be so fitting. Because for her, Prim is the complete opposite of death. She wants to prevent everyone from dying. Maybe it rubbed off on her. Katniss can think of no other explanation. She'd completely forgotten what she'd been thinking when she saw him under this wolf and she blames the struggle of the last fifteen minutes for it.

The girl sighs as she fills the bathtub with cold water. She can't afford to waste wood for warming it up now, not after she's lost a whole night of hunting. She strips off her clothes; she'll wash them once her body is free of the metallic smell that makes her want to vomit.

When the freezing water makes contact with her skin for the first time, she hastily withdraws it. This isn't the first time she's had to deal with something unpleasant like this, and certainly not the first time Katniss feels like she's made of ice, but it takes her full self conquest every time. Katniss squeezes her eyes shut and lets herself slowly down into the tub.

Once she has the soap in her hand and begins scrubbing, though, she relaxes. It gives her time to think. She knows the boy her family members are treating at the very moment isn't going to be able to go anywhere anytime soon. If he makes it at all. He isn't from her village; she knows everyone who lives there. The question is where does he belong? And what was he doing in the forest? She remembers his hair; she saw its light color once they'd come into Katniss' home. Outside she'd thought they were a light brown, but they're blond. Light brown would've been strange enough; people around here usually have dark brown or even black hair. Only the merchants have a dark blonde or light brown, and the small village doesn't hold many of them.

The more she thinks about it the less sense it makes. Why would anyone come here? Especially from a place where he obviously had enough food? The huntress can barely hold back a groan when se realizes she's now practically the provider for this man, too. She'll have to find a place to work for him, and pretty soon, too. She doesn't know if she can feed another hungry mouth all on her own. But she also can't leave him to fate. For some reason that just wouldn't feel right.

When she climbs out of the tub, her lips must be blue by now, and wraps the welcome warmth of a blanket around herself, Prim comes through the door.

"We've done what we could. Mom is now stitching his wound. She says if he wakes up again he will make it." The younger girl eyes her sister carefully. "What happened to him? Who is he?"

And so Katniss tells her how she found him being attacked, already half dead, and about her issues to bring him home. "I don't know his name. We'll just have to ask him when he rises."

Prim raises an eyebrow. "When?"

The older know what she's referring to, but she refuses to accept that her effort and wasted hunting night might have been in vain. "When."


Well, what did I promise? It's longer:) I hope you like this one. If you do, or even if you don't, tell me. Reviews encourage me to write a lot faster than I usually would.