A/N: Here it is-Peeta and Katniss meet. Big thanks to everyone who has followed/favorited/etc. Even bigger thanks to everyone who has reviewed. As always, review with your thoughts/feedback/ideas/opinions/etc. I love hearing what you think, the good and the bad. Sorry if there are any errors in my writing, since I still need to find a beta. I don't think I'll be able to post the next chapter until Monday because I'm off for a major birthday weekend.
Oh, and I don't own The Hunger Games. I don't even own a car, at the moment.
Chapter Three
He didn't usually go through the woods, but road construction had progressed over the last week. It now blocked the course of his regular morning run, making the detour necessary. Not that he really minded. After years in the desert, running in the forest was a welcome change.
It could hardly be considered a path. More of a dirt trail-littered with leaves and needles, winding through stands of oaks, birches, and pines. Peeta hadn't been out in these woods since he was young. At first it was only the rare afternoon that he and his brothers could slip out and play. Then in high school, he began sneaking away from the bakery early in the morning to draw. Art was a "waste of time" according to his mother. Trying to sketch at home led to smack upside the head, while the piece in question ended up burning in the fireplace. So he sought refuge elsewhere, and the trees held his secrets. Years had passed but his feet seemed to remember, carrying him to the outcropping of rocks he once considered his own.
He had just finished picking his way through the particularly thick clump of trees that hid his old sanctuary, thinking fondly of the peaceful sunrises he used to have to himself, when an arrow flew through the air, thudding into a knot on the trunk of a tree mere inches to the left of his head. The old memories vanished and Peeta dropped into a crouch, scanning the immediate area.
"Holy shit! Do you not know how watch where you're going? For fucks sake, I could have hit you." The voice was coming from a petite woman, who was now stalking towards him, bow in hand. Upon realizing that he wasn't in immediate danger, Peeta stood. The woman let go a string of curses as she yanked the offending arrow free. He didn't remember having ever seen her, and she didn't look forgettable. Between the olive of her pants and the brown leather of her boots and jacket, she had blended into their surroundings before. She spun around to face him, hands on hips.
"You're lucky I'm such a good shot." Peeta, who had been speechless, found his voice. He knew she must have been just as startled as he was, but her berating tone had him on the defensive.
"Who are you? And what're you doing here? And why the hell do you have a bow?" She drew herself up to her full height, which still left her a few inches shorter than him, and raised her eyebrows in a defiantly questioning way.
"Excuse me but none of that is any of your goddamn business." They stood there, staring each-other down for several long seconds. He felt locked in place by her piercing eyes. Never before had he seen grey eyes, nor any eyes for that matter, that were so expressive. He could see the emotion in her eyes, but was struggling to decipher it when she spoke again. "So what, that's it? Burst in on my target practice, nearly get yourself killed, and then ask me a bunch of idiotic questions? How about a 'I'm sorry for being such an oblivious dunce, Katniss.' Hmm? Nothing?"
"I don't think you're going to get that apology. You're the lunatic playing Robin Hood. No one is supposed to be here."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, Mister I-own-the-woods, but I've come here almost every day for years. Not once have I ever seen you." Neither had realized how close together they had stood until he took a step away. He leaned his back against a tree, arms still crossed in front of his chest.
"It's Peeta." He ran a hand through his blond hair. "I've just... I've been... away. For a while actually." A morning breeze swept through the distance between them, carrying away the remains of their dispute. Just a few minutes earlier they had stood much closer, glaring into each others' eyes; the intensity had been palpable. While some tension still remained, at least now Peeta could think straight. The woman-Katniss, she'd called herself Katniss-had moved to sit on the nearest rock. There she perched, rolling her bow between her fingers.
"What is that supposed to mean, 'away'?" He had assumed it would be obvious; he was wearing his usual USMC physical training gear. As far as he knew, that wasn't the only give-away. The town wasn't particularly small, but his family's business was frequented by many of the town gossips. Within days of his return, nearly everyone he had met while growing up had stopped in to say hello, along with a multitude of complete strangers who had just been curious. Returning from deployment wasn't unusual in the area, considering their proximity to several military bases. It was the circumstances that made his personal life into a public spectacle.
"Four tours overseas-three in Afghanistan and one in Iraq." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Oh." Her voice had lost its snarky edge. "Well... welcome back, I guess. Must be nice, being home." She seemed hesitant, unsure of how to handle the non-hostile situation.
"Sure, although a lot of things have changed." After a half-hearted shrug, he looked her up and down. Desperate to change the subject, he asked his own question. "What *are* you doing out here?"
"This is where I practice." It was obvious from her tone that she'd intended for that statement to end the conversation but his raised eyebrows prompted her to continue. With a heavy sigh, she did. "I grew up playing in the woods. My dad took me hunting on his days off, and I fell in love with archery." She slung her bow over her shoulder to rest with her quiver, and lightly jumped down from her perch. "I found this place a few years back and liked how secluded it was. Since then, it's been where I practice." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking vaguely uncomfortable, before she spun on her heel to walk away. After a few steps she turned back, her silver eyes meeting his light blue. Since coming home, he hadn't been particularly interested in catching up with the people he knew, let alone meeting new ones. She seemed as disinterested as he typically was, which caught him off guard. For a moment, he lapsed into his old, more sociable self. His features softened and he gave her a half-wave.
"I guess I'll see you around, Katniss." She bit her lower lip while giving him a brief once-over, then let out a soft laugh and shook her head.
"I doubt that, Peeta." Before he could respond, she silently slipped into the trees and disappeared. Brows knit together; he put in his ear buds and laid back on a large, flat boulder. He interlaced his hands behind his head and began to ponder the strange encounter. She said that she loved archery, and that was the reason she had been there. This spot had been his sanctuary years ago, the place he could escape to and work on his art. The thing he had loved. Could he begrudge this woman her own sanctuary? She was right, he had no technical claim on the outcropping. Another cool breeze swept over him and rustled the leaves on the ground. If this had been a few years ago, he would have his sketch book in hand. He would be diligently capturing the start of autumn. The way leaves had started to hang off of trees before they fell, or how their edges curled as they dried on the ground. Perhaps he would be drawing her delicate features. The curve of her jaw leading up to her neck, the slight slope of her nose, the quirk of her lips, and the intricacy of her braided hair. Would he still trying to puzzle out her eyes?
His leather-bound sketch book sat tucked between his folded duffel and a stack of MCCUU shirts, in the back of his closet. Peeta had brought it with him on every deployment, his father had given it to him just before his first tour. Despite having owned it for years, only the first few dozen pages bore artwork. Desolate landscapes and weary soldiers had been his only subjects for months at a time. There was one that he was fond of. It was on the Fourth of July, two years prior. They had been given a few hours off base and while in town he'd seen it-a dozen children in what passed as a schoolyard, kicking around a somewhat-deflated soccer ball. The enthusiasm that the children had for their pick-up game of soccer-football, it's only soccer in the States-made it even more enjoyable to watch. A few of the guy were even able to join in. Peeta had pulled out his book and pencils, wanting nothing more than to immortalize that pleasant afternoon in charcoal. He'd only bothered with a handful of pieces since then. Upon his return, Peeta had stashed the book away and forgotten about; his weeks at home playing out as if the same five activities ran on a loop. sleep-run-work-physical therapy-work-repeat. He realized that even though he'd been home, he hadn't really come back. He couldn't help but wonder what was he doing?
A soft beep from his watch caused him to jump to his feet. It was his day off, but he still had a physical therapy appointment. He wasn't about to let day dreams of hobbies and pretty girls make him late.
