I should clarify that this is rated M for language, though I wouldn't count out the possibility of some sexual relationships developing. Because I'm a sleazebag. Reviews would be greatly appreciated! I try to keep to the style of the books, but obviously I'm going to branch out because this is rated M. -pearl

3

"Katniss."

I open my eyes and see blue sky. I'm lying on the groud, outside. I feel a warm body beside me.

"Katniss."

I look beside of me and see Prim. Her golden hair is shimmering in the sunlight, grey eyes twinkling.

"Prim. You're here." I say, reaching out to touch her face. My hand goes through her skin, like it would a hologram.

"Not exactly." she murmurs.

I glance around my surroundings. We're in a meadow, under a towering...

willow tree.

Prim strums her hand along a row of daisies, humming the lullaby I sang to her so many years ago. Suddenly, a rustling in the trees. Instinctively, I reach for my quiver of arrows, but I don't have one. I don't have a bow either.

"Relax. That's just Rue." Prim says before returning to her song.

The rustling ceases. A girl then emerges from the woods. Hot tears flood my eyes at the sight of Rue, wearing her gossamer gown and the flowers I once tucked into her hair after she died.

"Found something in the trees." Rue says, holding out a silver parachute.

My heart catches in my throat.

"No! Don't open—"

A cascade of explosions rock the meadow as Prim, Rue, and I are sent flying, burning, and dying into the air…

"NO! NO! PRIM! RUE!"

"Katniss!"

Someone's slapping my charred skin. I can feel my feathers molting away.

"PRIM!"

My wings are too broken to take flight after them. I can't save them…I can't…save…

"KATNISS!"

My eyes open and I see Peeta above me. I wrestle and kick against the sheets confining me. Sweat pours down my face. I look at my hands in the dark.

Hands. Arms. Not wings.

Not real.

"Peeta…" I cry, feeling my damaged heart break once more. "I couldn't save them."

"Katniss, it's not your fault!" he screams.

He's shaking. He's very near a relapse, I can tell. The veins are very noticeable in his arms. His hands are clenching.

"I need to leave. I'm sorry." he says through gritted teeth.

I nod, staring at the hands that nearly almost killed me.

After he leaves, I don't want to sleep. I can't go back there again. I need to find a distraction.

Buttercup suddenly bounds up on the bed.

"You were not was I looking for," I hiss at him.

He must have heard me yelling Prim's name. He lies down where Peeta was.

"I'm not snuggling with you, you ugly beast."

For a moment, I think he's growling. No, he's purring.

Purring. Is he…comforting me?

"Thanks, I guess. God, you need a bath."

Terrible things would happen if I submerged him in water. I tried him to drown him as a kitten, after all.

"Five am. Too early to hunt." I say to no one. I know Haymitch asked for squirrel stew. Maybe Peeta's hallucinations won't be drawn out.

I wonder if Gale caught a red-eye to District 12. Most of the hovercrafts were destroyed in the war, but a spare few were used for his fancy job in District 2. District 2, why the hell did he move there of all places?

I think about the Hawthorne house now, where they had possibly placed Hazel's body. A morgue had been set up to preserve bodies for burials. We never used caskets before the Rebellion, usually just linen sheets and a sturdy pine box. Gale would need to identify the body. We now had choices of different caskets, wood, steel. I heard of some Capitol dignitaries being buried in gold. Just because they can. My stomach churns with anger at the Capitol, shoving it in the face of the poor.

A gold casket to hold some shiny, weird-colored freak of the Capitol, to be preserved in the Dome of the Honored, a special mortuary for "outstanding citizens of Panem".

Prim was an outstanding citizen of Panem. All she got was a marble grave.

I think of my own mother, what I would do if saw her on a cold slab of metal, dead. Then again, she was nearly dead after Dad died. I try for the sake of our mother/daughter relationship to form some sympathy, but I…can't. I thought I would have forgiven her by now. She was friends with Hazel. I wonder she would come back to District 12 for the funeral. I doubt she'd swing by the house. It still holds Prim's old room, closed off and locked still. Only Greasy Sae goes into clean the dust from it.

Buttercup makes a habit of scratching on Prim's door, his stupid cat memory forgetting that Prim is gone. I've attempted cutting his nails in the past, but all it got me was deep scratches on my arms, funnily enough.

A commotion occurs outside. I look out my window, seeing the lights flicker on in the Hawthorne house. Then I see the unmistakable height of my old hunting partner.

He's here, then. I pull my eyes away from the window.

Maybe I will go hunting.

I stare at the gate that blocks us from the woods. I'm afraid. Not of the woods, of the memories. This was mine and Gale's place. Our old stomping grounds. Nevertheless, I crouch low under the gate and go into the lightening forest. The sun is slowly coming up, bathing the canopies in orange glow. Peeta's favorite color. I jump at the sudden breaking of twigs. Just a raccoon. I'm suddenly thinking that pelt would make a nice hat.

I take an arrow from my quiver and position it on the bow. I take steady aim.

"Catnip."

The arrow leaves the nock and fumbles to the ground. The raccoon scurries away into the woods.

Gale is before me in the rosy haze of the morning, holding his own forage bag.

I catch my breath. "I thought you had family business to attend to." I say, a little too harshly.

"It's six am, Katniss." he deadpans.

"So? You need to be with family."

"You are my family. We're cousins, after all, right?"

I look him dead in the face, my cheeks flushing with anger. "Oh, don't start that shit again."

"You're the one that started it!" he retorts.

"To save your goddamn life! Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with the whole death arena thing! But if I ever have a moment between the nightmares to spare your feelings, I'll get right on that."

My sarcasm seems to soften him slightly.

"Nice to see you haven't changed." he jokes.

"Go fuck yourself." I say, heading into the woods.

He chuckles, following me in.

"Are we going to hunt or you just going keep busting my balls?"

"I have a bow and arrows, I can do a lot worse to your balls."

"Ouch. That'd be quite something to sell at the Hob. Or you could keep them as a souvenir, you know."

I don't know whether we're arguing or just shooting the shit. I smile despite my anger.

"Did I make the fierce, no-bullshit Mockingjay smile?" he teases.

"Shut up before you become Greasy Sae's stew."

And we're laughing. Laughing more than we ever had. We're scaring off the wildlife with our laughter.

"What the fuck am I doing?" Gale cuts off. His face is somber again.

I don't have to guess what he means. He's thinking he should be depressed because his mother's dead.

"You're distracting yourself." I tell him. "Works for a bit, you know."

"Then what happens?" he asks.

I think for a moment. "Reality."