A/N: Hey guys. It's been a week or more, not sure, but here's another chapter - I'm honestly surprised I got this out in the time I did with all the shit that's going on. But I'm getting too into it now to stop. I had so much fun, and learned a shit load for writing this chapter. Stories about the myth of the ring around the moon, dragons...you'll see. I thought that, oddly enough, one of the myths behind the ring was completely relevant to this story.

Please leave a review! I don't care if it's a single-worded "cool" or a 5-page essay - I just wanna know if people like what I'm writing. I'll continue, regardless, but only 3 reviews from last chapter... That honestly broke my heart. You'd be doing me a huge favor.

Reviews are lovely. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Four: "Is that a fucking dragon?"

It's almost half past two in the morning now and sleep continues to elude me. Tossing and turning, my mind is ruled by the events of the previous day, threatening to be my undoing. After receiving our assignments yesterday Cato and I nearly had it out…

"If you fuck this up, Mellark, I swear you will regret the day you ever collapsed in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"Well, maybe I already regret it thanks to you, you asshole!"

I'm not exactly sure how things escalated so fast and the way they did, with Katniss almost giving the prick a black eye, but there's no changing the past now. Unless someone's got that ability…? No. I've made my bed and all that jazz. I'm confident in Katniss' abilities, as well as Cato's, though I'd be the first to deny it. I have no doubt we'll get this done…that is if Cato doesn't kill me before someone else does.

After giving up on the idea of a peaceful slumber, I toss my warm, suffocating blankets toward the foot of my bed, throw some District 12 issued sneakers on and exit my room. The square lights overhead emit extremely bright, sterile-white light. My retinas hate me right now as I stroll down the hall, cut to the right, and continue on walking, pass several doors – no doubt containing the more eased-minded individuals, deep in sleep – until I reach the two rusted-metal exit doors and swing them open.

The weather outside is just…perfect, I'm not sure how else to describe it. The wind is strong, but not strong enough to blow someone over, just to gently rustle the leaves a bit, swirling them in the air playfully before me. The air is cool, I'd guess around the low 70s, the sensation slowly putting my mind at ease. There's a good amount of thin, wispy clouds in the sky, chugging their way away from me, mile by mile. I spot the moon, full and luminous, softly shining through a small cluster of grey puffs that cover it.

I look around the area, quickly spotting a run-down, abandoned train car sitting in the middle of an open field. I jog towards it, climbing the old, decrepit ladder on the side that's facing me. The second to the highest bar has completely rusted away, but I notice just in time to avoid it, and carefully climb atop the tin roof. I make my way to the middle of it all and take a seat, my feet dangling over the corner, hands clasped together in my lap…just relaxing, letting my mind conform and surrender to the ease and serenity of the nature before me, the persistent gusts of wind taking with them the troubling thoughts that meddled with my already wavering constitution. I look up to the moon and a rather warm chill runs through my body, my spine being the focal point. The small ring around it brings forth a memory so far forgotten I'm ashamed I've let it drift to such a state of non-existence. I stretch my arms out, palms flat and wide on the chilled tin below, as I soak up my surroundings and fade away to a short-lived time filled with love and innocent happiness.

"Momma! Momma, look!" A three year-old Peeta exclaimed, pointing passionately to the hovering yin-yang in the sky. There's something off about it, something he's never witnessed before in his life. There's an all-encompassing ring around it, like a bright-white halo, further elevating the sheer awe of the object. "Why is there a circle around the other circle?" curious little Peeta asked.

Lily stepped forward to her son, kneeling upon the swaying blades of grass and wrapped her small but safe arms around little Peeta's waist. She put her chin upon his shoulder, speaking straight into his right ear. "That, my gorgeous little boy-" she said, giving Peeta a number of soft, loving kisses on his neck while tickling his small belly, causing him to laugh happily, "-is the ring around the moon. Would you like to hear the story behind it?" Little Peeta nodded carefully, not too enthusiastically, knowing if he'd been a bad boy recently he would not be told such interesting stories, and not remembering if he had been good or bad made him cautious.

His mother began, looking back up to the moon. "Long ago, there was a kind man named King Henry, who loved the people he ruled so much that whenever they were filled with sadness, he would be, too." She looked down to Peeta and said: "That's how much I love you, you know." They both smiled before returning their gazes to the sky.

"One day, King Henry felt incredibly sad, for reasons he could not explain. Soon afterwards he learned that a mean, grumpy old Ogre was disrupting the peace in his kingdom. The king knew he had to do something about it.

"But he could not do it alone. A weak, thin but brave and noble man named Robin volunteered to help the king, as they needed to sneak into the Ogre's cave, take hold of the chest that kept his heart, and destroy it.

"As the king fought the Ogre with all his might, Robin crawled into the cave. Robin noticed that this was where the Ogre stashed all the gold and jewels he stole from the king's people – yet, he did not take even one gold piece. He was a man of his word, and soon enough, he exited the cave, a chest heavy in his arms.

"King Henry was quickly growing tired from his fight with the Ogre, and just as he was to utilize the last ounce of energy in his body, Robin came into sight, with a beautifully decorated box. Robin did not care for his own safety as he ran toward the Ogre, sliding beneath the beast's legs, waiting for the final blow from the king to come. Sure enough, the king took one more mighty swing, destroyed the box, and ended the life of the cruel Ogre." Peeta clapped his meaty little hands at this.

"Peace was restored to King Henry's land, but he had one more task to accomplish: return all the wealth that the Ogre stole from his people."

Little Peeta turned his head, looking to his mother and asked: "Why didn't he keep the money?"

Lily frowned, over-exaggerating her pout before answering. "Because that would be wrong of him to do – the goods stolen did not belong to him before. Why would they belong to him now?" Peeta slowly nodded, understanding her point, and turned his gaze back to the moon with the ring.

Lily continued. "After returning all that was stolen to their rightful owners, one thing remained unclaimed: a simple golden ring. After being asked by his court if he wished to keep the ring, King Henry answered 'No,' and gave it to the church to feed the needy.

"That very night after the king righted all that was wrong God came to him in a dream."

"He talked to God?!" little Peeta asked. His eyes widened, wondering how that was actually possible.

"Yes," Lily answered. "Do you want to know what he said?" Peeta nodded. "He told Good King Henry that because of his unselfish deeds he would place a ring around the moon, so that people even now would forever remember all the good he'd done for his people," she concluded.

"Wow," Peeta replied, fascinated but such a tale of pure righteousness. An idea quickly popped into his tiny head as he returned his gaze to his mother. "Do you think I could do something like that, mom?"

Lily laughed, heartily, before answering. "Yes, Peeta." She gave him a longing kiss to the temple. "I know you will."

I open my eyes as the memory comes to an end. It's considerably colder outside now, so I pull myself into a ball, still sitting straight up, to warm my body up. I feel a tear slowly run down my cheek before I take a sleeve of my jacket and wipe down my face, sniffling the now liquid-esque mucus to the back of my nostrils, where it belongs.

The smile that was now plastered onto my face…I just couldn't get rid of it. Any memory of my mother was instantly followed by some sort of intense happiness and gratitude. And, regardless of these unusual circumstances, this has been one of the most thrilling experiences I've ever had. This whole situation was like something out of a ridiculously rich fantasy novel: super humans with superpowers, villains plotting to rule the world, and – what next – dragons, maybe? It was all so surreal. And who'd be the protagonist in this intriguing story? Surely not Cato – better not be Cato – he's a little too cooky to run this show. It could be Katniss, now that I think about it. She's strong, she's independent…though she can be pretty cold sometimes. Well, with what Haymitch said earlier, something about the power of my soul, could it be-

"Peeta?" I hear a voice from below, tossing me from my thoughts and back into reality. It only takes me a second to realize who the voice belongs to.

"Hey, Katniss," I reply, unsure of where exactly she is…? But I'm guessing she heard me, if the body climbing the ladder is anything to go by. She walks over to me, greets me again with a small smile as I give her one of my own. She sits down beside me, to my left, with legs criss-crossed and back slightly hunched.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asks, the answer obvious, looking up to the moon, much like I had been for the past…how long had it been now? I consider telling her the story behind it, but quickly decide against it. I don't need a pity party right now.

"No," I answer. We're both silent, our individual thoughts stunting further conversation for a few minutes, before she states:

"It's a beautiful moon, tonight."

"Yeah, it is," I agree, simply, because, really, it is. For a moment I think of my father: where he is, what he's doing – is he eyeing the moon like I am? Is he even safe? "Katniss?"

"Mhm?" she mumbles as she turns to me, her single braid of brown hair gracefully coming into view, resting gently upon her left breast.

"Since we've arrived here, have you ever thought about…you know…home?" She stares at me with squinted gray eyes and fully pursed lips, which alone answers my question.

"Every day." She pauses for a moment before staring back to the moon, adding: "And every night."

I think to myself for a second, and realize that's probably why she's awake right now – not mulling over the tension she has with some extremely handsome boy like I am – and how she was looking to get away from her thoughts by escaping into the world around us...and now I've gone and screwed that up. She's truly worried about her family. A quick wave of shame rushes through me, like a gust of wind that's just one degree too cold, and sets my body aflame with goosebumps. What a terrible person I must be to only just now think of my amazing father after almost a week of being here, and the less-than-desirable situation he must be in.

"Do you think we'll ever see them again?" I ask her with pleading eyes, hoping she answers with a more assuring thought than I've got. Instead, she looks down to her lap and replies with a question:

"Do you?"

A tear threatens to wet my already tear-stricken cheek, but I manage to hold it in. "No," I say, my voice faltering as I shake my head.

That's clearly not what she has in mind as she looks back to the sky and answers, softly. "I just can't afford to think like that."

Before I know it dawn comes around like an owl in the night, patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike its prey with its swift movements and deadly talons. I throw on my District 12 suit – a suit exactly like Cato's and Katniss' in design, with the only difference being the orange streaks that run across my body like lightning bolts, instead of Cato's red or Katniss' blue – and toss myself out of bed, not surprised by the total lack of sleep my mind and body are now suffering with.

I grab the doorknob of the door, and as it slowly creaks open, I find myself welcomed by the noises of non-stop chatter and heavily stepped upon concrete flooring. As I could have guessed, half of these people are just faces to me, zigging and zagging back and forth, almost bumping into one another. Honestly I'm a little intimidated by this dangerous flow of traffic, but I reluctantly bring my right foot forward to join it, before a hand grabs me by the arm, and turns me around to meet two very-identical looking boys – boys that are roughly my age, if not a year older.

"Peeta?You'rePeetaright? I'msogladIfinallygetthechancet omeetyou-" the boy on my left, with giant red hair styled almost exactly like Cato's stammers out, before the boy next to him places a hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eyes.

"Breathe, Jhett. Breathe," he advises the now still boy, his hand slowly peeling from Jhett's shoulder as he catches his breath.

"Sorry," he says, solemnly.

"That's all right," the not-yet-named boy reassures him, nodding before catching my eyes – they widen at the scene before me before I get a chance to tell them not to. "I'm Brett," the red-headed boy with a more relaxed hairstyle says, out-stretching his hand. I take it in mine, apprehensively. "And this is my brother, Jhett," he informs me, though I could've guessed that, as Jhett cheerfully smiles and raises his right hand in more of a "I swear on the bible…" type of gesture than a wave before quickly bringing it back to his side, mouthing the word "Hi!" excitedly.

"I'm-"

"We know, you're Peeta," Brett interrupts me. He points his thumb at Jhett. "Jhett's the one that found you and Katniss," he lets me know.

"I'm really fast," Jhett says, leaning in close, with me actually understanding him this time.

"I can see that."

"He was carrying me around at the time – we were scavenging for supplies when we found you. If it wasn't for us, you'd probably be in some Victor-ridden hospital right now." He pauses. "Or dead."

"So why did you-"

"I can read minds," Brett says, lightly tapping his skull three times. "Your subconscious told me about your powers." Well, that's a little bit creepy. "Yeah, it can be," he adds, and before I can ask him what he means – oh. "There's no time for chit-chat. You're already late as it is. Jhett will take you where you need to go."

"Sure, but-" And for the second time that day – third if you count the preemptive – I'm interrupted, but this time by a pair of lean, tones hands and arms that pick me up before I realize they do, with a slight struggle, and whisked away. The ride is a blur – literally – with nauseating streaks of light and color flying past us, second by second. I look up to meet Jhett's expression: all teeth, a smile hugged by young wrinkles, with nothing but pure bliss and bright light shining through his eyes. I can easily say this is probably the happiest guy I've met in a long, long time. I wonder how he does this without dry heaving every other time, but I don't ask.

Before I know it I'm standing outside the meeting hall from yesterday, being gently placed down to my feet as Jhett says his goodbyes. "You're gonna do great, Peeta," he assures me, his blue eyes sparkling with sheer honesty, his smile that never seems to fade away, the one that could single-handedly light the darkest of caverns, leaving me at ease.

I'm taken aback by his completely genuine gesture. "You will, too, you know," I say, and really hope it to be true, because if we lose too many people like Jhett…

He firmly nods before a noticeably very important thought comes to him, and adds: "Oh! I almost forgot – I went to your house and got something you're probably gonna need for your mission." He brings his hand up as I open my mouth to question him, halting my speech – he's clearly learned a trick or two from his brother. "It belonged to your mother?" he asks more than states, clarifying what it was he – wait.

"You-"

"Cato has it." I scowl. "I was going to give it to you this morning, but with you being late and all I wasn't sure I'd see you." Great. It's probably torn to shreds by now. I can't be angry too for long, though, with just the mere thought of knowing I'll see it again soon fills me up with an unexpected amount of confidence.

"Thank you," I say. "That's probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Don't mention it," he replies, that stupidly perfect smile on his face. We stand there for a moment, eyes locked with hope and appreciativeness. In a quick blur of movement I feel his lips brush my cheek briefly before he retracts them and hurriedly says: "I like your room." And he's gone.

I bring up my right hand to touch my cheek…I can feel the moisture of where his lips met my skin. I know my face is beet-red, and I couldn't be more glad I'm not surrounded by too many people right now. A small smile finds and stays on my face. As I turn around to enter the room my eyes find the face of the one person I wish I didn't have to see right now.

Cato's standing a few feet away, gorgeously scarred face in a fixture of complete shock and rage, eyeing me down. The smile that contorts my lips runs away, fast. I can't help but hold his intense gaze, his mouth opening and closing, before I notice what it is he's holding in his hands. He shakes his head, slowly, snarling, before throwing my mother's charm bracelet onto the ground. He's looking right through me, or past me, or into my soul for all I know, as he rushes by me, knocking his shoulder forcefully into mine, before entering the meeting room and leaving me there, breathless, thoughtless. I shake my head to myself briefly, not fully understanding exactly what had just transpired, but accepting that I probably never will.

I don't dare to think about how "well" we'll be getting along come the next few weeks.

I walk over to the spot Cato was just standing, where he so casually dropped my mother's heirloom, and pick it up, examining it for any damage. All seven charms still hang peacefully from the band. No scratches, no missing pieces... It almost looks like it's been cleaned?

After rolling it around in my palm a few times I'm satisfied it's as it was when I last saw it, on my nightstand, lying near the photo of my mother. It's not that I'm ungrateful that Jhett went out of his way for something like this, because I am, tremendously, but seeing one without the other – the picture – just hurts. I make a mental note to myself, though: Jhett, I owe you. Whenever we meet again.

After securing the bracelet around my left wrist I make my way to the slightly ajar door – Cato didn't slam it this time? – push it open and walk on in. To my surprise there are only three people gathered around in discussion: Haymitch with his sloppy hairdo, Katniss with her usual stoic self, and Cato...being Cato. They're talking in slight bushes when I enter, Cato being the first to acknowledge my presence, begrudgingly, before Haymitch and Katniss both look up from the map spread out before them on the wide, circular table.

"Well good morning there, Sleeping Beauty. Got all the gunk outta your eyes yet?" Haymitch greets me, slightly annoyed I'm guessing.

"No, I think I still got a bit left. Think you can check for me?" I play along. That gets a small laugh out of Katniss, Haymitch merely shakes his head before continuing.

"I was just detailing your partners. Care to join?" I nod, walking forward to stand beside Katniss – Cato and Haymitch are on the other side of the table. I take a look at the map: it's covered with red, green, blue and white circles; black lines that could drag on for miles, with some that intercept the other or don't touch at all; and numerous head shots of men and women, old and young. I know I'm completely out of my element so I just stay silent while Cato and Haymitch do most of the talking. Or arguing.

"If we take the path that leads through this forest, here, we'll get there in half the time," Cato explains.

"Son, you do know what lies in that forest, don't you?"

"No, gramps. Why don't you go and explain why the toughest three – two tributes-" Cato corrects himself. I glare at him. "-can't handle a few sprites?"

This goes back and forth for some time, Cato always looking for some sort of shortcut that Haymitch always claims to be suicidal. "We've got a mobile emergency room!" Cato yells at one point.

Katniss and I just ignore the two of them after awhile, acknowledging the fact that this could go on for God knows how long, before we strike up our own conversation.

"You nervous?" she asks.

I'm hesitant in my answer. "Not at all."

"Peeta, you know you can't lie to me, right? You're like an open book. Way open. 428th page open," she adds, trying to get a rise out of me. "Do you remember when we were eight years-old and you tried denying the fact that you were in love with that Finnick Odair guy?" She finishes rather loudly.

Cato looks at me for a second too long, eyes filled with something that I can't quite place, before he looks back and I answer, diplomatically, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"So, we're all settled, then?" Haymitch asks the three of us, with the four of us forming a small circle with our bodies outside the main entrance of District 12, backpacks full with camping gear, maps, food and money we'll need for our journey hung over our shoulders, me adjusting mine as I can just barely hold the weight of it.

"Yeah, I think so," Cato answers. "We'll hit 11 in a few days' time if we stick to the plan."

"Sure," Katniss chimes in, not having any trouble with her pack, which is far beyond my comprehension as hers is probably a little bigger than mine in size. I notice everyone's glance turns to me, expecting a response, it seems.

"Uh…okay?" Cato shakes his head.

Haymitch breaks our circle, walks up to me and rests his hands on my shoulders. "There's nothing to worry about, kid. All you have to do is sit in the back and look pretty." He slaps my cheek gently a few times. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," I answer. Even if we're not on the best of terms, I'm not gonna let Cato die, especially Katniss, all because I'm not ready to back them up due to a little fear. "I'm ready."

"Good," Haymitch says, backing away from us, leaving the three of us standing side-by-side looking at him. He half-heartedly salutes to us; Cato shoots him back a salute of his own, stiff and powerful, before he turns around, puts his right middle finger and thumb into his mouth, and whistles, so loudy, are my ears bleeding?

"Ziggy!" he calls out, looking to the bright blue sky that still holds a bit of red and orange as the sun has yet to fully rise. Within a few seconds I see a small shadow on the ground – a long, narrow body with two small wings – appear before my feet. As I continue to stare at it, it only grows larger, and larger, until it finally comes into view, right above Cato's head, and flaps it wings repeatedly to reach the earth.

"Is that a fucking dragon?" Katniss calls out, the shock as clear in her voice as it is in my body. I take a few steps back to avoid being eaten.

"No, this is Ziggy," he answers, calmly. "He's a Cuélebre." Ziggy slithers its way directly in front of Cato, stretching out its – his? – head, looking for a few soothing pets from his master. Cato gives him a few before opening his backpack, fumbles around with the inside a bit, and throws Ziggy a piece of rather large meat. Ziggy lets out a clearly appreciative shrill before catching it in his enormous mouth, swallowing the meat with as much as two or three chomps.

I take that moment to fully digest Ziggy's appearance: he's a dragon, if I've ever seen one; his beautiful, forest-green scales shining brightly in the morning sun, the reflection of each just barely blinding me to death; two large, dangerous horns accentuate the right and left side of his skull; he has no feet, or hands – just a snake-like body to slither around with; his wing-span must be a good 15 feet, at least. At that point I notice a…a saddle?

"Cato, we're not riding around on this thing, are we?" I ask, nervously, though I've got a feeling I already know the answer…and I'm not going to like it.

"Of course we are," he answers.

"Right, of course…" My stomach does a couple of flips as it seems like the breakfast from an hour ago desires to find its way onto the ground below.

"Oh, come on. He's harmless," Cato assures me. Ziggy straightens up then, stretching out his wings to full capacity, and breathes fire. "Well, sort of. Isn't that right my little Zig-meister?" As Ziggy comes back down to get fawned over by his master, the sun catches my eyes, directly, so I bring up my left hand to block it out. Before I know it, Ziggy lets out another glorious shrill as his beady, reptilian eyes catch my body, and slithers at an enormous speed over to me. Though, he's not looking at me, exactly, but at my…

"He likes shiny things," Cato adds. I shake my head, confused, as Cato points to my left wrist. "Shiny things."

"Oh." Taking my left hand away from blocking the sun I raise it to Ziggy's face, apprehensively, so he can examine my mother's charm bracelet a bit more. He seems fascinated by it: tilting his head from side-to-side, curiously; sniffing it with vigor; and finally, shooting out his snake-like tongue, which tickles the crap out of me, causing me to fall to the ground in a heap of intense laughter and paralyzed limbs. Ziggy only inches closer to my face now, licking my nose, my neck, the insides of my ears.

I hear Cato scoff to the side of me, clearly not enjoying the attention I'm receiving from his beloved pet. "He doesn't usually get along well with others," he says.

"Well he gets along fine with Peeta," Katniss adds. Her voice causes Ziggy to cancel his actions, as his eyes take hold of her body. He growls, loudly, which causes Katniss to growl in return.

"See."

"Where the hell did you get this thing?" she asks. "It's not every day you just wander into a dragon."

"We stole him from the capitol, four years ago," Haymitch chimes in. "He was just an egg then."

"And now he's my little Ziggy-wiggy," Cato coos, scratching Ziggy behind the ears with both hands. It seems he's forgotten we're still here as an amused smile contorts my lips, and as Cato catches my face: "Shut up."

"Well, I guess you're off then," Haymitch yells to us. After about a dozen times, all three of us are now "safely" on Ziggy's back: Katniss and I gripping tightly to the brown, leather-saddle beneath us, our bags tied down to the sides of it, while Cato holds on to the reigns that are tied around Ziggy's two horns.

"See ya later, 'Mitch," Cato booms out. "And, up!" And with a lash of the reigns we're slowly ascending, the ground becoming less and less tangible as I hear Haymitch cry out:

"Stay alive!"

"Holy sh-" Katniss nearly falls off as Ziggy flaps his wings a single time more, and we're rushing forward at a speed no car I've ever been in can achieve. I catch her by the arm at the last second, pulling her close to me, as our combined fear begins to coalesce with each other into a great big ball of foreboding and death.

Cato glances over his shoulder to us, amused. "Oh, come on, party poopers! Yeah!" he screams, and with another whip lash, we're flying even faster, the ground and all that's inhabits it nothing more than blurs of whites, greens, blues.

"Peeta. I think I'm gonna be sick."

A/N: Well, there you go! Google Cuelebre if you want a clear look of little ole Ziggy. They've gotta get around some how, so, why not a fucking dragon right? I loved writing Peeta's memory scene, that was a lot of fun to do, and read up on. I didn't know that story existed. And their journey finally begins.

So, anyway, in my previous AN I announced I'll be updating one story then the next, but I'm not so sure now. I'm getting too many ideas from this so I think I might keep it going until I OD from it all. Is that all right?

Ciao.