Thanks to my beta, Ceylon205, for catching errors!

Chapter 3

Gale's POV

I can't see my arm; but I can smell, distinct from that of coal and wood and fabric, the odor of smoldering flesh.

Fortunately, it all fades away.

…

Slowly, the world zooms back into focus. The crowns of trees wheel overhead.

I wish they wouldn't…doesn't feel good. But there's something I need to do. Let me think. If only the throbbing and the heaviness weighing me down would ease up for a minute.

Somehow I am covered in forest. I can see it piled on my chest.

Someone hovers overhead. I close my eyes, willing the dizziness to go away so that I can see properly. Taking a few steadying breaths – bad idea – ouch—and open my eyes.

"Gale!" My brother bends over me. His hands push debris off of my chest. I can't hear properly, but I can read my name on his lips.

Rory? He's supposed to be safe behind the ledge with our family, not standing in front of me with twigs in his hair and cuts on his face. With a pang, I know that he should not have a split lip or blood trickling from his ear. This is wrong – what am I supposed to be doing?

Then just like that, he's gone. Rory? I try to call his name, but it comes out as a cough.

Around me, everything looks like it's been picked up and thrown in disparate directions. Small shrubs and leaves flutter to the ground like ticker tape, and sides of trees are missing. Some of them are lodged in other trees nearby.

Oh yeah. Those rat bastards bombed the forest.

It takes a moment for this to register, a moment for me to panic and try to sit up so that I can find the rest of my family. Only, I can't move. Something is wrong and it's annoying me.

What is it?

My ears still haven't popped. I can't lift my head to look around me, can only stare around at the trees and the grey, pre-dawn sky and think of Rory's pale, scuffed face. Where is he?

I need help, but the words won't come. Why won't they come? Each breath is shallow and painful. I swallow over and over again, willing my ears to clear so I can hear. My mouth is so dry, though, that all I can do is cough until I feel like I'm heaving. The whole time pain lances through my torso and crackles over my skin.

I need water. Badly.

Who knows how long I lay on the ground before I see my mother's alarmed face. She looks a mess with her hair askew and leaves stuck in it. An angry red welt intersects with her collar bone like something hit her. Hard. I can feel her gently lift my head, resting it on her lap, and lightly run her fingers over my forehead and cheek. She's murmuring something to me, I can tell by the rhythm of her lips, but it barely registers with my ears, even as I see her call for Bristel. It sounds like my head is in a bubble or under water.

At some point, Mom holds a tin canteen to my lips and I swallow the tepid water. She won't let me drink as quickly as I'd like. My throat still feels raw, but cleaner, at least. I down the whole thing, knowing that I can find water easily. I may be disoriented, but this is my forest. Just…need time to collect myself first.

Slowly, the bubble feeling over my ears lifts and I can hear.

Meanwhile, Bristel and Rory return. Bristel's gesturing at the fallen ash tree beside me and talking too fast for me to make out what he's going on about. Rory pushes him aside and explains that it's actually on me, and I've been too out of it to realize. They get to work removing the section of the trunk that's pinning me down. I am lucky because the majority of the weight landed on another tree, barely propping it up against my chest, keeping it from crushing me.

Once they get it off, I can see that my chest is raw, scraped up by the bark and debris. Even though the black and purple marks won't show until tomorrow, I feel the bruised muscle, the bruised bones. It hurts to breathe even without the weight on me. My right arm is not good. Through the shredded remains of my shirt, splinters the size of pencils protrude from my skin. I have a hard time acknowledging that this is my arm. It seems to belong to someone else, just floating by my side, but not attached.

And then there's the livid patches where cinders landed on my face, neck, and upper body. They smell worse than they feel, which is pretty bad.

"Should we move him like this?" Mom asks Mrs. Everdeen who appeared shortly after Bristel and Rory did.

"If more planes come then we're going to want some shelter now," Bristel tells them.

Mrs. E considers the situation. "Let me remove some of the larger splinters and find something to brace his arm. I can finish when we're in a safer place."

After rummaging in a pack for her medical instruments, which unnerve me more than the wood sticking out of my arm, she starts working. Everyone knows better than to speak to her while she goes into her zone, but I wish someone would say something.

I need a distraction from the pain. Looking up, I see that Mom is staring at my arm, off in her own thoughts as she runs her fingers absentmindedly through my hair. No help there.

With my head propped up on her lap, I can see more of my surroundings. And we're not the only ones here. People are moving all around us. The sound of their flight, the blur of movement, and the pain in my body overwhelm me and I am forced to close my eyes against it.

"Okay, Gale?" Rory asks.

"Fine," I reply through gritted teeth.

"Sure." I can hear the disbelief in his voice.

I peek out at him, needing to keep the conversation going. "How is it that I'm a human pincushion and you all walked away with minimal damage?"

Rory grins. "Don't worry; you'll live."

"Says who?"

"Well," he says thoughtfully, "when you were really bleeding to death you didn't talk so much."

I snort, but it sounds more like a cough. "Where's Vick and Posy?"

"Prim has them behind a tree somewhere. Mom doesn't want the kids to see you till Mrs. Everdeen cleans you up some more."

The kids, huh. Funny how I still lump him into that category. Maybe it's time to rethink things? "They're okay?"

"Fine," he mimics.

"Sure. Thought I told you to get to the ledge," I mumble, still clenching my teeth because Mrs. E is poking me with something cold and sharp. I don't want to look.

"We couldn't. I mean, we tried," Rory replies. "Too many people in the way."

I hadn't thought of that. "So what happened?"

"We found the Everdeen's old place and Bristel got the dynamite out okay. By the time we made it to that maple tree, hundreds of people lined the fence and we had to push our way through. Bristel kept walking with his arms held out." Rory chuckles a little. "He carried the canister like it's a baby with a dirty nappy or something."

"It's dangerous stuff, Rory," I remind him, although the picture amuses me, too.

"Yeah, okay," he says, unfazed. "Anyway, people kept throwing things at the fence, rocks and shoes and stuff, to break the circuit after some idiots tried to climb and got crispified."

I cringe at Rory's terminology.

"'Course, we didn't see any of that happen. Folks figured out pretty fast that they wouldn't get out that way and that we were trapped. People who weren't throwing stuff were milling around in everybody's way, all panicked. Bristel finally elbowed his way through and made us stand back. It blew a hole as big as the fence is tall. That killed the current, too. Then people stampeded through the gap, shoved and stepped on each other, climbing the fence. Some idiot lost his pants on the barbed wire. The Seam was on fire by then and Mom was afraid of the Meadow catching, but she made us stay back, anyway, until most of the people cleared out. We only just got through not that long ago."

"So how'd you know to find me, then?" I ask.

"I didn't," he replies. "When the plane came back we sort of scattered to find shelter. You're just lucky that I almost stepped on your face trying to find Mom."

The conversation is helping but Mrs. Everdeen brings my attention back to my arm. Only the small splinters, about the size of Vick's pinky finger, have been removed, which does not bode well for my pain threshold. "Gale, I have to remove quite a large piece of wood. You should brace yourself," she says in a clipped tone.

"Should I hold your hand or something?" Rory asks.

I scowl. "I'm not having a baby."

Rory's eyes sweep to my side and he swallows loudly. "Might as well." He takes my hand anyway and I almost smile, but then I feel the drag of the wood and…I grit my teeth against every foul word I've ever learned.

Without meaning to, I move my arm away from the source of pain.

"Bristel, hold him still," Mrs. E orders.

I feel pressure on my arm and the pain continues as more wood fragments are removed. My back arches in reaction to it, and every muscle clenches.

"Breathe, Gale," she reminds me.

It comes out in staccato hisses.

Sweat drips down my forehead when Mrs. E stops her ministrations and I open my eyes again. "Well, the bone is sound and the protruding pieces are out, but I'll have to look for more splinters beneath the skin when the light is better. Once I put some bandages on his arm we can move him." She's talking to my mother.

"And the burns?" Mom asks.

"Not life-threatening. I can put a salve on to sooth the damaged skin."

Bristel helps me slowly sit up. Sharp pains spasm through my ribs and I gasp. Mrs. E wraps my bleeding arm and then gently probes the right side of my chest with her fingers.

"Not broken," she pronounces. "But very bruised and scraped. You're lucky."

"Yeah, that's me," I mutter. "Let's get out of here."

Mom calls for Prim and she comes out from behind a tree a few yards away with Vick and Posy holding her hands. When Posy sees me she runs, throwing herself in my lap.

"Gale!"

"Ach!" Tears sting my eyes as her little body smashes against my ribs. I'm glad to see her in one piece, but hell's teeth, that hurts. "Hey, kiddo," I gasp.

She gives me a wet kiss on the cheek.

I narrowly avoid a second one. "Don't, Posy, my face is dirty and so is yours." A smudge of dirt colors her forehead and some scrapes from gravel, not wood. "What's this?" I ask, skimming over the abrasion with my finger.

"Rory dropped me," she says.

I glare at Rory.

"What? She wiggles," he shrugs.

"Can you carry me now?" she asks with large, soulful eyes. The guilt is overwhelming.

"Maybe for a little bit…"

"Not today, Posy. You're brother is hurt." Mom pulls Posy off my lap and Rory and Bristel help me to my feet. I look around. The forest eaves have emptied except for the injured and the friends and families who linger to help them.

And the dead, of course.

"We're all here, then," I say.

Mom looks me in the eye. "Madge?"

"She got out," I grouse. My mother's keen interest in the mayor's daughter rankles me, and I want her to leave me alone about it.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know, I lost sight of her and then a tree fell on me," I reply testily, tired of my role as Madge's keeper. "Madge ran on like I told her to. She'll be fine wherever she is, I bet."

Mom frowns, but what can she do about it? Madge isn't here and she knows she's already pushed for more than is reasonable. She drops it.

I take my game bag back, even though it kills to carry it, and the others shoulder their packs. We make for the ledge. The deer trail is trampled into oblivion and the forest shattered, but I don't need it to find my way. I know this place like the back of my hand. It doesn't matter if I haven't been to the ledge in months, I'll never forget.

At first, the going is difficult, climbing over fallen trees, through brambles. Irregular movement and heavy breathing jostles my bruised ribs, but I try to ignore it with the promise that our destination isn't far off. The way gets easier as the sun rises and fills the sky with light, and we can see better. Eventually, the forest floor climbs into the hills surrounding the district. The plane didn't bother going any deeper into the woods, so the path to our destination is clearer.

Even so, Vick keeps tripping over exposed roots and entangling himself in trailing rhododendron. And more often than not, his own feet. The kid is tired and shell-shocked, so I don't scold him for being clumsy.

Every once in a while I look back to see how my charges are faring. The moms look worn out, but not ready to give up. The kids follow silently, except whenever Vick falls. Posy is asleep riding piggy back on Rory, who traded his pack with Mom. At the tail end of the procession, Bristel looks around, distrustful of the natural surroundings. I slow down, letting the others walk ahead of me.

When Rory passes by I say, "Posy's drooling on you."

"Better not be," he mutters dispassionately. But I see a slight smile on his face.

Finally, Bristel catches up. "Worried?" I ask.

"Nah," he shrugs. "Just keeping an eye out."

"It's all right. The wild dogs live deeper in."

His eyes pop. "Wild dogs?"

I shrug. "And the black bears, well, they're too busy digging for grubs to bother with us."

"Bears?" he frowns.

"Sure. Make good eating if you can bring one down." Then I reply thoughtfully, "Although, it not usually worth the claws in the backside."

Bristel looks a bit white around the edges, so I walk on up the line again with a quiet chuckle. I don't know what it is, but as the sun rises, so do my spirits. Stupid, really. My body aches all over, like someone ran me down with a pit pony and my family's still in danger. I've seen some of the most heinous destruction and murder imaginable. Our home is gone. But I can't help it. All of the worry just slides off of me in this moment. The woods have that effect.

We walk for another mile and then the incline levels out some. And there it is: the ledge surrounded by blackberry bushes.

"Well, this is it," I say, stopping so they can file past into the alcove.

Mom brushes past me and gently squeezes my left arm. I didn't tell her that this is where Katniss and I used to meet up, but she knows.

"So now what?" Rory asks as Mom pulls the still-sleeping Posy off his back. I try not to laugh as he feels the back of his shirt for wet spots.

"I want to take another look at your arm, Gale," Mrs. Everdeen says. "And perhaps wrapping your chest will ease the pain."

"Water first," I reply, none too keen to continue with treatment.

Prim and Vick pull the canteens out of the sacks and pass them around. When the water is gone, I take Bristel and Rory to the stream not far from the ledge. They end up filling the canteens without my help after bending down and lifting result in painful spasms in my side. Then we head back.

Prim and Mrs. E are putting together sandwiches with a loaf of bread they brought and some hard sausage. I'd forgotten about food, but as soon as I see it my stomach starts rumbling. None of us have eaten since last night and after all the running and near death experiences, I feel like eating a whole deer myself.

When we put the canteens down Mom hands Vick the bottle of iodine. He gets a kick out of dropping in the solution, but I notice that his hands are shaking.

I catch Mom's eye.

"He'll be okay," she mouths.

Poor kid.

I crouch down by Posy, who's propped up against the pack full of blankets, and gently shake her awake. "Hungry?"

"I want to go home," she pouts, reaching for me.

"Sorry, baby." I run my fingers over her matted hair, pulling out a leaf. "How about a sandwich instead?"

We eat the sandwiches. They aren't enough, but the meal holds us over until we're safe enough to light a fire and rested enough to cook something heartier.

Unfortunately, there's no knowing what else will happen today.

"I vote for taking a breather," Bristel says after swallowing the last bit of crust.

"Me, too," Prim replies. She looks worn out. I give her an encouraging smile because she really has held it together. Katniss would be proud. She returns it with a wan smile of her own.

Then I notice Mrs. E eyeing my bandages. A few splinters couldn't do any real damage, could they? I mean, not like being whipped or blown to pieces. But she makes me sit there while she removes the dressings and probes for more wood, lecturing about infection.

It hurts despite the painkiller tablets she gives me. I've always hated splinters. To make it worse, everyone sits around us, watching while I try not to squirm.

Then Posy decides to help and comes at me with some leaves she's mashed up.

"How about you just hold my hand, Posy. That will make it feel better," I say.

Rory snorts.

"Shut up," I snap, but there's no bite in it.

"I think that's all of them," Mrs. E murmurs after about twenty minutes of digging in my shredded skin with tweezers. I start scooting away. "I should wrap your ribs, too, Gale."

"Oh," I reply, not bothering to mask my lack of enthusiasm.

She helps remove my ragged shirt by cutting it away, because it hurts to raise my arms, and well, the thing's beyond saving. It's a muggy day, and I opt to go shirtless hereafter. Usually, I try to keep a shirt on, what with the jigsaw pattern on my back – compliments of Thread – but I'm sweaty and smelly and in pain. And, really, who gives a damn?

"Oh, Gale," Mom breathes as she sees the reddened skin that's been exposed to the flames of District 12. "You're sunburned!"

I look at her like she's crazy. When would I get a chance to get sunburned when I go to the mines before sunup and arrive home after sundown? She should know that. "It's not from the sun."

"Is it from the fire? How close to it did you get?" Rory asks. Of course, they only saw the blazes from a distance, which I'm thankful for.

"We were in it," I reply crossly, staring pointedly into a clump of mountain laurels. I'm still angry about my mother's willingness to sacrifice me and our family's safety for a person wholly unconnected with us. Even if, in the end, everything turned out okay. So far.

"How'd you manage to get out?" Bristel asks.

So I tell them about racing through the town in as few words as possible, glossing over the massacre in the square. Rory tries to hide the excitement he feels from the story, but there's no mistaking the way his eyes light up when I describe the explosions. I suppose if I hadn't been there I would feel like it was an adventure, too.

"Mayor Undersee opted to stay with Mrs. Undersee," I finish. "Seemed pretty set on it, actually."

"I thought he might," Mrs. E whispers. "Poor Marigold, she's declined quite a bit over the years."

I didn't realize that Mrs. Everdeen knew Mrs. Undersee, but I guess it makes sense. They were both part of the merchant crowd. Mrs. E's parents owned the apothecary shop while the Donners, Madge's grandparents, owned the sweet shop – which I only know because of Katniss. They share the characteristic blond hair and blue eyes, even a similar look of worn despondence. Must be a town thing, I decide: the inability to swallow hardship. Pushing it down where nobody can see it, I feel a little pride for the Seam flare in my chest. We're survivors.

"But Madge is okay, right?" Prim asks, shaking me from my reverie.

"She's out, anyway." I half-shrug. "Probably about as okay as we are."

"Or less," my mother replies. "I hope she isn't alone."

I let it drop. My chest is wrapped tightly and I'm exhausted. While Prim and her mother look over the rest of the kids and Bristel for cuts and bruises, Mom starts pulling out blankets. I try to help her, but she shoos me away. Posy starts to get in her way, too.

"Come on, Posy." She holds my hand again and we walk to the end of the ledge, overlooking the forest. I describe the trees and shrubs to her, all the names that Dad and Katniss taught me. She knows the Boxelders. We had one growing in our backyard. She and Vick still play with the "helicopters," the name they gave to the winged pods, squeezing out the seeds or dropping them off a pile of boxes to watch them spin. But the red oaks, sugar maples, and dogwoods are new to her. And the forest floor is covered in huckleberry bushes, laurels, rhododendrons, ferns and less savory shrubs like poison oak. Almost level with us, a brace of red-tailed hawks circle over the tuliptrees. These are my favorite trees with their broad green leaves and strange colored flowers. Even down in the valley, their massively tall crowns reach high over the ledge. "The flowers smell like cucumbers," I tell her.

I pick some of the blackberries off of the bush nearby and she squeals with delight because she didn't know berries grew on bushes, thought they just appeared out of my game bag every once in a while. Then I realize that it's her first time in a forest – it's everyone's first time. I mean, I know this, but it really hit me just then. It reminds me of the first time out here with my dad, of the feeling of freedom that welled up in me, no longer stifled by poverty or the fence or the Capitol. A whole opportunity, as well as danger, unfolded before me that day. And it's sad that my family, the Everdeens, and Bristel had to wait so long for this freedom. And with the way things were going with Thread; Rory, Vick, Prim and Posy, our moms, might never have gotten this experience. Unbelievable.

The sun is directly overhead now. Noon. I could sit like this for hours, talking about the woods, but Posy starts to nod off in my lap when Mom comes to get her. Behind us, our little camp is pretty much assembled.

Our blankets are lined up, with folded sweaters or packs for pillows. I scoot into the empty spot next to Prim, who is wiggling uncomfortably on the uneven ground. "You okay?"

She shakes her head. "Just thinking about Katniss and Lady."

"I'm sorry we couldn't bring your goat," I reply. What can I begin to say about Katniss?

"I know…you couldn't help it," she whispers in a watery voice. "Is this where Katniss used to meet you?"

I nod. "Yep."

"Gale, do you think she's dead?"

Something like a vice squeezes my heart. I don't want to answer that question. I don't think Prim wants it, either, because she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

Exhaustion permeates every cell of my body, but I can't fall asleep. Instead, I'm looking over my flock. Posy fared the best out of all of them and she's curled up between Vick and Rory like a rabbit in a warren, as though the bombings were of no consequence. Vick, though, won't let go of Mom's hand, even if he is eleven years old. He's cuddled up next to her and almost cried when he thought she was going to lie down somewhere else. I can hear him shaking in his sleep.

Everyone rests through the afternoon. Eventually I vacate my niche between Rory and Prim. Taking the unmarked path to the stream, I strip down when I get there and wade in. Wounds aside, I don't look too bad as far as the dirt quota is concerned, but then my judgment of cleanliness is tainted by working in the mines. It's hard to look worse, to feel grittier, to smell fouler than a man does coming out of the pit after twelve hours of pounding at the coal face.

Although, ironically, food always seems to taste better after it's been in the pit. I can't really explain it, but I remember my dad saying the same thing.

Should have brought some soap, I muse as I rinse off some of the sweat and grit. I try not to dampen my bandages and fail. I run my fingers through my hair, massaging out the ash and debris. Water drips down into my face from the black strands that are getting too long. Eventually I'm as clean as I'll ever be with just water. The stream is cool, nicely offsetting the heat of the day and soothing my aches. And it's good, clean water from the mountains. Not the nasty tap water from home that needs to be boiled before drinking. I wish I could swim, but that would be asking for more pain than I am willing to take. So I wade out of the stream and stretch out naked on the bank to dry. For a moment I worry about one of the girls coming down here, but I figure after the morning we've had, nobody's going to be stirring, let alone wandering around, any time soon. And I guess I'd hear them.

The songbirds fled with the bombing and the woods are eerily quiet. Alone, my thoughts crowd around me. Without the fever of escape as a distraction, it's too quiet to hold them at bay. Guiltily, it's not thoughts of Katniss that interrupt my solitude – it's Madge. You'd think my mind would be taken over with thoughts of my murdered best friend. Honestly though, there's nothing I can do for Katniss, and my pragmatic mind is already moving toward what needs to happen next, even if my heart isn't ready to let her go. And I might be annoyed with my mother for harping on it so much, but now I wonder if I should have done more by Madge. Maybe tried to look for her instead of rushing off with my family as soon as my arm could manage the move? Maybe if I'd held onto her instead of pushing her on we wouldn't have been separated?

And then maybe the tree would have fallen on her. No, I did the right thing.

Besides, it wasn't safe to linger on the edge of the district, I remind myself. I got her this far, she has to get herself the rest of the way to…wherever it is folks are heading. I need to clamp down the desire to do more than I am able, especially when coupled with the fact that I cannot save everyone. Didn't Thread teach me that lesson as thoroughly as possible?

It doesn't take long for the warm air to wick away the dampness from my body and I decide I've lingered by the stream long enough. Back at our camp, I decide to build a fire, hungry for something more substantial than sandwiches. I can't really lift anything comfortably, so I scoot sticks and underbrush around with my feet. It's noisy and takes forever, but at least I have a pile of fuel to work with.

Soon the others wake up and Mom mixes together a soup with some water and dried vegetables in a pan we brought. She drops in the remains of the squirrel dinner we had the night before and Mrs. Everdeen produces a supply of bouillon cubes that she adds to the stock. A feast. While the soup simmers, Mom notices that I'm a little cleaner than before and sends everyone else down to the stream to wash up. When they get back, dripping and starving, we pass around the snap tins full of soup, finish the last of the bread and drink plenty of water. Bristel takes Prim and Rory to collect more afterward. Nobody's in the mood for much conversation, and with unspoken agreement, we curl up in our blankets before sundown.

Still, it's long into the night when I finally feel sleep close over me. In my dreams I hear the droning of planes, but I'm too tired to run anymore. Everything burns.

…

A new morning comes, sunny and clear, oblivious to the havoc of yesterday. We pack up camp after a breakfast of dry fruit, and I herd the moms, Bristel, and the kids to the spot where I keep my weapons and gear hidden. I remember the location of Katniss's stash, as well, and do not hesitate to collect it. She won't be coming back. I'll need what I can to protect and care for both of our families. Thankfully, the bows, knives, and other tools were well-protected where we hid them and didn't suffer any damage from the last plane.

I put Rory in charge of Katniss's knives. I offered one to Prim, but she looked like she might be sick.

"Now what do we do?" Bristel asks as I hand him Katniss's unstrung bow and quiver. He doesn't know how to use them, but we've got all the time in the world for him to learn. It'll be nice to have a hunting partner again.

"Katniss showed me a cabin your husband knew about," I say to Mrs. E. She nods slowly. "We should head over there until we make plans. It's a small room, but at least it's shelter."

As we take the route Katniss showed me last winter, the memory of my dream from the night of the bombing resurfaces. What the hell was that about anyway? I half-expect to see her standing there when we reach the glade.

But she isn't.

And neither is the cabin.

At least not in one piece.

The plane didn't bomb far into the woods, but it got far enough to destroy the cabin and overturn the glade.

"Good thing it's summer," Rory mutters.

"What are we going to do, now?" Mrs. E asks.

Good question.

Realistically, we couldn't have stayed here forever. It's just…I hadn't figure out the next step yet. Now there is no next step – it's the step.

It's time to follow Katniss's hunch.

"District 13, anyone?"

TBC

AN: A surprise (even to me) holiday treat – nekked Gale lounging by a stream! LOL. My muse was feeling frisky this week, I guess. ;) Anyway, next week might be insane. My sister is supposed to have her baby (I'm going to be an auntie!) and, of course, Christmas! But I'll try to update ASAP.

Thank you for reading and Merry Christmas, everyone!