A Blossoming Primrose: Katniss's Daughter

Chapter 4

A million thoughts burst into my mind as Gale Hawthorne moves out of the woods, onto the edge of the clearing.

Gale Hawthorne. Here.

This isn't possible. This can't be real!

I suppose by the look on his face, he's quite surprised to see me here too. His eyes flicker from my face, to my dark hair, to my blue eyes, to the bow that I'm holding in my trembling hands. My fingers seem to have a mind of their own. They steady themselves and aim my arrow for Gale's chest. He goes rigid and glares at me.

"Who are you?"

Gale is the first one to speak. He seems angered by my arrow, positioned directly at his heart. If I let go of it now, he'd drop dead.

I step closer to him, my arrow still aimed for his chest. "I don't believe that's a question that requires my answering," I reply, my voice deadly calm.

Gale's eyes narrow, and I see him clench his fists. His voice rises. "I SAID, who are you?"

A bit of fear weaves its way through my chest, flowing through my veins, making knots all over my body. He's huge, and judging by the muscles in his arms and legs, he'd have no trouble taking down a small girl like me. "My name is Primrose."

His eyes widen and his mouth gapes open. "But.. but that's not possible! You're not Prim! She was killed during the war!"

A small snarl escapes my lips. "Not Primrose Everdeen, you idiot! I'm Primrose Mellark, the daughter of Peeta and Katniss Mellark!" I'm angry now. How dare he? How dare Gale Hawthorne storm in here like he owns it?

Gale's eyes have widened even more, and now his voice drops to a whisper. "I didn't know they had a daughter." His voice cracks a little.

I standd up straighter. "Well, they do. So get over it." I lower my bow and brush past him, moving so quickly that I doubt he even notices until I'm not there.

"Wait! Primrose, wait!" He cries, dashing after me. I glance behind me. He's barreling through the forest, knocking through branches and leaves. My chest constricts even more, and I run even faster. I have the advantage, because I'm younger and fast, but he's got knowledge of these woods too. And for being older than me, he's quite agile.

I hear heavy breathing not too far behind me, and I know he's beginning to close in. So I do the only thing that I dare to do.

I pull my bow in front of me and position my arrow directly for his heart.

He's in front of me in a second, his mouth agape. He stands still for a moment, until I speak.

"Get away from me. You had no right coming here. I hate you. I hate you and your stupid family. You hurt my mother, you killed my aunt!" My voice is rising, and I know I need to stop yelling, but I can't help it. Red-hot rage rushes through my system, pumping courage and anger in my blood.

"Do you know that I've hated you since I was born? Never for a moment of my life have I ever thought that you were a good person, that you weren't an evil monster! You're not even human! You care about yourself, and only yourself!" I scream, tears filling my eyes. "I HATE YOU!"

Then I turn and run. I run and run, never looking behind me. My vision blurs as I approach the gates, and when I latch the door in the fence behind me, I collapse. I run to my hiding spot, the honeysuckle bush, and begin to sob, burying my face in my knees. I clutch my legs to my chest and roll onto the ground, staring at the grass that dances in the wind.

It seems like a long time that I've stayed like that when I hear footsteps approaching. I sit up quickly and dust myself off, thinking it'll be my mother, coming to look for me.

But when a figure ducks underneath the bush, it's not my mother.

It's a boy. He looks to be about my age, probably older. About fifteen, I'd say.

He smiles at me as he sits underneath the honeysuckle bush. I roll my eyes. Great. What can this random guy want?

"Hi," he says. "I heard someone crying, so I came over here to see what was up. And then I saw you."

I wipe at my eyes, furious. He probably thinks I'm some weak girl now. I grab my bow and hold it in my hands, refusing to look up. My quiver lies alongside me, my arrows nearly falling out. I steady them and then look up at the boy, my blue eyes gazing at him with intensity.

He's quite tall for a fifteen-year-old. Probably around 5'11, maybe 6 foot. I'm only around 5'5, so compared to him, I'm tiny.

His eyes are gray, unlike mine. He has Seam eyes, that seem to have flickers of honey-brown in them too.

His dark hair is cut in a neat fashion, like my father's was when he was younger. His facial features are sharp and handsome. He's quite a sight to see.

He's staring back at me, his eyes capturing mine. I can almost see myself through his eyes.

I'm a small fourteen-year-old with dark hair and blue eyes. Nothing special to see here.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, I speak. "Hi."

His eyes light up a little and the slightest hint of a grin is tugging at the corners of his lips. "Nice bow," he says, gesturing to the perfect wooden bow in my fingers.

I clutch it protectively. "Thanks," I say slowly. My slender fingers trace the elegant curve of the bow unconsciously.

"Can I see it?" The boy asks. Seeing the suspicious look on my face, he quickly adds, "I promise I'll give it back in a moment."

I relent, and hand over the bow. His hands grasp the bow gently, and he seems to almost cradle it in his palms.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "Do you hunt?"

"No," he shakes his head sadly. "I practice, but I never get to hunt. Why? Do you?"

I nod. "I hunt in the woods."

"I wish I could do that. Maybe some time I'll have you teach me." He winks and I lower my head, trying to hide the blush that's creeping through my cheeks.

He laughs and hands me back my bow. "That's one fine bow you've got there." He looks around and seems to have remembered something important.

"Damn!" He swears under his breath. "I've got somewhere I've got to be."

I bite my lip and nod. "Me too. My mother's expecting me home soon."

He grins. He turns to go to the woods, and I turn to go home, but he whirls around with amazing speed and shouts at me, his eyes dancing with giddiness. "Hey, by the way! I didn't catch your name!"

"Prim," I answer. "Primrose Mellark. Yours?"

His smile has faded a little. "Phox. Phox Hawthorne."

My eyes darken and my jaw drops. Phox Hawthorne! I should have known. His looks, him also being an archer… He's just like his father!

I curl my fist and snatch up my bow and quiver. I begin to run away from him, my boots pounding the ground. "Wait!" I hear Phox call after me, but I don't listen. My short legs fly across the Meadow, heading for home.

I hear footsteps behind me and groan inwardly. Of course he decided to follow me!

"Prim! Wait!" Like his father, Phox is quick. He's taller than me, so two of my bounds match one stride of his. He's muscled and fast. He reaches me in seconds.

"Prim!" He grabs my arm and I whirl around, raising my arm, prepared to hit him. He lets go, seeing my discomfort.

"Prim." His voice lowers and he looks at me. I glare back at him, grasping my bow tightly. "Listen to me. I want you to know that I'm not my father. I'm not someone you have to be afraid of, or hate. I want to get to know you better. Please don't run away from me." His voice is like honey. It's inviting and warm and slows my mind. His eyes blink up at me, his black eyelashes fluttering a little.

I sigh. His eyes trap mine again and I nod. "Sorry," I mutter. "I've got to go." I tear my eyes from his and turn around. I begin walking back to my house when Phox falls into step with me.

"Hey, Prim. How about you take me into the woods with you when you go hunting? I brought my own bow. You can teach me how to shoot real animals and stuff."

I roll my eyes and I'm about to say no when he says, "And don't say no. C'mon, Prim. Have you ever done anything fun in your life? Because you seem kind of immune to it."

"Oh, shut up. I've done fun things before!" I say, trying to think fast. What had I done that was fun?

Phox laughs, and I have to resist the urge to punch his pretty-boy face. "Oh, yeah? Name one thing."

Memories race through my mind, and I try to think of one thing. "Um.. when I went hunting in the woods and got chased around by a lone wild dog?" My statement comes out more like a question.

"No, Mellark. That's not fun. Just dangerous! You've seriously never done anything fun?"

My voice becomes angry. "Maybe I haven't! Why don't you name something fun that you've done, Hawthorne?" I snap at him, once again feeling the urge to hit him.

Phox's grin only grows wider. "Just last week back in District 2 I kissed the Mayor's daughter. That was pretty fun," he replies, raising an eyebrow.

That's it. I raise my fist and feel satisfaction as it connects with his jaw.

"You were wrong, Hawthorne," I say, my voice low and angry. "You're just like your father. You're both idiots. You should've never come back." I begin to walk away, and then re-think it, and turn around, raising my bow and stringing an arrow on it. "And if you try to follow me, I'll shoot you."

I turn and run away. I don't stop until I get home. I know Phox hasn't followed me, as I haven't heard his footsteps.

I enter our house, breathing heavily, holding my bow with an arrow still strung, ready to be shot. My mother is knitting, all ready for the dinner that we'll be having later with the Hawthornes' later, when she sees my expression. Her brows knit together in confusion.

"What's wrong, Prim?" she asks me concernedly.

"Nothing," I mutter. I'd rather not traumatize my mother with my experiences in the woods.

"All right," she says, although it's clear that my answer was far from satisfactory. I brush past her and climb the stairs to my room, kicking my boots off as I go.

I go to my room and take off my Mockingjay pin. Then I unbraid my hair and let it hang loose, flowing around my shoulders. I set my bow and quiver aside and go over to my mirror.

I look at myself. I try to see myself from someone else's eyes.

I'm plain. My dark hair is average. My face is nothing special.

I'm just a skinny fourteen-year-old with a talent for archery.

I sigh and flop back onto my bed, landing on something soft. I look down to see what I've landed on, and the sight of it takes my breath away.

It's my mother's Reaping Dress. The dress she wore when Aunt Prim was reaped.

I breathe in and out once before slipping out of my hunting clothes. I stare at the dress and then slide it over my head. The soft, cotton-y fabric sits against my skin and hugs my curves.

I look lovely.

I dig out an old pair of plain flats and put them on. I comb my hair out once more before heading downstairs.

When my father sees me, he sucks in his breath. My mother reacts the same way.

"Wow, Prim," she says softly. "You look beautiful."

I nod and thank her, and walk over to the dining room, where our large mahogany table had our nicest dining ware laid out on the surface.

Out of nowhere, a sharp knock on the door interrupts my thoughts.

"It's the Hawthornes," my father announces as he opens the door for them.

Gale Hawthorne stands there, wearing a white cloth shirt and pants. Phox wears a simple, light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his muscled arms. His pants are a beige color.

They step in. My mother stands behind me, her hand on my shoulder. Her fingers are wound so tightly around my arm that it's cutting off my circulation, and I have to gently unwind her fingers.

"Hello, Katniss," Gale says easily. He looks as though nothing's changed between the two of them.

My mother inclines her head stiffly. She blinks slowly and I can tell that she's trying to pretend that Gale's not there. Boggs stands next to her, looking confused. I doubt he even knows who Gale Hawthorne is.

"So, Gale," my father says after an awkward silence. "Care to introduce us to your wife and son?"

"Oh, yes," Gale responds quickly. "Well, this is Aline, my wife." He gestures to a younger woman standing next to him. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. In a way, she reminds me a bit of my mother's old friend, Madge.

"And my son, Phox." Phox raises his head and looks me in the eye. Refusing to back down, I glare back at him, summoning my most menacing stare.

"Oh, how nice to meet you!" My father cries as he shakes Aline's and Phox's hand. Phox never stops staring at me, and his eyes roam my body, making me feel uncomfortable. Angrily, I tear my gaze from his and yank down on my dress, making sure he sees.

"This is my family," my father says, gesturing to me, my mother, and Boggs. "Obviously you know Katniss and I. These are our children, Primrose and Boggs."

"Yes," Gale says crossly, looking at me pointedly. "I believe I met Primrose earlier. In the woods."

"Did you really?" My mother seems to have come out of her shell, and is now standing in front of me protectively. "And how did that go?"

Gale's eyes shift from me to her. "Well, aside from her threatening to shoot me and telling me how much she hates my family and I, all went well." He smiles a bit at the end, but behind that smile is pure malice.

My mother merely raises her eyebrows. "Well, maybe she thought you deserved it. Maybe you did, Gale."

I expect Gale to get angry, but he laughs. "Oh, Katniss. You never do fail to amuse me," he says, his eyes twinkling.

Fire rages in my mother's irises. Is this what Gale always does? Get my mother angry?

I boldly take a step in front of my mother. "Leave her alone," I say quietly, my fists clenching and unclenching.

Phox steps out in front of his father. "Make him," he says menacingly.

My muscles tense and I'm about to lunge for Phox when my father steps in between us. "Dinner is ready," he says loudly. Great. Now my father is angry and he rarely ever gets angry. But when he does, everyone makes sure to stay out of his way.

Whatever flames that had stirred up between our families seems to dissolve as we sit down for dinner.

All throughout dinner, I am silent. So is Phox. His eyes train themselves on me, and once or twice whenever I twist my neck to look at him, he'll raise his eyebrows, causing me to turn red.

Peeta, of course, chatters on and on. My mother and I are silent, Gale and Aline ask questions and make polite conversation. But the overall dinner is quite awkward.

Finally, when everyone is finished and the table is being cleared, I quietly ask my father if I may go outside. He relents and I scurry into a jacket and pull on my boots. I don't care that I look odd. As a finishing touch and a bit of a dig to the Hawthornes, I fasten my Mockingjay pin onto my black jacket. I grab my bow and slide my quiver over my shoulder. I slide out the door silently and pad my way to the Meadow, where I sit in the grassy field. The tall, yellowed grasses are darkened by the sky, but the silvery moon casts a light sheen upon everything.

I lay down and let my hair fall around my shoulders, fanning out around my head. I gaze up at the sky and try to count the stars. I hold my bow up to my chest and hold my quiver in my fingers. I close my eyes and wish that for once, everything were simple.

I hear a noise behind me and open my eyes. My heartbeat quickens and I force myself to be calm. It was probably a squirrel.

Suddenly, there is a 'plop', and then Phox is laying next to me, his lips curved into a grin. I roll my eyes and say, "Get away from me."

Instead of getting cocky like I supposed he would, he edges closer to me.

I roll my eyes. "Get out of here, Phox. Go back to your parents."

"No," he says matter-of-factly. "I don't feel like it."

"Why do you insist on following me around? Just leave me alone," I growl quietly, still staring at the stars. I'm tired, and I wish I could fall asleep here. (Although wild animals would probably smell my scent and come to eat me.)

Phox twists further away from me. "Sorry."

"Whatever," I mutter. It's not like his apologies mean anything to me. He's probably said the same thing to every girl he's ever met. And they've all fallen for his charm and good looks, I suppose. But I refuse to.

I sigh once and sit up abruptly, realizing that my mother will probably be wondering where I am. I brush myself off, give my dress an extra tug, and straighten my jacket.

Phox sits up too. "Where are you going?" He asks me as I pick up my bow and quiver.

"I need to go home," I reply, backing away from him. The grass crunches under my boots and I turn around and begin to walk away.

"Wait, Prim." I stop but don't turn around. "I'd just like to apologize for today, I guess. For making you angry earlier, and for being rude before dinner. I guess you could say that I'm arrogant."

The earlier memories of today make me angry. I laugh, but it's cold and hard and contains no warmth. "You guess? You're the most self-absorbed, rude, cocky person I've ever met in my life."

Phox blows out a breath. "Well, sorry again." He looks around and runs a hand through his hair. "When can I see you again?"

"Hopefully, you won't," I reply, beginning to run. I hope that Phox won't follow me again and thankfully, he doesn't.

When I get home, I barrel through the front door, not giving anyone time to ask questions. I run upstairs and sit on my bed, kicking off my hunting boots and placing my bow and sheath aside.

I change into a white nightgown and begin to comb through my hair when someone knocks softly on the door. Cautiously, I open it, and it's my mother, standing there in her dinner clothes. "May I come in?" She murmurs.

I nod and she enters and we sit side-by-side on my bed. A long silence passes until my mother speaks.

"So what did you think of dinner?" She asks me quietly.

I just shake my head. I don't want to talk about it.

"Did Phox follow you to the Meadow?" I sigh and nod.

My mother shakes her head a little and actually laughs. "That boy is certainly something."

"He's just like his father," I say angrily.

My mother raises her eyebrow. "Oh, yes. Your confrontation with Gale in the woods. You threatened to shoot him?"

"He tried to follow me!" I respond defensively.

My mother just smiles. "Sounds like something I'd have done when I was younger."

I crack a grin. "You were like me when I was younger?"

"Oh, yes," my mother says. "Full of fire and anger and bravery."

I let the image of my mother, young and powerful, hunting in the woods.

I smile as my mother gets up and kisses my forehead. "Good night. Have sweet dreams," she whispers to me as she turns off the lights and shuts the door behind her.

I lie back and close my eyes, but sleep doesn't come for a long, long time.

Author's Note:

Thanks to everyone who leaves a review! I am so thankful and each review means so much to me!

I hope you liked this chapter, it was a little longer than usual.