Gale's POV
There is (was) a fable in our District, which is fairly well known.

"A man lived in a one-roomed house with his three daughters and three sons. He was sick of living so close together, so he went to the local wiseman to complain.

The wiseman listened, and then said this:

'Take one goat, and bring it into the house to sleep with you. After one night, return to me.'
The man was confused, but obeyed. The next day he came back, and complained of how the room was even more squished. The wise man said:

'Take all of your chickens, and bring them in the house with you for one night. Then return to me.'

The man obeyed once again.

This continued for a while, until at the end of the week there were goats, chickens, horses, and cows in the house. The man came tearing back to the wiseman's house, complaining of how he never got any sleep. The wiseman said:

'Take every animal out, and return to me tomorrow."

The man obeyed. The next day he ran back almost crying with relief.

'The house is so big, spacious!' He cried. 'I'm getting sleep again.'

Moral of the fable? You don't know what you have until it's taken away from you.

This is exactly how we felt without Greasy. The farm needed taking care of, the animals and the gardens, as well as Madge's burns which needed to be treated. But what we missed the most was Greasy's calming words, the words that broke up Madge's and my fights, the words that were slowly bringing Madge into the healing process. Her presence was sorely noted. The day after Madge named the horse, I decided to try to get her to talk.

"Madge?" I whispered softly. It was early morning, and the sun wasn't even up. Madge was asleep on the couch, her lips slightly parted. "Madge!"

Her eyes flew open, and she quickly fumbled tih her sketch pad and pencil, which she lept next to.

Did something happen?

"No, no." I reassured her. "But it's about to."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

What?

I didn't reply. I just took her hands and slowly pulled her up.

Gale, what are you doing?

I ignored her, wordlessly leading her out of the house and to the very top of the hill.

"Sit." I told her seriously. She sat. I sat next to her, straining my eyes to see if it was coming. Sure enough, I could see it. I saw Madge shiver next to me, and I remembered her frail state. "Oops. Here."I slipped off my jacket and gently helped her into it.

Thanks.

She stared at the ground, her face bright red. I wondered what that meant, but my thoughts were interrupted by a beam of light. The sunrise was here.

I prodded Madge. "Look."

She glanced up, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. It was like she'd never seen a sunrise before.

"Madge." I told her softly. "Others can see this, too. Not just us. But they won't be able to if you don't talk. We will die, and so will they. You just have to talk, okay?"

Her lip trembled, and she opened her mouth. But nothing happened.

I'm sorry Gale. I really am trying.

A tear slid down her cheek, and I instinctively wiped it away, surprised by the hot blush that was still present. It reminded me of , unfortunately, images of Katniss began flashing in my head. I watched her and her sketchpad, and I began to get angry.

"Madge." I snapped. "You're not trying! There are lives at stake, and you can't even open your mouth and speak!" More images of Katniss, this time with Peeta. I stood up, the beauty of the sunrise forgotten completely. My fists clenched and unclenched, my nails digging into the calloused flesh. She just stared at me, half terrified, half shocked. Her mouth moved wordlessly, and I smirked meanly at her efforts.

"Nice try." I spat. And then I turned, and started stalking away, feeling the heat of her glare on my back. I really made a fool of myself.

I was almost in the house when I heard a whinny and the pounding of hooves. Turning around, I saw Madge on top one of the Clydesdales, turning him to face the fence of his paddock.

"M-Madge!" I shouted. "Don't do that! Please!"

She ignored me, and urged the horse towards the fence. He was suprisingly limber, and in one leap he soared over the fence, and started galloping.

Right. At. Me.

"Madge!" I screamed. "Stop it!" She didn't listen, just urged the horse faster. In a moment he was right next to me, and then past me, and then suddenly 100 feet behind me. I got over my shock and fear in time to turn around and yell at her once more.

"I'm sorry!"

Her and the horse disappeared over the crest of the hill, the sound of the hooves eventually fading away.

For a few minutes I thought about going after her. But then I sat down and thought, What Would Greasy Do?

She would ask me, Can you ride a horse?

No.

Should you leave the farm alone?

No.

Do you think Madge will run away for good?

Well, considering there are lives sitting on her decision to talk or not, I'm guessing she'll return.

There. That was that. I went inside, still shaking badly. But even though I thought all of those things, I was worried. I'll admit it. I cleaned the house from top to bottom, fed all of the animals, weeded the garden until it was doing more damage than good. I was about to start trying to ride a horse when I heard a bunch of shouts. Swivelling around, I saw a truly terrifying sight. The men who had come to me about making Madge mayor were back. Without Greasy. I watched as they trudged up the hill. They held pitchforks and shovels. It had been three hours since Madge had left, so at that point I was so stressed that I was sassy, which in that situation, was dangerous.

"Here to help me garden" I asked sarcastically. James, the leader, glared at me. I felt a stinging slap on my face.

"Shut your mouth." He snapped. "We're here to kill you."

I started. "Uh... Why?"

"She hasn't talked yet, has she?"

"Well, um..." I scuffed at the ground. "She's almost there."

James snorted. "She needs motivation. Greasy died, and now you're gonna."

"Boss!" One of the men hissed conspicuously. "The old lady isn't dead!"

James turned around and glared at the man. "Shut up, you idiot!"

The man did as he was told.

"Now," James began, lifting his pitchfork and pointing it at me chest. "This is gonna hurt- a lot." He began to push, and I felt the prongs begin to pierce the skin.

Then there was a sharp whinny, and every single one of us turned toward the source of the noise. There she was, Madge, galloping down the hill at full speed, straight toward us.

James laughed and pulled the pitchfork out of my skin. One of the men winced empathetically.

"Well look who decided to show!" He taunted. "You didn't say hello. Not polite, you know." He gasped as if he remembered something shocking. "Oh, that's right. You can't!"

"Shut up!" I snapped, trying to stop the bleeding. "She'll talk, alright? Just don't kill me." Madge's eyes widened as she realized the situation. In a falsh she was off the horse. James didn't seem to notice ashe once again aimed the pitchfork at me.

"Stop it." I heard someone say. A girl. Madge. She stepped infront of me, spreading her arms protectively. James's mouth opened, not one sound escaping. I smirked, trying to hide my own surprise.

"Now, leave." I bellowed. James huffed adn turned around.

"That speech better be good!" He shouted.

But I just looked at Madge.

"H-How?" I asked softly.

She looked terrified.

"... I don't know."