"Oh, shit."

Sage's swear flits around my brain as the Mockingjay and I stare at her. She's small, smaller than I thought she'd be, but with long legs and a hunter's reflexes and strength. Her hair is still braided, and I can see scars on the backs of her hands and the base of her neck. What I can't look away from are her eyes: grey as fire smoke, and dark with anger. I think I see her hand twitch towards the knife on her belt, and she drops the bag on the floor and sprints out.

I don't know why I leap out of my chair and run after her. I doubt anyone has been able to catch Katniss since she first started walking, but I feel an urgent desperation to catch her. To explain myself, to tell her that I'm not some Capital fangirl here to stalk her. I'm desperate to justify why I'm here.

The growing dark is on her side, and I can barely make out her outline as she sprints away from the town and towards Victors Village. I don't know if anyone sees our chase, but I'm praying they don't; would this be enough for Thom to send me packing? Adrenaline races thru me and I pick up my pace, kicking up dirt and dust as I start to catch up to her.

She sprints into the victors home and I screech to a stop beneath the large sign. Katniss doesn't stop, and rushes to the second house on the left and slams the door behind her. I don't follow; I don't walk up and knock on her front door. The dirty wire fence is like a repellant to me – I can't cross into this section of 12. I can't make myself do it; it feels like I'm invading whatever space they managed to make safe for themselves. I curse under my breath.

A rusty cackle makes me turn to the right, and an older man sits on his front porch cackling to himself at my expense. He holds a clear bottle in his hand, half the liquid already gone, and it doesn't take me half a second to recognize his hard grey eyes.

"Mr. Abernathy," I nod to him, trying to maintain an air of respect, and he just laughs harder.

"Girl, you're lucky she didn't just turn around and wing that knife into your eye," he says, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Better hope that she's not readying to shoot you from a bedroom."

I whip around to look at Katniss's house, but it seems fairly dark. Haymitch cackles at me again, and I feel an angry prickle on the back of my neck.

"She ever shoot at you before?" I snap at him, and he grins.

"Never been so drunk that I would answer a reporter," he says, and takes another drink from the bottle. "Not even one as pretty as you."

"I'm not a reporter," I say angrily. "I'm a historian."

"You're a coywolf sniffing around the ruins for something juicy to tear apart," he shoots back. "That's all writers ever are. Don't matter what they write about. You're all vultures looking for bones to pick."

I fight not to flinch. I've had worse said to me before, but never by a Victor, and I'm horrified to feel tears in the back of my eyes. I won't cry in front of Haymitch Abernathy. I refuse to.

"Good runner," he says with a nod in my direction. "That's the closest I've seen to someone almost catching her."

"I'm so grateful for your opinion," I say sarcastically, glaring at him. Haymitch seems to enjoy needling me, and he grins again. I try not to count how many teeth are missing now.

"Listen, girl, I'm sure you come here with plenty of high and mighty qualities," he says, standing up and cracking his back. "But whatever you're really here for, you're not gonna get. Take what you've already got and go back to wherever it is you came from."

"I'm not going back to 4," I spit at him.

He perks up. "District 4, huh? Here they have good rum."

I stare at him in disbelief. He takes another swig from the bottle, then throws it against the side of the house. The sound of glass breaking makes me twitch away, but I keep my eyes trained on Haymitch.

"Are you inviting me to be your drinking buddy?"

He cackles again, then turns and slouches inside his home. A brief peek makes me wonder if anyone has cleaned the inside of that house in years. I swear I could catch a whiff of vomit while still being meters away.

I look back at Katniss's house one last time, then begin walking back to Sage's. The moon is starting to rise now, bright and almost completely full, and the path is illuminated. The crickets are chirping louder than I've ever heard before, and I take a deep breath. District 12 is one of the most calming places I've ever been. Only the sound of the waves can make me feel fully peaceful, but this isn't bad either.

Sage is waiting at the door for me. "Thought you'd have an arrow in you," she says bluntly. "Had everything set up for surgery."

I shrug. "Not today, I guess."

She hands me my recorder. "Try not to get shot on your way home." And she closes the door with a grin.

I trudge back to my little house, trying to convince myself that people aren't looking at me from their windows and that there's no one following me with a knife or a bow. I keep taking deep breaths to keep my anxiety from breaking, and I finally get inside and bolt the door behind me.

I've just placed my recorder in it's case when there's a solid knock on the door, and I freeze. Is it Thom? Is he making me leave? Did Katniss already contact him and demand that I be shipped home? My hands are trembling as I open the front door.

And come face-to-face with Peeta Mellark.