A/N: This one's going out to raissa20, who has supported this story from the very beginning and made a specific request for it. She's been very patiently waiting for it and I hope both she and everyone else who reads finds it was worth the wait.

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and all the characters in this fic are the property of Suzanne Collins.

Enjoy!


Hazelle eyed the jar of salve in her cracked, aching hand almost longingly. She could already feel the relief its contents plighted. She had to force her eyes away from the thing to focus on the slight girl standing beside her wash bin, presently being treated to a demonstration of her little Posy's flower wreath making prowess. Her baby girl was so excited; she was climbing the healer's daughter so that the older girl could have a better look at her masterpiece.

"So, just how much is this gonna set us back?"

Katniss looked up from the toddler attempting to scuttle up her legs to the woman; her expression brightening with that irrefutable pride Hazelle had come to recognize in her, the one that only appeared when she'd made a trade she thought was especially note-worthy. "A mink pelt. You should've seen this thing, Hazelle. She was beautiful. Gale snared her a few weeks back. She wandered into one of his beaver lines by the stream. She had her full winter coat and everything. I have no idea why she was even out this far, or out at all this time of year- maybe got turned around or something. But, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth."

Upon hearing those words, the woman's expression fell along with her silver eyes to the jar of medicine in her hand, her jaw tightening reflexively. The winter had been harsh and a pelt like that could've gotten them a bounty to weather it.

Katniss noted the woman's change in demeanor and instantly bristled, her defenses coming up. How could this woman ever think she would shortchange her on a trade? Immediately, she felt compelled to espouse herself. "It's a fair trade. All the ingredients in that," she gestured emphatically at the jar in the Hawthorne matriarch's hand, "had to be gathered before the first snow fell, most months before. And, there's enough there for this entire winter and probably most of next year. I had to forage for months, whenever I could, for enough comfrey roots, witch hazel, lemon balm leaves and a dozen other ingredients for mom to make this much. You know we've never been able to make this much before. The trade is fair."

An eyebrow shot up on Hazelle's face as she leveled her gaze on the teenager. She kept her voice authoritative, but allowed a tinge of amused lenity to color it. "No one said anythin' to the contrary, child. Stop bein' so darn sensitive." She then rolled her eyes away from the girl whose neck was visibly tingeing crimson as she scowled at the floor toward her son, who had just entered from his bedroom and, if the self-indulgent grin on his face was any sign, had caught her exchange with his best friend.

"We need other things this winter, Gale. Things like butter, blankets. Rory shot up another good three inches this past year alone. He needs boots. We can't indulge in this kinds of-"

She was unable to finish when her oldest took both her hands in his far larger ones, palms up, shaking them slightly as he spoke with finality, "There's no practicality in washing clothes when you're bleeding right into the wash water from your hands, Ma. The medicine is not debatable. I'll figure something out for whatever else we need. I always do."

With that, he planted a quick kiss to her forehead, just below her hairline before dropping her hands and shoving the fifteen-year-old lightly on her shoulder to get her following.

Just before they made it through the threshold into the biting cold, Hazelle shot over her shoulder in an unabashedly conspiratorial, singsong tone, "Thank your mom for the salve, Katniss. It better work miracles for what you made us pay for it."

Her knowingly grinning son quickly shoved the tiny girl out into the snow before she could catch more than an outraged gasp and she snickered to herself, turning back to her work.

She fancied the retort had been very colorful.


"It's all calculated, Catnip. Nothing that goes on here is random. Everything is set up to favor them."

He didn't have to venture a look beside him in the cramped bluff to know the girl was likely frowning and/or rolling her eyes. He couldn't possibly care less. He was hungry, tired and freezing. Not that he would vocalize any of these discomforts aloud, but they were present, nonetheless. And, they were making him irritable. The fact that their reconnaissance of their snare lines had come out pitifully unrewarding and that they'd accomplished little more in the two hours they'd spent hunting following, was decidedly not helping his dour mood.

"This is why I'm always telling you to get along with the Merchant kids better. It's not just about making the trades. This whole divide they try to perpetuate between us? It plays in their favor. If they keep us from getting along in our own district, we'll never be strong enough to stand up to them. They'll always have the upper hand."

She finally shifted fully in order to burn her glare into his periphery. "Have you looked at Rory's right eye lately, Gale? The Merchants are snobs- abusive snobs. They're not exactly interested in playing nice with me or the rest of the Seam. So, I say they can rot beyond the few who are decent enough to trade with. If they're not useful to us, they're just an annoying waste of space. And, stand up to who with what, Gale? We're the most backwater district there is. I'm not forcing interaction with people I can't stand in the hopes of forming some delusional alliance that will get me shot for my stupidity, thank you."

Shifting his eyes away from the swirling snow beyond their hideout, which was steadily growing in both quantity and intensity, he narrowed them into a derisive sneer while snorting flatly, "Madge isn't like that. For god-only-knows-what-reason she actually likes being around you." He couldn't help the smirk that edged one end of his mouth when her glare turned into a heated sneer after that. "And there are a few others in town like her who don't care where any of us happen to be born. You're over-simplifying and you're still wrong. There's strength in numbers. They know that and that's why they make sure the poorest in the Seam have to take more and more tesserae, guaranteeing themselves a trip to the Games. The folk who have to stand by and watch their kids get slaughtered year after year will always resent those whose odds are always slightly better, Catnip. As long as they keep the Seam starving and the Merchants can eat, more people will think like you and the Capitol will always have the edge. It's a vicious cycle."

He ran his hand up under the wool cap he wore in order to scratch his hair before looking away and finishing in an exasperated huff. "And using Rory as an argument in this is low, by the way. He's not exactly choosy about who he picks fights with. Anyone's fair game when he's in one of his moods. It just so happens to be the guys on the team have been catering to his need for self-destruction so long they've become his preferred outlet... and most of them happen to be Merchant..."

Noting the anguished, lost look that flashed behind the older boy's eyes, as he looked away, Katniss chose not to pursue the topic further. There was no point in flogging her friend over things he was helpless to change. Instead, she nudged him with her shoulder, gesturing toward the howling wind beyond the small opening before them. "We really need to get out of this before it gets any worse."

As if realizing where he was suddenly, Gale snapped his eyes up at what she pointed out and huffed.

"Yeah, this was a bust. Let's go to the Hob and see if we can salvage anything of this day."


The wizened elderly woman chuckled to herself as she stirred the contents of the large cast iron cauldron suspended over the wood fire behind the unassuming stall in a corner of the old warehouse. "Only the two of you could possibly consider going out in that. Consider yourselves fortunate you didn't die of frostbite or catch yourselves pneumonia out there. You certainly shouldn't be griping about coming back with a lean haul."

Gale brought his hands down from over his face, where he'd been rubbing them in frustration. "Yes. Well, tell that to my mother and brothers, Sae. This winter's been rough. I need to do better than this."

The older woman put a commiserating hand on his shoulder, placing a bowl of soup before him. A remark about the simple fact that there was nothing to be had out in the woods in the middle of a blizzard was on the tip of her tongue when there was a raucous at the opposite end of her stall and the teenager stood from his hunched position over the counter to move closer to the healer's daughter. She seemed to be at the epicenter of the commotion.

The teenager moved tacitly closer to where a small cluster of Peacekeepers had congregated near Greasy Sae's stall. He doubted they were there for the soup. Her offering that day was an especially objectionable week-old wild dog bone broth. The only reason he partook was the biting cold and the hollowness of his stomach. These Peacekeepers could afford better and, judging by the thickness of their white winter coats, the cold would not be a mitigating factor in their decision to have some.

As he crept beside where Katniss sat cross-legged on Sae's counter, keeping a respectable distance where he could hear the discourse while appearing as nonthreatening as possible to the heavily armed law enforcers, he noted all three were relatively 'friendly' faces. He made out Purnia, attempting to stifle laughter behind her hand as she braced herself against another laughing officer whose name he'd never bothered learning… likely to keep herself from falling over. She looked pretty inebriated.

He shifted his eyes from them to the third Peacekeeper, who was leaning on the post of the stall nearest his best friend. He seemed to be the source of the entertainment for the other two.

His mind could not reconcile why, but he wanted nothing more than to ram the man's head into the ground the moment his eyes registered what he was doing. He shook his head quickly, adamantly, to dislodge the urge as he interloped on the conversation.

He actually liked Darius. Well… he'd always liked him before that day, anyway…

"Come on, Katniss. One kiss. One rabbit." The ginger smirked in a seductively dubious way, tickling the teenage girl with tip of her own braid while he winked back at his colleagues.

Gale buried his hands in his pockets so quickly, he was afraid he'd torn clear through on his left. It was the best he could come up with to quell the sudden overwhelming need to wrap them around young red-head's neck and squeeze until something snapped.

Katniss laughed along with the other law officers and swatted his hand away from her face, blessedly oblivious as to any duplicitous intent in the actions of the still-grinning older man. He spoke with an air of over-inflated, self-appointed arrogance. "You know what they say about us boys with red hair, right Katniss?" He pointed at his deep scarlet locks as he continued, "This is pure fire, right here. We know how to warm the girls up right, if you get my meaning."

Another wink and, unpremeditatedly, the Seam hunter's psyche dredged up a mental picture of him gauging both Darius' eyes out. He found himself frantically trying to shake the image back into whatever dark recess it'd slithered out of with a very discomfited shudder.

What was wrong with him?

Darius leaned forward as if whispering conspiratorially, only he spoke even more boisterously, "Heck, considering how cold it is, you should pay me two rabbits for a proper kiss… warm you right through the night. Ain't that right ladies?" He gestured expansively with his hand, pointing out several women in the Hob who could supposedly collaborate his allegation, insinuating they had all paid far more than a rabbit for the benefits of his company.

At this point, Gale's displeasure at the exchange had grown into full-blown rage. He had no inkling why it irked him so. Darius was being… well, Darius. And he'd always found his admittedly bawdy humor entertaining in the past. But, there was something about Katniss being the butt of this particular set of jokes that sat all kinds of wrong with him. The kind of wrong that was twisting his innards and causing the blood in his veins to boil. He didn't feel cold anymore. He felt very little beyond very myopic ill intent at the young Peacekeeper, honestly.

With a final shove against Darius' chest, Katniss propelled herself off the counter, moving swiftly in the direction of the warehouse entrance. She stopped by her best friend to shove him lightly in the arm so he could follow before moving on, throwing back over her shoulder at the laughing group of Peacekeepers, "I'll take your word for it, Darius, but I can't spare the rabbit. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone to warm with those 'amazing lips' of yours, though."

She continued to snicker to herself as she made her way across the large warehouse, once again blind to the steel eyes that scrutinized her wake.

Gale couldn't stop analyzing her as she moved toward the entrance. He was trying to figure out why, however. Why had that little spectacle bothered him? She handled it. She always handled it. She never even noticed it- not the underlying meanings of it, anyway. She could take care of herself.

Heck, she took care of herself, her mother, her sister…

So, why was he still staring at her as if he'd never seen her before in his life? Why did it matter that Darius was a vulgar pig to her? He was a vulgar pig, period… a funny one, at that.

God, why was he still staring at her? Why was he noticing she weaved through the amassed, crowded people in the huge building without so much, as grazing them- so graceful? Why could he not stop the fluttering in his stomach at the sound of her muffled snickering, coming from a few paces ahead? Why was he wishing it wasn't so freaking cold so she didn't have to wear that humongous coat that she practically swam in, so he could he could catch a glimpse of some portion of her ski-"

He literally stopped mid-thought, eyes widening as the crush of the realization hit him.

'Oh, no ,no ,no ,no ,no, Hawthorne! You need this like you need another hole in your head! Like you don't have enough to deal with…'

Once he finally accomplished the unnecessarily arduous task of getting his shock numb limbs to cooperate, he joined her at the door.

She was swaddling herself in as much of her father's old coat as she could to shield herself from the whistling wind beyond. She was nothing to look at, really. She was tiny. He couldn't possibly…

The moment he reached her side, Katniss looked away from the opening and her face warped from a scowling grimace to brilliant smile. "Ready to go?"

'Nope'

"Yeah, sure."

The smile still lit her expression as she shuddered dramatically (adorably), venturing out into the whipping snow in the direction of her home.

Gale's shoulders slumped and he watched her for a split second before following almost dejectedly.

Yup. She was nothing. There was nothing there. They were just best friends like they'd always been.

...He was so screwed.


A/N: Please, remember that I'm taking suggestions of scenes anyone wants written from the books for this work. I've been looking forward to writing this one for a while. I really enjoyed it. I thought it would be longer, but was pleasantly surprised when I got everything I wanted to say into a fairly short snippet. I'm sorry it took so long to get out. If you liked it...

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