A/N: Wow! I'm continually blown away by you guys! Seriously? How did I get this many reviews so quickly? So, in other words: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK . . . yeah, I think you guys get the picture. :)

So glad that you guys were happy with the Peeta/Gale conflict, and espeically happy that you guys were happy about the progression of PK's relationship. This chapter is pretty long, even for me. Lots of stuff gets covered and I hope that you guys like what happens.

And I especially hope that you guys like the Katniss vs. Mrs. Mellark scene. It's my favorite scene in the entire story, aside from the very last scene in the very last chapter. And so, without further ado, here be the chapter.

Movie quote for the day is from Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl.

"When you marooned me on that god forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." - Capt. Jack Sparrow

Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"; "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!"; "I am Asneeze, father of Achoo."; "Dobby did not mean to kill . . . only to maim . . . or seriously injure."; "My precious!"; "Puny god"; "So that's what it feels like"; "Yeah, I can fly."; "There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."; "Your skin is pale white, you dress fashionably, and you abstain from sex. . . I know what you are . . . Jonas brother"; "Snakes. I hate snakes."; "When you marooned me on that god forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Chapter 14

"No!"

Unthinkingly, I fling myself in front of Gale's prone form, spreading my arms wide so that I can protect as much of him as I can. My action, however, does not do anything to stop the whip from descending. I prepare myself to receive the full brunt of the lash, but instead all I see is a flash of white fur and then the distinct cry of a wounded animal.

Maya.

The wolf lies on the ground in front of me, an angry, bleeding line staining her dapple grey fur. She shakes her head before moving to stand on her feet, facing the Peacekeeper with the whip, and begins to growl viciously. Her hackles are up, and her jaws occasionally snap together as she slowly begins to advance on the Peacekeeper, who is looking at her warily.

He raises the whip again.

"Stop!" I say. My eyes cut to Maya. "Maya," I warn sharply. "Heel."

Maya stops her slow stalking forward, but her growling does not cease. She stands resolutely between Gale and I and the Peacekeeper. I take the time to examine his features more closely. He's as big as Cato, same muscular build. His eyes are cold and black. His mouth is a firm line. His nose is long and straight. You can just tell that his hair is grey because it's shaved so closely to his head. And right now he is glaring at me in contempt.

"Step away, girl," he demands in a rough voice, full of command that he obviously expects to be followed. I wonder where he's from. Which district? Maybe even the Capitol? It's clear from his accent that he's not from anywhere near here.

"No," I say firmly. "You'll kill him."

"And what business is it to you?" he snarls. "I'll chain you up right by him, girl, if you're not careful."

"That wouldn't be wise," Peeta says coldly as he comes to stand beside me. I haven't heard that tone since the arena. "And it's her business because he's her cousin. Which makes it my business because she's my fiancée."

The Peacekeeper may not recognize me, my face free from makeup, my braid tucked haphazardly in my jacket, but I see a flash of realization when he gets a look at Peeta. Peeta is much more recognizable than I am. Of course, it's icing on the cake when Haymitch breaks through the crowd, stumbling over a prone body on the ground.

It's a red-haired Peacekeeper. Darius. And even from where I am, I can see the purplish knot on his head sticking out of his hair. Did he try and interfere? Did he try and help Gale?

"What the hell's going on?" Haymitch growls.

The Peacekeeper glares at me, but he can't keep his eyes from darting down to Maya, who has yet to cease her growling, and the menacing sound is only exacerbating the tension in the air. "She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal," he says, though his voice is showing doubt. He can get away with not recognizing me, even Peeta, but there's no way that he doesn't recognize Haymitch.

"I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building!" Haymitch snaps. "Now, do you really want me to make a phone call to the Capitol?"

We're the only ones who could ever pull this off. Me, Peeta, and Haymitch, standing up to the new Head Peacekeeper. Only because we're victors, because we hold just a little bit of power, if only in clout. That's not to say that there won't be repercussions from our actions, because I won't deny that there will be. However, that's not my main concern right now. Gale is my main concern.

The new Head Peacekeeper glances behind him to his fellow Peacekeepers and I'm relieved to see that I know them all. They've all traded with me and Gale for one thing or another. They're familiar faces, friends even, if you can really be friends with a Peacekeeper.

A small woman, Purnia, that I know eats regularly at Greasy Sae's steps forward. "I believe that for the first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed," she says. "Unless your sentence is death, which we could carry out by firing squad, sir."

"Is that the standard protocol here?" he asks sharply.

"Yes, sir," Purnia replies, and the Peacekeepers behind her nod in agreement, though I wonder if they even know what the protocol actually is. When a wild turkey typically comes into the Hob, everyone tends to start bidding for the drumsticks.

"Very well," the Head Peacekeeper relents reluctantly. "Get your cousin out of here, then, girl. And if he comes to, remind him that the next time he poaches off the Capitol's land, I'll assemble that firing squad personally."

I have no doubt that he will.

He wipes his hand along the length of the whip, spattering us with blood. It seems like he's about to leave before he stops and looks at Maya, who looks like she's practically trembling with the urge to attack him, her teeth still bared. "And shut that dog up before I shoot it," he says gruffly. He glances from me to Peeta to Haymitch. "I don't care whose it is."

And with that he leaves, the other Peacekeepers following him. Some of them linger behind to grab Darius by his arms and legs. He's still unconscious, but he's breathing as far as I can tell. Purnia is among those who stayed to help with Darius, and before she leaves, I catch her eye and mouth "Thanks." She doesn't acknowledge me, but I know she understands.

I turn to Gale, looking at his hands, his wrists bloodied from the rope being tied so tight. "Haymitch, your knife," I say, knowing that he always has it with him. My mentor quickly cuts Gale's binds and he falls to the ground, landing in a pool of his own blood, looking lifeless.

"Better get him to your mother," Haymitch says gruffly.

An old woman from the clothing stall sells us her board that she uses as a countertop, though she tells us, trepidation ringing in her voice, not to tell anyone where we got it. She quickly gathers her things and flees the square, and when I take a quick glance around, I notice that most everyone else has as well.

I notice a girl my age, Leevy, also from the Seam come up to me. "Do you need help?" she asks, determined. I remember how my mother kept her little sister alive last year, thwarting the measles.

"Yes," I say. "Go find Hazelle. Tell her what happened. But don't bring the kids."

Leevy nods. "I'll stay with them myself."

"Thanks," I say as I watch Leevy take off toward the Seam.

With the help of Peeta, Haymitch, and a few guys from Gale's shift in the mines, we're able to load Gale onto our makeshift stretcher and carry him to my house. Maya follows along beside me in the back, hobbling slightly. My eyes are drawn to the red lash that stretches from her shoulder to her bottom of her ribs. I'll have to take a look at it when I get the chance.

As we walk, I learn from bits of conversation from Gale's crew mates, Bristel and Thom, what happened. Gale had gone to Cray's house, just like he'd told me would, because Cray was known to pay good money for a wild turkey. Only, when Gale knocked on the door, the new Head Peacekeeper answered instead of Cray. Gale was immediately put under arrest and word spread quickly. By the time that they'd assembled in the square, Gale had been convicted of hunting illegally and sentenced to be whipped immediately. Bristel and Thom guess that Gale received maybe forty lashes, passing out around thirty.

"At around twenty, Darius stepped in," Thom says. "Saying that it was enough, but he didn't do it all official like Purnia. Thread just hit him in the head with the butt of his whip."

Romulus Thread. That was the name that had been tossed around for the Head Peacekeeper.

"He's lucky he didn't have his usual haul," Bristel says. "Otherwise it would have been a whole lot worse. Gale said that he'd found the turkey in the Seam, wondering around, and stabbed it with a stick. Didn't matter. Still illegal."

When we walk into the house, my mother takes a second to let everything sink in before going into that zone. The zone where everything seems to fade away from the world and all that exists is herself and her patient. Everything else is secondary. She quickly cleans off the dining table, covering it with a sterile, white cloth, and the men lay Gale's too-still body onto it. Meanwhile, she's ordering Prim to gather medicines from her stores, filling a basin of warm water as she does so, already beginning to dab and clean the serrated flesh of Gale's back.

"New Head," Haymitch explains and my mother nods, no more needing to be said.

I'm thinking that her actions are far to practiced and fluid for this situation to be new to her, when Haymitch says, "Whippings were more a whole lot more common before Cray. We always took them to your mother." I think he's trying to comfort me.

I merely nod, unable to draw my eyes away from Gale's mutilated back. This could have so easily been me. What if I had taken the turkey and Gale the rabbits? It would have been me being whipped. It would have been me lying on the table.

Bristel and Thom leave, but not before I see Haymitch slipping a few coins into their hands. "Don't know what will happen in the mines," he says by way of explanation and Gale's crew mates nod and pocket the money before leaving.

When I hear a whine, my eyes immediately dart down to my right. Maya is lying down on her side, Peeta on his knees beside her, carefully dabbing at her wound with a wet cloth. The wound she took for me. I'm just barely able to hear Peeta. "That a girl," he says. "You did well."

Hazelle arrives then, breathless, her face flushed, fresh snow slowly melting in her hair. She doesn't spare any of us a glance. She immediately goes to Gale's side, taking his hand and pressing it to her lips. The only clue I have to know that my mother realizes Hazelle's presence is when she looks up ever so slightly before instantly returning her attention to Gale. I know that he is in good hands. If anyone can save him, it's my mother. This is her element.

But then Gale begins to stir, a low, pained moan slipping from his lips. Hazelle strokes his hair and murmurs something to him that I can't hear. "Can't you give him anything?" I ask, feeling helpless.

My mother is still cleaning Gale's back, arranging the shredded skin so that I can see every single one of the lash marks. "I will," is all my mother says before she's once again absorbed in her task. After a few more minutes, she spreads a salve onto the wound that Prim had been working on all this time, and just as my mother is placing the final bandage over his back, Gale moans again, and I can hear that he's much closer to regaining consciousness.

My mother and Prim go to their meager store of pain killers. Most of them are herbal, with enough power to knock out a headache. Gale doesn't need these. He needs the expensive pain killers that are usually only accessible by doctors and they're always in demand. My mother has to be choosy when it comes to using her precious store of strong pain killers. That's why I can't be a healer. I can't stand to see people suffer. If I had control of these medicines, I would have used up the supply long ago. My mother has to be careful, using the heavier pain killers for the worst pain. But who is she to judge?

When she and Prim decide to use a weak, herbal medicine, I snap. "That won't be enough," I say sharply, causing my mother to look up at me. "That will barely knock out a headache! It's not enough!"

"We'll combine it with sleep syrup, Katniss, and he'll manage it. The herbs are more the inflammation—" my mother begins to explain, but I don't listen to her.

"Just give him the damn medicine!" I screech. Maybe I'm not thinking rationally, maybe my mother's reasoning does make more sense, but right now I really don't care. Gale is in pain. My best friend, whom I just made amends with this morning. And now this. "Just give it to him!"

My mother glances at Peeta. "Take her out."

I feel Peeta's arm around my waist, beginning to steer me toward the door, but there's no way in hell I'm leaving Gale. Maybe it's guilt for all the months passing between us when we never said a word to each other. Maybe I'm simply afraid that he'll really die. I shake off Peeta's arm, and I think I say something to him, but in the next second both of his arms are around me and my feet are no longer touching the floor as he carries me out of the room, ignoring the obscenities I begin to shout at him and my mother.

If I weren't so mad, I would be impressed that Peeta manages to navigate the stairs, all while holding my flailing limbs. I feel myself being lowered onto a bed, but Peeta's arms never leave me. He lies beside me, holding me to his chest. The situation reminds me so much of when I'd locked myself in my room at the Training Center after my private session with the Gamemakers. Peeta had picked the lock on the door, ignored my screaming at him, and held me, like he's doing now. And just like last time, I cry into his chest, staining his shirt with my tears.

I don't know how long I cry, but eventually my tears run out. Maya lays on the bed beside me, having apparently followed Peeta up the stairs. My eyes find her wound, which has stopped bleeding, but the red line staining her fur has yet to disappear. This time, when I attempt to escape Peeta's arms, he lets me, and I sit up so I can get a better look at the lash. I gently run my fingers from her head all the way down her back. Her indigo eyes are staring at my face, watching me, as if she's making sure I'm okay.

"Thank you," I tell her softly as I scratch behind her ears.

I hear Peeta shift behind me and when I look to my right, he's sitting beside me. "You really know how to give me a heart attack," he says, barely managing a quirk of his lips that I think is supposed to pass as a smile.

"Sorry," I say softly.

"He'll be alright, you know," Peeta assures me. "Don't give up on him."

"I'm not," I reply quickly. "It's just, I mean, we were having so much fun today." I think back to the time we spent in the woods. "It was almost like before, except when he started threatening to beat you up if you do anything I deem reprehensible."

Peeta smiles. "See, I knew there was a reason I liked him."

"What? Because he threatens to beat you up?" I ask, and Peeta shakes his head.

"No, because he threatens to beat me up because he cares about you," Peeta explains. "I can't fault the guy for that."

We're silent for another minute before I whisper, "It could have been me." My eyes meet Peeta's. "I could have just as easily taken that turkey to Cray's. And then it would have been me that was arrested and whipped."

Peeta flinches. "I've been trying not to think about that." His eyes fall on Maya, who seems to be dozing. "I owe her. For jumping in front of you."

I absently reach up and touch my cheek, where I'm sure the whip would have cut me. "I don't know what I would have done if it had been you," Peeta says softly.

I wonder, too. Peeta, as a whole, is actually rather passive. He prefers peace, and he'd rather fight with words than with his fists. But there are a few times when I've glimpsed another side of him. Like in his fights with Cato, or when the Peacekeepers in District 11 got a little too rough, or when someone from the Capitol got a little too handsy with me. If Peeta sees a threat to me, he goes from the easy-going sweetheart I love to a protective, possessive alpha male that intrigues me.

"You would have saved me," I tell him.

"That's not up for debate," he replies quickly. "Of course I would have saved you. I just don't know what I would have done to Thread."

See? Protective, possessive, alpha male.

I put a hand on his chest and ease him down so that he's lying on his back. I throw an arm over his waist and my head rests on his chest. His arms come up to surround me and I sigh. "Things are going to change," I say softly. "With Thread around."

"I don't think anyone is willing to risk venturing into the woods, now," Peeta says. "Not after today."

"Thread doesn't like me," I state obviously and Peeta chuckles.

"You did uproot his authority in front of the entire square," he says, before his voice becomes serious. "You're going to have to be careful."

I don't know if it's just something he's saying in general or if he's warning me about going into the woods. But with Gale incapacitated for who knows how long, what about Hazelle and the kids? I wouldn't do any trading at the Hob. That would show my blatant disregard for the rules, especially after today. I'd simply give all the game to Hazelle.

But now that Thread knows who I am, he must know that I hunt, too. Anyone who watched the Games knows that I hunt illegally because how else would I have been able to use a bow like I do? And with what happened in the square today . . . Thread will be impatiently waiting for me to screw up. Relishing the thought of punishing me, no doubt . . .

"I'm always careful," I say to placate him, but it doesn't work.

"That's what worries me."

He's right. Inevitably, I seem to find trouble.

I end up falling asleep, tired from the stress of the day and from crying. But when I open my eyes due to a knocking at the front door, I know that I haven't been asleep long. Ignoring Peeta's mild protest, I get out of bed to go see who is at the door. I hear Peeta following behind me, and as I descend the stairs, I'm surprised to see that Haymitch is still here.

He opens the door just as I reach it, revealing a shivering Madge on the other side. Snow has begun to fall thick and fast and I know that there's a blizzard coming. Why is Madge out in this weather?

After the Games when I returned to 12, I hung out with Madge a lot more, going over to her house. We weren't gossipers and I could care less about clothes, so it's not like we had a lot of stereotypical girl-bonding time, though she did occasionally slip in a question about Peeta when I wasn't paying attention and I'd answer it without thinking. This little trickery of hers has caused me to reveal more about mine and Peeta's relationship than I ever planned. Other than that, whenever I went over to Madge's house, she taught me piano, and I even took her out into the woods a few times, but she's almost just as bad as Prim when it comes to adventure and hunting.

"Madge?" I question confused.

She holds out a box, filled with six vials of clear liquid. "Use these for your friend," she says as she hands them to me. "They're my mother's. She said I could take them. Use them, please."

I take the box, but before I can say anything in reply, Madge is already gone, making her way back to her house. Haymitch shuts the door, muttering something under his breath that I don't quite catch. My mother comes in and sees the vials and immediately takes them from me.

I follow her back into the dining room, and when I see Gale, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his teeth gritted together in pain, I'm immensely relieved that Madge delivered the medicine. My mother quickly fills a syringe with the clear liquid from one of the vials and shoots it into Gale's arm. Almost immediately, the tension in his face lessens, and I relax. Hazelle rises to her feet, looking regretful. "I've got to get back to the kids," she says.

"I'll stay with him," I offer automatically and Hazelle smiles at me gratefully.

"Thank you, Katniss," she says as she gives me a big hug. "For everything."

When Hazelle is gone, I occupy the chair she'd been using. I take Gale's hand and study his face, looking for any signs of pain. There are none. The medicine has already kicked in fully. "What kind of medicine was that?" Peeta asks.

"Morphling," my mother replies. "It's from the Capitol."

Peeta nods. "It's good stuff," he says knowingly.

I don't know much about Peeta's hospital stay after the Games. We tend to avoid the topic. Mainly because I freaked out the minute I woke up, my last memory being of seeing Peeta's heart rate monitor flat lining. None of the doctors would tell me if he was still alive and after I basically tried to attack them, they kept me sedated until I was released. But I don't know about Peeta's experience. He doesn't talk about it, and I've never asked.

My mother looks at me. "Are you going to stay with him?"

"Yeah," I answer before looking at her sheepishly. "Sorry for those things I said."

"I've heard worse," my mother says in reply, but I know I'm forgiven.

A few minutes later, my mother and Prim go upstairs to get some rest. Haymitch leaves soon after and it's just me, Peeta, and Gale. We sit quietly for about an hour. Me in the chair by Gale's head, still clutching his hand, and Peeta on the couch, watching me. "You can go home, you know," I say. "You need to sleep, too."

"So do you," he returns evenly.

"I'm not leaving him," I say, before frowning, a thought occurring to me. "This doesn't bother you, does it?" I ask, thinking of my actions. Everything has been all about Gale, the boy who I could have easily fallen in love with. Both Peeta and I know this. What has Peeta been thinking all this time as I worry and fuss over Gale?

Peeta smiles, shaking his head. "Why would it bother me that you care about your best friend?" He stands and walks over to me, his hands on my shoulders. "I love you. I know you love me. Why should I worry?"

For what seems like the millionth time, I'm struck by how good a person Peeta is. Kind, gentle, and selfless. Trusting. It doesn't bother him that I care for Gale as much as I do. Our closeness doesn't cause Peeta to resent him. He knows how much Gale means to me and he respects it. He is far too good for me.

"I do love you," I say softly.

Peeta smiles, giving me a kiss. "I'll be upstairs."

"Okay."

The moment he leaves, I look back at Gale, shocked to find that his eyes are open. "He's good for you," he says.

"Too good."

Gale's eyes close for a moment before they open again. "Thanks, Catnip."

I can only assume he means for saving him from Thread. We both know that if I had arrived a minute later, he would be dead. "I wasn't about to let you die. I just got you back."

Gale smiles before the drugs pull him back under.

When dawn breaks, I'm still at Gale's side, watching over him. It's a testament to my tiredness that I don't hear Peeta enter the room. I almost jump out of my seat when he lays a gentle hand on my shoulder, saying something about my mother and Prim taking over for me. With what seems like little effort, he scoops me up into his arms and I don't complain. My eyes are already drooping, the need for sleep overcoming me. I'm nearly asleep when my head touches the pillow, but I'm not comfortable. Peeta straightens up to leave, but my fingers clutch at his shirt. "Stay," I whisper, smiling tiredly when Peeta lies beside me. I reposition myself so that my head rests on his chest, which is much more comfortable than any pillow, and finally allow myself to sleep.

The next two days we're all snowed in because of the blizzard. Although, the snow is proving extremely useful for Gale's back since my mother has a special remedy called snow coat. A mix of snow and some of her herbal medicine that she places on Gale's back. It's cold and numbing and combined with occasional shots of morphling Gale's recovery is as painless as possible.

Once the snow clears, Peeta and I take a walk into town. Six foot high drifts of snow are piled along the sides of the road, and Peeta can't help but wonder at the possibilities of a snow ball fight with his brothers. I can only shiver at the outrageousness that I'm sure would ensue.

Not many people are out and about, but when we walk into town, both of us stop in our tracks. "That's different," Peeta says after a beat of silence. "Thread works fast."

I hadn't thought that anything would happen during the blizzard, but I was wrong. A large banner with the seal of Panem hangs from the Justice Building. Peacekeepers are marching along the streets. I see machine gun nests on the rooftops. But what gives me the most pause is the structures in the middle of the square. Stockades. An official whipping post. And a gallows—standing tall right in the middle.

I see a blaze flare up a few streets away. "The Hob," I say, looking at Peeta. "You don't think that everyone was in there—" I trail off as I think of Greasy Sae and all my friends.

"No," Peeta shakes his head. "That wouldn't be a smart move."

"I want to check on Hazelle," I say. "I expected her to be on our front porch the moment the snow cleared."

"I need to check on the bakery," Peeta replies, and I nod.

"It's on the way. Let's go there first."

We don't meet anyone on the street like we would a normal day, but that doesn't mean that we aren't seen. As we walk I see more than one face peering at us through their shutters. They're scared, terrified. After Peeta, Haymitch, and I stood up to Thread, they'll see any association with us as too much of a risk. I can't believe I actually thought that I could start an uprising. Peeta was right. They are too scared.

We enter the bakery to find Chris, Peeta's oldest brother, behind the counter. Chris and I haven't had many interactions. He's the quiet one of the three, and plus he's married, so he has someone else to give his attentions to, but he's never said a bad word to me and always says 'hi' whenever I pass him in town.

He looks up when the bell over the door tinkles, announcing our presence. "Hey, Peet," he says. "Katniss."

"How's everything?" Peeta asks. "You get through the blizzard okay?"

"Hmm, trapped in the house with my wife for two whole days . . ." Chris grins as he trails off suggestively. "Yeah, Peet, I got through the blizzard okay."

Peeta rolls his eyes, but I still can't help but blush at Chris's insinuation. Both of them notice and laugh. "Shut up," I tell them both, but it's pointless when Rye comes in, covered in flour from baking bread, his face slightly red from working so close to the fires.

"Well, hey there, sweetcheeks," he says and I scowl. "Oh, don't be like that. I've had two whole days to come up with more jokes, just for you."

"Fantastic," I deadpan and Rye laughs.

"See? You are funny," he says as he throws his arm around me, getting flour all over me. "You just don't know it."

"What's going on in here?" All of us freeze as Mrs. Mellark enters the room, a scowl on her face that could match my own in potency.

Mrs. Mellark looks like you would think a mother of three boys would. She's a small woman, about my height, but plump with extra curves. Her blonde hair was once in a strict bun, but a few strands have fallen to frame her face. She actually looks like a nice, warm woman from afar.

And then she speaks.

"Get this trash out of my sight," she hisses at me, though her words are directed at Peeta. "I just cleaned the floors. I don't need her filth dirtying them beyond recognition."

"Mom," Peeta protests angrily. "That's enough."

"No, Peeta," I say as I turn to fully face my future mother in law. "I don't think she's even begun to scratch the surface of her feelings for me." My eyes narrow as I glower at Mrs. Mellark. "I would love to hear exactly what she thinks of me."

If it were humanly possible, I swear there would be steam coming out of Mrs. Mellark's ears. Her face is flushed with anger and she looks mad enough to spit. "I think that you're cheaper than dirt," she begins. "You're a worthless creature that taints everything and everyone you come touch. But I guess you must really be something in the night because I can't think of another reason why my son would stay with you."

Fury cannot accurately describe the rage I feel. I'm not even mad that she implied I'm a whore, and a talented one at that. I'm furious because of what she implied about Peeta, that he's only with me for sex. How could she think such a thing about her son? A son that went through the Games, that fought in the arena. Does she not realize how precious he is? She should be cherishing the moments she has with him, loving him, instead of condemning him for being who he is. A loving, pure-hearted, gentle boy who is the epitome of goodness.

"Then again, he's never been very much to be proud of," she continues. "Pining after you for years, ignoring the girls that are his equal. You've just sunk your claws in, haven't you?" She looks me up and down in disgust. "What with your hunting, and your wild ways. Should have been you that got whipped the other day. Not that I'm not glad the boy got what was coming to him."

A red haze clouds my vision as my fury threatens to overcome me. I'm practically shaking with it. "You done?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"That's all the time I'm wasting on you," she says, and moves to walk away, but I'm not done with her yet.

"But Mrs. Mellark," I say. "I haven't said what I think of you."

Just as I suspected, my words stop her in her tracks and she turns to face me. "You're a miserable excuse for a human being," I begin bluntly. "You have three wonderful sons that you don't give a damn about, and that's despicable. Peeta is the kindest, the most caring, the most loving boy that will ever walk this wretched earth, and you're a fool for not seeing it. Compassion is not a tragic flaw; it's simply a strength that you don't possess."

Mrs. Mellark is quaking with anger, but I continue on. I've had months to think about all that I hate about this woman. "You're an ignorant woman who is blinded by prejudice. You should be happy that your son has found love, not condemning him for it. You almost lost him forever. You should be cherishing every moment you have with him! It's the least he deserves after going through hell, but you're too much of a self-righteous idiot to see it!"

"That's what I think of you, Mrs. Mellark. You're a plain, fat, cruel bitch of a woman who isn't decent enough to be within a hundred miles of my filthy Seam presence!"

And with that, I turn on my heel and stomp out the door. My feet carry me across town, and I'm so absorbed in my anger that when I feel someone grab my arm, I spin around with my fist already cutting through the air to punch whoever touched me in the first place.

Peeta easily catches my wrist, his eyebrows raised, but I don't pay attention. I throw my arms around his waist and hug him tightly. His arms wrap around me, though I know that he's confused. "What's this for?" he asks.

"You need a hug," I say, my ire at his mother barely beginning to fade. "You need to be loved every minute of every day. It's not fair that you haven't been."

In response Peeta hugs me tighter, burying his face in my hair. "It's not that I wasn't loved," he says. "I had my father and Rye and Chris. I still do."

"But she's your mother," I stress. "I don't understand how she doesn't love you. You're her child. She brought you into the world." I pause, thinking. "And it's only redeemable thing she's done."

Peeta's quiet, and it worries me. I pull away from him to look at his face. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No," he shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. "You should have stayed a second longer to see everyone's faces. Mom stormed off without another word. Rye was praising you. Chris was speechless. And I was . . . overwhelmed." Peeta runs his fingertips along my cheekbone. "I've never had anyone stand up for me like that. Thank you."

"I meant every word."

"I know."

I take his hand and begin walking toward the Seam, wanting to check on Hazelle and the kids. We walk for a few minutes in silence before I say, "Just so you know, I'm never being in the same room with your mother again."

"I don't think that will be a problem. She's going to pretend you don't exist."

"Wonderful, because I can't stand her."

"I think you made that fairly clear," Peeta says with a smile, but it falters.

I give his hand a squeeze, knowing that he's not mad or upset with me. It must have been painful hearing his mother talk like that about him, like she can't stand the sight of him. Worst of all, she never denied a single thing I accused her of because she knew it was true. Peeta loves his mother, I know. And that's the hardest thing for him, I think. Loving someone who he knows doesn't really love him back.

When we reach the Seam, I immediately head toward Hazelle's. It doesn't take three minutes before I'm knocking on the door. "Oh, Katniss, Peeta, it's good to see you," she says when she opens the door, stepping aside to let us in. "How's Gale?"

"He's getting better every day," I tell her. "You know how strong he is."

Hazelle nods, though she's frowning. "I would go to him," she says, fretting, wringing her hands. "But Posy's sick, and I can't leave her."

I spot Posy lying on the couch, distinctive measles spots dotting her skin. I set a handful of money on the kitchen table. "I'll have my mother send something for Posy," I say. "And she says that Gale should return to the mines in a couple of weeks."

"They might not be open until then," Hazelle says. "Word is that they're closed until further notice." Her eyes dart to her empty washtub.

"Did you shut down too?" I ask.

"Not necessarily," Hazelle replies. "Apparently, no one has anything that needs washing. I sent Rory out this morning, but . . ."

"Maybe it's the snow," Peeta says, and Hazelle nods, though I think everyone in the room knows that it's not the reason.

We make idle chitchat for a minute more before Peeta and I leave, promising to come by later with some medicine for Posy. When we step outside, I can't help but look toward the smoke in the sky. "I want to go to the Hob," I say.

Peeta doesn't comment; he simply follows me. The heat of the flames can be felt thirty yards away. Little rivers of black flow out from the building, coal dust. I simply stare at the flames, at the crumbling building that's succumbing to the fire. All the memories of this place, some of which I treasure because they involved my father, flit through my mind.

My anger grows as the flames continue to destroy the Hob. I hate the Capitol destroying everything I love. Their power that they continue to flaunt, trying to beat us down. Well, I refuse to bow to them.

The days pass, and they're terrible. With the mines closed, practically everyone in the Seam is out of money, and food becomes scarce. The amount of children signing up for tesserae soars. One of these children is Rory, and Gale refuses to even talk about it. The food for Parcel day arrives spoiled and defiled by rats. There's nothing to salvage. Even those with money are affected by the shortages. People are being arrested for things that we've long since forgotten were even a crime in the first place. The stockades are always full, and Ripper, a one-armed woman who used to make and sell white liquor at the Hob, seems to be in the stocks so often that I'm wondering if she ever leaves. That's another thing, I no longer recognize a single Peacekeeper. These Peacekeepers are rough and stern, reminding me of those from District 11.

The only bright spot is that I get Haymitch to hire Hazelle as a housekeeper. It gives her a little extra money that she desperately needs, and dramatically increases Haymitch's standard of living. It's surreal to walk into his house and not be assaulted by the stench of alcohol, trash, and vomit. Not that Haymitch really notices, he's too busy fighting alcohol withdrawal. With Ripper in the stocks, he's without his supply. Both Peeta and I had been collecting a small stock in case something like this happened, but it's running out.

When the mines finally reopen after about two weeks, wages are cut and shifts are lengthened. Miners are sent into blatantly dangerous zones. Gale returns to work about a week or so later.

Ever since seeing the Hob in flames, my anger has been simmering beneath the surface. And it's not the starving sick children, the terrified faces of the people, or the fact that I've basically become a pariah to most everyone in District 12 that finally causes me to snap.

It's a crate of wedding dresses, approved by President Snow himself.

The wedding . . . I'd honestly forgotten about it. But at the reminder, I can't believe that Snow is still going to make us go through with it. What's the purpose? Shouldn't he be focusing on the uprisings? Or have they settled down like Haymitch thought they would? Has he returned his attention to me now that he has nothing left to occupy him? Is he going to force us to go through the wedding and then kill us afterwards? What's he playing at?

This is what causes me to slip out of Peeta's embrace early the very next morning. I dress in my warmest clothes and slip into my hunting boots without making a sound. I debate leaving a note, but I know that he'll quickly figure out where I am.

The woods are strictly forbidden. Neither Gale nor I have tested this new edict since his whipping, but today I am. Maya wants to follow me, but I make her stay in the house. I don't need her paw prints giving away where I enter the woods. I make my way through the back alleys and streets of town, eventually coming to a weak spot in the fence right behind Rooba's butcher shop that is well travelled by miners. With all the footprints in the snow, mine won't be noticed.

For all of Thread's upgrades, the fence he's left alone. It doesn't hum with electricity. I slip under the fence and am filled with smug satisfaction. I melt into the woods, quickly retrieve my bow and arrows, and begin the long trek I have in mind. I'm filled with a determination to reach the lake. I don't know why exactly, maybe because I see it as the one place that no one can take from me. Through everything, that lake has always remained untouched by the Capitol and perhaps that is what I'm craving. To be somewhere out of the Capitol's reach.

It takes me twice as long as normal to reach the lake, though the exertion of walking through knee high snow has allowed me to keep relatively warm. I'm so absorbed in my thoughts of Peeta, the wedding, and the Capitol that I don't notice the smoke coming from the chimney until I'm only a few feet from the concrete building.

It's a little building that's always been there. There are foundations of other buildings that used to surround the lake, and my father thought that this was once a place where everyone came to swim and camp. But this building is the only one that's left standing, only because it's made of concrete—floors, walls, and ceiling. And right now it appears to be occupied.

I take a curious step forward, but I hear a sound that makes me freeze.

It's the unmistakable click of a gun behind me.

Well, lots happened this chapter. Gale got whipped, but will be okay. Maya took the lash for Katniss. Katniss put the verbal beatdown on Mrs. Mellark. And know Katniss is about to meet two very important people. We all know who they are. :)

And the quote from the next chapter comes from . . . Katniss!

I'm trapped.

Lots of love,

AC