The Tide Turns

(Katniss)

It happens so fast – in darkness – shuffling steps – the frantic pounding of my own pulse.

I spin in Peeta's arms, pushing him behind me, keeping him safe. I have no weapon, but I do not need one in order to borrow a blade or a spear from my enemy.

My enemy, who stands before us, shield raised and ax at the ready.

He hisses, "Katniss! Stop!"

I stop. I know this voice, this man. His night-shadowed shape matches the one in my memory, but I do not let down my guard. Peeta's hands grip my shoulders and I realize he is but a heartbeat away from tossing me to safety. The sound of my name has shocked him immobile just as it has me.

"Gale?" I call softly. "What are you—?"

"Here," he says, tossing the small ax to me. I catch it before I can even command my hand to reach for it. "Finish him!"

Finish him? Finish who? But as I follow Gale's gaze over my shoulder, I understand.

He is telling me to kill Peeta.

Kill. Peeta.

No.

"Where are the others?" I hiss back, my mind working so quickly I have to blink my eyes to dispel the dizzying sensation of it.

At my call, one shadow and then another stirs in the forest. Peeta and I are surrounded… by my own kin and clan. I immediately recognize Boggs among the half a dozen men with bows, arrows, hatchets, knives, spears, and shields. They've come dressed for war.

"Katniss!" Gale scolds me. So impatient. We are the same, he and I. "If you don't want to do it yourself, then step away!"

Just step away so they can kill him? My muscles twitch and tremble with fury. No.

I shake my head and raise the ax. My feet brace against the soft earth. I'm ready for battle. "No, Gale. We are not killing him."

His chin jerks back in affront. "What?"

His gaze moves between us. His scowl deepens. Gale believes he'd interrupted an assault. He thinks he has saved me from having to submit to my captor. Peeta is the enemy. All Northmen are our enemy. There is no room in his mind for considering the fact that I might have been in this man's arms willingly.

Suddenly, this uncertain moment becomes even more precarious. If I ally myself with Peeta, if I show any signs of friendship toward him, there will be repercussions, and they will not be pleasant. But I refuse to back down now.

"Rope," I demand. "Throw me a length of rope."

"Katniss—"

"Am I not the daughter of our king?" I choke out, trying to stay quiet. If Káto hears us, he will come and investigate… and he will die. "Would I really endanger the lives of my own kinsmen?"

No one answers.

I stiffen. "If you believe that, then just turn around and go back home without me."

It occurs to me that I could send them away. I could tell them to leave me here with Peeta. But I know they will not listen. They will not believe me. Gale will think I am trying to be noble and sacrifice myself to save them. And if I know anything it's that he would never let himself owe me such a debt. To cancel it, he will not hesitate to use force to spirit me away from this place and Peeta.

Peeta, who has just promised to be my husband. Peeta, to whom I have promised to be a wife. He will not let them take me. I can feel it in the iron grip of his fingers curling over my shoulders. Unarmed and outnumbered, he would fight them… and he would lose.

I will not let Peeta die for me.

That leaves me with only one remaining option.

Gale curses softly. "No, we do not believe that, but damn it Katniss—!"

"Rope," I say again. The moment stretches painfully taut. The silence reverberates in my ears.

A soft whoosh and lifeless thud: a length of rope has been tossed at my feet. I step over it and turn, dislodging Peeta's hands from my shoulders and bringing my free hand up to his chest. He must not move suddenly or without permission. He must do exactly as I say. "Pick up the rope," I tell him in his language.

He hesitates. "Katniss, what is this?"

"I am saving your life."

He shakes his head in refusal and denial. I grit my teeth. We are breathing on borrowed time. Lingering here only endangers his life, his brother's life, and the lives of my kinsmen. My heart hardens.

"You," I interject harshly, "did not give me a choice."

His jaw clenches.

I jerk my chin in the direction of his brother's camp. He glances behind him. His shoulders droop. He will not risk Káto's life.

The ax stays in my hand as he bends to retrieve the rope. I keep a firm grip on the weapon not because I am willing to use it on him, but because if I tuck it away too soon, Gale will not wait until later to ask me exactly what sort of moment he had interrupted, and I do not have the patience or the wits to deflect his questions now.

When Peeta straightens, he holds out his arms and offers me his wrists. It is a familiar pose. He had stood before me thus once before in order to build trust between us. Now, with the same gesture, I fear I am destroying it.

I cannot look him in the eye as coil the rope around his forearms. Once I have a firm grip on the loose ends, I slide the ax into the belt at my waist and tie a knot high up, beneath his forearms where he will not be able to get at it with his teeth or pick at it with his fingers. That will satisfy the others.

"Over here," Gale coaches me. "Tie him to this tree and let's go."

I scowl at him and note the square of fabric in his hand. A gag.

Now, in this moment, I meet Peeta's eyes. He is frightened but not of me – for me. My first reaction is to scoff. I am in command of these men. As the king's daughter I am their sovereign… but am I? I do not know if my father still lives. I do not know under whom Gale serves. Or if he has broken his oath of fealty to a new sovereign to come for me. I do not know what they want. I do not know who I can trust.

How do I know Gale won't slit Peeta's throat the moment my back is turned?

I panic.

"He is coming with us," I decide, shoving Gale's hand away and tightening my hold on the ropes.

A moment of shocked silence swells and then bursts. "We don't have provisions for a hostage," Gale argues calmly. Too calmly. He's beginning to speculate on Peeta's value.

Let him speculate. If he assumes Peeta is of some worth to us alive, then he will be less likely to kill him. I whisper furiously, "Then I will share my portion with him! Let's go."

Because it is too dangerous for us to continue this discussion here, he relents and waves us deeper into the forest. Peeta stumbles along behind me, his left leg making him clumsy. I do not allow him to slow us down. Value or not, Gale will kill him at the slightest provocation.

I cannot let Peeta die.

I need him.

With every step that becomes more and more clear. I am uncertain of my allies, my family, and my homeland. I am not uncertain of Peeta. This is my most selfish act yet: taking him from his family so that I might face the unknown without flinching.

The horses are not far. Seeing them tethered to the trees, Peeta trips. I can hear him swallow thickly. I don't even know if he can ride.

Hating myself for the rough treatment I am giving him, I shove Peeta toward the strongest horse and motion for him to place his booted foot in my hands. He hesitates and our eyes meet. He does not ask me to leave him behind and, in that moment, I know I am forgiven. He cannot bear to let me go without knowing that I will be safe.

"I'm too heavy," he objects.

"I'm strong," I answer.

He relents on a sigh and I have to use every bit of determination and muscle that I have, but I boost him up. Thom hurries to untangle the reins from the bough. Yanking them out of his hand with a curt nod of acknowledgment, I hoist myself up onto the horse's back behind my captive, caging him in.

"Knees close, tight. And relax – your back," I whisper. I don't wait for him to ask questions.

With the animal's first loping stride, my hips slip down and mold against his. I rock against him, guiding the motions of his body, urging him not to fight against the horse's rolling gait.

He gasps softly. "Katniss…"

"Hush." We will talk later, he and I, but for now we must ride. It's a long journey back to Samland and I have a lot of thinking to do.