~Katniss POV~

It's not even light out when Meg shakes me awake. I scowl, miffed at being woken so unnecessarily early. But, then, she says, "You'd best be up and movin', girl. My sister gets up before the sun does."

Grudgingly, I sit up, pushing the blankets off me. The window lets in a miniscule amount of light, just enough that I can see the gray outline around the curtains. Nonetheless, the oven in the corner is already going, heat radiating off it. On the table is another steaming mug and a plate. I hoist myself up onto the chair and yawn a short, "Thank you," to Meg before eating the breakfast laid out for me. Toast with jam and blueberry tea. She stands by the table, patiently waiting for me to finish it off before whisking away the dishes and shoving a shawl at me.

"Here," she grunts. "I'm not sendin' you out again without anything. It's still cold."

"Thanks."

With that, I'm steered outside. She doesn't so much as wish me goodbye before closing the door, but I don't mind. She was kind to me, in her own gruff way. In fact, she reminds me a little of myself.

It isn't snowing anymore. Drifts lean up against walls, half as tall as me and tinged gray with Twelve's perpetual layer of coal dust. Really, it isn't nearly as bad as a lot of the blizzards we've had. Once, the pathway to town was a good foot above doorframes if you had snowshoes, and several feet above your head if you didn't. Needless to say, not many people were out shopping for that month.

In the daylight, it's easier to recognize my surroundings. I've never been in this part of town before, but I know it's near the train station. And, yes, there are the hills that curve around the district in a half-circle. I'm maybe two miles from the town center. Odd- it seemed like so much farther last night.

I'm so busy admiring the sparkling, finger-sized icicles fringing every tree branch and roof that I don't really register the light, quick footsteps until I'm nearly bowled over. Upon regaining my balance, I pry my attacker away from my by the shoulders, only to find myself looking into the face of Rory Hawthorne.

"Rory," I sigh. "You scared me to death."

"I scared you to death?" he squeaks. He's right in that age where everything he says is either a squeak or a rumble. "I scared- Katniss, we've been looking for you since yesterday!"

"All night?" I say loudly. Surely they wouldn't be that stupid. They could have gotten frostbite, out in the snow all night long! What were they thinking?

"Well, no," he admits. "Just until after the sun went down. Gale and Mom and the Mellarks went looking for you around town, and your mom and Prim and Vick and Posy and me stayed home to wait in case you came back, and, I don't know, I guess someone was waiting at the bakery, too, but everyone was super worried, and Prim couldn't stop crying for the longest time, and they said you weren't at your old house or in the woods or-"

"Rory," I say, halting him. I know full well his tendency to keep talking until he runs out of breath.

"Right, sorry. Point is, soon as it got light out, Gale went out to start looking for you again, and I went with him."

I cock and eyebrow. It isn't 'light out' in any sense of the phrase. I can barely see three yards in front of me. Then again, Gale does have a tendency to show up in the woods while the stars are still out. This is probably plenty light out for him.

"Okay, well, where is he?"

"Woods," he says, confirming my suspicions. Of course he'd check there first.

"All right. Let's go find him."

Turns out, we don't need to. As soon as we trudge into the Seam, our boots crunching through the hard, icy layer on top of the snow, Gale swings around the corner. He takes one look at me and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Don't you ever-" He stresses the word ever. "Do that again."

"I'll try not to," I say dryly. "It was less than fun."

Allowing me to pull away just enough to look at him, he asks, "What happened, Catnip?"

"Well, I stormed out of the house, got lost in a blizzard, found shelter with a lady named after a spice and slept next to the fireplace," I sum up. I'm not particularly in the mood for details.

"What-? Never mind. You wouldn't believe the state Prim's in. Come on, let's go let he know you're okay."

But at the word Prim, I'm already off, walking as quickly as I can across the crusted drifts. Prim. She must be hysterical, and she probably blames herself… Oh, why was I so stupid? The poor thing. And Rory said she hasn't stopped crying! Stupid, stupid, stupid. Leaving her there all alone? I am a miserable excuse for a big sister.

The moment I get through the door, I gather her up in my arms, rocking her gently back and forth. Her hair is still in braids and she's wearing Dad's- my- leather jacket over her clothes. The jacket, which is an extra-large fit on me, swallows her up completely. Her thin, fragile shoulders shake as she clings to me.

"I'm sorry!" she wails. I was right when I guessed that she blamed herself. I press my face into her hair.

"Oh, no, Prim. No, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry for. Look, I'm fine, see? I'm fine. I found someplace to spend the night. Don't cry, Prim, it's okay."

"But if I hadn't teased you, you wouldn't have left," she sniffles.

Teased me? What is she- Oh. I remember now. She said something about Peeta, and it made me mad. It was part of the reason I stormed out. Odd, how small and unimportant it seems now. "No," I croon. "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been so stubborn."

Remembering my mother, I look up and give her a reassuring gesture from across the room. She nods, scanning me for injuries before doing the same for Prim.

I hold her until she calms down, then look her over myself. She didn't sleep, that much is apparent. Her young, lovely face is burdened by tired eyes and tearstains, and it's just so wrong that I immediately get a wet washcloth to wipe them away. I then boil water, fill a bottle and send her to bed with it, tucking all the blankets in the house snugly around her. It's still early enough that she should get some hours, at least.

Gale and Rory are still here, and I give them both a hug before walking them to their own house. Gale takes my hand and warns me to be more careful before closing the door behind him.

I count people on my fingers. Mom and Prim. Gale, Rory, Vick, Posy and Hazelle. All home and safe. That leaves Peeta. I hesitate. Should I go to the bakery now, while everyone is settled in? Would it be too early, or would they already be up and baking? Maybe I should wait, at least until the time I would usually be over. How much has Peeta been worrying about me? At least as much as Prim, if I know him…

As I wander through my own door and sink down on the foot of the bed, I remember something. Meg said that the first time Peeta mentioned me was when he was five years old, talking about my singing voice. I was, and still am, baffled by this. That can't be right. And, yet, it feels almost like it could be true. I used to sing all day, every day when I was little. I was a carefree, happy thing back then, before I witnessed for myself how cruel life could be. And the part about the birds listening… They used to do that for my father. He would sing, and the forest would fall respectfully silent at the sound of his voice. Could it be true? Did five-year-old Peeta hear me sing, hear the birds stop to listen to me? Could he have had a crush on me for the past ten years without my even knowing it? It would explain the glances in the school hallways, and the sketches, and the cupcakes… But a crush like that can't be called a crush. Not a crush that lasted ten whole years. No, it would be more like… love.

The word throws the emergency brakes on my thoughts. Love? Does Peeta love me? What do I think of that? What should I think of that? And… do I want him to?

I jump off the bed as if I was sitting on hot coals. Fingers fumbling, I yank on a sweater and my jacket, strap on my snow boots and run out the door. My mother and Prim don't wake up, thank God. I don't know how I would explain myself if they did. I slip and stumble in the snow, jogging towards the bakery. I don't care about the early hour. The sun's about to come up by now, anyway, and if they're not awake I'll wait until they are. I want answers, and I'm going to get them.