A/N: Last chapter, guys. Not much to say cuz I'll say it all in the epilogue. 3

Cato wants to start after him, I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn't, though I think that's in large part due to the fact that I finally got my hand around his. "C'mon," I say, but he doesn't move.

"Is it really like that?" he says. "What, I overreact and you pull me back to a person?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then what is?"

I hesitate. "Look, you're protective. That's usually great. But you overreacted. So yeah, I pulled you back, because that's what you do when someone slips up. Not because that's what I always do with you. Not because that's what you always need. You're usually the more together one, remember?"

"Yeah," he nods reluctantly.

"That's all that happened here. Except when I lose it, I don't threaten people's lives. I cry."

"I should probably work on that."

"Probably." I hold my other arm out for him, hug him for a second, partially to show him I'm not scared of him, partially because I just like being close to him. "You're working with warped memories," I remind him.

"Right." He lets go of me, kind of nods at something behind me, so I turn to see Silas, who's been standing here this whole time. He looks scared, but resolute; he doesn't move, even when I step towards him.

"Um, sorry," I say uncomfortably. "That was…" There's no way to explain what just happened, no way to excuse it, so I change the subject. "Mom's probably waiting for us."

Silas nods, but he keeps his distance from Cato even more than before. He walks at a distance from the two of us, and keeps glancing over like he's scared something's going to happen. I guess I can't exactly blame him. Cato's still tense, his hand clenched around mine, his jaw locked shut. He's still pissed.

"Do you really think he could convince me to pick him over you?" I say when we're within sight of the house.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You've gotta learn to trust me."

"I do trust you. I just don't trust him," he mutters with a dark look back where we came from. He holds the door open for Silas and me when we go inside. Once we're in, he stops and stops me, too. "I do trust you," he repeats. "Sorry."

"It's fine," I say sincerely. "I believe you."

He nods, and we go into the kitchen, where my mom's explaining to Silas and Sophia what she's making. I don't know what the actual name of it is, if it has one, or how to make it. Prim and I have always just called it magic water, because it makes any injury feel better instantly, like magic. It's best when Mom mixes the herbs in snow, but it's not quite cold enough for snow yet. So now, she mixes it with a bowl of ice water, stirring it for a second.

To demonstrate its effect, she soaks a rag in it and wipes it over Sophia's eyes and nose; I feel a tug in my gut when I see how Sophia closes her eyes preemptively, then opens them immediately again, pretending nothing happened. Silas manages to keep his eyes open while Mom wipes the water over his scrape. Both of them are tense for a second, like they're expecting it to hurt, then they look at Mom in surprise.

"What's in this?" Sophia asks.

"Family secret," my mom smiles. She's about to say something else, but then she glances at me and seems to change her mind. "Katniss, how about you take care of his back," she suggests, holding the bowl and rag out to me.

"Okay," I say after a second of surprise, because I'm never the first choice to take care of someone who's injured. I get the feeling that there's some ulterior motive at work here, but I can't tell what exactly it is.

Since I'm not very good with these kinds of things, my mother gives me a little help. She sits Silas up on the table, sends Prim and Sophia into the living room, worries at Cato until he agrees to sit down in a chair while he looks moody. And then she leaves too, making some excuse about an errand to go on that I don't really listen to.

Silas' back looks worse than before, somehow, though I'm pretty sure that's just me. The dried blood and swollen welts make me cringe when I see them again. It takes several seconds for me to be able to touch him, even though I know I'm only going to help him. But he just looks so little, sitting there on the table, leaning forward, his shoulders hunched and head down.

Carefully, I soak the rag, but it's rough, and I don't want to even possibly hurt him, so I decide to use my fingers. I dip my hand in the water and carefully wipe the top of his shoulder, as gently as I can, then dip again and keep moving down his back.

Silas relaxes almost right away as the water takes effect, letting out his breath all at once. "How long does this work for?" he asks.

"A couple hours. And we can put more on, if you want."

He doesn't respond to that – probably thinks it'd be like admitting to weakness or something, and that kind of pisses me off. I hate everyone who's made him this way. Half of me never wants to let him go back to those people who pretend to be his parents. The other half knows I shouldn't get involved. It'd be a rebellion. Snow would be mad. And that's not even considering how everyone else in both our districts would take it.

When I'm finished with his back, I put a little water on the worst of his bruises. Silas rolls his shoulders experimentally, straightens his arms out and stretches. "Thanks," he says, turning to look at me with his eyes that are so similar to Cato's right now.

"No problem." He puts on his shirt, which sticks to the wet spots on him. "You're sure you're okay now?" I ask, because I can't help myself.

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm fine." He crosses his arms and hunches his shoulders. "It's kind of normal where we come from, though, y'know."

"I know. But that doesn't mean I have to like it," I'm about to say, but I only get the first three words out, because Cato stands up and abruptly walks out. I hear him go up the stairs and a door slams.

Something's wrong. "I'm going to… can you go talk with Prim or something?" I ask Silas.

He looks at me, and I can tell he knows at least part of what's going on. "Sure," he says.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," he shrugs.

So I run up the steps to my room, where the door is shut, and knock gently on it. "Cato?"

No answer.

I open the door slowly, peer in. Cato's sitting on the bed, head in his hands, not moving. "What's going on?" I ask.

"Nothing. Go take care of Silas."

"He's fine. You aren't. What is it?"

"Don't. Just… don't, okay? I'll be fine. Please. Go."

"No," I say gently. "Tell me." He won't. So I take a guess. "Silas is going to be okay. He doesn't even feel a thing."

"Good for him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I frown.

Cato clenches his hands into fists and digs them in his eyes. "Look," he says. "That is great. It's good that he's okay. But…"

"But what?"

"You don't get it," he shakes his head. "I can hold it together most of the time, okay, that's what we're trained to do. Never show anything. But I'm not… I'm not a whole person, okay? I'm not alright." He pauses, then says almost angrily, "Do you know what I would've given to have somebody like you take care of me when I was his age?"

"No…"

"What his back looks like, that was an easy day for me. But nobody gave a shit about that, as long as I kept putting on muscle and beating other kids up."

"Wait, why were you ever in trouble?"

"They make an example of the top students. To show everybody no one was safe. I couldn't sleep for days sometimes, it hurt so bad. And I didn't get any help." He rubs the back of his head. "And that doesn't just go away."

"Go away how?"

He doesn't answer for a second, working out his answer. "I can pretend all I want that I'm okay, because sometimes with you, I can almost think that I am. But as much we want that to be true, it's not. It's just… not."

"I don't understand," I have to say.

He kind of laughs once, bitterly. "Of course you don't." He stands up and walks over to the window. "I'm glad I have you, okay? I'm glad we're together and that I remember you. But no matter what happens, some of me is going to be a bloody little kid that nobody cares about, alright? The memory change thing only makes that more obvious." He hesitates. "I'm not who you think I am. I guess it's time you find that out."

It's a second before I'm able to talk. "I don't think you're anything. I know I don't know you. I'm okay with that."

"Well, you're stupid then."

"I am," I agree. "Come here."

He doesn't move at first, standing at the window like he's not sure I mean it. Then he comes over slowly, straight into my outstretched arms. He hugs me tightly, and we stay like that for several minutes without saying a word. "I still love you," I finally say.

"You're crazy," he says with a smile in his voice.

"I know."

Abruptly, he sits back, lets go of me, frowns and looks at the door. "Silas," he says sharply.

I'm sure he's nuts, but then Silas reluctantly comes into view. He glances at me hopefully, but Cato's the one who talks.

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it," Silas says.

He's obviously nervous. I don't want to think about what's happened to him at home when he was caught eavesdropping. Whatever it is, that's what he thinks will happen now. But Cato doesn't do anything. He doesn't even get mad. "C'mere," he says.

Silas looks at his brother for a very long time, then hesitantly walks over, keeping well outside of arms' reach. He looks at Cato blankly, and I remember what Cato said before, about not showing anything. The trainers have already had Silas for a year; I guess that's one of the earliest things they learn.

Cato and him stare at each other for a moment. Then Cato holds one arm out to him. Silas flinches, but all Cato does is hold it there.

His brother has no idea what to do; I doubt he even knows what Cato's trying to do. He doesn't move for a moment. Then, Cato says "C'mon." So Silas hesitantly comes closer, just close enough for Cato to barely touch him.

Cato pulls him close, first by his arm, then by wrapping his arm around his little brother's waist and holding him against himself really tightly. I can only see Silas's face; he's completely terrified at first. Then he shuts his eyes and lets out his breath.

And then the two of them are hugging for what I think is the first time in their lives. Finally, it's how it's supposed to be. Cato's huge arms around his little brother are protective, instead of anything else. Silas lets himself give in for a second and feel comforted, protected.

Watching this makes me just want to hug them both at once, but I don't. I barely move, scared that I'll somehow screw it up. I guess I don't; they stay like that for a while, so long I'm not sure that they're going to let go. But then they do.

Reluctantly, Silas lets go of his brother and straightens up, looking at Cato awkwardly. And Cato can't completely let go of him. He keeps one arm around Silas, and Silas doesn't complain. "I'm sorry," Cato says.

Silas shakes his head, doesn't answer. I guess there's really not a lot for him to say.

"So you heard all that," Cato says, his voice rough. "That I just said to her."

"Yeah."

"And?"

Silas looks at him for a second, calculating what he should and will say. "You're different now," he says. "You never would've said that."

Cato doesn't deny that. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About what I said."

"It was… stupid. But not bad," Silas says softly, and he's scared to say that. He's scared to break the rules, even if Cato just did, afraid of the consequences.

But Cato doesn't get mad. He doesn't even react, really. I guess he knows what to do to put Silas at ease, because Silas doesn't get scared at all. He's standing between Cato's legs, with his brother's arm around him, and he's almost completely at ease. At least, he's pretty relaxed for being around someone who used to hurt him in the not-so-distant past. "I guess that's pretty true," Cato says. Then he turns to me. He gives me this look that I can't particularly name, but it's some combination of him wanting my opinion and being proud and being guilty. "Right?" he says.

"Yeah, sure," I nod. "But you pretty much freaked the hell out about Gale. So I guess you're pretty stupid for me most of the time." I don't know if it's okay to say that around Silas, but it's too late to go back now.

And Cato doesn't seem to mind it. "I guess. Is he gonna be pissed at you?"

"I don't think so. Not for very long, at least. But the two of you should probably work things out. You're probably going to know each other for the rest of your lives, so…"

"Rest of our lives?"

"Yeah, unless you plan on leaving."

"I'm not leaving." I was just kidding around, but he's serious. "I'll go talk to him tomorrow. Whenever you go to take him into the woods," he says, motioning at Silas.

"And by 'talk', you don't mean 'beat the shit out of'?" I say, teasing him again.

Silas looks uncomfortable, but Cato answers calmly. "No. Just talk. Lucky for him."

"Yeah." Can't deny that. "So tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," he agrees, and then he smiles for a second. "Really glad Sophia wasn't the one eavesdropping."

That's kind of mean, but also extremely true. And it makes Silas laugh once. "Yeah."

"You don't think she would've taken it well?" I say.

"Kidding me? No," Cato says, completely sure. "She's… she's like how I was. She wouldn't get it."

"Not yet, maybe."

Cato hesitates. "Maybe," he says, but it's pretty obvious he doesn't think there's much chance of anything other response from his sister. It's pretty pessimistic, yeah, but I guess if anyone knows about her, it'd be him.

It's pretty safe to say that Silas isn't scared of Cato anymore. During the rest of the day, he lets his guard down a little, and I love it. I put more magic water on his back twice during the day, and on Sophia's nose the one time she humbles herself enough to ask.

Sophia is still just as brazenly confident as before, but it's kind of tempered by Prim's kindness. The two of them get along well enough, although Sophia doesn't understand Prim's affection for Cato. I really don't think she understands affection at all, given the way she looks at Cato and me whenever we hold hands.

Mom makes a dinner, a great dinner by our standards but pretty unremarkable compared to Capital food. I'm expecting some sort of comment from the kids, but they just seem content to be eating at all, which is awful.

And then most of us end up in the living room. It starts as just Cato and me, because he takes me up on my suggestion to fill him in on what's true and what isn't. He's still pretty foggy on those things, and it's been a problem, so I want to fix that.

But then Prim ends up staying with us, to explain things I can't. She holds onto him when things almost get to be too much, when the altered memories get too convincing and he looks at me like he thinks I'm going to hurt him, and Silas sits with me, lets me hold him closer when I get worried about Cato. And Sophia sits next to Prim, looking at us like we're aliens. I guess in some ways, that's what we are.

We end up talking for several hours, until it's pitch black outside. We don't realize how late it's gotten until Silas makes a comment about the stars – I guess they can't see them in 2. That's when I notice that it's past midnight and Prim's almost asleep.

"You guys need to be in bed," I say, standing up. Silas winces when I touch his back, so I say, "I'll put more water on before bed."

"Thanks," he mutters.

"Prim, put Sophia in your room, okay?" I say. She nods, and the two of them go upstairs. And then I just have to worry about the three of us. We're not going to fit in my bed, so one of us will probably have to sleep on the couch.

I'm deliberating how to bring this up when Mom comes in the room. "You can have my bedroom," she says. "I'll take yours. I'm not using that big bed anyway."

"No, Mom, you don't have to do that," I start to argue, because she's my mother. She should have the bigger bedroom, just purely based on respect for her giving birth to me.

But she won't be moved. "You won us this house. Don't worry, I'll be fine. And I already moved your things."

"Thanks," I say.

"Of course. More water is up on the bed." And then she just walks away, like she didn't just do the nicest thing ever.

"Why'd she do that?" Cato says.

I just kind of shrug and lead the two of them up the stairs to the master bedroom. Mom hung everything up for me, even, all the gowns from the Victor's Tour, and the water is on the bed, just as promised. "I'm gonna shower," Cato says, and goes into the bathroom.

"Alright, get your pajamas… or something comfortable," I add when Silas gives me a confused look. "Just change. And leave your shirt off, get on the bed, okay?"

"Okay."

I turn away from him and pull on some stretchy pants, one of Cato's shirts that I've saved to sleep in. When I'm changed, I turn back to find him on the bed, lying down with his head on his arms, shirt off. His back looks better than it did before, less inflamed and puffy. "How does it feel?" I ask.

"Better, I guess."

He looks so frail, lying there. He's so thin. Not weak, but not at all muscular. He's only nine, after all. Slowly, I sit down on the bed next to him, folding one leg under myself and somehow resisting from gathering him up in my arms.

I dip my hands in the water and run them over his back, first gently, then again, pushing down harder when I'm sure he won't feel it. I feel all the knots in his back, all the tension, and I fell absolutely terrible. No kid should be this stressed.

"You're okay? You'll be able to sleep, at least?" I ask.

"Yeah. Um. In here?"

"Do you want to sleep somewhere else? Alone or something."

He shakes his head, unsure if it's okay to admit that.

"Okay, well then yeah, in here. Or wherever you want. You're safe," I assure him.

He sits up arching his back like a cat for a second, then he looks at me seriously. I don't know what he's going to do, but whatever I was thinking about, it wasn't what he does; he almost falls into me in his haste to hug me, his thin arms around my lower back, his head buried in my chest.

I'm very surprised. "What's wrong?" I ask, gingerly putting my arms over his wet back.

"Nothing," he mumbles. After a few moments, he curls his legs up underneath himself and stays there, leaning against me.

"You're okay?" I check after a few moments, because if there's something seriously injured that I've missed, then I should take care of that.

"Yeah," he says. We sit like for a while longer, and I hesitantly put one hand on his head, pulling him closer and holding him there, cradled against me. "Can you always be close by?" he says softly after a second, clinging tightly to me.

"Why would you want that?"

"Nothing bad happens when you're around."

He couldn't have broken my heart more efficiently if he wanted to. "I'll do everything I can," I say. "But I don't know how much that is." I really hate that I can't just say yes, but I'm not going to lie, either.

He doesn't complain or whine. Calmly, he asks, "Why?"

"President Snow gets mad if I break too many rules. And then he'll hurt other people I care about." I won't tell him about Cato's deal in the Capitol. That's too harsh, even for a kid like him. "He killed all of Haymitch's family. And I can't let that happen. I'm sorry. But I'll stay with you as much as possible, okay? I promise."

"Okay."

"And I'll do everything that I can to keep you safe, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll keep you here, or go home with you, or anything."

He nods, holding onto me. I ruffle his hair then smooth it down with the back of my hand, and keep doing that, messing with his hair and fixing it because it's really very soft, and I love touching it. Possibly even more than I like his brother's hair.

And then Cato comes out, hot air and a little steam escaping from the bathroom behind him. His hair is sticking up in every direction, still damp, and he's wearing a tank top and sweatpants. I guess he doesn't care about me seeing his scars anymore. He gets into bed, leaning against the headboard, and he looks at Silas and me. Silas doesn't move.

"You're okay?" Cato asks.

"Yeah, we're fine." I move against the headboard next to him, holding Silas against me. He doesn't seem to mind – just curls tighter against me and locks his arms tighter around me.

"Is he asleep?"

"No," Silas says.

"Oh." Cato looks from me to his brother, then back to me again, seemingly very worried. "So are you going to sleep?"

"Yeah, pretty soon. Feel free to."

He has no idea what's going on here, but he doesn't say anything else. After a second, he puts his hand over the back of my head, turning my head a little so I'm looking at him. And then, without any preamble, he kisses me, quickly, softly.

"What was that for?" I ask, trying not to smile at him.

"Nothing." He looks at his Silas' back, doesn't say anything, and then he doesn't do anything either. He just sits there and looks at us. After several minutes of silence, he pulls the blankets out from under and me and over my legs. He almost touches Silas' back, then stops, and gets under the blankets himself.

Just like last time Silas was on my lap, I calm down without any conscious choice on my part. My breathing slows, I'm nearly positive that my heartbeat does too. I could sit here holding him for maybe forever. I lean my head down on his head and close my eyes for a second. He's just as good as a pillow.

I'm almost asleep when Silas talks. "I don't want to be a tribute," he says softly.

Cato stiffens, whips his head around to look at Silas, and Silas seems to shrink into me, like he's scared of Cato's reaction. I don't know why, but I instinctually tighten my arms around Silas. "Okay," I say, staying calm. "All of a sudden?"

"No."

"All along?"

"Yeah."

Cato's still staring at him. I glare at him in confusion and silently will him not to speak. "And why can't you just stop training?" I ask, because I know there's a reason I'm unaware of.

"Lifetime of being an outcast," Cato says sharply. "And the rest of the tributes would beat the shit out of him. More than they do." He adds that last part reluctantly.

"Is that true?" I ask Silas, running my fingers through his hair in a way that's supposed to be comforting and apparently works.

He nods into my shoulder. "And Mom and Dad would kill me."

I'm sure that's true. "I'll try to figure something out," I say, because that's the least I can offer. He's so sweet, leaning into me and confessing these things quietly. "If there's anything I can do, I'll do it."

"But only if everyone else is okay, too."

"Okay." He's starting to feel a little cold to the touch, so I say, "Wanna put on your shirt?"

He sits up straight, grabs the shirt off the bed from behind him, and shrugs it on in a movement that is so exactly like how Cato puts on his shirts. It completely takes me by surprise; I have to take a second to recover, so I sit motionless while he snuggles back into me. He sits next to me this time, against the very soft pillows on the opposite side of where Cato is. I put my arm around him and he nestles into my side.

"You feel okay? You're going to be able to sleep?" I ask him.

"Yeah." He rubs his eyes in a little-kid-tired gesture that I recognize from Prim.

I pat his head, then push the hair off his forehead, smooth it back down. I look down at him. "So you don't want to be a tribute. What do you want to be?"

"I don't know."

"No idea?"

"They don't really give me time to think about anything."

I keep petting his hair, combing through it rhythmically, because I have this strange urge to protect him, comfort him. "What do they have you doing instead?"

"Training."

"That much training?"

He kind of shrugs one shoulder.

"What about when you're not training?"

"I'm at home."

"And you don't think about things at home?"

"Not really. I'm trying not to get hurt, mostly."

"Hurt?" I prompt after a second.

"By Mom. And Dad sometimes."

"What do they do?"

I have to ask again before he'll answer. "A lot of things."

"Like what? What do they do?"

"It doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "Everyone wants to, anyway."

"Oh, honey," I sigh, and I hold him tighter. And then I reach over for Cato with my other hand, because of what he said before. He was like Silas, too, at one point, except he didn't have anyone to tell him it was okay to be hurt, to want it to stop.

Cato lets me interlace my fingers with his, and he turns and lies down on his side, facing me, my hand cradled between his. I pull my hand free and rub the side of his head, flattening some of his still-disheveled hair, but not romantically. Just like he's my brother or something.

"I care about you," I say to him. "Both of you. I care when you're hurt."

He smiles up at me. "I know."

"Go to sleep."

"You know I don't need to, right?"

"Yeah, but you should."

"Okay." He doesn't argue. Neither did Silas. He stays cuddled into my side, though, without even attempting to lie down.

"You just going to sleep like this?" I say to Silas after a while.

"Yeah," he mumbles, half asleep.

Oddly, I'm not the slightest bit tired, even though I'm sitting here between two beautiful sleeping boys. After a little bit of quietly just sitting there, I lean over Cato and kiss the skin under his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, the corner of his jaw under his ear. All the places I've wanted to kiss but never felt girly enough to try. He smiles sleepily, but doesn't open his eyes.

And then I turn to Silas, who's officially asleep against my side, and I kiss him on the cheek. It's impossibly smooth and soft. Silas wakes up a little bit, enough to twitch his lips into a smile and pushing his face into my side. I'd never say this if he was awake, but since he isn't strictly conscious, I let myself lean down and whisper in his ear, "I love you. Even if you don't want to be a tribute."

He doesn't react, being asleep and all, but I don't need him to. I slide him down more so I can lie down and still hold on to him. Cato throws one arm over me the instant I'm horizontal. I can't tell if he's awake or not, but he's got a pretty tight grip on me.

"Shh. G'night." He tries to bring me closer, but I won't let go of Silas, so he ends up using his strength to pull both of us over to him. He puts his arm around my waist, where it seems to belong now.

I love him. So much my heart feels like it might explode in my chest. He's so unexpectedly sweet in a hundred different ways. I mean, I know he's not perfect, and he's done a lot of things in his past that are really, really bad. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't nice to be the least corrupted person in a room sometimes.

When I finally do fall asleep, it's for the whole night, without any interruptions. I have a few bad dreams that aren't too terrible, fuzzy and vaguely frightening, but none bad enough to wake me up. So instead of my own screaming, I just wake up on my own.

I don't open my eyes right away, because I'm warm and comfortable and happy, and I may never move again. Closer examination reveals Cato's arm is still over me, though Silas is gone and I'm somehow on my stomach. I don't panic about Silas; I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is. So I scoot back into Cato, closer against to his warm chest.

He wakes up then. "You're awake?" he says, his voice vibrating deep in his chest.

"Yeah."

"No dreams, then?"

"Actually no."

"That's good." He pulls me closer still, puts one leg over mine, and I'm completely surrounded, kind of almost swaddled, like a baby. The blankets are tangled in our legs, and I'm pretty sure that if I wanted to get out, I couldn't. But that doesn't bother me at all, which isn't nearly as much as it should.

"How do you feel?" I ask him. Part of me is unreasonably worried that he might suddenly not remember that he loves me. I'll probably worry about that forever.

But I don't have to worry today. "Fine. I remember everything still."

"Good."

We stay here silently for several minutes. Then I remember that we're going to see Gale today, so I say, "We should get up."

"Right." He stirs, then starts trying to untangle some of the blankets, throwing them in every direction. Finally, we get free, the air feeling surprisingly cold on my now bare legs. We both stand up, kind of unsteadily, and I stretch, pulling my arms above me. I catch him staring at me halfway through.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says, then eventually adds, "You're beautiful," which makes me blush and awkwardly not say anything. I do punch his arm, but somehow, I feel that isn't appropriate.

Together, we get dressed and head downstairs. The other kids are already up, eating at the kitchen table, so we grab some food, too, and then Silas, Cato and I left for Gale's.

I'm understandably very nervous about the whole thing. The only time Cato and Gale have been able to stand being around each other has been when at least one of them was delirious with pain, and seeing as both of them are okay right now, it doesn't bode well. Hopefully, with Cato more mellow and Silas there, things won't fall apart. As long as Gale doesn't become that strange person he's been acting like recently.

I worry the whole walk there. Silas and Cato are both silent, but when we're outside Gale's door, Cato stops me. "I'm not going to do anything stupid," he says seriously.

"Okay. But Gale might. And you might do something that makes sense but is still…" I hesitate and try to figure out how to say this tactfully. But tact has never been my strong suit, and it's awkward standing on Gale's front porch, so I end up blurting out the second thing I can think of. "I'm starting to think you'll never get along, which I guess is fine, but just don't act like you're going to beat each other up every time you see him, okay?"

Cato attempts a smile. "It's not acting."

Silas shifts uncomfortably at the same time that I do. "You know what I mean," I say.

"Yeah."

I figure that's the best we're going to get at this point, so I knock on the door. After several seconds, it opens and Gale's standing there stiffly. "Hi," he says, looking only at me. "So we're going?"

"In a second," I nod.

Cato speaks up gruffly. "I overreacted yesterday. I don't want to keep you guys from being friends." Maybe it's just me, but I think he puts emphasis on that last word.

Gale looks at him for a long second. "That's good," he finally says. "And I'm not going to try to… I'm not risking my friendship with her."

That makes me feel slightly better. I'd never risk my friendship with him, either, and it's nice to hear he feels the same way. "You don't have to be best friends with him," I say to Gale like I did to Cato. "But don't try to be enemies."

"Yeah. Don't feel like a couple more cracked ribs today."

Silas looks from me to Gale, and then to Cato, trying to figure out if what's happening right now should scare him or not. He seems reassured when Cato says, "See you later. I've got stuff to do." Cato looks at Silas for a second. "Stick close to Katniss," he says. His brother nods, and Cato goes, closing the door.

"Where's Hazelle and the children?" I ask Gale. The house is suspiciously quiet.

"School. And in town, getting new clothes for the boys."

I'd forgotten all about school. "Right. So should we go?"

"Sure." We walk out of the house, and then Gale goes in a different direction than I expect. "I made a new hole in the fence," he says. "They keep finding them."

"You sure this one's safe?"

"Of course. I wouldn't take you there if it wasn't. Either of you. Ever been in the woods before?" he asks Silas, who shakes his head. "It's the getting there that's the hard part. After that, it's cake. Don't worry."

I love him when he's like this, when he's doing his big brother thing. Kids make him warmer than usual, kind and relaxed. The angry crust over him fades away, and it just leaves him, the other half of me.

"Did you take care of my bow?" I ask as we draw near to the fence. Silas looks worried, glancing around us like he's expecting someone to jump out and stop us, which I guess could happen but won't consider.

"Of course I did. It's ready to go, just inside the fence. So are we gonna shoot today?"

"I'm going to. You're going to teach Silas how to be even quieter."

Silas smiles at that. We duck under the fence, one at a time, just like before except that now, electricity hums through the wires around us. Gale goes last, herding us deeper in right away, until the trees and underbrush hide us from anyone on the other side.

Already, I can tell Silas is in his element. He loves it in here, and he keeps looking around at the trees and leaves with huge eyes. "What's that?" he says after a particularly loud birdcall.

"That's a mockingjay," Gale says. "If you sing to them, they'll sing back." He glances at me, but doesn't ask me to demonstrate, thankfully.

"What's that?" Silas asks, looking sharply to his left at a rustle in the bushes. At first it doesn't seem weird, until I realize he's talking about the sound of a squirrel moving through the bushes. This is his first time in the woods, and he picked that sound out of everything else. I don't know if that's cool or frightening.

"Squirrel," Gale says, impressed. "Catnip, your bow is in that log. You gonna stay by us?"

"Mostly." I shrug, pulling my bow out. While I'm restringing it and testing the weight to make sure I'm used to it, I hear Gale ask if Silas knows how to climb. By the time I turn around, he's up in a tree, perched on a swaying thin branch.

"Damn," Gale mutters.

"Hey, doesn't that hurt?" I ask Silas, because it just occurred to me that he isn't healed by a long shot and I didn't put any magic water on his back this morning.

"No. Your mom did the water thing," he says, looking down at us.

"Then why didn't she just do it in the first place?" I mutter, slightly annoyed but not really, because Silas is amazing and I have no problem with anything that gets me closer to him. "Are you guys gonna be quiet, or do I have to get away to accomplish anything?"

"No we'll be quiet," Gale promises.

So today is the first time we hunt together. I'm relatively positive it won't be the last.

When we get back to our house, Cato and Prim are sitting next to each other on the couch, watching the television on the opposite wall. "What have you two been up to?" I ask curiously.

"Nothing," Cato says, and Prim doesn't argue.

"Okay then. What are you watching?" My shoes are a little muddy, so I kick them off and shrug off my leather jacket, then go to sit by Cato, snuggling into his arm. Every time I come back to him and he still wants to be with me, it's a gift, one I'll never get tired of. The next time I come back to him, I'll always expect him to hate me again.

"It's the Quarter Quell. Snow's going to announce the new set of rules," he says, somehow getting me even closer. I guess he likes me liking him or something.

"And you just weren't going to tell me?" I frown.

Prim answers that one. "Katniss, I told him you'd be back by now, and you are. Plus, if we told you about it, you'd just be freaking out all day."

"You've got a point," I admit, putting my arm around Silas when he sits next to me. Snow comes on screen and Cato stiffens for just a second. "Hey, hey," I say softly. "We're gonna get you out of that deal with him, okay? You're gonna be safe."

"Right," he says. "Of course."

And then Snow speaks, staring straight through the television at me. "To illustrate the differences in all of us, there will be two games this year. One game with one tribute selected from the eligible children of each district, and a separate game with the most recent victor from each district. The victor of each will fight each other to the death. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

I don't hear anything after that; I barely remember seeing anything. My mind is consumed with one thing only – panic. Complete, pure panic as this indisputable fact sinks in.

I'm going to be in the games again. Cato's going to be in them again. And this time, I don't see any way out.