Peeta
It's just a sea of hands, forty, fifty people grabbing my hands, my arms, my clothes, shoving me backwards. I hear the crowd gasp and my pulse slams hard in my throat. Adrenaline rushes through me and I push back with enough strength that crowd can't help but part and I can finally see. Gale is stilled tied to the post, unconscious. The turkey he caught this morning is nailed to the pole above his head. Katniss is on her knees between Gale and his attacker. Her face is dripping with the blood, which she spits defiantly on the ground before shoving herself back to her feet. She stares down the assailant – a new Peacekeeper with a shiny new uniform splattered in new blood. He shouts something indiscernible at Katniss and she glares at him. This must be what it was like to watch Katniss in the Games. She's heroic. Defiant. I feel hands on my body and I realize the townspeople are trying to pull me back.
"We can't lose both of you," I hear one of them say as I shove against them. That's when I hear a familiar voice and all movement stops.
"Hold it!" the voice barks. Haymitch steps up and plants himself between Katniss and the Peacekeeper. He turns his back to the silver-haired man with the whip and faces Katniss. All natural instinct tells you to never turn your back to an attacker, but he's clever beyond words. He's making the Peacekeeper seem unimportant. He's not a threat, not even a worry. Haymitch touches Katniss's chin and assesses her bloody face. "Well that's just great. She's got a wedding dress photo shoot in the Capitol next week. What am I supposed to tell her stylist?"
Haymitch turns back to the Peacekeeper, as if suddenly he is the one at fault. The crowd of people it's absolutely silent. To everyone else, Haymitch has been nothing but a bumbling drunk, and yet here he is, talking back to a Peacekeeper, protecting his own. Acting irritated even, as if he'd somehow been the one wronged and not the armed men circling the square. He doesn't even blink. His breath is even. If he's terrified, he's not showing it.
"Well? Who gave you permission to mess up my victor's pretty little face?" Haymitch barks at him. The Peacekeeper is at a loss, but the anger brewing inside him isn't as controlled. He screams back at Haymitch.
"She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal!" the man with bellows.
"I don't care if she blew up the damn Justice Building!" Haymitch spits back. Some in the crowd laugh and it does nothing but infuriate the man more. I take advantage of the distraction, finally breaking free from the crowd. I sprint forward and plant myself in front of Katniss and Gale.
"He's her cousin," I answer. Haymitch shoots me a look, clearly pissed that now he's got two victors on the line. I don't care. This man will have to beat his way through me and Haymitch before he lays a hand on Katniss and Gale. "And she's my fiancée, and if you want to lay another hand on my family, you're gonna have to go through me first."
And so the three of us stand there, between the whip and Gale. Three victors in defiance of the Capitol.
Madge
There's no one in the Hob. I stand with the silver coin in my hand, the last of the money I took with me when I left my family. I saw an old leather coat at Hesther's stand last week, shoulders wide enough for Gale and fur lining the inside. I know it will likely be more than I have, but I'm willing to bring her future game. I'm not sure she'll let me take it on credit, but it doesn't seem to matter because the Hob is practically empty.
It's not like peddlers to leave their merchandise unattended. A desperate person might steal, but I stare at the tables of food and liquor and supplies before I shove the coin back in my pocket. That's when I hear a sound like I've never heard before – like the crack of lightening but closer. I look around and the abandoned Hob and something in my stomach feels very wrong. I hear it again, somewhere in the near distance.
I start running toward the Hob entrance when the whole structure goes up in flames. The fire is quick – drinking the oxygen and paper-thin linen and dry, old wooden walls. There's only one way in or out of the Hob. When the hot air reaches my face my lungs react and I hack uncontrollably. I wrap my scarf around my face and look around desperately, though the black smoke makes my eyes sting. My hands fumble aimlessly from table to table. I know what I'm looking for. When my fingers graze a smooth, wooden box I know I've found the woodworker's table. I practically knock it over sweeping my arms desperately until I find what I'm looking for. The handle is long and smooth, the blade at its head heavy. I grab the axe and go to the nearest wall. I swing it over my head and it whacks loudly into the wooden wall. I try again and my second blow lands nowhere near the first. It's nearly impossible to control but just swing again and again and again until little bits of light start peeking through the holes. When it seems like I've done some damage, I kick at the wall. I'm not particularly strong, but the desperation seems to be winning as small parts of the wall give way. When it's finally big enough for me to squeeze through I drop the axe and push myself out.
The cold winter air bites my face cruelly. The wood scratches and pokes my sides as I shimmy through. I fall gracelessly to the ground, my chest heaving as I try to breathe the frozen air into lungs full of black smoke. I force myself to my feet and start to hobble back to Town when a rush of people hits me heading the other way – fleeing the square. Merchants enter their shops and lock their doors tight. Seamsfolk push past me on their way out of Town. That's when I capture the scene they've left behind.
Gale, tied to a pole, wrists above his head, blood dripping down his body.
Katniss, her face swollen and dripping blood, sawing at the ropes holding him up.
Peeta and Haymitch and a few other men approaching with a board.
I turn and I run.
Haymitch
The Hawthorne kid is heavy. He's lucky he's out. I don't know how long that luck will last. I watch the back of the man ahead of me. A miner, I think. We move silently as we had up toward Victor's Village. That's where the only healer is now.
When we reach Katniss's lawn that pretty little girl peeks her head out. It's like watching her age in fast forward. When she realizes what's going on, the innocence of youth disappears from her face. Her pink lips set into a straight line, her eyes harden, her jaw clenches.
"Mom!" I hear her scream as she bolts back into the house, leaving the front door wide open.
The stairs aren't easy. By the time we deposit the Seam boy on the kitchen table every muscle in my body hurts, but I can't really complain as I watch the two Everdeen women pick pieces of dead flesh from the boy's body. I dismiss the men who helped us, offering them each some money which is promptly refused.
When I go back to the kitchen Katniss is watching stoically as her mother and sister work quickly to clean and close as many wounds as they can. Peeta stands behind her, as if ready to catch her should she fall. Lily gestures to Prim, who pauses her work to go assess Katniss's face. She protests, twisting her chin in her sister's hand. I look at the gash. This is not good. This will look like an act of cruelty from the Capitol. If we could travel we could polish it off, but Katniss won't be leaving the district again for months.
"'Scuse me," I mutter, though I doubt anyone heard. I duck out the front door and head across the lawn. The district is so silent I can hear the soft soles of my shoes crunch against the snow. When I look down to Town, a black billow of smoke rises above the District.
The Hob is burning.
I'm on the phone with Effie barely a minute. She knows what I can't say, what I need. That woman knows more than she lets on. I reach in my cabinet and swish my mouth with white liquor before swallowing it. I steel my stomach and head back across the snow.
Madge
I rap my knuckles hard and fast on the front door. It stings and I shake my hand before clenching my fist and banging. I've walked through this door a million times and never knocked. I've stared at it while walking through town on my way to the Hob. It's haunted my dreams. It's kept me from my family – my mother, my dad. And now it's keeping me from the only thing that will really help right now.
I pound my fist again.
"Miss Undersee," Hannah murmurs as she opens the front door, tucking a loose piece of coal black hair behind her ear. Hannah is my family's maid. She's from the Seam, has three kids of her own. She's technically a government employee charged with caring for the mayor's house, whoever the mayor may be. It wasn't her job, but she basically raised me too. My mother spent most of her days locked in her room and my father was so busy trying to make sure the District didn't starve to death that he hardly had time for me. Sunday was our special day, where we'd eat strawberries and play games. The rest of the week I had Hannah.
"You must be freezing, Miss Undersee," Hannah whispers, and for a second I think I see the flash of a tear in her eye.
"Madge," I correct her. There's no reason for deference between us now. There never really was.
"Well come in!" Hannah offers, stepping to the side. "Should I take your coat?"
"No, no that won't be necessary," I answer. I'll probably get thrown out of the house before I even make it to my mother's room. I grab the railing to the stairs and walk my way up slowly. I walk past my old room and I can't help but drag my feet for a moment and peek inside. Not an item has been touched since I left. It's like a museum to who I once was, full of artifacts and bits of a life I once had. I close the door and hide the room away again. Hide away what was my life. It's only a few more steps before I arrive at what I came for.
I try to steel myself as I wrap my hand around the knob to my mother's room. My parents haven't shared a bed in as long as I can remember. My father's room is down the hall at the end. Our rooms hugged my mother's on either side, as if we were holding her up. I clear my throat and knock as I open the door.
My mother is in her bed. She's sitting up, her back against the headboard. She's wearing a fresh white nightgown that Hannah must have pressed with starch, Her blonde hair is braided back into a tight mane that runs down her back. Hannah probably did that too. Hannah is paid to be the caretaker of the house, but she's very much the caretaker of our family. My mother's pupils are dilated and she doesn't seem to notice me as I enter the room. Her head bobs slightly and I hold my breath as I walk across the room. Heel toe. Heel toe. When I reach her nightstand the drawer sticks and my eyes shoot up to my mother, worried she's going to reach out a hand and slap my wrist. She's out of it though. The drawer finally gives in and I find what I'm looking for.
There are five or six boxes in the drawer, all identical. I take one from the drawer and lift the lid to find six tiny glass bottles of morphling. My mother stirs and I slap the lid shut.
"Hannah," my mother slurs. "Hannah?"
"Yes?" I answer, my voice tiny in my throat.
"I had the most wonderful dream. I dreamt Madge was home. I dreamt she came to see me. I dreamt…"
I want her to say more but her speech drawls to a hum and her head bobs back down. My heart slams in my chest as I tuck the box in my waistband of my pants and I tug my sweater back down. I run out of her room and down the stairs.
"Madge! Madge! Where are you going? Can't you stay?" Hannah calls after me. At the word stay my feet slam to a stop.
"I'm sorry," is all I can manage before I dash out the door. It's already getting dark. My legs burn as I sprint toward Victor's Village. I've already wasted too much time.
Peeta
Katniss digs at the snow with her shoe as Prim tries to apply a second round of medicine to her face. She squirms, although it's not pain that's driving her movements, it's impatience.
"If you don't sit still it will take me longer to get back to Gale," Prim harps and Katniss's limbs go still. Her mother threw her out of the house after she tripped on Katniss's feet for the third time. She hovered over Gale like the mother of a sick child. It was only after Hazelle arrived that Katniss agreed to stay out of the kitchen.
Gale's been awake now for about twenty minutes. It's made things much worse for everyone. He's sweating and panting and moaning. He's almost delirious with pain. Another noise comes from the kitchen and Katniss whips her head toward the house.
"He'll be alright," I whisper, stroking her thumb with mine while she clenches the rest of my hand in an iron grip. I regret the words the moment they cross my lips.
"You don't know that," she spits out. She pushes when she's upset. She pushes me away. I know better than to let her, but I know better than to pull her closer too. It's when she's pushing that I dig my feet in. It's when she's pushing that she needs me not to budge. She doesn't want to be smothered or placated. She just wants me there, even if she doesn't know it.
Katniss stares off into the distance as Prim smooths the ointment over her cheekbone. I hear creaking on the porch behind us and find Haymitch leaning against the pole.
"Boy's okay for now," he says, but no sooner are the words in the air than a wail follows him out the door. I can hear Gale panting through the pain.
There's nothing any of us can do. Mrs. Everdeen mixed some sleep syrup but all it did was make Gale unable to focus on anything. Maybe he won't be able to remember any of this, but it doesn't take away the fact that in this moment, he's in agony.
That's when a tiny figure on the horizon steals my attention from the sobs inside the house. It's running toward Victor's Village, feet sloppy against the slick snow.
"No! They can't have him!" Katniss says, shooting to her feet, fist clenched.
When the blonde hair comes into detail I realize it's not an invading Peacekeeper. It's Madge.
She's a mess. The skin around her nostrils and the corners of her mouth is black. The ends of her hair look singed, like she stood too close to the oven.
"Madge, what happened to you?" I ask, stepping toward her.
She ignores me and looks only at Katniss.
"Here. This is for Gale," she insists, shoving the box in Katniss's hands. Katniss lifts the lid, but whatever is in the black cardboard box changes her entire demeanor.
"Thank you," Katniss says sincerely before rushing inside the house.
That's when Madge hacks up smoke-singed phlegm and Prim forces her to sit on the steps as she listens to her lungs.
Too many patients, not enough healers.