Down on one knee, I hold my rifle stead force myself to inhale and exhale. My sights are focused on my target, and he does not have the slightest clue that I am about to put a bullet in his head.

Keep your hands steady Peeta, you only get one shot.

Ok, now breath out and pull the trigger.

I fire, and my target is dead. The buck slumps down onto the ground without so much as a struggle.

"Good shot.", observed Katniss, who was kneeling next to me. "You might not be useless after all."

Compared to curt answers and thinly veiled hostility she had for me the first few days we hunted together, this qualifies as a compliment. She is starting to warm up to me, or at least I hope so. I have been giving part of my paycheck to help support her family, but Katniss's interactions seem to go beyond mere gratitude.

"Spending four years at a firing range will do that for me. Though you're a much better shot than I am."

"Oh stop it."

"It's true; if you stuck an arrow in the shaft of another arrow, I would not even be surprised because you're just that good."

"You're just saying that to be nice."

I shook my head, "No; if I wanted to be nice I would tell you you're eyes are the most beautiful ones I've ever seen."

That's not entirety true: I think all the parts of Katniss are the most beautiful ones I have ever seen. From her shining hair as black as the night sky, to the grey eyes that look like stars from the heavens, to her voice which soothes my ears into a calm state and would move me to rapture if I were to hear Katniss Everdeen sing. But if I said all of this it might seem rushed, so I only share part of my feelings. At any rate, the same point is made.

"Oh stop it."

My not-so-subtle flirting caused Katness to blush a little bit.

While I have been friendly towards her, I am also make romantic gestures so she has an idea of how I feel (pretending to only be interested in friendship would be deceitful); yesterday, I went to the woods two hours early so I could pick some wild flowers to give to her.

Probably hoping to change the subject, Katniss asked me a question.

"Peeta, what is it like? You know, being a peacekeeper."

This question gives me pause. Granted, that Katniss feels comfortable enough around me to actually ask things like this is good. But how do I answer a question like this?

Peeta, answer honestly.

"I try to do the right thing, but sometimes there's no easy solution."

Keep telling yourself that: maybe some day you'll forget the faces of the people you executed on the firing squads. If you're lucky, you'll wake up one day without blood on your hands.

Fortunately, Katniss does not seem to see it this way.

"You're a good person. You're uniform does not change that."

She smiles at me, and this causes me to smile as well. I am able to actually believe her, even if only for a few moments.

We both get up to our feet, and walk over to my kill.

"It's a good sized buck. I can't exactly carry it back, so we'll-"

"Say no more." With that, I hoist the deer over my shoulders. It is very heavy, but the years of Peacekeeper Training has toned my muscles quite a bit. "So, where do you want me to take it?"

Katniss just stares open-mouthed for a few seconds. "How are you able to lift that?"

"Lots of practice. I can carry it anywhere you want."

"I know a place. Just follow me."

So Katniss lead me to a cabin in the woods. It looks old; probably built four or five generations ago. It was probably abandoned before Katniss found it.

Using ruins as shelter ... clever girl.

I lay the deer down, and we begin to skin and gut it. Normally Katniss would just take as much meat from the beast as she could carry and leave the rest to the wildlife, but now that she has a helper she can actually use all of the deer's meet and tan the deer's leather.

Normally we'd both carry the catch of the day, buuuuut I felt like showing off.

"Before I transferred here, I spent a few months stationed in a fort at the northern coast. You would have loved it there; forests and woodlands as far as the eye to see, with venison and wildlife so numerous you can't throw a stick in the woods without hitting beaver or a moose."

Katniss seems interested, "Are those mutts?"

"No. Well, the Moose is a natural animal. I'm not so sure about the beavers though, but even if they are mutts they're not vicious like Tracker Jackers. They just scurry about, building lakes with wooden dams."

Katniss cracked a smile, clearly finding my description amusing. "It sounds like a place I would have liked. Maybe if things were different we could have went there together."

Maybe we still can in the future.

No that's impractical. We'd be branded as runaways and shot on sight.

But that's not how things should be.

But that's how things are.

After the deer is skinned and stripped of its meat, I tie the skin onto a tanning rack and begin to clean the hide. Meanwhile Katniss put the meat in a smoking box where it would be preserved.

As we went about these tasks, I felt at ease. No, not simply that: I felt at peace. I was actually around Katniss, this wonderful being, this light in an otherwise bleak world, this kind and compassionate person.