CHAPTER XX

"Katniss, you beautiful girl, you have outdone yourself!" Effie's delight reaches out through the telephone receiver. "I take it the box arrived?"

"My dear, did it ever! It arrived yesterday, and there have been such positive developments since it came that I had to wait to give you a full and glowing report." "Positive developments?" My ear catches that hopeful phrase.

"Yes, yes, so positive! Peeta has been joyous since your box arrived. Well, sometimes he is quiet and contemplative, but oh how he smiles - such a handsome boy. It's like you delivered him a box of sunshine. How ever did you come up with such items? I didn't understand many of them, but your Peeta sure did. Who knew a dirty old apron could make someone so happy."

A place deep in my chest feels warm. Happy. I made him happy. What a rare achievement.

"He's been utterly energized by the experience. I'll have to watch that he doesn't work too hard, but for now he is thriving and oh so motivated. You and I Katniss, we make quite the pair. Who would have ever thought that?"

She shares some stories from the past week, commenting on Peeta's progress, her opinions of the staff, and the juiciest gossip she's heard of late. Octavia visited earlier in the week to help Peeta understand what happened after the Quell. According to Effie, he was still in the dark about much of what happened. Octavia not only spent the day answering questions about 13 and life as the Mockingjay, but she cleaned up Peeta and Effie's "ghastly overworked nails" and delighted Peeta by smuggling in a pocketful of her newly adopted baby mice. She promised to return soon with Venia and Flavius in tow.

Octavia was a good choice. She's a gentle soul like Peeta. She also paid close attention to the dynamics of 13 and stuck close to me after I pulled her and the others from Coin's disgusting prison cell. Venia could offer a less emotional perspective should Peeta have more questions. Flavius... well Flavius could offer cheeky comments and an impressive haircut.

The feast Sae prepared from the venison filets inspired what was likely the first celebration of the reviving District 12. With work crews now somewhere shy of two hundred, the meat was in small portions so Sae wisely mixed in plenty of hearty sides, but the men gladly savored the opportunity to sample a quality of cut very few had ever seen. Even from my backyard, the revelry could be heard late into the evening.

The next week, I continued to take Samson out after breakfast. Whatever we bagged we'd offer fresh to Sae then store away the rest in the freezer of one of the empty Victor's mansions. It's too easy to climb in through the windows and the freezers were just begging to be put to good use. Sam always wanted to be out longer, a feeling I could sympathize with, however there was more to do than just shoot.

When I wasn't suggesting he improve his arm strength and accuracy at the target, I was showing him how to save the antlers, sinew, and hide. I've never been able to waste any usable piece of game, there's been too many years of clinging to whatever I could get my hands on to provide for the family. He'd seen me do some quick handling with rabbit pelts and the like, but to save something as valuable as buckhide, more effort and care is required. I explain the Everdeen family's "S" process and we slowly pass the days scraping, salting, soaking, slurrying, stretching, softening, and, finally, smoking.

With the garden starting to thrive, I found myself wanting to spend some time in it daily. The heart of spring is approaching, and life is sprouting all around us. The quiet task feels like a balm to the troubled thoughts and residual nightmares. I take special care of the wildflower row that I privately dedicated to Prim, somehow feeling closer to her. I even found myself asking Sae to place another order to prepare for the summer.

With some shock, I realized that I was starting to think of the future. It wasn't a distant future, not any more than a month, but it was much more than living day-to-day or worse, when I wasn't really living at all. What has changed? I try to think, but nothing is really that different. My little daily activities now require more time, more commitment. I wake up and despite how miserable I may feel or how strong that emptiness might ache in my chest, I know something is depending on me. A wild garden or an eager 12-year old or Sae's empty skillet, I put my broken pieces back together for them.

From my occasional eavesdropping and Thom's updates, the construction is on schedule. The crews are enjoying the work and are happy to be in 12. He says that all the crews are proud to be putting our district back together and many have already asked about settling permanently. He joked that it likely is the effect of Sae's fine cooking. Who'd ever want to leave that? Sae has several wives and sisters now helping her with meals who also shower little Ana with attention. Her house plays host to a parade of forgettable government representatives as they come in and out to consult.

Beginning at eight, the sound of machinery echoes through the district. Trains and hovercrafts arrive and depart on a regular basis. In only a couple of weeks, several structures have already been erected and the foundations laid for the first block of residences. Some of the crews continue cleanup away from the build sites while others are dedicated to connecting the power and water systems. It's a luxury for homes in 12 that I never imagined before I moved into Victors Village. I have since heard that it is a simple process that was kept from District 12 solely because of Snow's desire to have us in difficult circumstances. The less basic human needs you have met, the less trouble you'll cause. You won't fight the government if you're too busy fighting to stay warm and clean. A theory that worked for decades, until it didn't; until it was too much to bear and the only choice was to turn our pain to its source, the Capitol.

I don't attempt to visit the progress; the updates are enough for me. It will be disorienting to see all that I have known so well now completely new. It is the proper course for things, but I will avoid it for as long as I can. The Village and the woods provide more than enough for me.

After a wild impulse born from a morning discovery, I send a spent Sam home early for the day. During this morning's trek into the woods, we decided to veer off our usual paths to explore. Along the way we stumbled across three beautiful saplings. I was drawn in by their reddish-brown bark and white 5-petal flowers but felt a thrill when I caught sight of the clusters of pale green orbs dangling from its stems. Though they looked like grapes now, I was certain we had stumbled across plum trees. I convinced Samson to help me transplant the small trees to the yard. With some digging, dragging, and carting, the bundled saplings made it to the back garden. Before Sam leaves, I hand him some hard candies as a reward for his labors.

Being on the cusp of May, the afternoon is warm and bright. Now alone in the garden, I can pull off my sweater to work in my tank. My scars are improving with Prim's lotions, but they will always be there.

I want to replant the trees immediately and, in an area that gets plenty of sunlight, start digging three holes twice the size of the root balls. Sweat forms quickly but fortunately it isn't the height of summer yet. I use my body weight to push the first tree into the hole then position the second to do the same. As I approach the third, my ears catch to sound of deep-voiced shouts far in the distance. I pull off my gloves and still myself to try and better distinguish the sounds when I hear Sam hysterically yelling my name. On instinct and adrenaline, I grab my bow and sheath and run towards the nearing sound of his shouts.

"Quick! Something attacked outside the cabin! I heard the yelling and some huge, I don't know, a roar or something! It sounded like there was fighting. I went to look but Sae grabbed me and told me to run here."

Roaring. That can't be right. What? I grab his shoulders. "An animal? You're sure?" His whole body is shaking, "I don't know! I don't know! It must be. No way it was human."

I try to think through the barrage of unbelievable information in a matter of milliseconds. A pack of wild dogs maybe, a feral bobcat perhaps. At the end of the street near the gates I see Sae on her front porch. "Get Haymitch. Stay with him and go to Sae's. Unless you're with him stay inside," he stares at me. "Go!"

I run down the Village avenue towards the sounds of shouts and clattering. My body is alert and my bow at the ready. This familiar edge, the pounding energy from adrenaline, floods my body like an old friend taking control.

Sae shouts from her steps, "It's comin' from the back of the cabin."

I stay in motion, arrow knocked, and adjust my direction to the forest side of the cabin. The shouts of what might be two men are full of fear. Then I hear it, the roar, as that is exactly what it is. That is no cougar or coyote. I slow my pace and stalk into unknown territory. Still shocked at what I'm becoming increasingly certain I am about to encounter

A massive clang startles me unexpectedly. A terrified cry follows. I follow the noise to its source, a metal container the size of a small train car ten yards away. I move closer and amid the yells and cries I hear the sound of furious growls and snorts. Before me are two young men one supine and unconscious, his white shirt quickly becoming red, and the second clutching a large metal pole extended as a weapon pointed at his attacker. The entire area is upturned with broken and scattered items strewn about. It takes every bit of self-control not to gasp.

The last time I faced such an animal I was young and stupid and dead set on bringing some honey home for Prim. But that creature was nothing, a mere toy, something almost playful compared to this one.

The bear before me is larger than I thought was possible without mutation. Watching it pop its jaws and swat the ground with its enormous front paws, It must be over 500 pounds - 500 hundred infuriated pounds. The man appears to be doing all of the worst things possible to deescalate the situation. Each of his actions the bear interprets as a threat, however the man is simultaneously cowering and showing his weakness. If you ignore the metal weapon, he looks an awful lot like foolish prey.

My heart stops as the black predator rears back and stands on his hind legs. His body towers around seven feet or more, as he let out a bone-rattling roar. A sound I will never forget. It is hard to not freeze at such a magnificent sight, but I recognize immediately that this is my best chance. He's posturing and opening up his vitals for a clear shot. He needs to go down quickly, a bear that size could likely rampage for a long time otherwise. I can only guess where the heart and lungs are located and I decide that I'll just fire as many as I can as quickly as possible.

I double load the bow, aim, and release the pair of arrows then reload twice in immediate succession. Two hit his upper chest cavity, the third into his shoulder joint, and the fourth a lower leg. He stumbles onto his back from the force and is attempting to stand to run but his front leg won't hold. He falters about as his energy wains. I run into the area and shout at the man still frozen in shock, "Move, now!" He drops the metal and runs to his fallen friend's side. I fire two more shots hoping to end the suffering.

Such a beautiful creature should be safely prowling the mountains not felled by my arrows in the middle of the district. He no longer moves but I won't risk getting anywhere near until I am without a doubt sure it is dead. I lower my weapon and take in the scene. I notice the dents and claw marks on the large metal container, food scraps littered about. I become aware of the faint smell of trash and clarity hits. The one man is hunched over the inert one, timorously pulling at the tattered cloths looking for the source of the injuries. He doesn't seem to know what he's looking for, just frightened for his friend's life.

Thom and the man I recognize as Max, barrel into the clearing from the other end of the cabin. They run towards us not even noticing the mammoth bear on the ground directly in their path. "Stop!" I shout. Max's eyes widen and he snags Thom by the back of his jacket before he can step closer. "Holy hell!"

"Thom, keep people out. I'm not sure it's completely dead yet. We need a medic," I yell out, catching sight of the amount of blood.

I kneel next to the sobbing man and he looks at me with a thousand questions in his eyes and not a single one in his mouth. His hands flutter across his partner's face and chest not knowing what to do. I find a pulse and can see the shallowest of breathing, "He's still alive." I say it both for my own and my companion's comfort. I scan his torso and neck and don't see an open wound, but by the state of his ruined shirt and the blood soaked grass, they'll be more to see once we turn him over.

I think about everything I know - from years of watching my mother, from the Games, the war, and the journal. "Give me your shirt," I demand. I'll need something to staunch the blood and my small tank is out of the question. My tone must not garner any discussion on the topic because he yanks it over his head without pause. I take the garment and we turn the body over.

An involuntary hiss, escapes through my teeth at the sight. The wound stretches across his shoulders and down the back of his arm, one long angry claw mark. The bloody slashes pull me back to Gale being flayed at the whipping post. I push past the darkness and use the shirt to start applying pressure to the wound. My hands aren't large enough to cover its entirety and with a huff I grab the other man's hands and push them down on the over half of the injury.

Max makes his way to my side, having approached the long way around. "How bad is it, Miss Everdeen?"

"Claw marks, I'd guess the bear took a swipe and he curled away. A lot of blood loss, but I don't think anything vital was hit. He's still unconscious. Where can we move him for your medic?"

"We've got first aid medics but no doctors. They travel with med kits and have experience with tourniquets or gunshot wounds from the war but nothing like this."

This many men and only basic aid, how did that happen? But war wounds can't be so different, right? I know the cuts need to be cleaned and likely stitched closed. We need clean water, maybe some ice, sterile cloths, something to kill whatever might have transfered from the bear's claws. He'll need something for the pain, too.

"A room in the dormitory can be found but the supplies are limited to the kits they carry. Thom's sent for one of the aids, they were all out with the construction crews."

"Too long," I mumble. To get there and back could be another half hour. What would my mother do?

You've got a full apothecary at your house, Katniss. Stop being a coward and take them there.

"Give me your shirt," I demand of the brawny Sergeant Major. He promptly consents. I should be concerned with how good I've apparently gotten at demanding unknown men to strip. I pull my spare knife from my boot and rip the shirt into strips. "My mother is a healer. I still have her supplies." I wrap and tightly bind the strips wherever I can find a point to anchor them. My eye scans the area again.

"Ladder," I point to the side of the building where one is tipped. He moves to retrieve it without hesitation and runs back with it. "Keep the pressure. Don't be gentle," I remind my silent assistant as I push up to stand. There's a tarp under some debris and I drag it over and spread it over the length of the ladder. "We'll move him to my place and your aids can meet us there."

Max looks at me, checking to see if I'm serious, then firmly nods. I take over applying pressure while the other man assists Max in moving the body. Once in position, they lift the ladder like a stretcher. As we pass through the gate, Haymitch is standing guard on Sae's porch. Upon our appearance, he shouts something into the house and runs down with an appearance of complete sobriety. He grabs a side of the ladder with one hand, and mirrors my hand's pressure with the other.

"Bear attack. Clawed," I tell Haymitch.
"Alive?"
"Him yes, bear no."
"How bad?"
"Better than a whipping."
"Yours?" he asks, and I understand he means our direction.
I nod.

As much as Haymitch drives me mad, no one can communicate with me like he can. He knows what I need from him before I ask. Releasing his side, he bounds up the steps and opens my front door. By the time we make it in, he's already cleared off the long kitchen table and is hauling in an armful of towels. A little over a year ago we laid Gale's torn body on this same table. How much has the world changed since then? Yet, here we are going through the same motions.

I hand him my knife and look pointedly at the body on the table before running off to the study. I grab the basket of rolled linens and a large syringe I remember my mother using to push water through to clean out deeper wounds.

When I return to the kitchen, Haymitch has successfully cut through the remaining clothing and thankfully draped a towel over the parts that would make me blush. Thankfully his teasing has a time and place. I move to the sink where a pot is already filling with cool water and haul it over to the table and put another on the stove to boil.

Untying and removing the bloodied shirts, I set Max and Haymitch to cleaning him while I grab his still unnamed companion and place his shocked body into a chair. In the wake of their work, I fill the syringe with water and start irrigating the injured man's wounds. It's a messy business but the marks are cleaner cuts compared to Gale's jagged shreds. I place down a layer of fresh gauze and then put another layer of fabric atop it as I hear Sae's voice directing two more men through the doorway. They surge into action, asking Max a slew of questions. The blonde medic checks his pulse then turns to me to let them see the damage. I warn, "He'll need stitches." The man nods in agreement. "We'll need to send for another kit. They don't give us the thread for an injury that size." I hand them my mother's stitch kit and quietly step aside to let them take it from here.

Max has moved to the man in the chair. "He's going to be okay, Bailey. The boys will fix him right up." Embarrassed at remembering my sleevelessness and their shirtlessness, I grab a new sweater to cover up my scars and two thick towels from the linen cupboard. I hand one to Max and place the other around the man's shoulders to help ease the shock. Max whispers to me, "They're brothers." My hands tighten around his shoulders

As I wash my hands and arms, Haymitch stands beside me. "We're going to need some Capitol grade meds to fight off the fever, the easy way." I nod. I had been thinking the same thing. I take another look at him, tilting my head in thought. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about my mother's strongbox of Capitol drugs, would you?" His mouth breaks into a grin. "It's still here then? I thought it might have been used or taken during the evacuation. Lead the way, sweetheart."

I take him back to the study and we carry the strongbox to the desk. "Let's see," he says as he starts to pull out boxes. "After Gale, I made some calls and had Plutarch reach out to a contact from the Games' labs and smuggle these out to your ma. Figured she should be prepared for anything. Ahh, here we go." He grabs a pale blue vial and one vial of morphling and brings it out to Max and the medics. As he explains what the vials contain, they are clearly surprised, Max especially flabbergasted, but all elated.

Sae pulls me aside. "What do you want to do with the bear?" I look at her, bewilderment painted on my face before it hits. Oh hell, the bear. I sigh and rest my forehead on the doorframe, already exhausted at the idea.

"I'll need someone to stay here. Do you have to start dinner?" "No, I've got the ladies handling it tonight. I can watch the place for you." Haymitch wanders over in inquisitiveness. I tilt my head from the doorframe to look at him, "Ever want to field dress a bear?"

We leave the house in Sae's hands. She knows where everything is and will stop any strangers from wandering. Thom is sending a runner off as Haymitch and I approach the cabin. "How is Avery?" That must be Bailey's brother's name. "They're stitching him up. Haymitch found some Capitol meds that will help." His face displays his obvious relief. "You here for the bear?" I nod and he leads the way.

"Goddamn, sweetheart. You took that down with an arrow?" Haymitch's eyes bulge at the black furred monstrosity. "Hmm, six arrows," I clarify.

As we approach, Thom looks queasy and Haymitch looks as if the bear might wake at any moment. I take a broken plank of wood from the debris and prod at the bear to make sure it's dead. This is going to take all night. I glance at Haymitch, and he seems to be thinking the same thing.

"Next time you have a runner, can we send for some help? Haymitch and I can make due, but will eventually need to move it." I grab another sheet of tarpaulin and lay it beside the bear. I take a deep breath, "You ready?" I ask Haymitch, then turn to Thom, "This is about to get messy. I won't be offended if you leave." He backs up, but a morbid curiosity seems to keep him within watching distance. Haymitch's gruff voice mumbles with humor, "You always keep things exciting, don't you sweetheart."

We remove the entrails and start draining by the time Samson arrives with two hulking men. I'm being forced to meet far too many people for just one day. Thadd and Lennox, as they are introduced, are unbelievably polite despite their resemblance to brick walls. "You did need some muscle, sweetheart." They ask about what happened as we roll the bear onto the tarp and drag it to the tree line. It takes the two of them plus Thom, Haymitch, and I to lift the bear.

Thom carries over a table and Samson drops down an armful of pots and pans. " I'm going to need more than just Haymitch if we want to have any hope of being done by nightfall. Either of you have a strong stomach and are good with a knife?" Thadd explains that he's from 10 and worked in cattle processing before the war. Lennox, from 11, offers to stay and assist despite his lack of experience. Mostly, I think both don't want to pass up the opportunity for a good story. "Did I ever tell you about the time I skinned a bear with the Mockingjay?"

They offer stories of home, the war, or life on the crew to pass the time and Haymitch chimes in with snarky comments that set off ripples of laughter. Their gregariousness helps pass the hours. With some effort, we remove the enormous pelt and a third of the meat by the time dinner is ready. Thom keeps the crowds away from the back of the cabin and I send Sam off to eat. The gents choose to stay with me to work through the meal so we can finish before dark.

Oakley carries over trays of food for us and assigns someone to ferry the twelve containers of bear meat into any empty Village freezer he can find. Lennox starts a fire and we sit in the grass to dig in.

Lennox turns to me hesitantly. "Beg your pardon ma'am, but I have to ask. You're not the least bit crazy are you?" Haymitch snorts and starts violently coughing. Subtle Haymitch.

In my exhaustion, I decide to answer with truthful gravity, "No one makes it through the Games without losing a little sanity. I did it twice." I turn my face to the stars and breathe in the clean night air. "But to your point, no, I'm no lunatic. I shoot presidents for very good reasons."

Haymitch snorts again. "Geeze, sweetheart. Maybe dial back the honestly just a hair."

None of the others seem concerned so I shrug. What do I care? Thom changes subjects, "Katniss, why do you think the bear attacked?"

I'd been stewing over that question for a good portion of the evening. Animals are not complicated creatures. I understand their motives much better than their human counterparts. "Am I correct in assuming that this container is where you dump trash and food?" At their confirmation I explain, "He followed his nose. After months of no activity, they must not avoid the area as much. I've spent most of my life out there in these woods and I've only seen a black bear once and a small one at that. By the looks of it, he thought he found an easy meal and tried to climb in. It wasn't pleased to be interrupted. You're going to want to find a better disposal system. This will keep drawing out scavengers."

"At least we know the fence had some actual purpose," he notes.

"Is there a common room or something in that cabin?" I ask Thadd. "There's a meeting room with a fireplace and some couches. Why?"

I chuckle, eyes sparkling, and look at Haymitch. He guffaws at me, then explains knowingly, "She's got a 7-foot bear pelt and a 12-year-old she's going to refuse to take hunting for a while. How'd you boys like a nice bear skin rug for the cabin?"