Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:
"So does seven work?"
Peeta nods. "I'll be up then anyways." He smiles. "Baker's hours."
"Meet you in the Meadow?"
"I'll be there with bells on."
Oh I hope not.
oOo
Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy
oOo
Chapter Twelve: Unorthodox Way of Succeeding
oOo
"You owe it to yourself to find your own unorthodox way of succeeding, or sometimes, just surviving."
― Michael Johnson
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The sun hasn't risen when Peeta knocks at my door. In his hands are two steaming rolls, fresh from the bakery. The smell of cinnamon and sugar teases my senses, and it takes all of my self-control not to snatch the rolls from his hands and gobble them down.
As if aware of my desire, Peeta's eyes crinkle up at the corners and he motions to a bag on his belt. "I've got our breakfast in here. These are for Prim and Aven."
A rush of gratitude washes over me, and I hand him a thermos in trade. Inside is a meaty broth made from the bones of my last kill. I've got another thermos of wintergreen tea. Even though the weather isn't as bitterly cold, there's still a chill in the air and snow on the ground.
Wrapping up Peeta's presents in a towel, I quickly dash off a note to Prim before grabbing my hunting bag and slipping a knife into the pocket of my coat.
Peeta raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything.
I explain anyway. "It's never a good idea to go out into the woods unarmed."
"I'll remember that for next time."
I warm a little at his words. There's going to be a next time.
Motioning for him to keep quiet until we've cleared the line of houses, I lead him through the Seam quickly. Ever since the attack, I don't trust my neighbors to keep their mouths shut. Or at all really. All it would take is one word in the wrong person's ear and my hunting days would be over.
When we reach the Meadow, I let out a sigh of relief.
Peeta notices. "Is something wrong?"
"Kind of," I answer, my eyes darting to and fro. "Let's wait until we're on the other side of the fence."
He gives me a look but doesn't press. Good. Because we're almost at the fence.
When we get there, I show him how to listen for electricity running through the wires: a sound that's somewhere between the buzzing of a bee and the hum of a television set right before it turns on for Mandatory Viewing. I try to hum out the frequency as best I can.
He seems to understand.
As usual, the fence isn't on. Moving down a few yards, I lead him to the loose section where Prim and I slip under the fence. It's a tight fit. Peeta's broader and bulkier than either Prim or myself, but he makes it. Once we're in the woods, I show him how to pick out animal tracks in the snow. A rabbit here. A squirrel there. Someone's cat. A wild dog. In a few spots near well-traveled trails, I pause to set a snare.
"Will you show me how to do that?" Peeta asks, motioning to it.
"Later I'll have you practice tying knots," I tell him while positioning a few twigs. "But first you need to learn how to identify game trails. Besides, it's better to learn how to tie a knot someplace warm than out here where you can freeze your fingers off." I pull my mittens on for emphasis.
"That's a good point."
I lead him to the hollow log where I hide my bow and push off the last of the snow, then motion for him to sit down.
"Breakfast?" he asks.
"Definitely."
With a smile, he pulls out two rolls wrapped in cloth and hands them to me before fishing a second package out of his pouch. Unwrapping the treasure, I discover not only the cinnamon roll he'd showed me earlier but also a slightly burnt cheese bun. My mouth waters and I can't resist any longer. I pick up the roll and bite into it. Cinnamon and sugar dance over my tongue. Even better, it's still warm inside. I haven't tasted anything as good in weeks. Not since Peeta's tesserae bread. I lean my head back in pleasure, letting out a low moan.
"You like?"
I nod, taking another bite.
"Good."
A twinge of guilt threads through me, and I swallow. "How are you able to afford giving us these?"
He holds up the cinnamon roll. "These? They're experiments. No icing. No nuts. Baking soda instead of yeast." He pokes at it. "I don't know if you can tell, but it's not as fluffy as the usual ones."
I couldn't tell. "So why are you experimenting? What's wrong with the old recipe?"
"It's more labor intensive for one. More expensive for two. And with Johnny leaving in June, we won't have the manpower to make a lot of recipes the old ways. Or if we hire someone, we won't have the money to create as many expensive recipes that may or may not sell."
It makes sense. "So I'm your test subject?"
"Yep. Do you mind?"
I shake my head and take another bite, this time focusing on the tastes and flavors. "It's good. I'd buy them."
"You don't think they're dry? Mom thought they were dry."
"It could use a glaze. Not a lot. But something..." I trail off, unsure. Food is food. Fuel. It doesn't matter what it tastes like. Not anymore. Once it did, before my father got sick. We used to do 'family feasts' where my parents would save up for a special meal with real butcher meat and bakery bread. Most of the time we'd celebrate surviving through another Reaping Day or the New Year. But after my father got sick, we didn't put a lot of thought into food, other than trying to make sure we didn't starve.
We sit in silence for a few minutes finishing our breakfast before Peeta clears his throat. "So… now can you tell me what's wrong? Why you really wanted to see me out here?"
Damn! I was hoping he wouldn't ask. No point hiding it now. "I owe you an apology," I start, noticing his eyes widen at my words. "You were right about Darius."
"Has he-" Peeta's voice is hard.
"No," I cut him off. "He hasn't done anything. But he'd like to." I stare into my lap, picking at the crumbs. "Did you know Peacekeepers aren't allowed to marry? At least not until they finish their tour of duty. But they are allowed to have companions."
Peeta looks confused at my non-sequitur.
"Darius wants me to be his companion."
His face darkens.
I hurry on before Peeta can say anything. "It's more than just sex. He wants me to be his wife in everything but name. And he's willing to pay me for it. You know," I voice the thoughts I've been keeping to myself, "I think if he could, Darius would marry me for real. I think the business arrangement's the only way the Capitol will tolerate fraternization between Peacekeepers and District folk."
"How do you know that?" His tone is carefully neutral. Non-judgmental.
"He gave me something personal of his. Something from his life in Four." I finger the necklace around my neck. It's become a hassle to take it off and on all the time so I've started to just leave it. Not to mention, Aven's fascinated by the piece of jewelry and I don't want to wake up and find it missing because my little brother's hidden it.
"The necklace?"
I look at him surprised. "How'd you guess?"
"You've been playing with it all week. Of course I noticed." He says it like I should know better. "So he loves you?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"But?" Peeta prompts.
"But I don't know." I stare up at the bright blue winter sky through the bare branches of the trees. "I just don't love him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I feel like I should accept his offer. For Prim. For Aven. For my mother. It's a lot of money, a lot more than I make hunting. But…"
"You don't want to."
"No, I don't."
"So tell him no."
"It's not that easy." If it were I would have said 'no' long before talking to Peeta about it. "It's a good offer, a real offer. And if I can't find some other way to support my family, I'll take it."
"So find another way!"
"Like what?" I've tried to think of other solutions. I can't come up with anything that's more stable or reliable.
Peeta thinks about it, really thinks about it. His shoulders hunched in on themselves, his hands clenching and unclenching. "Have you… have you thought about getting married?"
The question takes me aback. I haven't considered the option. I could. Technically, marriage is just another contract in Panem. I've been able to get married since I was twelve, not that anyone ever does. You don't qualify for housing or most government sanctioned jobs like those in the mines until after your last Reaping. But it is an option.
"Who?" I ask.
Peeta shrugs. "I don't know, someone."
"I don't want to marry someone I don't love." I'm enough of a romantic that I want there to be some affection between me and my husband. And I'm not sure any husband would be willing to take on three extra mouths just to have me.
"I'm just... throwing it out there." He sighs. "I suppose you've already looked for another job."
"I've thought about it."
"Thinking isn't doing."
"The question is what. And where." I open the thermos and take a sip of wintergreen tea. "The mines won't take me, and I can't afford to buy the permit to drop out of school anyway. I'm not the healer that my mom was. Is," I correct swiftly. "Not to mention, who would trust a teenage healer? I don't have enough to start a stall at the Hob. Maybe come spring and summer, if we can catch enough, I could do it, but I don't think I'm going to be able to make it 'til then."
"And my tesserae isn't enough." It isn't a question.
I shake my head, not wanting to voice the words aloud. "If it makes you feel any better, if we didn't have your tesserae, I would've said yes to Darius's offer long ago. Or I would've ended up going back to Cray."
He nods, acknowledging my words. "Have you tried in town?"
"Tried what in town?"
"Selling things. You know, like, selling stuff to the butcher. And the furrier. Or maybe getting flowers or seeds for the florist. Or herbs and spices for the confectioners or the apothecary." It's what Prim suggested. And it'll work, to some degree. But not entirely.
"I do that already. Besides, the apothecary won't even talk to me."
He seems surprised. "But aren't they family?"
"Yeah, but every time I've tried to sell them anything or even talk to them, I get nasty looks or screamed at."
Peeta frowns. "I'll talk to my brother. See if there's anything he can do to help."
"Thanks," I say. But I don't hold out much hope. Even if they did start trading with me, it wouldn't be enough. And it wouldn't be a job. But sitting here talking isn't going to solve my problems. Hunting might.
Standing up, I brush my pants off and turn to face him. "So… ready for me to teach you how to track?"
Peeta mimics my actions. "Absolutely."
For the next hour, I show him the different kinds of tracks to be found. The cloven hoof of a deer compared to the larger four-toed paw prints of a wild dog. The small hand-like shapes of a racoon and the even smaller tracks of rabbits and squirrels.
I make no attempt to tell Peeta to walk quieter. He winces every time he steps on a buried twig or brushes a nearby branch. He knows how much noise he's making. I don't need to point it out.
In fact, it's Peeta's heavy footsteps that net us our lone prize: a single squirrel who pops its head out of its nest to chitter angrily at us. In an instant, my arrow flies, spearing it through the eye. The following instant the animal falls to the ground, dead.
Peeta stares at it, then me. "That was amazing! I've never seen anything like it! The way you moved," he pantomimed the motions, "so quickly, so sure, it was like… a dance! You're gonna teach me to shoot like that, right?"
A smile creeps across my lips. "That's what we traded for."
"If you can teach me to shoot like that, I definitely got the better deal."
I struggle to keep from blushing. I don't want Peeta to know how much effect his words have on me. To cover my embarrassment, I pick up the squirrel, salvaging my arrow in the process, and put it in my game bag. Turning to him, I cock my head and say, "So. You and Nata?"
"Yup, me and Nata."
"You like her." It's halfway between a question and a statement.
"She's alright," Peeta says with a shrug of his shoulders. "She's sweet. And… my parents like her." He scuffs his foot a bit in the snow. "Besides, I know how she feels about me."
The flush I'd managed to tamp down flares up with a vengeance. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm the one that should be apologizing to you, not you to me." He looks up, meeting my eyes. "I made assumptions. About you. About me. I insulted you. Not just the names I called you, but I insulted your ability. I mean, I just got a demonstration of just how self-sufficient you are. I guess what I'm saying is, I shouldn't have said that. Any of it."
I stare at him in shock. He's right. His earlier apology wasn't quite good enough, because he didn't seem to understand why I was so angry. I think he gets it now. And maybe, just maybe, we're back on track to having a real friendship.
I smile at him, letting him know I accept his apology. "I'm glad you and Nata are together."
"You are?"
"Yeah. I want my friends to be happy, and if she makes you happy, then I'm happy."
"Okay…"
"Fair warning, though."
He lifts an eyebrow.
"We Seam brats are protective of our friends. If she hurts you, well…" I trail off, letting him draw his own conclusions.
A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. "You're saying that you'll do to her what Prim threatened to do to me?"
That's news. I didn't realize my sister had threatened Peeta. "I don't know what Prim said to you, but if she breaks your heart, I guess I'll just have to break something of hers."
"I think that's quite possibly the sweetest thing any friend has ever said to me."
I grin. "C'mon. Let's head back. After all, you've got a date."
His eyes grow hooded for an instant. If I hadn't been looking right at him, I'm not sure I would've seen it.
"That's right. I do."
oOo
The following morning, Prim and I head out into the woods. It's a contrast to hunting with Peeta; Prim already knows how to hunt, how to be quiet. Even at just twelve years old, she's more skilled than Peeta by a long shot.
My little sister is intent, driven even, to kill something. She stalks silently through the forest, and when her eyes light upon the tracks of a wild dog, she doesn't hesitate.
I try to stop her. Predators are dangerous, especially this time of year. But Prim won't have any of it.
"Meat is meat, Katniss," she tells me. "And even if we won't use it, Sae will."
She's got a point. Sae's been hounding me for any kind of meat I can sell her, and coin's coin.
I stop pushing. Instead, I make sure Prim doesn't end up over her head. One wild dog, she can handle. A whole pack would be too much. We're lucky the dog we've been tracking seems to be a loner. I haven't spotted any other tracks, but that doesn't mean there aren't any.
Eventually we find the animal, a large male. He growls at us, but that's as far as we let it go. Prim and I loose our arrows into the canine, and it falls to the ground, dead.
On our way back to the fence, we startle a turkey who'd been feeding on some exposed partridge berry. My arrow is in the air before the bird can even attempt to flee. For good measure, I harvest the exposed berries. No point letting them go to waste.
I'm glad we've had such good luck hunting because our snares come up empty. Or rather, it looks like whatever kills we got were stolen by scavengers. From the tracks on the ground, it's probably a fox. I frown. I'll need to find a new place to set my snares. Which is easier said than done. Gale's staked out the best trapping spots and the last thing i want to do is get into a pissing match with my ex.
Heading back into town, Prim and I stop at the Hob first. I let Prim barter with Sae while I go from stall to stall talking with the owners to see about getting a job there. There's a few places that would be willing to hire me on: the leather goods stall, one of the Lindens' competitors, and Ripper. But none of them would be able to take me full-time or pay me enough to live on. In the case of the second-hand goods dealer, I'd probably make more hunting and gathering than I would working for them. It's hard not to feel discouraged. I wonder if more people would be willing to help if I hadn't been seen with Darius and Cray.
Speaking of Cray, my next stop is at his house. I know he'll pay well for the turkey, and I need to stay on his good side. Especially if I end up turning down Darius's offer.
Cray's eyes up light up when he sees the dead bird. It's been so long since he's had a turkey that he's willing to pay me thirteen coin for it, and an extra two coin if I stay and prepare it for him. That makes it even more worth it. I'm familiar with Cray's kitchen from a few weeks ago, so cooking the bird is easy.
While I work, Cray does paperwork. I wish the Head Peacekeeper needed a housekeeper full-time. I wouldn't mind working for him.
But that gives me an idea.
I clear my throat once the bird's in the oven.
He looks up at me, his pen still held in his hand. "Something you want, girl?"
"I was wondering if you knew of anybody who needed a housekeeper, or if you did."
He sets the pen down. "Why are you asking?"
I'm glad I have an excuse at the ready. "My mom's been sick a lot this winter, so she hasn't been able to work as much. And now that my father's gone… I gotta do what I can to help out." I let him draw his own conclusions. It explains why I came to him in the first place and why I've kept coming to him.
Cray regards me for a very long time and I struggle not to squirm under his gaze. Finally, he pulls out a scrap of paper and scribbles on it. "While I don't need a housekeeper, these are all the people I know who could. It'd be between you and them as to what your actual duties will be." I understand what he's saying and not saying.
I take the list, scanning the names. Every single name on it is a Peacekeeper. And at the very end, almost illegible, is Darius's.
My heart sinks.
Now what?
oOo
AN:
Written: 1/21/18
Revised: 2/5/18
Katniss legally could get a job, but most businesses won't hire people until they're out of the Reaping, because it's not worth training someone who might be Reaped. Especially since the people desperate enough to need jobs as teens are the people who are taking tesserae...which increases their chances. It's a catch-22.
Also, just like in the modern US, school is mandatory unless you have extenuating circumstances. But extenuating circumstances pretty much means you're so sick you can't go to school, you're a Victor, or you've paid for the privilege of not going to school. Again, most businesses aren't willing to pay for that, especially for kids who aren't heirs.
Things we Randomized:
- Who caught/snared what animals
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