Katniss rubs her hands together to keep them warm in the early morning chill. The sun has just barely peeked over the horizon, but she already knows today's light will not be like yesterday's.

While the weather yesterday hadn't matched the circumstances at all, Katniss can't help but think that the rain pouring down all around her is a pretty accurate representation of what's happening.

She has resigned herself to the fact that Peeta Mellark wouldn't be coming back.

Not that it should really matter to her. She's only disappointed by this fact because now she'll never be able to repay him for saving her life.

"Hey, Catnip." Gale says, finally arriving at their meeting spot.

"Took you long enough," she answers, but her voice is lacking the usual airiness of their taunting.

Gale frowns as he notices this. "What's wrong?" He comes up and leans against the rock, their arms brushing. "Why the long face?"

Katniss tries to shrug it off, blaming it on the "festivities." But Gale's not buying it, and she can tell.

"No, it isn't. You've never gotten like this before because of the Games. We're all still here, aren't we? What's there to be upset about that?"

Katniss scowls. "We aren't all still here, Gale."

He sighs and takes a moment to ponder what she said before replying. "No, I guess not. Sure, it's not fair that those two will die, but you and I are still here. And Prim. This happens every year, why the big fuss now? They're a couple of Townies, Kat. You don't even know them."

"We trade with the Mellarks all the time." She grumbles in response, crossing her arms. She looks away so she doesn't have to see what kind of face Gale is making now.

"What… Do you like Mellark or something?"

Katniss sighs and pushes off the rock, walking through the trees to start their usual hunting route.

She can just barely hear Gale following behind her, his footfalls near silent on the soft grass.

"Catnip?" He prompts.

"No," she says firmly. "I don't like him, I just don't particularly like that he's going to die."

This only seems to confuse him further.

"Why?"

Katniss stops, and he almost runs into her. She has to ask herself the same question, and in the end gives the same answer she's been telling herself since Effie Trinket read his name on that stage yesterday.

"Because I owe him really bad, for something he did before I met you."

Gale scoffs. "Like what? I've never even seen him acknowledge you before."

"It's not really any of your business."

She doesn't know why she's avoiding Gale's questions, but she decides not to dwell on it and tells him to be quiet before he scares off all the game.

Katniss has blood up to her elbows when the televisor blares to life. She turns her head to look at the projection over her shoulder, Caesar Flickerman's smiling face taking up half her living room. The tiny light bulbs on his midnight blue suit give off a glow like starlight. It's the same suit he wears every year, but this year he's chosen a crimson color for his hair, eyelids, and lips. Katniss cringes and looks back to the blood coating her olive skin. It is probably the worst color choice he's had thus far, for it appears as if he's bleeding everywhere.

"Good evening, Panem!" He cries, to which the Capitol audience roars in response. He gives a fake sounding laugh before ramping them up a bit more. It's been about a week since the reapings, meaning tonight will be when the tributes do their interviews. Last night the tribute scores had been released, and Katniss had been pleasantly surprised at Peeta's eight. She kept telling herself not to get her hope up, however, cause plenty of tributes with eights never came home.

After a few minutes, they bring out the girl tribute from District One. Katniss doesn't pay much attention to what they say, instead focusing more on the squirrels she's skinning for dinner. Before, she would have traded them with the baker for bread, but she hadn't been able to work up the courage to go there today. Besides, she wouldn't be surprised if they closed for a while, or at least for today.

But mostly Katniss can't get over the guilt she feels at not having done something to repay the boy with the bread before he was sent off to die some tragic death far away from his home and family. She can't bear to see any of them now.

She does tune in, however, when she hears Delilah's name get called. She listens as the poor girl attempts to be witty and cute, hoping to earn sponsors, but fails miserably. She can't help but to think that Delilah's doing better than Katniss would if she were in her place. And then she's walking back off stage, and Peeta is called out.

Katniss can't hide her interest, setting down her knife and turning completely in her chair to watch.

The bright stage lights reflect on his blonde hair, so similar to Prim's, and her heart clenches. He's dressed in a dark black suit with smokey looking accents that make his meager muscles seem more prominent. He shakes Caesar's hand and sits down, and the audience is already his.

They hang onto every word he says, comparing the other tributes to breads from their respective districts. He's even able to pull a small smile from Katniss once or twice with his wit and easy banter with Caesar.

"The showers here are very different," he says, and then leans closer to Caesar. "Tell me, do I still smell like roses?" Caesar casts a dramatic look to the audience before leaning in and taking a whiff. And then they have a whole bit of smelling each other, where Peeta tells him he definitely smells better than he does, and Caesar says it must be because he's lived there longer.

"Now tell me, Peeta, do you have a girl back home?"

Peeta hesitates, but eventually shakes his head.

"Handsome lad like you?" Caesar says incredulously. "There must be some special girl. Come on, give us her name."

Peeta takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he answers. "Well… There is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. I hadn't thought she paid me any mind, but she came and said goodbye to me after the reaping."

Katniss' eyebrows shoot up her forehead. Is he talking about me? She wonders, frantic. She calms herself by saying there must have been another girl that went in after her. There were plenty of girls still about when she left. Perhaps, if she had only been paying attention, she would have even noticed this girl going in after her.

Besides, she didn't say 'goodbye.'

"Ah, so here's what you do," Caesar says, elbows propped on his knees as he leans in conspiratorially. "You win, you go home, and she'll definitely notice you then."

Peeta meets his eyes with a serious expression, as if they are talking about more than just his unrequited love.

"Caesar, if by some miracle I do win, I'm going to marry this girl."

Caesar's face breaks out into a smile. "That's the spirit! Peeta Mellark, District Twelve!" He yells to the audience, and they erupt into cheers more wild than what any of the other tributes received. Prim sighs from her spot on the rug in front of the televisor.

"I hope he wins."

Katniss nods absently and turns back to their dinner.