Time goes faster than Katniss expected. Gale will be starting in the mines in the fall, and they've put the awkward interaction behind them now to get the most out of his last summer of freedom. Long hours spent hunting in the woods and meals shared while waiting for animals to pass below their makeshift stands in the trees. It's almost nice, this time she gets to spend with the one person who she thinks might actually understand her more than anyone else. Besides possibly Primrose, but even she has never seen what Katniss is like out in the woods, when she feels free.
It's also a wonderful distraction from the Hunger Games that everyone else is watching and talking about in the District.
Three days have come and gone since the first day in the arena, and she thinks the whole district is utterly shocked at Peeta's resilience to this. But after watching him heave out everything in his stomach from the only kill he's made so far, Katniss thinks it might be a blessing for him to die in that arena and never have to deal with these haunting memories. And she knows she's not the only one thinking it, because she's heard this exact thought echoed back to her while trading in the Hob, and even in town.
A twig snaps and her bow is up immediately, thumb pressed against her cheekbone as she aims. With a steady exhale, she releases her arrow and watches it fly straight through the eye of the deer that had just walked right into their path.
Gale huffs a scratchy laugh from next to her. "Nice shot, Catnip."
They pack up their bread they had been slowly eating and work their way down to the ground and over to the deer before any wild animals can come along to claim the deer for themselves, and leave the two hunters empty handed.
It's a pain to drag the thing all the way back to town and to Rooba's butcher shop, but it's well worth the clink of the coins in their hands after. They part ways to get things in order for winter, Katniss heading to the Cartwrights to see if she can procure a new pair of warm shoes for Prim, and hopefully a better pair of hunting boots for herself.
The Town shop is too expensive for both, so she hands over only enough for a better pair of shoes for Prim to wear while walking to school and back before heading to the Hob to see if she can find anything better than what she has now. The Hob may be cheaper, but also provides products that don't hold up as well. Not that she really needs new hunting boots- they're won't be enough game to make hunting in dead winter worth it. So she veers off to the opposite end of the black market and insteads spends a little bit more of her coin on sheets to put over their windows to block the cold drafts.
…
She wakes in a cold sweat again, the second time that night. She's wide awake now, her mind racing, and she knows it would be pointless to try and go back to bed now. She slides out of bed and slips on her boots, since the hard floor has grown chill in the lower temperatures of the summer night. Even in the summer District Twelve remains subdued heat wise, likely due to the amount of coal dust that blocks the heat from reaching the ground level.
She quietly closes the bedroom door behind her as she pads out into the kitchen and living room area. She walks through the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and starting to make rounds around the room to keep her mind busier.
It isn't until her third trek around the living room side of the house that she pauses in front of the turned off televisor. Her ribs ache as she stares at the black screen, and suddenly she's lunging forward and turning it on. She turns the volume down to almost nothing and sits on the ground with the couch throw wrapped around her. She doesn't know quite what made her so frantic to turn on the screen to watch the violence of the games some more when she could go back to bed instead, but she gets the feeling that this is exactly why she hasn't been sleeping well lately.
Thirteen tributes are dead now. In a few more days the Capitol will send out camera crews to do interviews with the families and friends of the remaining seven tributes. Katniss chews on the dead skin around her nail as she ponders if, for the first time in decades, District Twelve will be one of the Districts the crews visit.
It's possible, she realises. He's lasted this long. Perhaps he'll last a few more days.
It can't take that much longer to get down to seven, or the Capitol will begin to grow bored and cause their own trouble for the Tributes. She wonders idly what they would do. Floods through the streets, maybe? The arena is set up well enough for that, and it would be an easy way for them to drive the tributes closer together. She doubts Peeta knows how to swim; almost the entirety of District Twelve doesn't know how to. The only reason she does is because her father had illegally taken her outside the fence to a small pond when he was still alive.
She makes a mental note to take Prim there a few times before it grows too cold to swim. Prim needs to learn.
She jumps as a loud crash comes from the speakers. She looks up just in time to watch as the girl from District Seven manages to push over a mound of rubble on the boy from Four who had been coming after her. Even with the low volume Katniss can almost hear the crunch of his bones just before the canon fires, signaling his immediate death. The girl doesn't even look that distrubed by the turn of events as she continues climbing to the upper section of a house that hadn't collapsed. She simply brushes her pants off as she stands, and disappears into the house.
As it does for each individual district, the screen soon switches back to the view from the cameras in the same area as Peeta. This is the longest any tribute from Twelve has lasted since she's been alive, and Katniss had forgotten that the screens in the district were supposed to focus on their own tributes unless something else 'interesting' is happening.
It's also nighttime in the arena, and Peeta is slowly rocking to try and generate more body heat. He was able to pull one of those insulated blankets off the boy he had killed a few days ago, along with a bottle of water. Even just from four days in the arena Katniss can notice the gauntness to his cheeks that is more severe than when she had talked to him in the Justice Building. She isn't blind; she knows the Merchants aren't perfectly taken care of, either. She doesn't quite share Gale's bred hatred for them simply because they own shops that make them some form of income and don't have to sneak to the woods everyday just to scrape by.
But she doesn't quite care even so. They are better off, no matter how slightly. But since Peeta had been Reaped she has begun to notice the hungry looks on the Town's children and feels bad for being so prejudiced against them.
However, that doesn't mean she feels bad for them. They have all been dealt the cards they had, and she needs to focus her efforts on keeping Prim fed and well.
She reaches for the remote and turns off the screen. It's late, and she's supposed to meet Gale early in the woods. She decides not to risk sneaking back into bed and settles for the couch, instead. The worn cushions offer her a slight solace as she finally goes back to sleep.
…
The early morning sunrise wakes her this time. She rises slowly and slips a dry crust of bread into her hunting bag before shrugging into her father's old jacket. She glances briefly at the darkened telescreen before walking out the door without a second thought.
The walk through the Seam to the meadow is quiet and dreary. The sun has barely started to peak over the horizon, and the sky is still darker shades of grey. Most people are not awake yet, which is oddly comforting to her. It's these moments- silent from the cries of hungry babies and the streets not yet full of mothers trying to care for their families- that Katniss can truly feel calm. As if the world will always be this still and silent, and she doesn't have to worry about anything other than breathing in and out, and watching the sky streak with pale light. And as she slips under the fence she feels her palms grow clammy at the prospect of true freedom only meters away. The woods are within reach, and beyond their edge she doesn't have to worry about anything else. Everything will melt away, and she'll be just a girl with a bow and a couple of hand made arrows.
