Katniss's POV

The flames lick the Hob, spreading in zig zags throughout the Seam and heading quickly towards the Merchant's Village. I stand their aghast. People scream, gathering up burning items with their bare heads, earning blisters and collecting soot on their skin. Peacekeepers march through the streets, dragging individuals by the hair, throwing furniture into the fires, and barricading the remains of the Hob.

My eyes search frantically for people I know. The Hawthorne's house is located on the far side of the Seam. The flames haven't reached them yet, so they're safe for now. It takes me a few seconds to regain my ability to move. Peeta grips my arm.

"Katniss-"

"Come with me. We have to help," I tell him without turning around. I spot three children stranded in the street, frozen in fear with tears streaming down their faces. I weave through the small, terrified crowd to help them. Peeta and I guide them down a safe alleyway on the edge of the Merchant's Village. They're unfamiliar Seam kids, so I don't know how to locate who cares for them. They huddle together, with eyes terror-stricken. I don't how to comfort them. The oldest, maybe 8 years old (or perhaps older, for Seam children always appear shorter and thinner due to malnourishment), tugs on my sleeve.

"Katniss, it was the peacekeepers. They've destroyed the Hob. I don't know what they'll do next," she tells me quietly.

She knows me. I have no idea who she is, but somehow she recognizes me. I swallow hard.

"I know. I saw," I reply. I glance over my shoulder. Behind us, peacekeepers force their trucks down the main street. A slender, tall man with a shaved head leads the parade. Through a megaphone he yells:

"Everyone is to return to their homes and remain there until morning," his voice cuts through the air, loud and menacing. Over and over again, he repeats this order. Peeta and I stare at one another, as if telepathically asking each other what to do with the kids.

"Hey, where do you live? Let's try and get you there," Peeta kindly asks the oldest. She points down the darker part of the alley, which merges into a dirt road. Peeta holds out a hand and she latches on, quickly leading the way. I peer up at the sky. The fire has died down, but smoke clouds most of town. The Hob is a wreck, nearly collapsing at this point. People hurry about to their homes, some of them covered in soot and coughing black, while peacekeepers stand guard around the burned building, yelling obscenities at those who threaten to come near.

A few homes have been scorched. Not my old place or the Hawthorne's, in which case I'm relieved. Ahead, a scraggly old woman from someone outside a small hut. The girl points to her.

"That's Nana," the children thank us and run off in her direction. The woman gives us a grateful smile before kissing the each child's head and ushering them inside. I recognize her as one of the shopkeepers of the Hob, who was probably open late selling gin to the drunkards when the fire happened. I wouldn't be surprised if the kids were helping. I remember the obscure jobs Seam kids take up, especially if their family members need assistance for free.

Peeta and I wander through the Seam, the smoke bringing tears to our eyes. I can hardly see in the blackness, blindly latching onto Peeta so we don't lose one another. Peacekeepers continue to order people inside, forcefully shoving those who refuse to obey into their houses. Peeta and I move quicker, keeping our heads down. By the time we reach the Victor's Village, I find both my mother and sister shivering and standing in the street.

"Katniss! Where were you?" Prim cries, racing towards me.

"I was just-" I stammer, still slightly in shock by the recent destruction of the Hob. No doubt Snow has already begun punishing District Twelve-because of me.

"We saw the fire from here," my mother says. I nod.

"Peeta and I, we went to see," I explain.

"Our old home and the Hawthorne's are okay."

"Good to know. We better get inside," my mother replies. I look over my shoulder at Peeta.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say. He nods.

"See you."

I lie awake until the sun appears. My clothes, dusted with soot, dirty my bedsheets. I strip them off, along with my jeans and Peeta's shirt, which up until now I forgot I was wearing. My nerves seem shot as I unsteadily make it down the stairs to do the laundry. District Twelve has been placed on strict curfew. Our old head peacekeeper, Cray, was replaced last night. By "replaced," I'm sure actually means kicked out of the job and seriously punished, or worse. It's true Cray had neglected enforcing certain rules in Twelve, which is why we've had it pretty easy with the peacekeepers up until now.

The fence must be powered now. My plan for escape is now lost. How can we travel past Panem's boundaries if we can't even leave Twelve? The destruction of the Hob is only the first of many punishments. I rub my pounding forehead as I travel back upstairs. After a hot shower, I return to bed anxious and tired, but my eyes won't close. From Snow's perspective, I've failed. There's no game left for Peeta and I now. Yet... the Capitol remains obsessed with us. How could Snow truly punish us if the majority of his city treat us like celebrities? They practically devour our love story and, most importantly, it keeps them distracted from the uprisings.

The uprisings. I still haven't told anyone of what I saw about District Eight on the projector screen. I need to speak with someone. I want to talk to Gale, but he's off working in the mines by the crack of dawn. I force myself out of bed and decide to search out Peeta

I knock on Peeta's door, but he's not there. I realize he probably went to check on his family after last night. A walk a couple houses down and pound on Haymitch's door. No answer. He never answers. But it's unlocked, so I turn the knob.

The putrid smell of soiled clothes and vomit enter my nose as I stumble through his pitch black, cluttered foyer.

"Haymitch?" I call. "I need to talk to you!"

Haymitch is leaning against the kitchen isle, stirring something in his mug. He glances up at me.

"Just because you need to talk to me doesn't me you can just break and enter my house," he grumbles.

"My bad. You never answer," I reply, seating myself at his kitchen table.

"What do you want?"

"Haymitch, Snow doesn't believe in our love story. I don't know what else to do. I'm not sure if speeding up the marriage will matter at this point. Snow may-he may punish us. He thinks the uprisings are because of me," I explain.

Haymitch nods.

"Yes, that could be true. But look, sweetheart, what are you expecting me to do about it? The best you can do is continue to act in love until the next games. Snow may forget this whole issue if everyone's thoughts are turned towards the Quell."

"But how do I know he won't? Look, I'm done doing this," I mutter.

"I want us to run," I mouth to him. Haymitch shrugs.

"I have no idea how that's gonna work, sweetheart. The fence has been charged again," he mouths the last part. I clench my jaw, shaking my head.

"I know. I know, but there's got to be a way. We can't live here anymore. I've already explained this to Gale and Peeta. We all want to protect our families," I explain.

Haymitch takes a lengthy sip of his drink.

"Well, for starters, be careful how much you discuss this plan. You don't want anyone finding out. Next, maybe you should try and look into how the fence is charged and see if you can screw up the system," he says quietly.

After a pause, Haymitch glances at the front door.

"Hey, you want to see my token from my games?" He asks suddenly, a fake smile plastered onto his face.

"What?" My eyebrows furrow.

He gestures with his head urgently towards the stairs. I'm utterly confused, but follow him. He leads me down a dim hallway and points to a cramped linen closet. We duck inside.

"You can't risk talking about anything anymore," Haymitch explains, shoving some boxes out of the way to make room.

"Katniss, I get that you want to run away, and if you do there's something important I have to tell you. I originally wasn't going to tell either of you, everyone else was against it for your safety, but at this point I don't think it will matter," Haymitch's voice is firm, and he doesn't break eye contact.

"What is it? Who is everyone?"

"District Thirteen still exists. If you want to run away, heading there is your best bet. They are the ones fueling the rebellion. Many individuals, from the districts and even within the Capitol, are already aware and secretly fighting."

I shake my head.

"But, the firebombs-"

"No," Haymitch cuts in. "They survived it. They've been living underground for some time, building up an arsenal to attack the Capitol when the time came."

My mind races. A second rebellion. Is it possible Panem could at last be rescued from oppression? From living hell itself?

How does Haymitch know about this?

"Who told you this? Are you with the rebellion?" I ask him suddenly. Haymitch shrugs.

"They've allowed me in on it. I've had connections with the rebels for a while. After my family..." he coughs. "Well, after Snow punished me for my rebellious acts during the games, I was desperately searching for justice. I sought them out and they allowed me to join."

I nod, still trying to process it. His words fill me with a hope too beautiful to be true. I did suspect Thirteen's existence to be true ever since I realized that taping with the reporter to be fake... But, no, how could this be? How has Snow not somehow discovered the rebels and executed them?

"I still don't understand," I whisper after a while. Haymitch sighs.

"You don't have to right away. I know, I didn't think it was possible at first, either. But, Katniss, now that you know, you can't risk spreading this information. You may tell Peeta, but nobody else can know. With this knowledge comes danger."

Haymitch's words echo in my head as I travel across the street to Peeta's. At first, I don't even want to tell him. He'll then be in danger, too. So far, I'm Snow's problem, not Peeta. Peeta would've probably made an excellent victor if I wasn't in the picture. He's eloquent, good with people, and has the common sense to keep himself from making impulsive, rash decisions. Just like I did with the berries, I'm going to have to drag him into another one of my schemes.

I rap at his door again, but there's no answer. I'm about to head home and wait until morning, when his voice calls my name. I turn to see him climbing the front steps, two large packages in his arms.

"Hey, sorry I was down at the bakery. I had to pick up some supplies." Peeta nudges the door open with his foot. I offer to take a package from him.

"How is your family?" I ask him as we head inside.

"They're fine. A little shaken from the fire. They say the peacekeepers have placed strict regulations on not only the Seam, but also the village," We slide the packages onto the counter.

"Anyone who's out passed curfew will be shot on sight... they've also set up a whipping post in the square," Peeta explains quietly. I give a slight nod.

"Peeta, I have to tell you something," I say after a moment, staring into his vivid blue eyes.

"Okay."

Like Haymitch, somehow, I get him to follow me up the stairs and slip inside a closet.