Chapter 15: 1 Split Second and a Million Miles

The next morning, I leave our house early. My trek takes me to the Seam, but instead of stopping at Mother's, I keep walking until I reach the edge of the district demarcated by the fence separating us from the woods. I easily slip under it and begin my familiar hike through the trees. I'm not really cognizant of where I'm going; I just let my feet take me, one in front of the other. My mind is a haze—not even a flurry of thoughts and anxieties. Just a haze.

Soon, I find myself at the tree where I normally store my bow and arrow. But I don't pull it out; instead, I find a nearby tree, one sturdy enough for my weight and easily scalable, and I lift myself onto the trunk, carefully but stealthily climbing until I'm perched high on a branch, obscured by leaves.

I don't know what I'm doing. Hiding, most likely, as if camouflaging myself in these trees can somehow shield me from the tough decision that awaits me. I know I can't idle too long; my time frame for taking the tea successfully is shrinking by the minute. Still, I can't bring myself to climb back down. Shifting my position, I firmly press my back against the tree and, once I feel stable, pull my knees up to cradle them against my chest.

I think a lot about Peeta. My indignation at his anger. But if I push past that wounded feeling...and the terror of my—our—predicament...I can feel the anger, too. Barely there, a tiny, electromagnetic pulse buzzing under layers of denial and self-preservation. He was right, in a way. It's bullshit that we have to live like this, in constant fear under the heel of the Capitol's boot. It isn't fair for me, for Peeta, for anyone.

But I can't change that. Even if I could, would I still want a baby?

The answer to that question is harder to parse, one I haven't really pondered before. What's the point? As long as the Reapings still happen, as long as the risk of sending my child off to the Games is even a remote possibility, the idea of having this baby is unthinkable. Off the table.

But now I force myself to actually think about it, to consider having children in a world devoid of the Games. Would I? Could I do it? If there was a place we could be safe?

If it were with Peeta...

I spend the next few hours debating the possibilities, my mind churning. As the day wears on, I can't even feel the hunger gnawing at my stomach—something else forms there, sprouting slowly at first then faster, taking root in my chest, in my bones. It solidifies, making my blood course and my heart beat hard, strong.

Abruptly, I glance at the sun to gauge the time: mid-afternoon—I will have to hurry. With my limbs shaking, I scramble down the tree, barely fazed when I lose my footing and clumsily slide the last few feet to the ground. I ignore the scrapes on my hands as I take off for Town, running carefully enough to avoid tripping or running into branches. I'm not sure I'll get there in time…

I'm exhausted by the time I make it back to the Seam, but I don't stop running until I reach the school on the other side of town. I don't even care how crazy I must seem to the townspeople I pass, my thoughts solely on Peeta. By the time I reach the school, a cramp forces me to slow down. There are no kids meandering the yard or filing out of the building, so I finally stop to lean against the fence and catch my breath.

And wait.

Finally, when I hear the bell sound in the distance, and the first students come piling out, I wedge my foot in one of the panels to lift myself off the ground so I can see over their heads. My eyes scan the crowd, sticking close to the entrance. All I see for the next half hour are kids, only a few teachers peppered through the crowd, but no Peeta.

So I continue to wait, unaware of how much time has passed by the time he finally emerges from the building. My heart shoots into my throat at the sight of him, his blonde hair and beard glinting in the late afternoon sun. Jumping down from the fence, I jog around it to the opening and stop when he finally spots me. Peeta wavers in his trek, pausing momentarily in confusion; I can discern the familiar crease in his brow even from a distance. But then he resumes his direction, walking up to me.

"Katniss, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?" he asks, and just as I see the spark of alarm ignite in his irises, I blurt out the question I came to ask him.

"If I asked you to run away with me, would you?"

"Yes," he replies automatically, no hesitation or forethought, and my stomach fills with warmth at just how willing he is to throw his lot in with me, no questions asked. But then he shakes his head, laughing lightly in disbelief. "Wait, why are you asking me that? What are you talking about?"

Here it is. The moment of truth. Excitement and nervousness and fear spike all at once, bottoming out in my stomach and swelling in my throat, and I swallow past it, clinging to those shreds of certainty and hope I found in the woods.

"Because we can't raise our child here in District 12."

Peeta stares at me uncomprehendingly, and I wait for the words to sink in, apprehensive yet hopeful of his response. Finally, he blinks a few times, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't... what?"

"We have to get out of this place. I can't have this baby here, not like this," I say, dropping my voice and stepping closer to him. His eyes widen then, the full weight of what I'm saying hitting him.

"You're going to keep it?" he asks, a precarious delicateness to his voice, as if he's afraid to consider it. "I mean, you want to keep the baby?" I nod my head, my eyes locked with his, and as the excitement blossoms in his eyes, a slow smile spreads across my face. "Really?" he presses in disbelief, and I nod again, my smile morphing into a grin when he starts laughing and pulls me into a hug. "Katniss, I can't believe..."

I squirm in his embrace, pushing on his chest slightly so I can look him in the face. "But we can't do it here, Peeta. We have to run. Into the woods," I say urgently, glancing around us to make sure no one else is walking by.

He pauses, his face falling slightly. "Where to, though? Where would we go? I'm not good in the woods—"

"There's an old house out there, a couple hours away from here or so. By a lake. My dad showed it to me before he died. No one else knows about it. We can go there. We can fix it up. We can have our baby there, and we can raise it without the Reaping. We can have a normal life, Peeta," I say, hope lifting my voice. The more I talk about it, the more excited I get. We can do this. We could actually do this...

I hold my breath as he stares at me, waiting for his response. After a moment, he nods resolutely. "Okay. Let's do this. Let's run away from here."

I fist my hands in his shirt tightly. "Are you sure? You'd have to leave this behind," I implore, my eyes darting over his shoulder at the school. "And your family. Could you do that?"

His face falls, doubt softening his eyes, and I purse my lips to brace herself; this is the catch, of course. Expecting him to abandon his life like this…

"I..." Peeta starts, but his voice catches and he trails off for a moment, his eyes glazing over as he gazes back at the school. Finally, he shakes his head. "They'll find another teacher. And my family... you're my family. And they've made it clear they aren't willing to accept you into their lives. So to hell with them," he says, his voice firm and brimming with resentment. "Are you willing to leave your family behind?"

I swallow thickly; it's something I've already asked myself, a proposition I've already considered for hours in the woods. It's still hard to answer, though I feel confident in my resolution. "Yes. Prim's grown up now; she has her own family. She doesn't need me anymore. Neither does my mom. I think... I think it's time I start worrying about myself."

I feel as resolute as ever looking at him then, his eyes gleaming with happiness and awe. He pulls me into a fierce hug, cradling my head against his chest. "Okay," he breathes. "So let's do this."


We spend all night working out the details of our plan, discussing the logistics. That weekend, I take Peeta to the lake to show him the cabin. We will spend the next few months fixing it up, gradually and inconspicuously taking the items and provisions we will need to survive. I'll do most of the work, as I can get in and out of the woods more easily with less suspicion, but Peeta will move larger items, like bags of flour, under the cover of early dawn. We'll have to work relatively fast, before I start to show in my pregnancy; I can hide it for a while with bulky clothes, but by summer, the oppressive heat will eventually force my hand, so we'd have to be gone by that point.

The main problem will be disappearing without raising too many questions. If I were any other person from the Seam, I could probably effortlessly slip under the district officials' radars. But as one of the main hunters and traders in the Hob, my disappearance would be most noticed. And as a Merchant and schoolteacher, Peeta's would be, too. He insists he could easily be replaced at his job, though, as tough as it would be to leave his students; there's always someone clamoring for a job at the school, and the summer breaks provide a perfect opportunity to tender his resignation. I'm sure I could bribe a Peacekeeper to overlook our disappearance, though. We aren't of Reaping age, and we aren't really anyone of importance in the district. The Capitol doesn't care about the people in District 12, and I know people in the Seam die all the time with zero fanfare from officials, but actually running away... I'm not sure that wouldn't draw more than a few cursory inquiries our way.

I have a rapport with the Peacekeepers, however, especially Darius, who's replaced Old Cray as Head Peacekeeper. I'll talk to him, give him as much money as I can spare, maybe even promise to discreetly return with fresh meat for him once in a while. It's a long shot, and Peeta isn't entirely convinced, but I feel confident Darius wouldn't turn us in. He isn't like the others.

I will tell Mother and Prim where I'm going, of course. I can't disappear on them without a trace. I'm sure I will return occasionally to Town for necessities when Peeta and I run out, and I'll ask Mother to purchase them for us. And, more than anything, I will need Mother's assistance during my pregnancy and especially during the birth; I can't do that alone in the woods. What if something goes wrong with the baby?

That leaves one question, really—whether Peeta will tell his family where he's going. When I ask him, he is silent for a while as he mulls it over.

"I don't know," he finally says, his voice quiet. There's an undercurrent of anger there. "I don't think so. I'll say my peace with them before we go, I guess, but... I don't think they'll really care if I never come around again. Dad, maybe, but he never comes to see me. So I think my disappearance won't really matter to them."

My heart aches listening to his words, hearing the pain that laces his words. I reach my hand out to cup his cheek, stroking his beard with my thumb. I don't know what to say to make any of it better, so I say the only thing I can. "I love you."

He smiles wanly at me, covering my hand with his own and giving it a squeeze. "That's all that matters, honestly. That's all I want," he says, but with his other hand he touches my stomach. "A life and a family with you."

Family. The thought both terrifies and thrills me now. As confident as I feel with our plan, I can't be fully certain it will work. But I know if there is anyone I am willing to try it with, it's Peeta.

That night, our sex is both desperate yet subdued, our bodies folding into each other with the familiar ease and newfound excitement we feel each time. But this time is different; it's our first coupling sans barrier. It's unnecessary now. I can feel every inch of his cock inside me, in and out, his bare flesh easily, deliciously sliding against my walls with the aid of my arousal. I haven't even come yet, and I'm soaking wet—I don't know if it's the hormones from the pregnancy or just the thrill of our plan, our future.

Peeta stops his thrusting to move his head between my legs, his mouth descending on me to lap up my wetness and make me cum with the persistent pressure of his tongue on my clit. Once he's certain I'm sated, he pushes his cock into me again and resumes his slow, torturous movements. I lie under him, completely open to him; my wrists are pinned above my head in the clutches of his hands, his body arching high over mine as he fucks me at the angle he knows I love. My moans are low and throaty, my body still quivering from my orgasm, and I pull my knees to my chest, cradling his hips against mine. I lift my pelvis to his every time he thrusts forward, grinding against him and clenching his cock inside me. Peeta is breathing hard, his muscles strained and flexing as he holds himself over me; his eyes never leave my face, even when he cums a few minutes later. My pussy milks his cum out of him, his shaft pulsing against my walls, and I push myself up on my elbows to kiss him fiercely.

It's a promise.

When Peeta holds me after, our heartbeats and breathing synced, he whispers, "This is going to work." He might have meant to reassure himself, but I believe him.


Telling Mother and Prim about our plan is harder than I anticipated. Mother is immediately worried, especially about the baby.

"You can't have that baby out there alone," she frets, her hands twisting the dishcloth in her hands. I chew the corner of my mouth worriedly.

"I know," I agree. "That's why I was hoping I could convince you to come out to the cabin when it's time... to deliver my baby, and stay with us a few days to help us adjust."

I expect pushback — Mother has clients to consider, and the hike to the lake is demanding — but to my surprise, she agrees readily.

"I'll come out a few weeks before your due date, just in case you go into early labor. Prim can take over any clients I have," she says firmly. I smile gratefully, crossing the kitchen to her and reaching for her hand to squeeze it.

"Thank you."

Prim isn't as easy to placate as Mother is; her initial shock quickly dissolves to resistance and distress.

"What do you mean, you're leaving? How can you just leave?" she demands, her voice rising in the quietness of her quaint house; we're alone, but still I hush her worriedly.

"I have to, Prim. I'm pregnant. And I'm not raising this baby here," I say softly but resolutely, rendering my sister speechless. Her blue eyes go wide at the news.

"Pregnant?" she whispers, moving closer. "Oh, Katniss—"

I allow her to pull me into a hug, dutifully acquiescing to my baby sister's fawning and requisite fussing for a moment before pulling away to continue the discussion. "I've already worked out with Peeta how we're going to do this. You can't tell anyone, okay? His family won't even know."

Blinking in disbelief, Prim stares at me silently for a moment as she tries to digest. Then begin the barrage of questions. "Where are you going to live?" "How are you going to have the baby by yourself?" "But what about me? Will I see you again?"

The last question is delivered brimming with tears. I've never heard my sister's voice sound so small since she was 12 years old, at her first Reaping. For a moment, I'm breathless, feeling the familiar pull to protect my little sister, the fierce need to take care of her. My resolve almost crumbles.

But Prim isn't 12 anymore. She's 28, and she has a husband and a daughter. Even at four years my junior, she's proven she can take even better care of herself than I could look after her.

"I'll come back around when I can. When it's safe, when I won't draw attention to myself," I tell Prim. "But... I need to look out for what's best for my family now. I don't plan on coming back to Twelve often."

Prim's eyes water, but she nods. "I understand," she says, her eyes drifting to a framed photo of Aster that hangs on the wall. After a moment, she clears her throat and blinks away the tears. "Tell me how you're going to do this. I want to know everything."

At my sister's words, I feel relief and immense, bittersweet sadness. I'll miss Prim the most. But I remind myself that it isn't final—I will see my sister as much as I feasibly can. And it's for the best reason I can imagine.

My own child.


The bag of coins feels heavy in my hand, larger than its small size conveys, as I stalk toward Darius' house. It's the same place Cray used to live, before he was reassigned. Or killed. No one's entirely sure exactly where he went or what happened to him a few years ago. We were just relieved Darius was promoted; he's one of the younger Peacekeepers, as well as the friendliest and most lax. And he doesn't have a proclivity for young, impoverished Seam girls.

I've spent a few weeks saving and scrounging what money I can to persuade Darius to play along with Peeta's and my plan. I don't know how much it will take to buy him off, but I didn't want to inadvertently insult him with too little—or, hell, even too much. It's a delicate situation, and I know I'm walking a thin line, but I'm still hopeful he'll agree, however reluctantly. A little money would sweeten the deal for him, I'm sure. No one in District 12, not even Peacekeepers, can afford to refuse money.

Stopping outside the door, I knock, three sharp, purposeful knocks, my usual. When the door swings open a moment later, I'm greeted by a mop of red hair and a crooked, pleasant smile.

"Hey, Everdeen, what'cha got for me today?" he asks in his normal, cordial tone.

"A proposition of sorts, actually," I reply. His brow furrows in confusion. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," he agrees, but I take a couple steps back from his doorstep, glancing around to make sure no one else is in the immediate area. I don't know what kind of Capitol devices he has in his home as a Peacekeeper; it's best not to risk being recorded or eavesdropped on.

Puzzled, Darius hesitates in his doorway before stepping out to join me. "Okay. What's going on?"

I suck in a deep, steadying breath before shoving the bag of coins at him. "This is for you." He just stares at it, so I continue, "I wanted to let you know that in a few months' time, I'm taking off for the woods. With Peeta. We're not planning to come back. And I'm hoping you'll help by not coming looking for us. Just—turn the other way and don't raise any questions about it."

His gaze is sharp, questioning and uneasy as he turns it on me, his mouth thinning into a hard line. I'm not sure what to make of his expression, so I go for the kill. "I'm pregnant. And I want to raise my baby somewhere safe. I can't stay here."

His face softens at that, and I wait for him to respond, holding his stare determinedly, so he will understand how serious I am. Finally, he sighs. "You're asking me... to just pretend like it doesn't matter when a citizen disappears?"

I shrug. "Seam people die all the time. The district doesn't care—it's us burying our own people, and no one in Town notices. They'll just assume the same about me, I'm sure."

"You're a little more important than that, Katniss. You provide a lot of fresh meat around here."

"There are more hunters now. Someone new will fill my absence."

"Peeta's not Seam though. Townies will definitely notice when a Merchant goes missing."

"They've pretty much written him off already just for associating with me. They'll forget about it after a while. His family, too."

Darius looks doubtful. "What if they come around asking me to look for him?"

I just shake my head resolutely. "They won't. Trust me."

Darius is quiet for another moment longer as he observes me; he looks torn. I present the money to him again, my face encouraging, and he relents with a sigh as he reluctantly takes the money. "Okay. I guess I'll help."

"Thank you, really," I say sincerely, relief melting my bones. The skin between his eyes pinches together in consternation.

"Where will you go exactly?"

While I like Darius, and even trust him to an extent, I'm not about to divulge our exact destination, just in case. I shake my head. "Just somewhere in the woods away from here. Somewhere safer than this place."

I begin to walk away, but he calls after me. When I turn around, he smiles sadly at me. "You'll be missed, you know that?"

I'm not so sure about that, but I just smile half-heartedly at him and wave my farewell, continuing my walk back home.


Over the next few months, Peeta and I begin our gradual move to the cabin in the woods. After Mother assesses me, we determine I'm due in November, October at the earliest, so we have the summer months to fix the cabin and transport our necessary belongings. Luckily, Peeta has finished the school year and officially resigned from his position, so the two of us can work together to get our move executed as quickly as possible, before I begin to show.

The first time I show Peeta the cabin, he's put off by the distance and just how long it takes to get to the lake. But once he sees the area, the surrounding woods and still, shimmering water, he is in awe. "This is home," he finally surmises after a moment, soliciting the widest grin from me.

As soon as I bring him into the cabin, we begin drafting ideas for how to spruce it up, what we'll need to bring. Furniture is going to be impossible to lug all the way from Town, so we'll have to build it ourselves. It's a daunting task, but Peeta is adamant he can take it on.

"I'll learn. I'm sure there's someone around Town or the Seam I can pay for some lessons before we leave," he insists when I express uncertainty.

The two of us make the trips in the secrecy of the predawn hours, after the miners have gone to work, but before the rest of the district has awoken for their daily rituals; this way we can move supplies without question. When we return later in the morning or afternoon, I return with game or whatever produce we find along the way, just to diffuse any suspicion about our comings and goings.

By the middle of summer, the cabin is mostly refurbished and well-stocked. The treks are becoming increasingly exhausting for me; I have to struggle along under thick jackets and ponchos. Sometimes, Peeta makes the trips alone, when I'm feeling particularly sluggish and tired. My pregnancy is relatively easy despite the occasional bouts of sickness, but every now and then, I awaken in the middle of the night from a crippling nightmare where our son or daughter is Reaped.

In those moments, once I've been able to pull myself out of the riptide of terror with Peeta's reassurance, I'm even more resolved and sure about our decision.

The night before we're to set out for the cabin for good, after we spend hours at Mother's house soaking up some of the last moments I'll have with her and Prim, at least for a while, the two of us sit at the dining table in silence. A solitary candle flickers and sizzles between us, casting shadows over our joined hands. I stroke the soft skin of his thumb with my own, watching his face. His eyes are trained on our hands, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

After a while, I eventually speak. "Did you ever say goodbye to your family?" My voice is soft, not wanting to disrupt the tenderness of the moment. But I can guess what is weighing on him right then.

He slowly shakes his head, pursing his lips together slightly. "Not officially. I stopped by Rye's and Barm's to see them and my nephews. And then I spoke to my father. Told him this would probably be the last time I saw them. I assume he told my mom. Maybe not."

"Did he ask why?"

"No. I think he understands he doesn't have a right to know anymore."

I squeeze his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to tell them? We can hold off leaving one more day…"

But Peeta shakes his head again, finally lifting his eyes to mine. "I'm ready to leave this place, Katniss. I'm ready to leave this life behind. I cannot wait to start a new life with you, and our child, and I want to do that as soon as possible, as far away as we can get from here," he says firmly, but his words are saturated with a warmth that soothes me.

I smile at him, his assurance igniting a newfound excitement in me. "I can't wait either."

Peeta smiles, his lips quirking into a barely contained grin. "Good, because we're kind of committed to this plan now," he says, breaking off into a laugh. I join him, the sweet sound effusing the room like the soft candlelight.

I'm not sure either of us sleep that night, tossing and turning restlessly with excitement, slowly sinking into each other with eager hands and pleasured sighs to pass the time and ease our nerves. Dawn can't come fast enough, and both of us are out of bed when the first call of the waking birds comes. We quickly dress and grab our remaining belongings. Once we are out the door, the first rays of sun just barely illuminating the town, we say a silent goodbye to our house with one lingering look, and then we set off for the edge of the Seam. There isn't much chance of running into any other citizens; still, we pull our hoods up to prevent any identification.

It proves unnecessary, though, as we sidle up to the fence with no incident. As I bend down to crawl under the fence, Peeta stops me, pulling me straight up again. I look at him curiously, but he just kisses me sweetly, squeezing my shoulder and brushing the crown of my head. "I love you," he whispers, and I know he's nervous, but I have never felt so innervated.

"We're just hours away from our new life," I say, my voice hushed, but the words do the trick. With a smile, he leans down and wedges the fence out of the way so I can slide under more easily, my expanding belly making it increasingly difficult. Peeta crawls through after me, and after we help each other to our feet, we set off into the woods.

Walking into our cabin, hours later, is as invigorating and refreshing as if I have stepped into the cool water of the lake outside, despite the numerous times we've already been in here. Peeta must feel the same way because his hand reaches for mine at the exact moment mine seeks out his, and we both give each other a firm squeeze before making eye contact. Excitement dances in his blue irises as he speaks his next words.

"Welcome home."