Dearest Diary,

Today, I became not only Hawthorne's brother in arms, but also, for a brief period, his brother. It is a pity that neither of us will ever speak of this again after this affair is over. I imagine that Hawthorne House would attract far more callers if he spoke more on how he discovered the woman he had courted was his brother and less on Pythagoras.

On second thought, those who would be most attracted to that story may not be the best company.

As a child, Katniss had run behind her father's carriage when he made his infrequent trips to London, waving and shouting goodbye until her short legs could no longer keep up. She had always pictured Father looking back towards her long after he had disappeared into the distance, but of course, she could never know for certain.

Now, straining her neck to capture a few more seconds of Peeta's figure before it faded away, she understood it from the other side.

Hawthorne was very intently not looking at her when she finally sagged back into her seat. Just as well. Any conversation now would only end in a fight, and starting an argument with the person who was going to help save her sister didn't rank among her best ideas. If all went well, she would have plenty of opportunity to take out her emotions later, and on a far more deserving target.

Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. The gentle bounce of a carriage against cobblestone streets usually lulled her to sleep, but an oddly metallic, almost jingling sound kept her awake. Hawthorne seemed unbothered, and Katniss at first wrote it off as the particular sound of an unfamiliar carriage.

Then a sharp turn in the road caused a loud clank directly beneath her. Katniss jumped to the opposite seat.

Hawthorne immediately slid over, putting as much space as possible between them. "It's the supplies," he explained.

"What did you bring? A bloody armory?"

Katniss detected a hint of a flush spreading up towards his cheeks. Curious, she lifted the seat cushion to reveal the contents of the compartment beneath.

There must have been thirty weapons inside. Swords, pistols, an axe, knives of varying lengths. She picked up a short, club-like weapon. "Is this a mace? Where did you find all of this?"

"My experience in these areas is limited. I didn't know what we would need."

"We're certainly prepared." She set the mace down at her feet and returned to the compartment, gingerly shifting some of the items around. There was more in here than she had realized, and some of it seemed positively ancient. Her fingers traced over a long sword that looked to weigh nearly as much as she did. "And with options, to boot. You still haven't said were you found these."

"My father collected armor."

"And you raided his collection when you realized you had no idea what you needed."

"I had some idea," Hawthorne said.

Finally, Katniss pulled her gaze away from the open compartment and faced him. If he had been flushed before, Hawthorne's cheeks were burning now. A part of her wanted to laugh, but she pushed that instinct away. "Thank you."

He looked surprised at that. Was she really such a menace that gratitude came as a shock?

She cleared her throat. "It was very thoughtful of you to come so prepared. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Katniss replaced the seat cushion and moved back into her original spot.

Hawthorne settled back into the center of his seat. "I have rope, food, and a handful of carpentry tools under my seat."

It was a marvel the horses could pull the carriage at this point. "Excellent. Have you decided which of the properties we're going to visit first?"

He nodded. "We should be there in two hours, perhaps less. It's very close to the city."

At his words, a tight, anxious knot settled in her stomach. She turned to the window, where the city was rapidly transitioning into countryside.

Soon, she assured herself. Soon.

As soon as they reached the crest of the hill, Katniss knew. "This isn't it."

"This is Crellingwood, I assure you."

"But they aren't here."

Hawthorne peered out the window, studying the property before them, and Katniss joined him. The main house stood three stories high, a stone structure dominated by enormous windows and surrounded by gardens. A few smaller buildings dotted the landscape, and all together, it made for a rather charming view.

"We've come this far. We at least ought to ensure they aren't here."

"I don't disagree. I just doubt we'll find anything."

"How do you know?"

"She's my sister. My heart knows."

Hawthorne was unimpressed. "A feeling, you mean."

"You can call it intuition, should it make you feel better," she countered. "And in any case, would you keep a prisoner in that house? They could break any of the windows, and though a fall from the second story wouldn't be pleasant, it is survivable. There's a village on the other side of the hill one could reach in fifteen minutes if they ran."

"Interior rooms do exist."

Oh, how she longed to roll her eyes at him. "Why are you arguing with me? I still want to check."

"Then let's." Hawthorne tapped on the roof and raised his voice. "Find a place to pull off."

"No, go up to the house." Poor coachman, dealing with the both of them. "Please."

Hawthorne frowned. "You think they'll let us in?"

"No, I think it is full daylight and we are in a marked carriage, and a very posh one at that. Someone is bound to notice. If we go up to the house and pretend we have a legitimate business –"

"We see how defensive they become."

"Exactly."

"Devious," he said, and Katniss couldn't tell if she should feel complimented or insulted. When Hawthorne made no move to amend her order, she decided to accept it as a compliment.

No matter how convinced she felt that Prim and Mother weren't being held here, this was enemy territory. Golden midday sunlight and a picturesque landscape did nothing to change that. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore how tight her grip on Peeta's pistol became as they neared the house.

"I'll do the talking. You wait here." Hawthorne's voice held a slight tremor, and had they more time, she would have argued that she could better carry out her own plan. As it was, the carriage had already begun to slow.

By the time the carriage stopped, Hawthorne had rediscovered his confidence. "Keep your hair under the hat and don't meet anyone's eye unless they look into the carriage. Perhaps they won't notice you're a woman.

"Good day," he said, stepping out of the carriage towards the manservant who had come to meet them. He procured a card from his jacket. "We've come to introduce ourselves to our new neighbor, Mister Crane."

"Mister Crane is not in residence."

She already knew that, but it was good to have confirmation. Katniss started to relax.

The calm didn't last long. "I am not familiar with your name, Lord Hawthorne. You said you lived in the area?"

Hawthorne, to his credit, hardly hesitated. "I personally do not, but my younger brother, Mister Rory Hawthorne," he gestured towards the carriage, "is renting a cottage a few miles north of here, and I am visiting him. There are few men of a similar age in the area, and we hoped to make Mister Crane's acquaintance."

"I see. As I said, Mister Crane is not currently in residence, but I will of course give him both of your cards when he returns."

Hawthorne may have come prepared, but Katniss doubted he had thought to bring his younger brother's calling cards. A long pause followed. Hawthorne looked over at her, but Katniss could only shake her head. There was no bluffing this time.

Now, the servant addressed her directly. "If you would prefer to leave your address then, Mister Hawthorne, so that Mister Crane can return your greetings."

For a long, dreadful moment, their eyes met. Katniss felt frozen and terribly exposed, and she was the first to break eye contact.

The servant turned his attention back to Hawthorne. "I think you and your lady friend should be leaving, Mister Hawthorne."

Hawthorne gave him a rueful grin and nodded. "Thank you for your time." He ducked back into the carriage and tapped the roof.

Katniss allowed the silence to last a few minutes before she spoke. "That could have gone better."

"It could have." Hawthorne turned away from the window to look at her. "I agree with you. I don't believe that your mother and sister are being held there."

"That doorman probably thinks we were here to rob them."

"Yes." He paused. "Next time, I will have fake calling cards printed."

Katniss chuckled. "Is there going to be a next time?"

"Absolutely not."

Cornet Hill was not a manor house. It was a fort. From its position at the top of the hill – Cornet Hill, presumably – it dominated the area. Katniss estimated that from the turret of the old castle, one could see for five, six miles in any direction. She had seen medieval castles and abbeys before, certainly, but most had been as much ruin as structure. Those felt like a ghostly fantasy; this was like a having a hundred-pound weight on her chest. A handful of scraggly bushes lined the steep, winding lane that led up to the castle, and there wasn't a tree in sight.

Neither of them said anything, but Katniss knew Hawthorne had the same feeling. If Prim and Mother were to be found, they would be found here. Everything led up to this.

They had already discussed their plan. She would get out of the carriage half a mile away from the house so she could search undetected. In the meantime, Hawthorne would distract any guards, and hopefully Crane himself, by going to the door and repeating his act from earlier. Hawthorne would be turned away, she would find Prim and Mother, and the four of them would meet at the spot where Katniss had been left to make their escape. Every task was easier in foresight than retrospect, and Katniss knew there were a thousand ways their plan could, and likely would, go terribly wrong. This morning's encounter with the doorman did not inspire great confidence.

"Here?" Hawthorne asked.

Katniss swallowed. "Here."

Hawthorne moved to open the door, but Katniss shook her head. "It will be faster if you don't help me out."

"Right." Hawthorne paused. "Good luck."

He reached out a hand, and Katniss gave it a hearty shake. "We'll meet at this spot. I'll see you soon."

With that, Katniss hoisted her bag of supplies onto her shoulder and ducked out of the carriage, sliding into the cover of one of the nearly leafless bushes. Her heart beating like a drum, she waited as the carriage drove further up the lane, watching until it was little more than a shadow in the distance.

The full moon lit Katniss' path as she moved towards the house. More than once, a skittering in the grass caused her to reach for her gun, but nothing emerged. She had spent too long in the city if she had forgotten the normal sounds of the country. Shaken, she persevered in her trek.

As she neared the castle, she could hear Hawthorne's voice on the wind. It sounded like he was arguing with a guard. She did not have much time.

Well aware of how exposed she was in the bare landscape around the castle, Katniss scurried towards the wall. Pressing herself against the stone, she gazed up, searching for any sign of Prim or Mother, or worse, any guards. Content that no one had seen her, she inched out into the open to better see into the upper windows. On a night like this, where the moon shone bright with no clouds in sight to dampen it, candles were hardly necessary, and she only spotted their flickering in one or two of the many slender windows.

"Who's out there?"

It took a moment of terror before Katniss recognized the voice. "Prim?"

"Katniss!" From a high window, a head poked out.

Of course Crane would hold her prisoner in the top floor. Couldn't make this a bit easier for her, could he? "Can you get to a lower floor?"

Prim shook her head. "No, Crane locked me in when he left. I don't know where Mother is."

Pity, that. Another idea came to her. "Can you fit through the window? Your shoulders, are they narrow enough?"

Katniss had her answer when the rest of her sister's torso appeared. Good. She studied the wall. It was perhaps fifty or sixty feet up to Prim's window. Any mistake could be fatal. She ran her fingers along the wall's surface. Though the centuries had smoothed the stones, the rocks and mortar still provided some small handholds. She had climbed trees nearly as tall with far less motivation.

"You aren't climbing the wall," said Prim.

"Don't watch. You'll make me nervous." From here, Katniss could trace perhaps the first dozen feet of her climb. If she could reach the first window, she could use it as a secure spot to rest and plan out her next steps. With a deep breath, she hoisted herself off the ground and began her ascent.

"Katniss!" Prim hissed as she neared that lowest window.

"I told you not to watch."

"Katniss, get down!"

As she paused to look up at Prim, she heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed.

"Come down yourself, girlie, and I won't have to hurt you."