I slip back to my house in the early morning so my mother doesn't wake up alone. Peeta makes breakfast in the kitchen and my mom follows the scent downstairs. I picked some blueberries at the edge of the meadow and Peeta drops them into the pancake batter. He sets a fluffy, golden confection in front of my mother, who chews carefully as she watches the two of us clean up.

"I'm surprised to see Effie here," she comments.

"Oh she's not staying," I answer, although I realize Effie was supposed to leave two weekends ago.

"I can do the dishes," she offers. "You don't have to feed me and clean up too." I realize what my mother wants, what my mother needs right now, is normalcy. And what is normal is not me doting on her like a child.

"I'm going hunting," I announce. My hunting jacket and bag are at Peeta's, so I excuse myself and head out the front door. Rory and I hadn't planned on going out today, so I walk down to the Hawthorne home. I'm about to throw a little rock at his window when the front door opens.

"Katniss," Hazelle says, her eyes clouded in disbelief. I drop the stone to the ground. It's as though my body forgot how to work. My face burns in shame. I don't know what to say. I've allowed all the conflicting things I feel for Gale manifest themselves in the gap between his mother and me.

"I was here for Rory," I manage. A smile breaks out on Hazelle's face. She looks as though I've come home after being lost. As though I'm not the insecure child that can't face her.

"I'll get him," she says with a calm to her voice. She doesn't push. She treats me like a timid animal, one that might bolt at the slightest provocation. She knows me well. I hear the shuffling of teenage feet behind the door and Rory comes bustling out of the house, tucking in his shirt and slinging a pack over his back.

"Bye Mom!" he smiles, kissing her cheek and passing me, leading the way to the woods.

"Bye Hazelle," I add. I try to smile but I'm sure it looks more like a grimace. I turn quickly and follow Rory out to the woods.

"She's not gonna bite, you know," Rory says, chewing an apple as we hike across the Meadow. "She misses you, that's all." I don't respond. I miss Gale. He and I didn't need to talk. I miss silence sometimes. "What happened to your hands?" he asks, staring at my palms.

"Stupid. I fell at the worksite," I dismiss the question. He doesn't push. We spend the afternoon fishing, mostly. I can't hold a bow but I show Rory how to throw a net where the fish migration paths are. The streams that flow down the mountain and to the lake are peppered with fish with silver scales and white bellies. Finnick would be proud of our haul.

"My mother's back," I say as we debone one of the fish on a rock. We need to eat something before the journey home.

"Really? When did that happen?" Rory asks, mimicking my hands with his, his eyes glued to my fingers. He's never worked with fish before.

"Yesterday," I say. We work quietly until the fish are butterflied. I show Rory how to start a fire, which he is naturally good at. We cook the flesh on a rock and eat. The cold water from our bottles is now warm with the summer heat, so I plunge them in the stream to cool while we chew.

"I think we should have a service for Prim. I didn't want to do anything without my mom," I say. He hadn't asked again. Not since the first time. He stops for a second, watching a green leaf flit in the wind.

"I'd like that," he answers.

We head back to town. Rory takes a few fish home, I keep a couple in my bag and head to Sae's with the half dozen remaining. Things have changed since the War. The idea of debt has all but evaporated. At least for a while, we are in a cooperative living situation. It's not an easy adjustment for those of abhorrent to debt. We don't like being helped. It makes us feel helpless. But we are making it work. I give Sae meat. Sae cooks and gives it to the construction crews for free. Sae is kept supplied with food, shelter, and necessities. She wants for nothing but works for everyone. There is no currency right now in District 12. We just do what we can to survive as a group.

"What do you got today, child?" Sae asks as I sling my bag on her makeshift counter. I unload the shining fish and a few handfuls of greens Rory yanked from the earth. She stares at my bandaged hands.

"Rory picked them," I answer her silent question. She inspects the goods approvingly and sets a glass of cold water in front of me. I gratefully gulp it down before the glass can even begin to sweat.

"Thanks," I say, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. We talk for a bit. Her granddaughter is doing well, but Sae is anxious for school to get underway. It's not that she doesn't want to spend time with her, but her granddaughter needs extra care and can be underfoot when Sae has more than just their two mouths to feed. "I know that sounds bad, girl. I'm not saying she's a burden. I love her with my whole heart. But I have obligations to tend to."

"I understand," I say empathetically. I do. We talk about the construction. The school will be one of the first buildings up once the houses are complete. Books have been distributed to parents, encouraging them to try to keep up with their children's reading, writing, and arithmetic until a formal education plan can be completed.

It's dark by the time I'm heading home. I wonder if Peeta worked at the site today or if he stayed home with my mom. I shoot my eyes over and see the crew packing up. Thom waves as he heads home. No Peeta. I sling my bag over my back and head toward Victor's Village. I can hear chatter in the distance as the crews return home to their families. I'll be happy when the houses are built and we are all closer together. The temporary structures are on one side of 12, Victor's Village is on the other. Between is a sprawl of emptiness – some spots excavated and cleaned, others still piled with rubble.

I pass what was once the apothecary. It's where my mother grew up. It's still in ruins. We haven't cleared this far yet. I stop for a moment and stare at it, wondering what my mom was like as a child. Shy, I know that. Beautiful. Open-minded.

When I hear the crunch of gravel underfoot behind me, my body tenses. The sound stops and my stomach drops. Whoever is behind me was trying not to be heard. I instinctually reach for my bow but my back in bare. I drop to my knees as though paying respect to the fallen, but my gauzed hands slowly sweep a pile of dirt.

I shoot up and spin around quickly, throwing the gravel into the eyes of my assailant. He cries out and falls back, but another steps forward to take his place. There are three men. I recognize them from the work site. They are from 13. In his hand I spy a flash of metal and realize he has a pipe. He swings it at me recklessly and I duck. When I shoot back up I jab him quickly in the ribs and hop back out of reach. He clutches his side and the third man steps forward. I know him. Pointed jaw. Broad shoulders. He tripped me.

I immediately recognize he's not like the other two. He's been trained. He's a soldier. I wonder what he went by in 13. I wonder if hearing me called Soldier Everdeen was an affront to his way of life. He swiftly steps forward and his fist pounds into my stomach. It's a stupid throw. Higher and he'd have hit my diaphragm and I'd probably pass out. Aim for my ribs and that's debilitating. Instead, I absorb the blow. It hurts badly and I drop to my knees, but that's not enough to take me down. I force myself up.

I fight dirty. You don't have a choice when your assailant outweighs you by a hundred pounds and outnumbers you 3-to-1. I land my boot in the side of his knee and he drops to the ground momentarily. I try to take off running but by this time the man I jabbed in the ribs is back on his feet and tosses me back toward the man with the pointed chin. He swings and I duck, trying the same rib jab but not having the same luck. He grabs my hand and hauls me into him. This is it. If I left him get his hands around my throat I'm done for. A hurl an elbow backward, smashing it into his nose. I feel hot blood pour down my back and I know I've hit my target.

He throws me brutally to the ground and I crawl. I see the pipe still resting where it was dropped and I know it's my only chance to get out of this alive. I'm only inches away but when I reach out my hand but the second man steps on it hard with his boot and I feel my bones and flesh sear in agony. I scream out, but this only seems to excite the men. I pivot and grab the pipe with my left hand, swinging it around and landing it in the knee of the man pinning me to the ground. He screams and falls backward.

Pointed chin steps toward me, his face and white shirt covered in blood. My eyes flash. Red on white. I thought all this was over. I swing the pipe like a bat and it lands in his side. He winces in pain, but I see him swallow it as he keeps coming at me. I pick up a rock from the ground and throw it at him. It's a nuisance at most, but at least I slowed him down. I know how this goes down. He only has to hit me once. Hard. I swing the heavy pipe again as he approaches, but this time he catches it and yanks it from my grip, throwing it over his shoulder. I reach to the ground for another rock and swing it up toward his head, but he's got over a foot on me and evades the attack.

I wonder if I'd have survived going hand-to-hand against Cato or Thresh. I won because I was clever, not because I was powerful. What I need to do is incapacitate this man and run.

I throw a barrage of attacks. I go for his eyes, his ears, his manhood. I realize he's just playing with me. Waiting for me to tire out. He wants the Mockingjay. My eyes grow dark as resolve burns in my stomach. You can't have me.

He steps forward and I stomp on his foot. When he reacts I sweep myself behind him and punch him in the hard in the kidneys. He screams out and drops forward onto his hands. I know the feeling. The world is spinning. This is my chance to get away.

I'm not expecting the blow to the head. As I fall to the ground I see a man with red, demonic eyes staring at me. I realize it's the first man, the one I'd hoped to blind. He punches me again and pain shoots through my body. I spit blood on the ground. He comes at me a third time but I roll, sending his fist into a rock. I know by the guttural tone of his scream he broke it. I force myself to my feet and realize I'm limping. I don't look back. I just run as best I can. No one is following me. My eye is nearly swollen shut and it's dark, but I know my way home.

When I reach Victor's Village the full extent of my injuries start to take effect. Clearly I was running on adrenaline and survival instincts alone, because when I cross the boundary into this safe space I'm overwhelmed. I force myself forward until I get to Peeta's door. I slam my fist into it hard and then slide down the wood toward the porch floor. I can push anymore. I can't fight anymore. I just want to sleep.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks, opening the door and looking out into the moon-bathed yard. It takes him a moment before he looks down. "Katniss!" Peeta doesn't hesitate before I'm in his arms and he's flying across the yard.

"Mrs. Everdeen!" he screams at the house as his feet hit the ground. I see the light flash on at Haymitch's. "MRS. EVERDEEN!" he cries out again, and by the time he's on our porch my mother is standing in the doorway. I'm through the door of the house and my mother gestures to the table. I feel Peeta lay me on the hard, wooden surface. I've watched this scene from the outside a million times.

I never thought I'd be the one on my mother's table.