Gale, Johanna, Haymitch, and Effie return to Victor's Village. The plan is underway. Haymitch will place calls to both Plutarch and Cressida. Delly will continue day getting "acquainted" with the reporters… and mining for information. Their names, family members, where they live. It is quite easy to get Capitol people to babble on endlessly about themselves. She will simply nod and feign fascination, all the while keeping a running inventory in her head. Her gift for names, dates, people, and faces is actually quite remarkable, and fortuitously convenient. She will then convey every detail to Effie, who will spend afternoon on the phone with old Capitol friends, confirming people are who they say they are. Gale will offer to do an interview with them as an elected official, hopefully occupy their attention away from Peeta and me for a while. If needed, Johanna has offered to cause a distraction. The plan should buy us at least a day.
Meanwhile, Peeta and I stay out of the Village. We decide to duck away to woods. I feel more at peace here, safer almost. We stroll, not in a hurry to get anywhere. I point out different plants, and Peeta sketches some on a scrap piece of paper to add to the plant book later. It's too cold to swim at the lake, so instead I take Peeta to the place where Gale and I meet up on Sundays.
My time with Gale in the woods feels like things used to before everything happened, except instead of Gale angrily ranting about the Capitol, we talk about dinner, or something Johanna said, or where we might find blueberries for Peeta to make muffins. There's no fear out here anymore. No worry about being executed for poaching, or whether we will find enough to keep our families alive. Sunday dinner is always the biggest meal of the week, and we try to clean whatever game we catch out here to save Peeta time in the kitchen. Delly has taken up making Sunday dessert. She's got quite a sweet tooth.
I tell Peeta a story about Gale trying to catch fish with his bare hands in the brook that runs off the lake. Peeta laughs as I reenact Gale's expression when he came up with a tree branch instead of a trout. A slight breeze picks up and Peeta wraps me into his arms. I lean back into his chest and close my eyes. I feel the sunlight flicker beneath my eyelids as shadows from the leaves dance across my face in the wind.
"Fall is my favorite time of year," Peeta confides. "I can't get enough of the leaves. The scarlet of the oaks, the happy yellows of the birches. The maples in fire red, or gold, or burnt orange… I feel like I could find every shade of fire in the trees."
He unpacks our lunch and we munch on hard cheese and apples.
"I bet Cinna would love it out here. I could see him spending hours watching the wind rustles through the trees, and then creating a dresses that swishes like leaves when you walk." I smile.
"Johanna would have loved that. She was so tired of being dressed like a literal tree." We both laugh remembering her envy over Cinna's designs. I can even laugh about her stripping down in the elevator, though at the time I wanted to ring her neck.
I miss Cinna.
"What do you think happens after you die?" I ask Peeta. He's quiet for a moment.
"I'd like to think that everything is quiet, and peaceful, and everyone you've lost is there. And that everything that hurt about being alive is relieved, but that everything that felt wonderful is elevated." He's almost whispering. "I can't wait to see my dad."
I push his shoulder. "You can wait," I say. He laughs.
"That's not what I meant," he says, smiling. It fades. "I just… I miss him so much."
"I'd like to think they are still with us, we just aren't together." I don't know how to explain what I mean. I'm not good with words. I'm still for a moment, thinking, and Peeta weaves his fingers through mine. "I feel my father when I'm out here. And Rue. I hope, when I die, it's like this forest. Beautiful and bright. And that I'm here, but not here."
When I hear a twig crack, my hunter's instinct go into overdrive. I spin around, pushing Peeta behind me. A woman is standing across from us in the woods. Her eyes are wild, and yet dead at the same time. I've seen that look in my own eyes. It comes from hurt. It comes from pain. It comes from losing someone you love. She's dressed like she's from the Capitol, but none of it is quite right. Her face is painted but her fingernails are plain and unadorned. Her hair is a fantastic neon blue, but her clothes are dull and gray. Her shoes are sensible, flat, ill-fitting. She's not from the Capitol. I catch the glint of metal in her hand as she raises a gun.
Everything slows down. I feel Peeta throw his body in front of me. I see the bullet pierce his torso and exit through his back. It leaves a tiny hole in his shirt, which quickly turns red. I watch the tiny crimson circle fan out, and I feel a burning in my abdomen and drop to the ground. Peeta falls. The woman flees back through the woods, and I hear a sharp pop.
Something is wrong. I've been shot, I know that, but I'm not in pain. Everything below my chest is numb. Peeta rolls toward me. He coughs, and blood spatters from his mouth. His eyes lock onto mine. I feel the blood draining from my face, my limbs, pooling in my stomach and staining the forest floor. I see Peeta looking at me, clutching his chest and taking me in.
"How are you?" he asks, his voice shaking on each word. His voice sounds like he's gargling.
"I feel so cold," I shiver and feel a tear drip down my face. I didn't think we'd end here like this, cold and bleeding and numb in a pile of leaves. But I always knew it would be us. Together. With that, Peeta presses his hands to the ground and pushes his body up. He screams out in pain. I feel my body convulsing now. "Where are you going?" I cry.
"Help," he manages to spurt out. He leans forward and kisses me. It feels like goodbye, and my heart is fighting it. He gags and spits more blood onto the ground.
"No!" I beg. "No, Peeta. Please don't go."
"I have to," he says. His skin looks gray. "No one will find you out here."
"It doesn't matter now." Even these few words exhaust me. I can feel sleep tugging at me, and Peeta shakes me.
"No. Don't do this. Stay awake!" He's begging me. I force my eyes open and look at his face. He kisses my mouth again and it takes like iron. Then he forces himself up and turns to go.
"Peeta!" I sob. He walks away from me. "Peeta!" I plead. "Stay with me." He stops, and twists his body to look back at me. I can see the anguish in his eyes. I see his resolve break... almost.
"I can't," he says, and he turns and stumbles away. I scream his name until I run out of breath. I lay on the floor of the forest. I feel the pine needles under my hands. I smell the woods. I try to stay alert, but slumber is creeping up on me, and it's peaceful, and I slip under. Here, but not here.