A/N: I realized that my A/Ns are really long so I guess I'll keep it simple.
ArianaandXaia : Haha…bet you were like 'how could this person do this?'..ah well, it was fun trolling. XD
Xenomorphhuntr65: WHAT TIME ZONE ARE YOU IN? :P And I think you're wrong. I've been on here and there are a LOT of better stories than mine. You can check Anaklusmos14(?), IcyRoses. Basically most of the stories I favourited are better than mine. But I still love you. :) And actually, um…I think I said the deadline was 25th.
Happy birthday, ronnie07! :)
Sorry for really late. We went out and had some fun after the last paper and got back near 5 in the evening (and 5 o'clock here is already nightfall) and I had dinner, watched some movies and then I went to bed at 11. And then I got sick. Also, when you tell me to email you at your email address, it doesn't show. So, just PM me.
Disclaimer : You found me on the Internet and not on the bookshelf. 'Nuff said.
Katniss' POV
A leather bag filled with food and flask of hot tea? Check.
A pair of fur-lined gloves that Cinna left behind? Check
Three twigs, broken from the naked trees, lying in the snow, pointing in the direction I will travel? Check.
This is what I leave for Gale at our usual meeting place on the first Sunday after the Harvest Festival. He didn't show up at the Festival too, by the way. Vick said he was off hunting. Probably true.
I have continued on through the cold, misty woods, breaking a path that would be unfamiliar but is simple for my feet to find. It leads to the lake. I no longer trust that our regular rendezvous spot offers privacy, especially not after what President Snow had mentioned. I mentally shivered at the thought. It's absolutely ghastly. And besides, I need to spill my guts to Gale today. But will he even show up? If he doesn't, I'll have to risk it and sneak into his house at night. There are things he needs to know (especially about a guy whom we thought had died last year)….and some things I need him to help me figure it out.
As I trudge through the snow, I watch the mockingjays hopping about on branches as they pick up on other birds' melodies , replicate them and then transform them into something new. As always, they remind me of Rue. I think of the dream I had the last night on the train, where I followed her in her mockingjay form. I wish I could have just stayed asleep just a bit longer and find out where she was trying to take me.
I decided to go to the lake, no doubt since it was one of the only place in District 12 that is safe from prying eyes and ears. But if Gale decides to follow me, he's going to be put out by this excessive use of energy that could be better spent on hunting. Okay, right now I really don't want to care. I need to see him today.
After a couple of hours, I reach an old house near the edge of the lake. Well, maybe 'house' is too big word for it. It's only one room , about twelve feet square. My father thought that a long time ago there were a lot of buildings here – you can still see the foundations – and people used to come here to play and fish in the lake. This house outlasted the other the others because it's made of concrete. Floor, roof, ceiling. Pretty sturdy if you compare it with the rickety houses in the Seam. Only one out of four windows remain, waxy and yellowed by time. There's no plumbing, however and no electricity (well, as if District 12 had better) but the fireplace still works and there's a pile of wood in the corner that my father and I collected all those years ago. I start a small fire to keep warm while waiting for Gale (just in case if he decides to show up) , counting on the mist to obscure any telltale of smoke. While the fire catches, I sweep out the snow that has accumulated under the empty windows, using the twig broom my father made for me when I was about eight and played house here. Then I sit on the concrete hearth, thawing out by the fire and waiting for Gale.
Well, I didn't have to wait long before he showed up with a bow slung over his shoulder and a dead wild turkey he must have encountered on his way here hung from his belt. He stands in the doorway as if considering whether to enter or not for a moment before striding over to where I sat and joined me on the concrete hearth. He eyes the unopened leather bag of food, the flask, Cinna's gloves. Gifts he won't accept because of his anger at me. I can't exactly be angry at him because I did the same thing to my mother.
I look into his eyes. There is still some hurt in it. Possibly rekindled after the declaration I made on nationwide television. You know, the one where I said I could possible never love someone as much as I loved Percy. Speaking of Percy…
" So what did you wanted to tell me? Mother told me you said it was urgent," Gale opens his mouth. " And I really hope it is."
" President Snow personally threatened to have you killed," I tell him face on.
Gale raises his eyebrows slightly, but there's no real astonishment or fear. " Anyone else?" he asks as he opens the flask and gulps the tea down.
" Oh, yeah. He gave me the hit-list. Let's see : me, you, my mother, my sister, your mother, your brothers and your sister. Have I missed anyone? Oh, yeah. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase."
Gale chokes on the tea. " Why would Percy Jackson be on his hit-list? Jackson's dead, Katniss. He died months ago in the arena. In your arms, not less. And who the heck is Annabeth Chase?"
I look into his eyes again. " Would you believe me if I tell you that Percy is alive?"
He stares at me.
" I'll take that as a no." He snorts, before laughing full out. " Listen, Gale. Percy is alive. He's in my house at the moment, probably cleaning the refrigerator out and Annabeth is the girl from Six."
" You're nuts," he says, laughing yet again. " Anyway," he says after a few minutes of laughing at me, " thanks for the heads up. About the whole hit-list thing." He smirks at me.
I couldn't stop myself from smiling too. I mean, it's no laughing matter but hey, what is then, right? We're already dead, anyway. " I do have a plan, if you must know."
" And I bet it's a stunner," Gale says sarcastically. " Here. Fur doesn't suit me anyway," he tosses Cinna's gloves to me.
" That's from Cinna, you twit," I tell him. " You're going to hurt his feelings if you don't accept this."
" Fine. Give them back, then," he says. He pulls on the gloves, flexes his fingers and nods in approval. " At least I'll die in comfort."
" And dressed in your best," I add, snickering. " Very optimistic, Hawthorne. But of course, you don't know what's happened."
" Let's have it, then."
I decide to begin with the night they pulled me out of the arena, and when Haymitch warned me about the Capitol's fury the night they crowned me victor. I tell him the uneasiness that dogged me even once I was back home (I left out the part about meeting Percy in the woods), President Snow's visit to my house, the murders in District 11, the tension of the crowds, the last ditch effort (though measly) of declaring my forever love for Percy, the president's indication that it hadn't been enough, and…oh, let's not forget : my certainty that I will have to pay.
Gale never interrupts. While I talk, he tucks the gloves into his pocket and occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, roasting chestnuts. I watch his hands, his beautiful capable hands (I sound like a hand fetish, don't I?). Scarred, as mine were before the Capitol erased it from my skin, but strong and deft. Hands that have the power to mine coal but the precision to set a delicate snare. Hands I trust ( I really sound like a hand fetish now).
I pause to take a drink from the flask before I tell them about my homecoming.
" Well, you really made a mess of things," he says.
" Thanks, Mr. Optimistic," I tell him. " And it's not even the half of it."
" Well, I've heard enough about it for the moment. Let's skip ahead to this plan of yours," he says.
" We run away."
" What?" he asks, looking completely taken aback.
" We take to the woods and make a run for it," I say. His face is still impossible to read. " Don't you dare laugh at me. You said yourself that we could do it! That morning of the reaping! You said – oof!"
He had gotten up and then I felt myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around his neck to brace myself. He's laughing, happy.
" Hey!" I protest. But I'm laughing too. This is the first time I've seen him laugh in a carefree manner ever since I got reaped. Yeah…that long.
Gale sets me down but doesn't release his hold on me. " Okay, let's run away."
" Really?" I ask him, feeling suddenly excited. " You don't think I'm mad? You'll go with me?" Some of the crushing weight begins to lift as Gale grins more widely at me.
" Why would I think you're mad? I mean, I was the one who suggested we run. And yeah, I'll go with you. To the end of the earth if I have to," he says. I can't help but smile even wider at that. I mean, he means it. Not only means it but he welcomes it! " We can do it," he says abruptly. " I know we can. Let's leave and never come back!"
" You're sure?" I ask him. " Because it's going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don't want to get five miles into the wood and have you – "
" I'm sure. I'm completely, entirely, one-hundred percent sure." He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being close to the fire and I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I anyway? His voice drops down to a whisper : " I love you."
My whole world crash. Right, that's why I should have moved away.
That's my problem, really. I can never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you're proposing an escape plan and the next….you're expected to deal with something like this. I come up with what must be the worst response ever : " I know. "
Genius. Absolutely Brilliant.
It sounds terrible. Like I assume he couldn't help loving me but that I don't feel the same in return. Gale starts to draw away , but I grab hold of him. " I know! And you…you know what you are." Not enough, Everdeen! I thought to myself as he breaks my grip. " Gale, I can't think about anyone like that right now. All I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim's name , is how afraid I am. And there doesn't seem to be any room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don't know."
I can see him swallow his disappointment. " So, we'll go and find out," he says, a bitter smile now has replaced his happy one. He turns back to the chestnuts, which are starting to burn and flips them on to the hearth. " My mother's going to take some convincing, though."
Well, at least he's still going. Though the happiness that was there a moment ago has fled, leaving an all-familiar strain in its place. " Mine, too. I'll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won't survive the alternative."
" She'll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won't say no to you," Gale says confidently.
" I hope not." The temperature in the house seems to have dropped twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. " Haymitch will be the real problem."
" Haymitch?" Gale abandons the chestnuts. " You're not going to ask him to come with us, are you?" he asks me, his tone suddenly harsh.
I stare at him, momentarily confused at his question. " Of course I have to. He's practically like family to – " His scowl cuts me off. " What? Why are you angry?"
" Oh, I'm sorry," he suddenly snaps at me. " I didn't realize our party was going to be a big one."
" You don't understand," I say. " The Capitol would torture him to death to find out where I am."
" And me? What about me? Suppose that my mother refuse to drag three children out into the wilderness in the winter, would you leave me?"
" No! Of course not!" I nearly yell. "Hazelle would definitely see sense!"
" Suppose she doesn't?!"
" Then you'll have to force her, Gale! Do you think I'm making this up?" My voice is rising in anger as well.
" Yes. No. I don't know! Maybe the President's just manipulating you! He knows how much you mean to the people of the Capitol that's why he's riling you up! I don't think he's going to afford to kill you. How's he going to get out of that one?" says Gale.
" Well, with an uprising in District Eight, I doubt he would even bother what the Capitol people are going to say once he's through with me!" The moment those word left my mouth is the moment that I regret.
Their effect on Gale is immediate – the flush of his cheeks, the sudden glint of his gray eyes. " There's an uprising in Eight?" he asks in a hushed tone.
Backpedal! Backpedal! I scream to myself. " I don't know if it's really an uprising. I mean, there's been a bit of unrest. People in the streets – " I try to lie but he beat me to it.
" What did you see?" he asks, grabbing me by the shoulder.
" Nothing!" I gasp out. " Not in person, anyway. I just…heard something." Fine. Let's let the cat out of the bag. " I accidentally saw something on the mayor's television . I wasn't supposed too. There was a crowd, and fires, and the Peacekeepers were gunning people down but they were fighting back…" I bite my lips and struggle to continue describing the scene. Instead, these came out of my mouth : " And it's all my fault, Gale. Because of what happened in the arena. I had nightlock with me that night." I scream in frustration. " If only I had just eaten the berries, none of this would have happened. Everyone would have been safe."
" Safe to do what?" he asks in a gentler tone. " Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven't hurt anyone – you've given them an opportunity. To fight back. They just have to be brave and seize it. There's already been talks in the mines. People want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening! It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in Eight, why can't we have one here? Why not everywhere? This could be it! The very thing – "
" Stop! Just stop!" I cover my ears. " You don't know what you're talking about. The Peackeepers outside Twelve? They're not like the ones here! Not like Darius, not like Cray. The lives of district people? They mean less than nothing to them," I tell him.
" And that's why we have to join the fight!" he replies harshly.
" No! We have to leave here before they start killing us and other people too!" I'm yelling now and I really can't understand why he's doing this. Why can't he see what I am seeing?
Gale pushes me away roughly from him. " You leave, then. I'd never go in a million years."
" You were happy enough to go before! I don't see how an uprising in Eight can do anything except make it more important for us to leave! What are you mad about?" I ask him. " What about your family then?"
" What about other families, Katniss? The ones who can't run away? Don't you see? It can't be about saving us anymore. Not if the rebellion's begun!" Gale shakes his head, not hiding his disgust at me. " You could do so much." He throws Cinna's glove at my feet. " Here. Take it back. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol." And just like that, he's gone.
I look down at the gloves. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol. Does he view me as another product of the Capitol? Something untouchable? No..that's not fair. Not fair at all! He's not giving me a chance to explain myself at all! Where's the fairness in that? But then…because he's angry at me, he might do something crazy.
I sink down to the floor, my head in my hands, desperate for comfort , to work out my next move. It's okay, it's okay, I tell myself. Rebellion don't happen in a day. Gale can't talk to the miners until tomorrow. If I can get to Hazelle before then, maybe I can get her to straighten him out. But I can't go now. If he's there, he'll lock me out for sure. I'll have to go there tonight, after everyone's asleep. Hazelle often works late into the night, finishing the laundry.
Yes. That's it. I could go there tonight, tap on her window and tell her about the situation and make her stop Gale from doing something foolish.
My conversation with President Snow in the study comes back to me.
" My advisors were concerned that you would be difficult, but you're not planning on being difficult, are you?" he asks.
" No."
" That's what I told them. I said, any girl who goes to such lengths to preserve her life isn't going to be interested to throw it away with both hands."
I think of how hard Hazelle has worked to keep that family alive. Surely she'll be on my side in this matter. Won't she?
It must be getting towards noon now and the days are so short. No point in being in the woods if you don't have to. I stamp out the remains of my little fire , clear up the scraps of food and tuck Cinna's gloves in my belt. I guess I'll hang on to them for a while. In case Gale has a change of heart. I think of the look on his face when he flung them to the ground. How repelled he was by them. By me…
I push the hurt away. Now is really not the time to be hurt by him. Now is the time I try to defuse him, to make him see sense why I acted that way. He didn't hear what President Snow said. If he had, he'd probably agree with me running away. Or maybe not? Oh, I don't know. It's like I don't even know him anymore. He's changed ever since the Games. Or maybe, I've changed since the Games? Yeah…maybe that's why. Maybe I have ch-
" Oof!"
" Oof!" I fell down into the snow. " Who's there?" I ask.
" No one," the person in front of me says. " Just some random ghost turned solid when you decided to not watch where you're going."
" Peeta?" I ask him.
" Hey there, Katniss," he says, getting to his feet. I look around my surroundings. We're in the Victor's Village now. Wait. What's he doing here? " I just sent some fresh cheese bun to your house. Your mother said it's your favourite." Oh, that's why. He helps me up to my feet.
" You know, you really don't have to do that," I tell him, something like guilt rising up in me. He's trying so hard to please me and I really am not comfortable with it.
" Oh, no. That's okay. I really like baking. Sometimes I bake a lot without actually realizing it and then my dad would yell at me for making too much buns or something. But then he'd shut up when I say it's for you. So, yeah." Oh, this guilt trip is driving me crazy. " Anyway, where are you headed to?" he asks me.
" Maybe to town?"
" Cool. I'll walk you there," he smiles.
Oh, boy.
After a few minutes of walking down the street in silence, he suddenly asks, " Why are there Capitol people in your house?"
Capitol people? Oh. " They got lost. They were supposed to go to District One but they took the wrong train," I fed him the same lie everyone's been fed with.
" Huh," he says, kicking some snow. " The guy looks awfully lot like Percy, except he had blue hair. And the girl? She's really familiar too. I've seen her somewhere."
Crap.
" Listen, Peeta. About Percy." Maybe I should tell him?
" Katniss," he stops, a sad look in his eyes. " You don't have to apologize. It's okay for you to be mad at me. I'm mad at me. If I had the balls to actually go into the Games – "
" Then I wouldn't be talking to you right now."
" But you would be talking to Percy."
True. But it's a bit cruel, isn't it? Wanting him dead instead of Percy? Of course, said person isn't really dead right now.
" Katniss, if - "
But whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by a strange sound.I look up and finally realized that we had arrived at the edge of the square. The sound seems to be coming from the middle of it, where a crowd has gathered in a circle-like fashion. A whistling, the sound of impact and the intake of breath of the crowd.
" Come on," Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don't know why. I can't place the sound , even taking a guess. But it means something bad to him.
When we reach the square, it's clear something is happening but the crowd is too thick for me to see. Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I'm halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. " Get down. Get out of here," he whispers, but his voice is harsh with insistence.
" What?" I ask him, trying to force my way back up.
" Go home, Katniss! I'll be there in a minute, I swear!" he says.
Whatever it is, it's terrible. I yank my hand away from his and push my way through the crowd. People see me, recognize my face and panics. Hands shove me back. Voices hiss at me.
" Go back!"
" You'll only make it worse."
" Get out of here, girl!"
" What do you want to do? Get him killed?"
But at this point, my heart is beating so fast and fierce I hardly hear them. I only know that whatever waits in the middle of the square is meant for me. When I finally break through to the cleared space, I see I am right. That Peeta was right. That those voices were right.
Gale's wrists are bound to a wooden post. The wild turkey he shot earlier hangs above him, the nail driven through its neck. His jacket's been tossed aside, his shirt torn away. He slumps unconscious on his knees, held up only by the ropes at his wrists. What used to be his back is now a slab of raw, bloody meat.
Standing behind me is a man I've never seen, but I recognize his uniform. It's the designated one for the Head Peacekeeper. This isn't old Cray, though. This is a tall, muscular man with sharp creases in his pants.
The pieces of the picture didn't quite piece together.
Until I see the man's arm raising a whip.
Special note : What would you feel if you suddenly didn't get any updates on this story and it's abandoned for days, and then weeks, and then months, and then years. You soon move on to better stories but you just can't stop thinking why it's abandoned. And then suddenly, an update. You open it, expecting a story but it says 'the author has passed away on ...' what do you think you would feel?
Anyways, I read something that had me thinking. I mean, most of the time you guys say I'm a good writer but then, maybe in reality I am not? But I never know because you guys keep saying I'm a good writer. Like...I mean, when I reread my fics, I think that person had a point : I'm not a good writer. I don't know how to write.