The first time Katniss went beyond the fence, it was her fourth birthday.

"Isn't she a bit young?" her mother asked as Katniss's father helped her into her new boots.

Her father shook his head, his hand hovering above Katniss's right ankle - the spot where, under her boots, her sunset orange soulmark wrapped all the way around her ankle. Twice. Katniss couldn't read it yet, but she knew it meant there was someone out there just for her. Just like her parents had each other. That's what everyone said, anyway, though her parents always looked like they were going to cry whenever she asked about it.

"No," he said, tying her bootlace. "The sooner, the better. She needs to be prepared."

Her mother closed her eyes and nodded. Her hand rested on her pregnant stomach, so huge it looked like she had stuffed a watermelon under her dress. "All right. But be safe."

"Always." Her father kissed her mother on the lips, then took Katniss's hand and left the house.

They walked through the Seam, then across the Meadow toward the fence. Katniss practiced being quiet, just like her father had been teaching her. It was fun to walk carefully, pretend she was a bear stalking its prey.

When they got to the fence, he held up a hand, and Katniss obediently froze. She couldn't hear anything; was the fence off? Her father's hand hovered over it for a minute before he nodded. Then he slid on his belly under a loose spot and helped her do the same. They'd made it out of District Twelve!

On the other side, he put his finger to his lips, and they crept silently until they were in the trees. Her father stopped at an old log and pulled out a bow and sheath of arrows. "Come on," he murmured, already moving again. "Let's go."

When they finally stopped walking, Katniss couldn't see the fence anymore. They must be in the middle of nowhere, with a whole wide world to explore! Tentatively, with one finger, she touched her father's bow. "Can I learn, Daddy?"

He smiled at her. "One day, but not today. This bow's a bit big for you. No, today we're going to start with trapping." He sat down on a log and pulled some rope and wire out of his pack, then patted the spot next to him.

Katniss sat down and listened and watched as carefully as she could. Her fingers were a lot clumsier than her father's as she copied the knots he showed her, but each time it came slightly easier. "Daddy," she said after they'd been practicing for a while, even though she hadn't quite gotten it right yet, "why didn't Mommy want me to come out here with you? I'm a big girl!"

His smile looked almost like a grimace. "Oh, Katniss. I didn't start coming to the woods until I was eight, so your mother is right. You are young." He shook his head. "But you need to learn this. You need to be good at this. All of this. Walking silently, hunting, gathering. Surviving. You need to be the best."

"But why, Daddy?"

He wrapped his hand around her right ankle. "Because one day you'll have to do this all for real, and I won't be there to help you."

She blinked at him. "But you're Daddy! You'll always be here!"

With a gentle squeeze to her ankle, he said, "No I won't, Katniss. And you'll have to be prepared."

Katniss didn't know what her father meant or what to say, so instead she just concentrated on the knot he'd shown her and making the trap perfectly. She was determined to get it right. This time, she succeeded. "Look, Daddy!" She held up the completed trap. "I did it!"

"Great job." He ruffled her hair. "Now make another one."

When Katniss was six and learning how to read and write, she looked at her soulmark and started picking out words. It was hard; not only did it wrap all the way around her ankle two whole times, but from her point of view, the words were upside down, so she could only get a few. And they weren't the big words either.

She needed to see it right side up.

Carefully, she took out her school notebook - a battered blue book that her mother had gotten as part of a trade for healing a woman's cooking burn that was missing half the pages - and copied the letters that were on her ankle. Her handwriting wasn't very good, and she kept having to move her ankle to see all of it, but eventually she managed.

Even right side up, she didn't know all the words. Some of them were easy; she recognized 'Katniss' immediately. Others were much harder.

"Is your schoolwork difficult today? You're concentrating hard."

Katniss looked up to see her mother making dinner. She shook her head. "I wanted to read my soulmark, but it's upside down. So I made it right side up. But it's got a lot of long words and it's hard to read."

The pot clanged loudly as her mother accidentally hit it with the spoon. "Why do you want to read your soulmark?" Her voice sounded almost scared.

Katniss frowned. "'Cause I wanna know what it says!" Wasn't that obvious?

Her mother stirred the pot one more time, then placed the spoon on a towel, covered the pot, and turned down the stove. She joined Katniss at the table. "Katniss. Soulmarks are…" She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Then she opened them again and said, "Katniss. Promise me you won't talk to anyone but me or your father about your soulmark. No one. Not even Prim."

Prim was a baby; why would Katniss want to talk to her? "But why?"

"Promise."

Katniss considered. If she promised, she wouldn't be able to figure out who her soulmate was. But if she didn't promise, she wouldn't know what it said. "Will you tell me what it says?" she finally asked.

Her mother nodded slowly. "Promise first."

She chose. "Okay. I promise. I won't talk to anyone but you or Daddy about my soulmark, not even Prim."

"Good." Her mother took a deep breath. "Katniss, your soulmark… one day, you're going to be in the Hunger Games, and your soulmate will be your district partner."

Katniss frowned as she thought through her mother's words. "But… but Mrs. McCoy said only one person ever survives the Hunger Games."

Her mother made a noise that sounded almost like a sob. "That's right."

"So if I survive, my soulmate… won't?"

Her mother nodded.

"Then I don't want a soulmate! I don't want to know my words!" She tore the page she'd written her words on out of her notebook and ripped it into pieces. "I don't want to die! I don't want to watch them die!"

"I know. I know you don't." Her mother wrapped her in her arms. "I know, Katniss. But listen to me. Even if your soulmate dies, you do your best to make it out, okay? That's why your father is teaching you how to hunt. That way… that way you have a chance. Don't throw it all away, not yet. When… when you're in the Games… promise me you'll try."

Hot tears streaked down her cheeks. "I promise, Mommy. I promise."

Over the next five years, Katniss learned everything she could from both of her parents.

Her father taught her to survive in the woods - everything from hunting to fishing to every single trap he knew. He taught her how to make a fire with only sticks and how to identify plants. He taught her how to walk silently no matter what she walked on and how to skin an animal.

Her mother taught her healing. That was much harder for Katniss; unlike Prim, who was helping her mother with the miners' cuts by the time she was four, Katniss didn't like to look at injuries. She could deal with it when it was an animal, but with a human it was harder. But she needed to learn. She needed to know how to heal herself, even with no supplies. Too many people died in the Hunger Games because they didn't have medical care; she didn't want to be one of them.

And even more than knowing how to heal, she needed to know how to kill. She knew where to shoot an animal from her father; her mother's lessons taught her where to shoot a human.

She still hadn't looked at her words, not since she was too young to really read them. She didn't want to know what they said. She didn't want to know who she'd watch die - or who would watch her die.

Instead, she threw herself into learning survival. School didn't matter; she wouldn't need it, not with where she was going. She spent her time at school going over survival skills in her mind, remembering as much as she could, then practiced them after school. She had to be the best.

And then, when she was eleven, the mine exploded.

Her father was dead.

And her mother went away.

For all Katniss tried, keeping herself and Prim and their mother alive was impossible. Sure, she knew how to hunt and trap and fish, but there was nothing to hunt or trap or fish. There wasn't even anything to gather. Not with the weather as bad as it was. It was the coldest winter she'd ever experienced, and no matter what Katniss did, her whole family was going to die.

But with two burnt loaves of bread and a dandelion underfoot, Peeta Mellark gave her hope. He gave her determination. He gave her spring.

She would make it through this. She would.

On her twelfth birthday, Katniss took Prim's little toy wagon to the Justice Building to get her tesserae. And after she got home and put the grain and oil away, she went into the bedroom and pulled her boot off. She was twelve now. She needed to know what it said.

It was still hard to read upside down, but now she could. Even though she'd spent most of her school years ignoring the teachers, she could at least read.

*Have you ever met him? Haymitch? You know, Katniss, he is our mentor. He did win this thing once. Look, you know, if you don't want to talk, I understand, but I just don't think there's anything wrong with getting a little bit of help.*

She closed her eyes. Her parents were right; her soulmate would be her district partner. She would be in the Hunger Games.

She would need every survival skill she had to make it through. And she would. She would be the Victor. Not her soulmate. Her. What did it matter if her soulmate made it out? Love never lasted; look at her parents. Sure, they'd had fourteen happy years. But now her father was gone, and her mother was just a shell. That wouldn't be her.

So what if Katniss lost her soulmate just after she met them? At least she'd still have Prim. At least she'd still have her life.

It was better not to get attached. It was better not to risk it.

Each year, Katniss held her breath, praying Effie Trinket wouldn't read her name.

She knew it would happen one day. But the older she got, the more likely she would be to survive. No one had ever won at twelve or thirteen, and Finnick Odair was the only Victor who'd won at fourteen; the older she got, the more chance she had.

Katniss was small, sneaky, and while she could hunt a deer better than anyone else in Twelve - including Gale - she still wasn't sure she could hunt a human. But when she was six, she'd promised her mother that she'd try to come home. So she would do her best.

At twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, she got lucky. Other names were called - girls from the Community Home, the Seam. Girls who weren't her.

At sixteen, her name still wasn't called.

But Prim's was.

"I volunteer!" she yelled. "I volunteer as tribute!" She'd never thought she would end up in the Games by choice. But the truth was, it was no choice at all. She was fated to be in the Games; Prim, who didn't have a soulmark, wasn't. She couldn't save her soulmate, but she could save her sister. While Katniss wasn't happy to be up on the stage, giving her name to Effie Trinket, she also wasn't surprised.

And then Effie called the boy.

Oh no, she thought. Not him.

But it was. Her district partner was Peeta Mellark. The boy who had saved her, saved them all those years ago.

He was her district partner. And he was her soulmate.

Katniss avoided speaking to him for as long as she could, not wanting to know how he'd react. Not wanting to have to react herself.

But she couldn't avoid it forever. Effie left to go get Haymitch, and Peeta looked at her.

"Have you ever met him?" Peeta asked.

This was it. These were her words. She held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

"Haymitch?" When she didn't even look at him, he continued, "You know, Katniss, he is our mentor. He did win this thing once."

She still couldn't speak. Her words weren't finished yet.

"Look, you know, if you don't want to talk, I understand, but I just don't think there's anything wrong with getting a little bit of help."

It was him. He was her soulmate. The boy with the bread was her soulmate.

Before she could figure out how to respond, Haymitch joined them. As he drank himself half to death and told them what to expect, her heart sank. Their mentor had given up long ago - his only advice was to embrace their own deaths.

She'd have to rely on her own skills to survive.

As Haymitch left, she couldn't help but look at Peeta. He was terrified, she could tell. Could she really watch him die? Could she watch the boy with the bread die and know she'd sacrificed her soulmate so she could go home to Prim?

Before, she'd thought she could. Now, she didn't know.

"He's gonna come around," Peeta said, determination clear on his face as he stood up.

"It's no use!" she responded automatically.

Peeta glanced back at her as he left the car. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

And then he was gone. Had he even registered what she'd said? Was she his soulmate as he was hers? As far as she knew, soulmates always came in pairs, but… maybe he wasn't. Maybe she'd be lucky and he'd never have to know.

But in her heart, she knew that wasn't true.

That night, while Katniss was watching Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman discuss past Hunger Games, a knock sounded on her bedroom door.

She considered not answering it; she didn't particularly want to talk to Effie, Haymitch, or even Peeta. On the other hand, she didn't really want to sit and watch this commentary, and there was nothing else to do. Sleeping wasn't going to happen, not tonight. When the knock came again, she turned off the television and went to answer the door.

Peeta was on the other side, his hand raised to knock again. "Can… can we talk?" he asked.

Katniss nodded and let him in, closing the door behind him. She didn't want this conversation to be public.

He sat down in the only chair, leaving her to sit on the edge of the bed. He rolled up his sleeve until she could see dark green on his bicep. It was a small mark, not nearly as long as hers. Just one sentence: *It's no use!* "You said my words earlier, didn't you?"

There was no point in pretending. "Yes."

His face flitted from one expression to another, so fast that Katniss couldn't read any of them. "Can I see yours?"

She nodded and rolled up the hem of her long sleep pants, showing him the orange words wrapped around her ankle.

He gently placed a warm hand over her mark, making Katniss shiver slightly. "I'm sorry."

She frowned. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"For leaving you alone."

She blinked.

"Katniss. I'm going to make sure you survive this. You're getting out and going home to Prim. I promise."

"But… why? Don't you want to…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

He shook his head. "Not without you." Then he smiled. "I'm glad it's you."

"I'm not." She hadn't meant to say the words, but they came out anyway. When his face went blank, she hurried to add, "Not - if we were in Twelve, I'd be glad. But not here. Not now. Not like this." She was stunned to realize she meant it. She would be glad if they were in Twelve. If she could have Peeta, have the boy who'd given her hope. But she couldn't, and they both knew it.

He smiled wryly. "Sure, it would be better in Twelve." He held out a hand, and, without thought, she put hers in it. "But, Katniss. No matter how long we have. I'm still glad it's you. And I promise. I'm going to make sure you get home." He gently squeezed her hand. "I promise." Then he left her room.

Katniss stared at the door as it closed behind him. She still wanted to go home to Prim. But now that she knew it was Peeta, now that she'd talked to him, she wasn't sure she could watch him die just so she could go home.

Once again, he'd given her hope. He'd given her determination.

He'd given her spring.

And she was going to do her best to make sure he lived to see another one.