Author's Note: Thanks for a positive response, everyone! :D I have a three-day-weekend, so I have all the time I need to flop in my computer chair and type up a story for you all. ;) I'm trying to slow down, chill and take my time on this… But it's just so fun to write!

For those wondering, Katniss' religion is not a fairytale. It's a real practice called Wicca, and I myself am a Wiccan (of course it's changed through the centuries). So I thought that I should keep this up and share my knowledge with you all, as Wicca is a fascinating practice! Also, the 'shit… I need a lock' part was just for a bit of humor. They probably wouldn't actually say that. Very vulgar. XD

One more thing: Christians are a bit demonized in this story. I, personally, think you guys are wonderful people! :) But looking at it from a historical witch's perspective, Christians are their dire enemies, because of all the witch hunts. Wouldn't you hate and fear someone out to kill you? So please don't start a religious war in the reviews. Try to keep an open mind. :3

Her brows furrowed and she clenched her fist. Katniss swiped her tongue over her teeth, her mouth dry from anxiety. One heartbeat felt like a millennium.

The foreign man stood in the doorway, frozen in uncertainty. It almost comforted the witch knowing this brute was as scared as she. He had golden hair that looked windblown and tousled in an attractive way. Deep blue eyes the shade of lapis with flecks of dull brown towards the pupils that twinkled with hesitantly lethal curiosity. Tanned skin from hours in the sun. Chiseled muscles that gleamed with sweat from the journey to Katniss' little cottage. He wore a simple scarlet tunic, leather boots, and loose brown pants. A golden pin bearing a serpent lacing its lanky body around the rimming circle was over his heart, as a symbol of where he came from. The word handsome wasn't applicable to describe this man.

Katniss' intuition told her otherwise when it came to his soul. She could sense the darkness. The insecurity. The hate for her people.

Blood pounded in her ears. Instinct told her to kill. Her hands drifted on the worn table top until she could feel her fingertips meet a cool metal. Katniss' silver gaze flinched from the masculine figure before her only once to make sure she gripped the blade properly.

This 'blade' was much more than that. It was an athame, or a ritualistic knife. Using it as a weapon or cutting any flesh, even of food, would ruin its purity. Katniss would have to carve a new athame if she wished to use the blade now to defend herself.

Fine, then. Guess I have to, she thought as the intruder stepped inside, forgetting to shut the door behind himself.

"Don't even think about it," the foreigner's voice was slick and well-played. "Trying to hurt me is useless."

Her fiery eyes narrowed and a hiss slipped out between her lips without thinking. "Excellent liar you are, hm?"

"I only speak the truth."

Katniss clenched her teeth, the snarky battle of wit tiring her mind. With a slight shake of her head, she cut to the chase. "What do you want here? All I have is stale bread," she spat venomously.

An eyebrow of his rose in amusement, the side of his mouth curling in a smirk. "King Cornelius Snow of Panem sent me here." He paused as his gaze drifted about the house, fright flickering in his blue orbs. She supposed it would be a bit… creepy… to people not of the Craft. His eyes then landed on her pentagram necklace. "Look, I know what you are."

She flinched from him not saying 'who', but instead 'what.' People seemed to forget that witches were just people. They weren't immortal creatures of any kind. Witches just held knowledge that commoners did not.

"And I know what you do."

Katniss glowered with distaste. No, you don't, she thought to herself. You ignorant bastard… You know nothing; I repeat nothing; about me or what I do. But she wouldn't dare say anything like that. Although her words were defiant, she knew there was no way she could defeat someone of his stature. Unless…

No. The Wiccan Rede is all about not using magick to another's disadvantage.

"Look, I'm risking my life right here, right now, just meddling with you and your demons-"

"Demons?! Turn around and look in the mirror, you hypocritical Christian!" she hissed, her voice beginning to rise. Her muscles tensed and her arm instinctively held up the athame in threat.

The man was beginning to lose his patience and his anger was boiling, she could tell. He bit his lip in aggravation, fingers curling like claws. "Anyways- Look. You have two choices. You can leave and take your fucking magick with you, or stay. But if you stay, we're gonna track you down, you know. You're scheduled for a hanging. There's a bounty hunt in the kingdom that everyone's talking about. People are even betting on who will get you first."

Katniss' eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in realization. It's bad enough that one person wants her dead. But a whole kingdom? The witch has certainly despised a select few of people in her life, but not enough to hurt them in any way, shape, or form.

The man continued. "But King Cornelius is feeling kind, and we'll wait for you to leave. So start packing your things now or I'll just head back and tell them all that you're staying right where you are." He folded his arms stubbornly, shifting his weight onto one side of his him and tapping his right foot of the wooden floorboards impatiently. "Which one do you choose?"

The young woman gulped nervously, but her mouth was so dry from anxiety that nothing slid down her throat. She looked at her feet, and then back up. Silver met blue.

"Neither."

His face was skewed with silent questions, but she lashed out at him before a word could slip out between those thin lips. Katniss jabbed a knife with an untrained and clumsy thrust into his shoulder, but the messenger threw her off before it was a flesh wound. A sliver of skin chipped off and the scarlet blood dripped delicately down the side of his well-muscled forearm. A grunt of frustration emanated, the first verbal sign of anger he had during his time here. The lady was thrown back, the man's shove stronger than he had originally intended. Katniss let out a furious screech as her spine hit the wall, her features disfigured from pain.

The athame hit the floor with an echoing clatter.

I've disobeyed my God and Goddess, the witch's thoughts suddenly pushed through the clouds of fury. Her fiery gaze faltered to the ground, which soon met with thick metal shackles lying on the floor she usually used for carrying large animal carcasses for proper ritualistic burial. But that day they would have to be used for a different purpose. Katniss slithered over and snatched them up. With a shove of all her might, and the man on unsteady feet from the wound, she pushed him to the floor. Her arms swung over, using the shackles to latch his hands together.

Katniss pushed herself up with her fist, chest heaving from the fight. Her ebony hair was unruly and her cheeks were tinted pink from the blood pulsing beneath. Her eyes were wild and animalistic. While she was triumphant, the commoner was defeated. Blood still oozed readily from the thin slice in his shoulder, but his eyes remained filled to the brim with distaste and hatred.

"Now-," she spoke between gasps, trying to catch her breath. "You are now my prisoner. You do what I say. I am your mistress, and you will not deny my demands."

He nodded weakly, and Katniss new she'd have to fix up that wound soon. "What's your name anyways?"
"What's yours?" He hadn't lost his defiance.

"K-Katniss," It felt odd saying her own name aloud.

"Cato."

Author's Note: Ta-da! I worked pretty hard on this, so you'd better enjoy it. Favorite, follow, and review! ^^