AN: Thanks for all the great reviews and your "favorite" adds, you guys! It's very encouraging and I'm really hoping that I don't let you down. And I'm also hoping that I can keep up with this at a decent pace, I'm afraid all I can do is promise to try. School and work and stuff may interfere a little until Summer Break starts. Still, I'll do my best to keep you entertained!

Oh, and silent thoughts will be expressed in italics, just so you know. The only one that will be doing this is Nira, I think, but don't hold me to it! .

If anyone knows how to put an OC as a character for this book series, please let me know! I only have Gale claimed as a main character in the story currently.

This chapter has a good amount of Nira's back-story, sorry in advance about Goat Man's/Papa's accent, but I just couldn't make him a flat character with flawless English. Though I don't know why Nira speaks more formally than her "Papa". I guess she spends more time listening to other people.

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Hunger Games, the sequels, or the characters unfortunately; only Nira.

Chapter 2: Papa's Confessions

Nira sprinted through the forest, back to the fence as fast as possible. Papa, he must be waiting! She thought back on the kiss, how foolish she had been to get caught watching over Gale. Shame rolled through her at the thought of disobeying her father in such a way, breaking the only dictate he ever held over her. But Nira had never considered that the possibility had been inevitable, or that it was even expected at some point.

I won't tell him. Instantly she felt guilty for keeping such a thing from him, but really, it was for the best. Papa had more to worry about than his daughter getting caught by someone who couldn't even ask around about her. He had his illness and pain, and his addiction. From his semi-coherent ramblings in recent years in the influence of the drink, Nira knew that she wasn't even his biological child! She loved him anyways, and knew that in his way, when he could, he loved her. But his advancing age, joint pain, and constant coughing had, in recent years, given way to heavier drinking and more distant behavior.

Anyways, what would Gale say, "Hey, do you know about a Seam girl who runs around in the wilds"? Word wouldn't get back to Papa, he was just the cantankerous old Goat Man, usually deep in his cups. He could barely make it around town sometimes, how would he know about what goes on in the wilds? And who would believe Gale anyways? He'd only be outright stating that he breaks the law everyday he slips through the fence.

Nira had, by the time she reached the fence, comforted and reassured herself. She saw a candle lit outside the sturdy lean to, constructed for her father's use. It was rather large, half the open side boarded, the other half covered with a thick tarp. It was another thing people in the Seam had never questioned; how had the Goat Man afforded such a quality shelter AND so many goats, and why so much space for one man?

She looked around, double, then triple-checking her surroundings. The near-by residencies were mostly abandoned in this area of the district, since it was so far from the mine and livelihood of the common. But she still preferred to be cautious, especially after today's disaster. She let the goats through the fence first, as a mask of sound before she bent double and crawled in the center of the trip to the lean to. Mounted on all the walls surrounding their home were feeding baskets, filled with Sweet Grass that lured the animals, establishing their connection of this place as their home. As they gravitated toward their food, Nira drew close to the tarp and slid in, taking the candle in with her.

"Nira," affirmed a gruff voice, and she turned her attention to her Papa, who was propped in his corner with a thread-bare blanket hanging from his thin shoulders.

"Papa," she returned, unhooking a gathering satchel from her belt and handing it to him.

Hands shaking, he parted the mouth of the bag, reaching in for the harvest of ripe gooseberries. He took one out, observing it in the candlelight. His mouth twisted suddenly, and he placed it back in the bag before handing it back to her. "Thank ye girl, those are me favorite. Put 'em on the shelf."

Nira did so, observing the full bottles of liquor stashed there. Frowning, she counted again. Four—the same amount that had been there this morning. She looked carefully at her Papa again. He was propped against the wall, much the frail old man, but tonight he was pale, shivering. His eyes were bloodshot as usual, but he wasn't florid with drink. No bottle sat next to him, and no exhaled alcohol fumes polluted the close air.

"Papa?" she questioned. "Are you well?"

"Hell no, my little bird," he said hoarsely. All of a sudden he coughed. It sounded deeper, painful. "This ain't a night for drink."

But you always drink on this night! Nira wanted to shout, but she held her tongue. It wasn't that she wanted him to drink, just that his avoidance of it worried her. It was his comfort, his self-prescribed medicine. Without it he was weakened, withdrawn, a shell of a man eclipsed by age and pain.

"Why not?" she asked instead.

He was quiet for a moment before saying, "It shames 'er sacrifice. It ain't never been done before, that's a-certain. Now there'll be trouble brewing, mark me words, lass."

"What, Papa? What's happening?" she said.

"Katniss," he said shortly. Nira's heart thumped hard on one beat and she swallowed. "She was there, an she gave 'er life for 'er sister."

"Kat is dead?" she cried, forgetting where she was.

"Not yet." The Goat Man peered at her suspiciously and sighed heavily, guessing as to what had happened. He gave the girl too long a leash, but it hardly mattered anymore. "She gave 'erself to the Reaping, to the Games. Made a martyr outta herself. The Capitol ain't gonna like it. The end is coming," he said darkly, "though I'll not be long to see it."

"Don't talk like that!" she whispered fiercely, embracing him and laying her head on his bony chest.

He patted her head, looking to the furthest corner of the room, trying to sort his words. "Someone's gotta be true. Someone's gotta be honest. Truth is, I needed ta lay off the drink for more'n one reason t'night. Lass, I got some hard facts ta be tellin' ye, an it ain't gonna be easy."

"Papa, I know you're not my father," she burst out.

"Right enough ye be," he said. "Can only assume I've been talkin' in me cups. But that ain't the only thing I need ta tell ye. Yer father wanted me ta let ye know sooner, but I couldna pull me lips from the bottle. He's still alive, so's ye know. But I'll be on about that in a jiff, just let me tell ye about a bit o' history. You'll see why."

He then proceeded to tell Nira about the world she'd been born into, a world made of the Capitol and Districts, where different places produced different things for the powerful Capitol. Years ago, an uprising had occurred, and an entire community had been obliterated as an example to the survivors. As further punishment, the Hunger Games were created. Every year, two children from each district were chosen to participate, to ultimately be led to an arena where 23 of the 24 were basically slaughtered. The lone survivor, the Victor, was treated well, paraded about like a pet of the Capitol. They led richer lives after their victory, but every year for the next annual Hunger Game got the dubious pleasure of mentoring the pair headed from their district.

"Yer father is the only living Victor from District 12," he said gently. "Ofttimes the Capitol wanted a Victor to do terrible things once they triumphed, but ole Haymitch wasn't gonna play their Games. So they sought revenge on his family. Yer grandmother, grandfather, and uncle were killed by the Capitol. Yer mother was too, when 'er was importance to Haymitch was found out. Somehow their love went undetected at the beginning, long enough for Elinore to hide ye in 'er belly and give birth ta ye. She did it in secret, somehow. Soon she was well enough she started protectin' ye from the Capitol. She had the midwife's vow of secrecy.

"Then she came ta me with ye, only but a babe. I had been showin' signs of the Black from the mines, and I'd always been gentle wif the children, like. Not so nice ta grown folk, but I'da never hurt a chile for nothin'. I wasn't gonna have none o' my own, but when she forced ye inta me arms, it was like I'd seen the face of an angel. When she tole me she was gonna give ye ta me coz ye all were in danger of bein' found out, well, no one couldna pried ye from my arms 'less I was dead. She was scared that ye'd be killed too, else used 'gainst Haymitch in the future. She gave me the money from yer father for yer keepin', tole me to say it was me life savings and to find a softer occupation that I might make a bit o' money from. Haymitch knew o' the plan but was off on the Tour o' the Capitol and wouldna been able to get outta it.

"Then two days later, the day afore Haymitch got back, she was murdered. He turned ta the bottle for his grief, and outta fear for yer safety, vowed ta never visit. He helped when he could hide it, but ofttimes was too drunk ta remember or ta risk it. But it hardly mattered. By then I'd gotten the goats and the house from the money from yer ma. The midwife that delivered ye—Katniss' ma—helped me wif ye the first years that ye carried on and cried so. Then once ye'd grown enough for me ta handle ye, she got herself settled an started a family 'er own. Now it's 'er baby in the Games. I hope Haymitch gets his head ta thinkin and remembers all that the Everdeen's've done for his own. Mebbe he'll get the bottle from his mouth and help for once rather than drown."

It was quiet as Nira rested against her Papa, digesting all that he'd told her while tears streaked down her cheeks. Mother: dead. Father: drunk. Not too much different than she'd been living these past years. Fortune was that there were enough dark-haired, gray-eyed people in the Seam. But still, as an unregistered citizen, to avoid getting pulled into the Games of the Capitol, she couldn't afford to be found out, especially as Haymitch's own flesh and blood. Nira knew then how close to catastrophe she'd come this evening with Gale, and her only consolation was that he couldn't babble about it without incriminating himself. I'm going to have to meet with him now, she thought. What had he yelled after her? Something about Sunday. I don't think he'd turn me in, but I have to be sure of it.

The Goat Man had been drifting when suddenly his thought had aligned with his adopted daughter's and his eyes shot open. "Nira, ye gotta find someone ta trust here. Someone strong, but not yer father. Trust Haymitch, but don't go ta him. Ye gotta have a friend here, in case something happens—" He brought out into great hacking coughs that were aggravated by all of his recent speech and his sudden worry.

"Shh," Nira soothed. "Nothing bad is going to happen, Papa, you'll see." She debated with herself a moment before speaking. "Anyway, I think…well, Papa, I may already have a friend, maybe."

There was but a moment before he sat bolt upright, grabbing her shoulders. "Well who is it, lass?" He punctuated his demand with a small shake.

"Um… a boy named Gale?" she ventured, watching him carefully as thoughts flickered across his face.

"Hmph." Papa said, content. "Not a bad choice, lass. Already on the other side o' the fence, so ta speak. Bit worried 'bout the attention he may be getting, if Katniss survives the least o' the Games. But he knows loyalty, is a fair fellow, and can protect what he cares about." He peered at her curiously. "Do I need ta send to Katniss' ma, ta talk ta ye about the ways o' men and women?"

"What? No, Papa, it's not like that!" Remembering the kiss, she flushed with embarrassment and looked down. "He's only got eyes for Katniss, anyway."

"Mmm," he said noncommittally. His worry somewhat dispelled, the Goat Man grew sleepier, and his voice became breathier. He was struggled not to wheeze every few words. "Well, if ye can stay outta the light, it's a good choice. Even Katniss, she's a good 'un. But make sure ye only meet deep in the wilds now, ye hear?"

"Yes Papa." She sensed him slipping into sleep and pulled away from him, tucking the blanket in close to him. She then stood, pushing the board on their low roof that allowed access to the hidden attic of the lean to. Taking a foothold on the horizontal beam running the length of the wall, she boosted herself up into the close space. Once in the small space, she shifted around to place the board back on the floor, obscuring the way up. Lighter of heart and exhausted from the tumultuous emotions evoked from the day, she quickly fell asleep amongst the familiar sounds of goats outside and her Papa's snores.

AN: Ahh! Okay, so do you like it? I'm a bit sorry we didn't get to see Gale, but this bit was SUPER important apparently, since I spent so many words writing it. Back-stories are important, aren't they? Gale's mad at me, I just know it. He really wants to know what's going to happen next, but I can't tell him! He's just gonna have to find out with the rest of you! As usual, reviews are welcome—I loved the couple of ones I got from some of you! I'm so happy that you're demanding more!