A/N: It has been so long since I was able to get this story updated. I hope you can all forgive me. I also hope that you will enjoy this chapter. Thank you to those of you who left comments regarding the story and inquiring about the status. Your encouragement has meant so much to me. Happy reading!
Two weeks go by with short conversations for necessity and awkward silent meals. Gale and I don't discuss the thing that ways most heavily on our minds. We tip-toe around each other, only speaking to discuss trivial things or to plan activities. Gale's siblings make a point to stop in and say their hellos. Even Hazelle stops by once to check up on me.
Things go on like this and though I can't bring myself to say so aloud, I wish that Gale would just go back to being the kind interested man that he was that first night. Things are amicable enough presently, but it was so comforting when he told me about his family's life and I shared the story of my own. Gale's stories were funny and filled with love. And maybe it is that loving comfort that I long to see now, anything as opposed to the silence and formality.
It's more difficult on nights when Gale is late from work. He'll show up when the dinner meal is growing cold. Every night he'll be covered in coal and need to wash his face and hands thoroughly before he eats. I try not to grow frustrated with the way that I can never get his meal to him warm anymore, the frustration is ludicrous. Its very presence in my body reminds me that it only exists because the Capitol wanted me to feel inadequate in comparison to my husband. They embedded so many rules into us that I openly followed, but Gale's very contradiction of them made me notice their grasp on me all the more.
Gale would never hold me to the Capitol standards, yet my brain so often forgets this. All of the rules and regulations ingrained in my mind had at first battled with his non-conforming ways. Now, with him acting so cold and formal the venomous thoughts of duty have reared their ugly heads, reverberating off me like the answering howls of coyotes. I can't protect myself from my own mind.
I dream of my home. I dream of having friends. I dream of sharing a friendship with Gale. Sometimes it feels like I'm adrift in the waves of wheat, with coyotes circling in, waiting for me to falter. Then a thought clambers out and bites me and after that I hear them howling at me, biting at my heels as I carry on throughout my days. Care for your husband, they say as we eat in silence. Sacrifice for your husband, they say as I rub my hands raw washing our linens and dishes. Live only to serve your husband, they say as I watch him tiredly wash the coal dust from his body.
"Let me help you with that," I murmur. Gale pauses in his scrubbing, a wet trail of coal stained water dribbling from his forearm where the cloth has stopped.
He clears his throat and keeps scrubbing, "I'm fine, thanks."
I step forward form the table where I have set out the potatoes and the meager amount of roast rabbit. Gale only gets to hunt on the weekends, so I've grown accustomed to the lack of meat throughout most of the week. I leave the food and stand at his elbow. Gale glances down at me as he continues to rinse his cloth and scrub away the coal. I reach forward and place both of my hands of the fist that he has wrapped around the cloth.
"Please, let me help. You look tired," I protest when he doesn't loosen his grip on the cloth.
I can't read his expression as he finally relents and allows me to take up the cloth and soap. I lather the cloth more thoroughly with the coarse soap and pump some water over it. I make quick work, but try to remain gentle on his sore muscles. I wash his forearms, hands, and face. Gale watches me the entire time, studying me. He leans forward to allow me to reach his face more easily. Then he offers me a soft almost-smile.
"We should go on a walk after dinner, it's unseasonably warm this evening," Gale suggests as I scrub the last of the coal from his forehead.
"That sounds lovely," I say as I declare him clean.
He murmurs a thank you and we sit down to eat in a more companionable silence. My heart seems to be fluttering a little with the anticipation of actually doing something together that doesn't involve the necessities of life. I clean up the dishes as Gale goes to our bedroom to change out of his mine uniform into something more comfortable. He emerges a few minutes later wearing brown trousers with a patch on the knee and a green tunic.
"Ready?" Gale asks raising his eyebrows. I nod simply and follow him to get my shoes. As we exit the house, I note that it does seem warmer than it has the past few nights. Gale and I stroll side by side following the line of the forest, heading along the fence. Crickets sing merrily from the tall grasses and the ground feels moist under my boots.
"I've been avoiding you and I'm sorry about that," Gale admits with a reluctant tone as we walk further from our house. I look up at him, surprised. I have things to apologize for too, but have no idea what is relevant to him.
"I'm sorry too. I'm trying not to let my schooling overtake me, but it's difficult for us women," I look up at the stars twinkling above us, avoiding Gale's gaze.
"My mother never wanted me to be the man that they tell us to be," Gale says. He picks up a stick and begins swinging it at low tree branches as we pass them.
"I can be strong-willed and pig-headed, but I'm not one to force a woman to do my bidding," he says, laughing as he puts his weaker points down. I release a small laugh too, remembering our first argument. He wouldn't back down.
"Maybe you're strong-willed enough for the both of us. I tend to be too timid," I offer. Gale whacks a branch with his stick and leaves shimmy loudly, rustling against each other.
"I like you the way you are Arwen," Gale stops walking and faces me abruptly; "I want to try to be friends. I'm not too good at it, but I've got a few."
"That's very sweet Gale and I would like that too. And I'm sorry that I yelled at you about your 'other job'. I admire your bravery, I truly do," I blush as I compliment my husband. I can't tell in the darkness, but I think he smiles before he starts walking again.
"So, what's your favorite hobby?" Gale asks suddenly, whacking another branch.
"Well, I quite like basket-weaving. I learned that from my mother. Though she's a great deal better than me. I enjoy stories too, reading and telling my own. My mother always had so many mountain legends for us when we were children," I find myself grinning as I think about all the stories that I could tell Gale someday.
"I like whittling. I make little wooden animals for Posy to play with. I like flat-footing too," Gale offers.
"What's flat-footing?" I ask, turning to him in the dim-light of a nearby house.
"It's a type of dancing we have here. You have to be light on our feet; the lighter you are the better you are. It's quiet, if there is too much noise it's not flatfootin'. Catnip is pretty good at it we try to compete against each other," he laughs, likely thinking of a time or to that he spent dancing with the girl.
"I enjoy dancing too, we do a lot of group ring and line dances in 9. Maybe we can show each other our dances some time," I suggest, delighted by the prospect of sharing something new to bond in friendship over.
Gale makes a sound of contented agreement, "Maybe we'll get over to a neighborhood dance one-a these days. I bet you'd enjoy it." I smile brightly. I haven't been to a dance in quite a while. In District 9 we have barn dances that last a majority of the evening with fiddlers and guitars. It's usually a rowdy time with plenty of coyote soup and wheat malt liquor to go around.
"I would like that very much," I say happily as we turn around to walk back toward our house.
On Saturday, Vick and Rory take me to the far side of the Seam. Having spent the afternoon entertaining them to keep them out of Hazelle's hair as she finished a particularly large laundry order, I was easy to convince to go on an adventure outside the home. The boys quickly decide on a trip to the Meadow in search of berries. We set out with the sweet treat in mind.
As we walk to the Meadow Vick skips ahead, singing a silly song and smiling back at us every once in a while. Rory tells me about how Prim's goat tried to eat Katniss' leather jacket yesterday. I giggle with him for several minutes. Rory's laugh is infectious and his antics remind me of Bronwyn. I feel a tinge of guilt that someone else is making me laugh; someone has replaced my sister as my source of entertainment. I grimace slightly and walk the rest of the way in silence.
When we reach the meadow Rory and Vick race each other across to a large berry bush on the far side. They come back empty handed with downcast faces. Apparently, someone else has picked the bush over. I barely pay them any mind though, because I am entranced by the tall blades of grass that are covering the area around us. I fall to my knees and grasp large handfuls of it.
"What are you doing?" Rory asks as he stands over me.
I laugh, because my stance must look slightly crazed, but I just can't believe what I'm holding. I peer at each stalk of large golden grass, which really isn't grass at all. I start to laugh out loud until tears stream down my face. Vick looks scared as he falls to his knees beside me and peers into my face. I laugh because each stalk has a rachis on the top filled with little spikelets.
"It's wild wheat! Real-life wild wheat!" I beam as I look up at Rory through my tears. Vick leans closer and peers at the blades in my hands. I wipe my tears on my sleeve and run my fingers up the blade popping the seeds out of the rachis as I go. I sprinkle the handful into the breeze and let them fly with another laugh.
I grasp another blade and hold it in front of Vick, "See these little pouches, they're seeds." Vick beams back at me and pops one of them open to examine it.
I run my hands through the tall blades. Rory kneels beside me and follows Vick's gesture. Of course wild wheat hasn't been treated by Capitol growth hormones or any type of genetic modifications so it maintains its regular growing cycle. It's lush and bronze colored, stiff in its readiness for harvest. Wild wheat is ready in the late summer and early fall. Whereas back home the wheat has already ripened and will have numerous growing cycles thanks to its modifications.
"Does this field always turn golden in the fall?" I ask Rory. I can barely contain my excitement. He nods and looks around us.
I bet no one here ever knew they were sitting in a field of food. The idea fills me with a cynical laugh, all the starving citizens here and no one realizing that they had a grain field on the edge of the district. I simply can't believe that a single person contracted here from District 9 hasn't come upon this field and seen that it's covered in wild wheat. Yet, maybe they did and were just simply too scared to harvest it and try to grind it into flour. It would take an immense amount of work without all the proper tools.
"It's so beautiful, it's like seeing home again," I whisper as I let my eyes run over the expanse of field. It is lovely in its unkempt, uninhibited way. Rory smiles at me sadly and Vick grips my hand in his. I peer down at him as I run my thumb softly over the back of his hand. He reminds me of Tomik in so many ways.
"Thank you for bringing me here," I smooth my hand over Vick's thick hair and squeeze Rory's shoulder with my other hand. They both smile. I wonder if Gale ever smiled like this as a boy. His brothers look so much like him; he must have a beautiful smile.
Rory picks a tall stalk of the wild wheat and tries to tickle me with it. Then the boys are rolling about trying to tickle each other. I watch them contentedly until I see Gale appear in the tree line behind the fence. Seeing someone, well not just anyone, seeing Gale standing behind the fence is eerily thrilling. It is forbidden to be beyond the fence, to illegally steal from the Capitol, and most of all to break rules. I can't pull my eyes away from the strange sight of him beyond our world, so I just stare openly at him. Gale stares back at me, appraising me with a quizzical look.
Rory looks up at me, and then follows my gaze to the forest. He stands, smiling as he waves at his brother. Gale crawls through the metal wires with his giant game bag. He walks slowly towards us, still focusing his sharp eyes on me, perhaps gauging my reaction to his sudden appearance. He offers a tentative smirking smile when I don't scold him. And because I am so thrilled with my new discovery of the wheat I let a genuine smile flash back at him. We haven't been this amicable toward each other since the day we discussed my family as we looked at their portrait.
"Gale, did you know this field is made of wild wheat? Just like in District 9!" Vick says excitedly as he plucks another blade and hands it to his older brother.
Gale examines it for a moment and Vick shows him the seeds. There isn't an ounce of surprise in Gale's eyes as he looks at the wheat. He recognizes it, so he already knew what this field held. He lets his brothers bask in the glory of learning something new though. I store this new information away in the back of my mind to ask him about another day.
"Yeah, Arwen fell on her knees and cried when she saw it. For a moment we thought she had lost her mind," Rory laughs and tries to tickle me with a long blade of wheat again. I roll my eyes and bat him away with my hand.
Gale smirks down at me, gracing me with an affectionate look. It surprises me and makes me feel flush. He leans down to help me to my feet. I feel the blush ripen on my cheeks at the gentle feel of his hand against the small of my back and the warmness of his palm in mine. He releases me and listens intently as Vick and Rory excitedly tell him about the seeds in the stalks.
I fold my arms and glance out across the field as I listen to the boys. The golden stalks shiver in the breeze, but don't roll in the wave-like formations of my home. To see that this wild strand has survived and prospered here in such an unlikely place, it fills me with a sense of hope. I'm not much unlike this wheat, far from home and working against odds bigger than myself. Perhaps, I will prosper here too, growing stronger each year and spreading further into this new world.
"Well, I better get going. Lots of trading," Gale declares finally. Vick grabs my hand to hold it as we begin back down the path toward the Seam. I smile down at him and catch Gale's eyes when I look up once more.
Vick begins to tell Gale about the woodsmen in the folk legend I entertained him with earlier. Vick is a good listener; he barely missed any of the details I provided. Gale laughs when Vick says that he is brave like the man in my story. He tries to deny that he has any similarities to my folklore, but I just shake my head in disagreement, which causes Rory to laugh. I smirk when I feel Gale's eyes on me again, because despite his surly demeanor Gale does fit the description of the woodsmen expertly.
I spend the remainder of the week working with Healer Everdeen and day-dreaming about the jolt of excited energy I got when I saw Gale standing beyond the fence. I begin to wonder what lies in the world beyond our confines. Every morning Gale rises early to head to work, but he rises even earlier on the weekends when he can hunt.
This weekend is no different than the others that have come before it. Gale rises before the sun, dresses, eats and is out the door within a half-hour. After he has left the house I find myself staring out the windows at the changing leaves of the forest. I eat a quick breakfast meal, hastily washing my dishes as I make up my mind to take a walk.
At half past 10 I start walking back to the meadow. I tell myself that I am just going to admire the wheat and spend some time alone, but deep down I know I am going to the place where I saw Gale. I walk the path, admiring the view ahead of me as I come into the field. It's beautiful, but fills my heart with an ache that has become too familiar. No matter how hard I try, my heart won't let my old life go.
I walk toward the spot where Gale had passed through the dead fence and come to a stop a mere 10 yards from it. My curiosity is tempted by the deafening silence of the fence, yet common sense and survival instincts tell me that it could become electrified at any moment. I war with myself for several minutes, cautiously reaching my hand toward the metal wires. I can't fathom how Gale ever worked up the nerve to cross the fence all those years ago, but perhaps losing his father filled him with a lack of self-preservation. I stand staring at it for a number of minutes before I take the tentative steps forward and examine the spot where I saw him appear only a week ago.
The fence is silent, but I am still afraid to grab it. What if it were to turn on just as I wrap my hand around it! I inhale several deep breaths before I take the thick barbed wire in my hands and pull it up so that I may step through. My dress snags slightly on one of the barbs as I slide all the way through. I examine the hole briefly and deem it easy enough to fix. I'll sew it when I get back to the house, it's nothing, I reason.
When I let my eyes rise up to the expanse before me, I feel an immense sense of freedom. All my life I've been inside a fence. Yes, my home district had miles and miles of wide open land, but the feeling of being trapped was always there; always lingering in the back of my mind. I clutch my hand to my heart for a moment and try to imagine if this forest is like the one my mother grew up in.
When I turn back to the fence and peer at the place where I had just come from I laugh. It is strange being on the outside, looking in on the life that is supposed to contain me. I swivel back to the forest and gingerly walk to the nearest tree. The bark is hard, course, and strange on my skin. The next few trees are dark green with little prickly needles. The smell is sharp, but pleasant. I breathe deeply, inhaling the fragrant air. It's a familiar scent, I realize. It is the smell that seems to permeate Gale's skin. I have learned to know it as we lay in our bed at night, or when I walk past his hunting coat where it hangs in our entryway.
For several minutes I wander through the trees, examining things. There are a number of strange ferns and flowers growing on the forest floor. In some places the trees are so dense, they completely block the sunlight. In other places it filters down in beams. Great boulders covered in moss rise from the depths of the earth, surrounded by bushes full of berries.
I startle when a rabbit scurries out from beneath one of the hearty shrubs that flanks a set of mossy rocks. The quick skipping of my heart beat patters as the animal scurries away. My gasp of shock lends to a jovial laugh of relief. I've seen rabbits in textbooks at school, but we did not have many in the fields of 9. This is the first animal I have witnessed in 12, besides the birds, which have also proven to be quite pleasant.
I continue to explore with wide eyes, taking in all that is new and different from the barren grassy lands of my childhood. My mind can barely process all the new details; everything is beautiful in one way or another. When Gale comes here does he feel this way, amazed by every sight and sound? Probably not, he seems all business and no fun. He views the forest as a place for an extra food source. I hope that it still carries a raw beauty for him in some way.
There are birds singing melodies in the treetops and strange noises coming from the distance. Could there really be animals in here large enough to attack me? I shake the thought and continue exploring. My ears tune to a bubbling noise and I follow it mindlessly for a moment until I come upon a stream.
The water is cool and clear. In a thinner portion there is a bridge of rocks, blocking the flow of the water. Between them there are some twigs nestled together. I kneel down to free them, but something about the way they are folded seems unnatural. I examine it further and see that there is actually wire and twine holding it in place. It's a trap! I glance upstream and see a similar design nestled under a fallen log. I walk further upstream looking for more of the intricate snares.
I count twelve before I find one that has caught a strange animal that isn't readily recognizable to me. The fur is thick and brown, matted in the water of the stream. It has a large wide tale that is black. It looks odd, but I imagine it helps the animal swim. Its face is buried in the water, unmoving. I stare at it for a long time, wondering how painful it would be to have your back or neck broken. I imagine my own body snared in a trap such as this; pain and fear, followed by drowning. There couldn't be a worse way to go.
I don't know what possesses me, but I grab a large fallen branch from the ground and march back to the nearest untouched snare. I remove my boots and socks and wade into the water. It is freezing, but the supple sensation of it billowing between my legs is pleasant. The hem of my dress skims the surface of the water as I wade toward the snare. I examine it closer, studying its design. It's intricate and expertly placed. If something swam through here it would undoubtedly swim through without hesitation. Whoever placed it here did so with the utmost care. You would have to think long and hard about animals and their instincts to know where they would likely swim. That is a devoted amount of concentration.
I jab the branch into the trap and watch it spring to life. Several things happen at once: it jolts to the side, swings round, and squeezes. The force of it pulls the branch forward slightly, which probably would have scared me enough to drop it. The more frightening thing is the deep voice that reverberates off the trees and scares me enough for me to fling the branch down in surprise.
"What the-" the person sounds just as surprised as I am. I turn quickly to face the man. My heart jumps into my throat as my eyes meet Gale's. First he looks surprised, then angry. I try to calm myself as I realize it is only my husband, not another hunter or worse, a peacekeeper.
"Oh. You scared me," I breathe.
My eyes glide over the length of his body. His hair is tousled. His large leather game bag is slung over his shoulder, pulling at the crook of his neck. Two dead rabbits dangle from his belt and a large knife is gripped in his right hand. My mind quickly calculates what it would look and feel like to have that knife driven into my heart. I blink rapidly at the thought.
Something about Gale's appearance and the surroundings makes my heart skip for an entirely different reason. He looks like he belongs here. A man of the wilderness, a mountain man, like the ones my mother spoke about in her folk legends. If only Tomik could see him now, if only Vick and Rory could witness how their brother truly is a modern-legend. How wildly dangerous and striking he looks. It's enough to make my knees weak. Brenna would probably swoon and fall right into the water. I shake my head and look away for a moment, swallowing thickly. This entire image fits so well with the tale that I spun for his brothers only a week ago. He was made for such stories.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" He asks. The anger is evident in his voice. He stalks forward and stands at the water's edge eyeing me. I grasp my dress in both hands, hoisting it up as I wade toward him to retrieve my socks and boots.
"Exploring," I say timidly. He barks a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he buries his knife in a leather pouch hanging on his belt. He shakes his head and looks around.
"You think this is a game? Coming out here? It's not safe," his anger is still biting in his tone, but his face is less rigid. The grass sticks to the soles of my feet as I step onto the bank and walk gingerly to my belongings. I let him continue berating me as I slip my wet feet into my socks.
"It's no place to go gallivanting around. It's dangerous. You could have gotten lost, or killed by a bear," He stands over me, tall and almost menacing. I peer up at him and hope that my face looks apologetic enough for him to calm down. His eyes dance over my expression and immediately I see them soften.
"It's beautiful out here. I see why you love it, besides you come here all the time…it can't be that dangerous," I murmur. He dangles his large hand down to help pull me to my feet and simply frowns at my words. We both look around for a moment, taking in the forest that surrounds us.
"Are these yours?" I ask as I gesture to the traps in the stream.
He nods as he places his bag on the ground beside my feet. The water barely goes halfway up his shins as he steps into the stream to untangle the snare that I set off. His tall boots protect him from the water as he works. He throws the branch up on the bank beside me. I am mesmerized as his long nimble fingers retie the trap with extraordinary ease.
"They're so complex. The design is very intricate. Did you learn to do that on your own?" I am entranced as I watch him. He nods once more and wades down the stream checking each snare. I pick up his game bag and am surprised by the heavy weight. I clutch it to my shoulder to keep it in place as I follow him. I walk along the bank, watching the look of concentration on his features.
The trapped animal that I examined earlier is easily untangled by his expert hands. He wades toward me, smiling slightly as I unravel his game bag for him and place it on the bank. He nods a thank you while he places the strange animal inside.
"What is that thing?" I ask timidly before he returns to reset his snare.
"A beaver. They gnaw on logs and make dams in the water that block the flow, so they can live in big watery swamps with little mud houses."
"You make it sound like they're people," I laugh lightly.
"They're nothing more than a meal to fill your stomach," He says curtly. I squirm, imagining his hands cutting the fur from the beaver and ripping the bones out.
"They'll crawl right over their dead to keep moving down stream. That's why I set up these traps one right after the other. Muskrats are the same way," Gale explains, gesturing to the traps down-stream. Each one is barricaded in the only open paths of the stream. The animals would have no choice but to go right where Gale wants them.
"I'm done for the day; I got a good enough haul to trade. Katniss can manage the rest, so I'll take you home now," Gale says as he wades back toward me.
I'm taller standing on the bank like this, something about him being shin deep in water makes him feel more vulnerable to my position, as though I have some power being higher up here. I suddenly imagine what would happen if it was not me he had happened upon, but a Peacekeeper. What if someday he is here resetting these snares and he turns to find a Peacekeeper standing up here on this bank? He'll be in a position of weakness.
I must have a dazed expression on my face, because Gale furrows his brows at me as he steps out of the water. He takes up the game bag, putting the two rabbits on his belt into the bag as well before he shoulders it easily. He is much stronger than I am and I see that the weight of the bag doesn't impede him much as we begin walking back through the forest. Gale's tread is near-silent as he leads the way through the trees. He pulls back low branches that could get caught on my dress and points toward interesting sights as we near the fence-line.
We round a large group of boulders when we hear a low whistle. Gale holds up a hand to stop me. I freeze as he presses a few fingers on his left hand against his lip, as though shushing me. He pauses before he whistles back. Two quick lilts of a whistle answer him. The sound is sharp and smooth like the call of a bird, but something about the tone seems to hint otherwise.
"That's Katniss, it's safe to cross in front of her now," he explains.
I nod as he points toward the boulders and holds up one finger, indicating that he wants me to wait a moment. Katniss' dark head emerges from behind one of the boulders; her smile falters as she catches sight of me over Gale's shoulder. Her brow furrows in concern.
"Is something wrong? What are you doing here?" She asks, pulling herself out of her crevice. My eyes widen at the large bow in her hands. I've seen that in a book too, it was a weapon used by one of the famous spies during the Great War.
"She's exploring apparently," Gale informs her with a lilt of disapproval to his voice. Katniss frowns at his words.
"That's a stupid idea, it's dangerous out here," Katniss scolds.
Apparently, she agrees with my husband's sentiments, "I thought you were a deer the way you were walking so loudly for starters, but there are bear and wolves out here that would be worse than one of my arrows in your chest." I grimace at the image of Katniss accidently shooting me.
"Well, I'm going to make sure she makes it out of here and gets home. You got the rest of the snares from here Catnip?" Gale queries as Katniss leans against the large boulder that was shielding her a few moments ago. She taps her bow against her side as though thinking about the proposition of finishing up the snares, but eventually nods.
"Yeah, go babysit your wife. Leave me to the real work," Katniss releases haughtily. If I didn't know that she isn't a completely placid faced person all the time, I would think that she was being snidely serious. She breaks into a smile when Gale offers her a childish glare. Their banter seems almost like a brotherly-sisterly bond now. How could I have ever thought they loved each other otherwise? Well, maybe they could have if it weren't for contracts.
We bid Katniss farewell and head toward the fence once more. Gale's anger seems to have dissipated greatly and I remember that I should apologize for doing something reckless. The fence comes into view as I settle on the nerve to offer my apology sooner than later. Be the ever mindful wife, I tell myself. A good wife would have the decency to apologize, I chide.
"I'm sorry if I angered you Gale," I whisper once we've reached the un-electrified wires. We are shaded behind a large bushy tree as Gale peers out to check whether it is safe to emerge. He glances back at me with a strange expression before he nods his acceptance of my apology.
"Just don't do it again, we can only afford one treasonous person in this family," he replies, voice low. Then he rounds the tree and glides through the wires before he holds them open for me.
I hold my dress tight in my hands to bunch it up and begin to step over the lower wire. Gale grabs onto the fabric to prevent it from snagging as I step through. He drops his hold on my dress and swivels quickly when we both hear a twig snap. He looks toward some trees that are in a bunch along the fence twenty yards away. It can't be a peacekeeper, because they would already be on us with their guns raised. We hear a low moan and I realize that it is a sound of pain. My panic subsides quickly as I run toward the sound.
I pull back the branches of the bushes and find a young woman sprawled out on her back, clutching at her stomach with shaking hands. Her faded yellow dress is hiked up to her waste and drenched in blood. Her thighs and hands are covered in it as well. I kneel beside her and realize that she's younger than I thought, merely a teenage girl. Sweat sheens along her forehead and her grey eyes are glazed. She feels cold to the touch and I know immediately that she has lost too much blood already.
I look up toward my husband, readying to demand that he run to Healer Everdeen. My words catch painfully in my throat as I set eyes on what he has found in the underbrush. A bloody glob, too ill-formed to survive, lies lifeless in the dirt. It's a baby. Beside it Gale kicks his boot at some blood coated mining utensils, likely used to extract it like a piece of blackened coal, as though it were a lifeless object.
"Go!" I tell him as I shake myself from my daze. Gale startles for a moment and looks at me wildly. His expression is filled with a youth that I should recognize in myself, but I'm already hardened to the things that Healer Everdeen told me I would learn to be. I'm learning to become the things that a Healer needs to be.
I point toward the Seam and hoarsely yell at him, "Go now. Get Healer Everdeen, hurry Gale!" And with that, he is off, running quickly toward my mentor. I don't waste time pulling back the bloodied clothing of my charge. She focuses on me with wild eyes as more tears glide down her cheeks. She's frightened and I don't know what else do, but to tell her that I'm here for her, so I do just that.
"My name is Arwen. I'm Healer Everdeen's assistant. My husband is going to find her and I am going to do the best I can to help you in the meantime." The girl nods and groans loudly again. Her bloody shaking fingers press into her abdomen, but I know that they won't be able to quell the pain she is feeling. She closes her eyes against the agony and moans through her gritted teeth.
"What's your name?" I ask her softly as I start pulling the bloody fabric away from her legs.
Whoever did this to her, left a mangled mess behind. As the fabric is shifted to the side I get my first glance at the damage. It nearly makes my stomach churn, but I push the feeling back down. I can see that they weren't gentle or precise when they did this; maybe they panicked and decided to leave her for dead. I try to keep my face placid as I examine her injuries.
"Charlotte," the girl chokes out her name finally. I pat her knee and try to smile at her.
"That's a pretty name. Charlotte, everything will be sorted out soon. When Healer Everdeen arrives with her bag we'll get you cleaned up and taken care of," I glance over my shoulder and try to see around the bushes, but I can't catch a glimpse of anyone coming up the path.
"Now Charlotte, I need you to tell me what happened here so that I can help you," I say as I start trying to rip the bloody skirt of her dress away.
"I'm fifteen – if the Capitol found out – I…," she cries out, "it hurts so much. I thought he knew what he was doing." I blanch and look back at the mining equipment. She might never be able to have a child again after this, what will the Capitol do to this girl then? She'll be of no use to them.
"He just dug those tools in and that was it," she gasps.
"Arwen, I found her," Gale's voice carries up the hill before he bounds around the side of the trees, out of breath. "She had me bring you supplies."
He glances away quickly when he catches sight of the bared flesh before him. He turns his back and I see that he has several bags of supplies with him and a white fold out stretcher. I quickly pull out one of the bags and begin sanitizing my hands and beginning the process of preparing for the Healer. Gale unfolds the stretcher and lays it in the grass. I cover it with a white sheet and pull more sanitation equipment out.
"Can you help me lift her on to the stretcher?" I ask my husband with a stern voice. He nods and I cover her legs with a white sheet so that we can lift her up modestly. Charlotte screams as we lift and lower her onto the other sheet. In the next heartbeat, Josephine runs up to us with her medical kit in hand. She quickly looks down at our patient and nods at me.
Gale stands back as Josephine and I sanitize the injured area and set to work tending the wounds. Josephine makes quick work to stop the bleeding and sew up the tearing. It's as though she has done this before and I find myself wondering how many girls get in a troubling situation such as this across Panem. The idea is terrifying, but it causes me to face a fact that my naivety had no conscious thought of before.
Not every girl waits until her contract to engage in the activities that are expected to only occur between contract partners. I was so blind by my own urge to follow the rules, that the thought of being with boys before being contracted had rarely crossed my mind. When we have stabilized Charlotte Gale helps us carry her on the stretcher back to Josephine's home.
Gale decides to go back to the field to take care of the baby and the tools immediately after we arrive. He offers to complete the task and I can't bring myself to protest. I stay with Josey and help her continue to care for Charlotte. Josey sends Prim to alert the girl's family to her being here. There will be no official Capitol notice sent. This is not a case that Josey will record in our medical records.
Abortion is not an option in Panem.
Charlotte eventually slips into a drug-induced haze and I allow myself to sit back and rest for a moment. Josey washes her hands in the sanitation basin she has set out on the table. She begins to blend a tea for the girl's family as we watch and wait. Charlotte has lost so much blood that it is likely she will be too weak to recover. We can't give her any blood fusions. We don't have the means to explain how we lost so much stock and products without having to tell the Capitol about the girl's situation. This will have to be an under-the-rug job. Josey doesn't have to tell me that, because I already know that is why she hasn't gotten any of our blood fusion stores out.
Josey sets out two mugs and fills them with hot mint water. She hands one of the mugs to me and sits beside me at the table. We sip quietly for a few moments before Josey places her mug on the tabletop. She thumbs at the handle of the mug as she speaks, "I've been trying for years to meet my contract quota." She pauses and shakes her head, "Just one more baby, that's all we have ever needed."
"When my husband died, I never thought that I would love another man again. Even though he's an old schmuck I have a soft spot for Haymitch that I never dreamed I would develop. He can be kind and he deserves to have another child. Besides that, it's mandatory that we do." She takes a long sip and looks over at our ward, "It has been so hard for me, but here we are saving girls like her that don't even try to have it happen for them. It isn't fair to them and yet sometimes I feel bitter about it."
I place my hand over Josey's shoulder and try to reassure her, but I don't know what to say. It makes sense that she would feel this way, but just as I was faced with my naivety earlier, I am too young to truly know Josey's pain.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I finally say. Josey nods grimly.
"I've had two miscarriages and now…" She stops, shaking her head bitterly.
"Now what?" I ask in the softest voice I can muster. Josey looks up, her eyes shining bright cobalt as they shimmer with water. I grip my mug and bite the inside of my cheek. I hate to see people cry.
"My cycles been off for a few months, it could only be menopause. It's over for Haymitch and me. This year was probably our last chance," she sighs and takes a long sip of her tea.
Josey is old enough to be menopausal, but I don't want to just leave her situation at that without knowing for sure. I glance over at Charlotte, her slumber is quiet. She might not have taken her health courses yet, the ones that discussed cycles and all the things necessary for creating new life. She probably didn't understand when she had trouble with her monthly time.
"Would you be comfortable with letting me administer a blood test and urine sampling?" I find myself asking the question before I truly think about it.
Josey looks shocked for a moment, and then she furrows her brow, likely calculating whether there is any hope that this is a pregnancy rather than menopause. I'd rather not know about her sexual life with Haymitch, but I'm prepared to ask her time table just in case. Josey finally nods and allows me to complete both testing procedures.
I draw her blood and send her into the restroom with a small plastic jar. Being a true Healer has afforded the Everdeen's with luxuries such as indoor plumbing. I wait outside the door as Josey does her business, then I come in with the necessary instrument for the urine sample. The sample may not be positive, so the blood test will ensure that we got the accurate result, though it will take a several minutes for our machine to process the blood sample. Josey stares out the window as I intently watch the little metal instrument calculate. After 1 minute the meter emits its reading.
"Hang on a second Josey," I say as I hurry out to the machine that is doing her blood work up.
Josey only showed me the print out for this machine a few days ago. I stare at the sheet of paper that it yields with my heart caught in my throat. When I turn around, Josey is gaping at the little metal instrument from her urine sample, open shock on her face. She looks up at me with confused and awe filled eyes. I nod, unsure if I should smile or congratulate her. Eventually my school training overrides my sensibilities and the standard words flow from my lips.
"Mrs. Everdeen-Abernathy, congratulations, you are expecting. Your contribution to the nation is for the good of Panem and we thank you for your sacrifice." I close my eyes against the words that have been ingrained in me, grimacing at myself. Is this how Josey felt when she said those words for the first time?
Josey releases a shaky tear-filled laugh, "You'll say that nearly every day of your life from here on out. It's what the Capitol wants you to say to drive the point home with each new mother. Their child is not their own. You might as well get used to saying it now. I did eventually."
A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I am always open to constructive criticism and feedback. Your support and interest in the story keeps me going. Thanks for your patience with my everyday life, which takes a considerable amount of time from writing.
