Chapter Six
The Peeta tries to leave while the Primrose makes sure I am not infected. I don't know why but not having him around worries me. I don't trust anyone else in this expedition. Only the Peeta. He is the only person in this entire campsite who has shown me any acceptance and, even though I am fully capable of defending myself against any of the females here, I am reluctant for the Peeta to leave.
"It's alright," he tells me when I grab his arm in the Primrose's tent. "Prim is a fully trained doctor, she knows what she's doing."
"Then why can't you just stay here?"
"Because . . ." the Peeta trails off, scratching the back of his head in an almost flustered manner. "Because this is more of a female affair."
"I doubt that matters. I don't care what sort of affair it is."
"You might not but I don't think I can really be here. For the sake of my own moral high ground," the Peeta tries to explain. "It feels like I'd almost be taking advantage. Besides, you're completely safe in Primrose's hands, I swear."
I don't deny that the Peeta is being truthful but I don't want him to leave. I am not afraid but I feel like if I were in his presence then I would be less likely to lash out on the Primrose creature. I need him to tell me what's custom and whether she is actually making violent advances. "I don't want to reduce myself to bribery, Peeta, but if you don't stay I'm not going to be held responsible for what I do to this woman in your absence."
There's something I can't read in the Peeta's eyes. He knows I'm just being honest, why would I lie about something like that? He sighs but doesn't seem at all exasperated. "Prim isn't a threat," he repeats. "You shouldn't have any reason to hurt her."
We're standing outside the Primrose's tent, the sun having made its way to the middle of the sky to pound down the tiny expedition camp like a brutal God trying to burn us all into nothing but ash. The heat is nothing compared to extreme temperatures the jungle can experience but it's obviously taking its toll on the humans. The other females are walking around with fanning devices, trying to reduce their skin's ability to sweat. The Delly has made it clear that she is not happy with myself being near her mate in any shape or form. Even now I can feel her eyes smoldering into the side of my head, making sure I don't do anything deemed unacceptable to the human she has claimed. She is persistent, I'll give her that. It's almost amusing that she doesn't understand how much I am fully capable of. Whenever she tries to attack, I'll be ready.
"Why are you so eager not to stay? Are you already sick of me?" The thought is alarming and fear seizes my heart. Could the Peeta already be sick of me? Am I really that horrible to be around?
"Oh God, of course not!" the Peeta exclaims. "I just . . . It's just . . ." He chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, trying to find the right words to come to mind. "I'm not sick of you, I'd never be sick of you! I just didn't want to . . ."
"If you don't come with me, I'm not going." As stubborn and clingy as it sounds, I do not trust any of these girls and would rather have the Peeta in the tent with me to be, as the Primrose had put it, 'examined'.
The Peeta sighs again but this time smiles at the end of it. "Okay," he relents. "I'll go with you."
Inside the Prim's tent is a lot more technical than what I saw in the Peeta's. There are much more structures inside the tent, many more storage cabinets like the wardrobe that holds clothes only with minor differences. The Primrose stands beside what looks like a tall cot, wearing a white overall that covers her pale blue single covers.
"Hello . . ." The Primrose looks at me, then to the Peeta, ". . . does she have a name?"
"I'm sure she does," says the Peeta, "but I do not know what it is."
My name's Katniss.
The Primrose nods and pats the tall cot with a smile. "Just pop on here and we'll get started," she says.
I look at the Peeta, just to be sure, and when he nods so encouragingly at me I know that this is safe. The Primrose will not hurt me. I sit on the tall cot the only way I know how: by crouching on the mattress. Despite the nature of the examination that proceeds to take place, the Peeta stays by my side, as requested. He modestly looks away for some parts and I could swear his face changes colour from powder white to pale rose pink. I'm not sure why, since the Primrose is only checking me for diseases. At least, that's what I think she's doing.
"There's some minor cuts and bruises but from what I can tell she hasn't contracted anything from her time in the jungle," the Primrose explains.
"Well, that's great, isn't it?" the Peeta beams at me and his happiness is contagious. Even if I had been infected with some sort of illness, I hadn't felt it or been affected by it so I hardly care but the Peeta's delight is extremely endearing. "You're completely clean!"
Clean? Clean is something I'm very far from. However, the Peeta's misuse of the term makes me smile and I cannot resist the small quirk up of my lips. It seems like the Peeta creature always has that effect on me.
After the examination, the Peeta takes me back to his tent. I know I should be worried, that I should always be on guard, even with him. I should trust the Peeta as much as I trust the females, which is barely, if at all. But I don't. I give him an extra level of trust because I know that he is not a fighter. Even if he did turn on me, I could easily fight him off. But there's something deep in my subconscious that knows that he won't. Why?
His hands.
Between myself and the Peeta, there is a wall of muscle. From my years in the jungle, I know how to identify a threat through their body stature. Whether I can take them on or whether I should submit. On first glance, the Peeta was a threat. All I saw was muscle and girth. I thought in a fight we would be evenly matched, him with the slightest of advantages. But it didn't take me long to realize that this was wrong. His hands, when I handed him the sketchpad back, were not the hands of a fighter. Besides, if they were, then how could they perfectly replicate the image of a baboon with nothing but a tiny piece of charcoal?
The Peeta does not have fighting hands.
And I know when in his presence, I shall be safe.
Inside the Peeta's tent, he sits me down on his cot and rummages around for something inside one of his wooden structures. I cannot take my eyes off him and I watch his every move, right until he sits down beside me. He is holding his sketchpad which he has opened up to a specific page. On the page, I see an unfamiliar image. It is of a large mechanical object with wings almost like a bird.
"This is an airplane," he explains to me. "This will take us from the jungle to London, where I'm from."
Airplane. As in the air around us? I cock my head in confusion. What does he mean?
"It flies," the Peeta says. He points upwards, to the top of the tent. "Through the sky?"
Like a bird?
"Exactly like a bird."
How can such a mode of transport even exist? What world does the Peeta and the other humans come from that those without wings can fly? I want to try to voice this question. Not with my eyes, but with my voice. As usual, however, my voice catches in my throat and shrivels up like a rotten piece of fruit.
"I want to make you aware of all this now, so it won't come as that much of a shock when it's time to leave," the Peeta explains. "I don't want to scare you."
Scared? Me? His naivety is laughable. I have soared through the trees like a bird, the sky does not frighten me. It would take a lot more than the sky to scare me. The ground is ten times more mysterious than the air. "We will fly? To . . . London?" The word, 'London' is alien to me. It can't be part of the jungle. I've never heard of it before. Ever.
"Yes," the Peeta says. "Madge will help by lending you clothes and you can sleep in my spare room."
"Will the Delly be there?"
The Peeta's eyes are unreadable. "Yes," he finally answers. "She will."
"So she is your mate?" I will keep proposing this question until he answers me properly. 'You could say that' isn't going to cut with me. I notice the Peeta playing with a golden band around his finger. How had I never noticed such an extravagant item before? I grab his hand and hold the band up to my eyes. I peer over his hand at him. "What is this?"
"It's a ring," he hesitantly tells me. "A . . . wedding ring."
Wedding ring? What does that mean?
As if sensing my perplexion, the Peeta elaborates. "Delly gave it to me. She's . . . my wife."
That word. 'Wife'. I have heard it before. Used by other animal clans. Wives are one half of a married couple. The other half's a . . . husband. "You've been civilly joined with her?" I ask this question with anger. It boils my blood that a creature with such potential has been tied down to a squealing mess such as the Delly. There's been marriages in the jungle but they are easily breached. If you kill one of the joined partners then the one left alive is yours. The idea of killing the Delly is becoming more and more appealing as time grows on.
"Yes," the Peeta reluctantly answers. "It was an arranged marriage."
"You don't love her then?"
"I didn't say that."
"So you do?"
"I didn't say that either."
"How can you love such a woman anyway? She is not a woman, she is a worm. A piece of bacteria on the skin of this glorious world. A man like you deserves a woman who is strong, someone who is brave and can look after you. A woman who doesn't raise her hand to you. A woman who can fight and protect you. A woman like me."
Of course, it's hard to communicate all of this to the Peeta through my eyes and all he really understands from my sharp gaze is that I really don't like Delly. "She grows on you," he says, trying to sound hopeful.
"I'm sure she does. Just like a parasite."
"Can you give her a chance?" he asks from me.
"Trust me, I've given her many."
"One more?"
I look into his eyes and find desperate pleading. My heart melts and I clench my jaw. I don't want to give the Delly another chance, she's had too many, but it's something the Peeta really wants from me. And for him, I feel like I would do anything. Why I am not entirely sure but there is few goodness in this world and I'll be damned if I don't protect what little there is. The Peeta is the living embodiment of goodness and I will protect him. This much I know for certain.
I am about to answer him when a shrill scream breaks through the atmosphere. It can be immediately identified as the Delly and I wonder if she has stumbled upon a tiny lizard in her tent. The thought is amusing but when I follow the Peeta out of his tent and out into the open, I realize it is not a lizard.
It's Kala.
Kala has invaded the camp, most likely looking for me. The Delly is in the arms of the Clove, shrieking her head off while Kala peacefully passes. I brush past the Peeta and make myself clear. I call out to her. "Kala!"
Kala's head snaps to me and her eyes light up. She runs to me and wraps her arms around me. I nestle my face into her fur and swallow the lump in my throat. She came looking for me. She came looking for me because I didn't come back to her. When we part, she smacks me. The burn is intense and I grit my teeth. I deserved that. I shouldn't have left without telling her.
"You scared me to death!" she growls at me.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you."
"Come back with me now." Kala tries to take my hand but I pull away. The hurt that flashes in her eyes breaks my heart. "Katniss?"
"Mama, look at these people," I say to her. "They look like me. Maybe they can tell me what I am. Where I really come from. I have to find out about my past. Please."
"Katniss, you don't need to know about your past. Haven't I done enough for you?"
I touch her furry face with my hand and smile through my teary eyes. "Of course you have. But I'm old enough now to find out about my roots. I have to do this Mama. Don't take me away from may be my only chance. I might even begin to fit in, for once."
"You fit in with us!" protests Kala.
"Mama, don't," I whisper. "You know that's not true. Please, I'm begging you. Don't take me away from this."
Kala smiles weakly. She brushes her thick fingers through my braid and affectionately pats my head. "My little Katniss," she says. "My baby girl."
"You'll always be my mama Kala," I tell her. "No one will ever take that from you, I swear."
Kala pulls me into her arms one last time. "My little Katniss," she repeats into my hair. "Be free little bird and never forget me."
"Never," I promise. "It's not possible."
When she has disappeared into the trees, I realize that there is one thing I was never strong enough for. The one thing that muscles could never fight. That words cannot heal and fists cannot fix. I was never strong enough to say goodbye. I crumple to the ground and bury my face into my knees. I cry shamelessly, balling like the wild animal I am. It is unlikely that I will ever see my mama again. I will never see my Kala again for I have chosen to seek the path of independence. My mama is gone forever.
Arms wrap around me and I know that they are the Peeta's. For once, I allow it and don't fight him off. I need the little piece of intimacy and I press my face against his chest, wetting his covers. I shake and sob in his arms, shaking like the pathetic little creature that I truly am, when stripped down to the barest of forms.
"It'll be okay," the Peeta shushes. He rubs my back and whispers sweet nothings. I listen to every single one and cling to them like my life depends on them all.
And again, the thought comes into my head. The thing I want to say to him most.
My name is Katniss. Peeta, please hear me.
A/N: Please review with your thoughts! I'm overwhelmed with the support so far! Thank you everyone! :)
There have been some inquiries regarding the time period because of the girls' behavior and how they carry themselves. Well, the story's based in the early 20th Century and the girls are only behaving the way they are because they aren't in public. Trust me, you'll see a massive change when they return to London.