A/N: It must be remembered that Katniss or 'Kat' speaks with sign language and not her own voice :)

Chapter Twelve

Even as I become more and more adjusted to the human world and their ways of life, there aren't many ways for me to uncover information about my roots. The closest thing to me that seems able enough to know such things is Madge, who seems to have an unending wealth of knowledge inside her yellow head. Any question I seem to have, she knows the answer to. She is the only person who could possibly help me find out more about my origin.

The next lesson I'm in with her after my encounter with Delly, I ask her about this. The question seems to surprise her, if the expression on her face is anything to go on. "Do I know where you come from?" she asks, repeating my question with a somewhat confused expression.

I nod. The room we have lessons in is an extension of Peeta's shelter. There are so many rooms in this massive building, I almost believe that they have a room for every type of function. It's on my to do list to check out the transparent house near the bottom of what Madge told me was called a garden. A garden seems to be a mini jungle that only the wealthy have behind their shelters. The reason I want to check out this see through house is because I'm almost positive that I can see plants inside; similar to the flora and the trees from my jungle.

"I'm sorry to say that all I know is that you came from the jungle," Madge tells me. She sits across from me, her hands sitting on top of one another in front of her on the table. She is a picture of regality and poise, something that I admire in a female. Instead of having her chin dragged to the ground, she holds it parallel to the floor in rebellious dismissal. "It is clear that you weren't born there, as you are most definitely human, however your origin is almost impossible to trace, I'm afraid to say."

I had an idea that I would get an answer like this. I know I am human, for that I am now positively sure about. I just wish that I knew of a way to trace my birth parents. To know where they came from; what brought them to the jungle; and what made them leave me behind for Kala to find. I don't have an answer to any of these questions, and in a way, I knew that Madge wouldn't either, but I felt that the question was worth asking.

"Do you have any theories of how I ended up as I did?" I ask instead.

Madge chews on the inside of her cheek in deep thought. "To have believed that you lived and belonged in the jungle as long as you did, you must have been abandoned at a young age. Unless your birth parents were worthless cretins, I don't think you would have been left behind on purpose. Maybe they were killed; or injured and left to die; by one of the wild animals that roam the trees. Then your adoptive mother discovered you; what was her name?"

I click my tongue to sound Kala's name. Madge nods.

"Kala must have found you after your parents were hurt, or-if they were worthless cretins-abandoned you. Monkeys are similar to us, especially in evolutionary aspects, she could have easily mistaken you for one of her own," Madge continues.

I shake my head vehemently. "My mother's child was mauled by a tiger not long before she found me. She was still in mourning when she found me, but when she did, she took pity on me. She wanted to help me . . . I think she knew I wasn't like her, or the rest of the clan. I don't think she cared."

Madge nods again, understanding glistening in her pale blue eyes. The eyes of a learner are always full of wonder and curiosity. She absorbs everything I tell her, and I don't have to question that she's listening to me. Learners and educators in the human world are fascinating to me, and sort of remind me of myself. There's never enough to discover; everything needs to be touched and handled and viewed and explored. It's a shame there aren't that many female educators in this world; and that Madge is one of the first. Hopefully, the women of the human world will continue to persist. A world ruled solely by men is boring and I had enough of that in the jungle.

"Do you think there's any hope of discovering where I come from?" I ask.

"I don't think anything is impossible," Madge says in response. "Within reason, of course. You should definitely talk to Primrose at some point; she knows what it's like to lose loved ones in the jungle, I'm sure she'd be able to help you greatly in your search."

Madge is right. I'm curious to hear more about the healer's story. I wonder if her loved ones where in the jungle at the same time as me; if they were killed on my very doorstep. I don't know if I could say with certainty that I would save them if I had known, for my reaction when first witnessing the humans on the expedition was shocked stillness. I would not have the reflexes necessary to have saved them, tragically.

I do some more learning with Madge. She is teaching me how to write, slowly but surely. It took me a few lessons to even grip the pencil properly. Now I am tracing over letters that Madge writes for me. Its arduous work, but I'm sort of getting the hang of it. I want to be able to learn how to spell more names, so I can sign them when talking to people. I only know how to sign Peeta's name, because Madge showed me how it was spelled during the first lesson, and it has been engraved in my mind ever since.

I'm struggling my way through a wobbly 'Q' when Clove comes to visit Madge. I haven't seen Clove since we landed in London. They don't live in Peeta's shelter, so I suppose it makes sense. "Hello, Clove, what brings you here?" Madge asks. I only look up briefly before returning to my writing. There's no point trying to communicate, Clove won't understand my hands.

"Did you hear about the row?" Clove asks, sliding into the seat beside Madge.

"You know I don't deal with gossip," Madge answers.

"Oh come on, Madge, you know you want to know," Clove says, her voice teasing.

Madge sighs and gestures at myself. "Can't you see I'm teaching a lesson?" she says.

"She probably knows what I'm talking about!" Clove insists, gesturing at me. "She probably heard it."

I lift my head at stare at them both. Clove's grinning, clearly wanting to talk about what's on her mind. Is she referring to Peeta and Delly's fight? Does news of such things really travel so fast? "Delly went to Leevy's and poured her heart out to the girl," she explains. "Apparently, Peeta kicked her out, or something."

Wait, what? Peeta didn't do anything of the sort. I slap my hand against the table to grab their attention, and slowly shake my head. No. Not right. Not right at all. Clove shrugs. "Don't shoot the messenger," she says. "I'm just relaying what Leevy told me Delly said."

"Tell me more. What did she say?" I sign.

Clove stares at me blankly. She looks to Madge, who sighs tiredly. "She just wants to know more."

The raven haired girl must be a bringer of news, because this seems to delight her. "I thought since you were in the same house, you would have heard what happened," she says, her voice bordering on teasing.

Madge sighs and taps her pencil against my page, indicating for me to keep writing. I've been having trouble dealing with her authroity, but I'm trying. I know she doesn't tell me what to out of a desire to control me or my actions; it's simply to further my education. That doesn't mean it doesn't irk me every time she tells me to do something.

"It's clear that Delly has been fibbing," Madge sighs. She throws her golden hair over one shoulder and continues to write on her own page. I admire how quickly she can scribble down her words, sometimes without even needing to look at what she's doing. Someday, I hope, I'll have the same percision and skill as that. "Or at the very least been twisting the truth. Kat wants to know what she has been telling Leevy."

Clove shrugs. "I mean, Delly is known for changing events to suit her. I'm surprised Leevy event took on board what she said."

"Leevy has been Delly's friend since school, of course she'd believe her," Madge says.

This makes the Clove snort. "Sure, but I don't understand what goes through Delly's head when she tries to convince people that Peeta is the worse of the two."

"They're just as bad as each other," Madge mutters.

I give Madge a look, but she doesn't take back what she said. It's no secret that I despise Delly, but I suppose Madge is right in some respects. Whether I wanted him to or not, Peeta did return my approached intimacy, as brief as it had been. He did explain how it was viewed in this world and it definitely isn't taken upon kindly, especially as a married man. Of course he massively regretted it, but it still happened. They are just as bad as each other, but that doesn't mean I have to accept it. I still hate Delly more, simply because of her attitude and behavior; as if she is always the victim. At least Peeta knew what he had done wrong immediately.

Why does a person want to be viewed as a victim, anyway? In the jungle, a victim was weak, and pathetic, and pitiful. Nothing any animal wanted to be viewed as.

"True, true. However, the point still stands that where Peeta has his faults-his major faults-they aren't kick-his-wife-out-of-the-house faults," Clove reminds Madge. "Delly needs to think more before she spurts her crazy stories. Isn't that supposed to be something all liars do?"

"Delly isn't a liar," says Madge. "She's an . . . exaggerator."

Clove glances at me out of the corner of her eye. "What really happened, then? Do you know?"

"Don't push if Kat doesn't want to say. Besides, she's working."

I put my pencil down. I sign, "They fought. Delly left. She wasn't kicked out. She came back." I pick my pencil up again and continue to trace the letters on the page. That's all they need to know. They don't need to know about why they were fighting; or about Delly's threat; or Peeta's secret. If I wasn't supposed to know, I doubt Madge and Clove were supposed to either.

"There you go," Madge tells Clove. "Satisfied?"

Clove turns her nose up but nods. "I guess I'll have to be. I kind of knew it wouldn't be anything explosive, like Delly made it out to be." She leaned back in her seat and blew out of her mouth; making her cheeks wobble. "Usually, when Delly exaggerates, it's nothing big; then when she understates, it's a bigger deal that she says."

Sounds like Delly has some sort of opposite curse on her or something.

Madge hums her agreement. Keen to move the conversation onto a more useful point of interest, she asks, "Do you know where Primrose is?"

"Um, last I heard she was working her shift at the hospital," Clove shrugs. "Why?"

"Kat wants to talk to her, that's all." Madge doesn't tell Clove why, respecting my wishes without even being asked. "You probably won't get talking to her tonight then, Kat, but I'll make sure to tell her that you wish to speak with her whenever I next see her."

I nod gratefully. If the Primrose can divulge something; anything; to do with her experience of the jungle, and the loss of her family; it could be of great use to me. Maybe I was left under similar circumstances, but even if I wasn't, it would still provide me with some helpful insight into human survival within my jungle.

When I'm dismissed for the day, I bring my pages with me. Madge allows me to take a pencil as well, so I can practice in my room. She tells me I'm coming along well, but I still wish I could learn faster. I'm still an undeveloped being in comparison to other humans; and I really don't like it. I promise her that I won't use the pencil for anything besides writing, as apparently they can be very dangerous if used with enough force. Clearly Madge knows to what extent I despise Delly. I wouldn't kill her, though. Not while Peeta persists in this charade he calls a marriage.

The evening weather is so beautiful, I decide to go outside and visit the transparent house. It takes me a while to find the door to the garden, as the shelter is so endless there are still parts even I have not visited. When I find the doors and step outside, I am welcomed with a gust of cool; fresh air. It is nothing like the air of the jungle; which was thick; and wet; and stuffy. The air of London cuts through my nostrils and spreads tiny bumps across my skin. It's a welcome change.

The garden is amazing. It's not the largest expanse of nature that I have ever seen, but for a world of concrete and smoke, this stretch of green grass and colorful flora is beautiful. I place my pages on the step by the door, and kick off my shoes. I place the pumps on top of the pages to make sure that they don't blow away. I turn and step down onto the grass.

The soles of my feet press into the soil, the grass tickling the skin of my feet. I close my eyes and absorb the feeling for a moment, almost as if I am back home amongst the trees. When I open them again, I set my sight on the transparent house. The grey skies reflect off the glass panes, making the entire house gleam like a white sun. I sigh with contentment and start my journey down the garden to the transparent house.

It is a large structure, and once I reach it I walk around it a couple of times. Inside, I can see all kinds of flowers, all of a wide variety of colors. It's almost jarring seeing such bright beauty amongst grey dullness. When I reach the front again, I see that the door is locked. There must be a key of some sort. I wonder who would have it. Peeta? Is this his house of flowers? Or is it the Delly's? I hope it's not hers. If it is, there's no hope I'll ever get inside. She'd purposely disallow me from entering.

I reach out and press my palm against the glass. It's so beautiful in there; I wonder who is responsible for creating such a lovely interior? More importantly, who decided to trap it in the confines of a glass house? I lean forward and press my face against one of the door panes, watching my breath fog up the glass. I release my dress entirely, my hand curving around the handle just to be completely sure that it is locked. I jiggle it. Yeah, there's no entering here. Not today, anyway.

There is a rumble over my head which I instantly recognize as a storm approaching. I step back from the door and almost trip onto the grass as I forget to lift my skirts again. Something crinkles beneath my feet and I look down. My foot is pressed into a packet. When I remove my foot and pick up the packet, I notice writing at the top. I can't read what it says, but I recognize the picture in the middle. It's a flower of some sort. Bright red and intricately petalled. I wonder what this is.

I flip the packet around and notice what looks like a name scrawled onto the back. Again, I don't know how to decipher the words, but if I had to judge by the handwriting alone, I'd say it was written by a male hand, based solely on the sheer messy nature of the letters.

I start walking up the garden again, frowning at the name as if my stare alone is going to make the words easier to understand. There is another rumble ahead, and suddenly I hear something that isn't the sky or the result of mother nature's call. I realize it's coming from behind me, and turn to the source.

The door to the flower house opens, and Delly comes out. My instincts tell me to hide myself, and I immediately throw myself behind a bush. I peer around from the leaves, and notice someone else coming out behind her. Is that Gale from the homecoming ball? Peeta's friend? Wasn't he brought up during their argument at one point . . .?

They've stopped in front of the house of flowers, and seem to be conversing about something. Why was the house locked if they were inside? Can it be locked from the inside? Why would a person lock themselves inside a house, unless they didn't want someone else coming inside . . .?

Something isn't right. I can't put my finger on what, exactly, but there's something extremely odd about this entire set up. Even simply seeing Delly with this man makes me uneasy, which is stupid since I've seen her husband alone with women multiple times. Maybe it's my distaste towards her coming out unfairly. Maybe I'm just grasping at straws; desperate to find something solid to hold against her. That's probably it.

Delly turns her back to the shelter; so does Gale. They start to walk down the garden, away from the house; away from me. I stand up, my dress covered in strands of grass and smudges of dirt. I turn and continue my journey back to the shelter, only glancing back once; as if I were going to spontaneously catch Delly doing something that she shouldn't be.

I try not to think too hard about what I just saw. It's probably nothing.

A/N: Due to time constraints and college work, coupled alongside my slight writer's block, I'm going to aim to get chapters for this story up every two weeks. I hope that works okay for you guys! :)

Please RR with your thoughts!