Chapter Thirteen

Primrose has her own room. Not in Peeta's shelter, of course, in a shelter much larger and grander than his. It's not her shelter, it's the shelter for the ill. Where the humans go when they are sick or injured or diseased. Primrose is a healer, and therefore spends a great deal of time in the shelter for the ill. Due to her dedication to her job, there is very little time for her to come talk to me in Peeta's shelter, so Madge takes me there instead.

Madge doesn't enter Primrose's room with me. She says it's a personal matter, and none of her business. It seems to me that Madge doesn't like to get involved in anything that could possibly come back to bite her later. It would explain why she didn't wish to hear Clove's 'gossip' when she intruded on my lesson.

"Kat, welcome!" Primrose looks tired. She has bags beneath her eyes that no woman of her age should have. In saying that, I can't say for sure how old this human is. I don't even know how old I am myself, so judging anyone else is impossible. I only know that the really old humans have creases in their faces, like gravity has finally begun to take hold and is trying to drag the skin to the ground. "Please, ignore the mess, this is the first time I've gotten back to my office in days. Do sit!"

I seat myself in front of her table. The stupid contraption I'm made to wear called a corset constricts painfully around my middle, and I make a displeased sound as I forget to tuck my skirts beneath my bottom. Primrose doesn't sit down at her own chair, and instead starts to put away the objects that crowd her desk.

"From what I understand, you want to know more about the jungle, yes?" Primrose asks. Her voice is breathless, as if she hasn't stopped moving in hours, but it has this unmistakable upbeat nature to it.

When Primrose turns to me, I simply nod. I don't know how else to communicate.

"I have deaf patients, Kat, please feel free to sign away," Primrose informs me with a grin.

Relief washes over me, as I had feared that I would be as mute as I had been when Delly intruded on my slumber. It doesn't intimidate me to have silence forced upon me in such a way, but it does make feats such as this a lot harder. "I want to know what happened your parents," I tell her with my hands. "It could help me uncover what happened my own family."

Primrose nods thoughtfully as she turns to shove some books onto a shelf. Even when she's not looking at me, I know she is giving me her full attention. "I understand completely," she tells me. "My family were on an expedition, one not too much different from the one you found me on with Madge and the others. Except they were on their own, and lived in that old cabin, do you know it?" She looks over her shoulder, blue eyes shining under the fake light above our heads.

"I actually found it shortly before you people arrived," I explain.

Primrose chuckles. "Well, that's where my family spent their time. My mum; my dad; and my sister. I was only a baby at the time, so they didn't take me with them. They were attacked and were killed. I assume by an animal of some sort. I honestly don't know if there's much more to it than that."

I don't know why I expected much more than that. Peeta had already told me that Primrose was only a baby when she lost her family sixteen years ago, however, I had hoped that Madge would have been right in thinking that she would have had some extra insight into the ordeal. "Were they young? Your family?" I ask.

Primrose shrugs. "Too young to die. Although, when is the cut off age for death, really?" She finally seats herself across from me, but she's perched on the edge, as if ready to jump up again at any second. "My mother was in her early thirties, as was my father. My sister was five years old." Primrose stares at her hands with a fixated frown. "They never found her body."

"And it was sixteen years ago?" I ask.

"Well, my parents went on their expedition sixteen years ago. When they actually died is unknown," Primrose answers.

"How old were you?"

"Three."

Huh. That's older than I thought. I wonder why they took Primrose's sister on the expedition but not Primrose herself.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help," Primrose says sympathetically. "I can only assume that something similar happened to your own family. It's common for human expeditions to get attacked by the animals in the jungle, especially if they set up in the wrong area."

I wish I could remember more about my birth family. I want to know what happened to my parents and what events transpired that lead me to being found by Kala. "Does it hurt to recount these events?" I curiously ask.

Primrose shakes her head. "Nah. I didn't know them; I don't even remember them. It would hurt more if I had been older and had memories of life with them. Their deaths did inspire me to pursue medicine, though, and I couldn't think of a job I'd love doing more than this."

"You look young for a healer."

"I was taken in as a trainee during The Great War," Primrose explains. "I proved myself capable during that time and now I can work shifts at the hospital here. I'm not a doctor-not yet anyway-but my friends like to say I am already."

Primrose is amazing. To take such heartache and turn it into something so powerful must take a great deal of strength. I remember Madge teaching me some stuff about this World War, and how devastating it had been across the globe, and how they were so desperate for service and produce that they took almost anyone and anything. Madge also told me of how she doesn't think it's over, and she has an awful gut feeling that the worst is yet to come . . .

"How are you coping with us, Kat? Is there still some culture shock?" Primrose asks.

"A bit," I admit. "But I feel like I'm blending well."

"Your capability to learn so fast is fantastic," Primrose tells me. "You picked up sign language so quickly and have accustomed yourself to many of our mannerisms. You're amazingly intelligent for someone who has lived in seclusion for so long."

"It isn't so different from the jungle in London," I tell her. "Just different behavior patterns."

"Do you like living with Peeta and Delly?" I must pull a face because Primrose laughs. "They are a dramatic pair. Every day is like a soap opera, I'm sure."

I roll my eyes. You don't know the half of it.

"I counselled their marriage for a while," Primrose says. "Mad as a box of cats, the both of them. Delly is so high wired and eccentric while Peeta is grounded and mellow. Delly likes parties and glamour; Peeta just wants some peace and quiet. You know what they say about opposites, they certainly attract."

Yeah, attract into a mess of a marriage. I don't deny that opposites attract but maybe it would have been better if these two opposites stayed well away from each other. It makes me think of how I saw Delly come out of the house of flowers with Gale. It still doesn't sit well with me why something like that would happen. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm simply being irrational; being unfair because of my hatred towards Delly; or trying to look for something wrong as if it's going to prove some sort of point. Something still doesn't feel right about it, though, and I can't shake the feeling.

"We could try to find alternative accommodation if you aren't happy with them?" Primrose suggests.

The idea is tempting. It would be nice not to have Delly's eyeballs drilling into the back of my head every time we share a room, as if she expects me to rip my clothes off and writhe on the floor like an animal. What makes me wish to stay is Peeta. I know I can save him. It will just take some time. That and the partly selfish reason that I have grown to enjoy the comforts of my own room. "Thank you for the offer," I sign, "but I quite enjoy the drama of Peeta's shelter."

Primrose snorts with amusement. "Okay, if you say so," she chuckles.

There's a tapping on the door and Madge enters the room. "Primrose, Doctor Aurelius is looking for you," she says.

"Right, yes," Primrose replies, slapping her thighs and standing up. I follow, as per human custom. "I know I wasn't much help, Kat, but I hope I provided even a tiny piece of insight?"

"Thank you for your time," I reply, "I know you're busy."

Primrose blows a stray hair from her face. "Don't I know it." She shakes my hand before moving around her table and walking to the door where Madge stands. "Do tell Peeta and Delly that I was asking about them."

When Primrose leaves, Madge and I leave the hospital and go out for dinner together. Its dark by the time I return to Peeta's shelter but Peeta entrusted me with a key so that I can enter and leave at my own leisure. The halls are silent as I enter and I decide just to go straight to my room. My body is becoming more accustomed to human time and I find myself growing more tired earlier than I'm used to. I don't know whether to take this as a good thing or a bad thing. It's good because I can now rest and rise with the humans, but it's bad because it means I'm growing farther and farther from my jungle roots.

I must pass Peeta and Delly's room on the way to my own. I try to be quiet, in case they are already sleeping, but the closer I draw to their door the more I notice the light spilling out from under the door. It's not strong, which makes me think of the small light that sits by their bedside. Nearly asleep, maybe?

I pass their door and almost believe I've crossed successfully, when the door suddenly opens. I look over my shoulder just in time to catch Delly exit. She's in her nightclothes. She almost walks away in the direction in which I came when she notices me standing there. "Just home now, Kat?" she asks, amusement in her tone.

I turn to face her completely. Her face is bright red and her golden curls are a messy forest on top of her head. Maybe she has just woken up. Did I do that? Pfft. Oops.

"I must thank you for spending the day away from the house," Delly says, taking a step towards me. I frown at her in confusion. "It gave Peeta and myself time to catch up on things."

As I always do when this girl talks to me, I simply stare. I wonder if they've had a long conversation about their marriage and how they clearly don't work together. It's unrealistic, but it would be nice, to say the least.

"He wouldn't do it with you present, you see," Delly continues, taking yet another step towards me. "'It's rude when we have company, Delly.' That's what he said. But then the company is gone for the day and into the night and"-Delly blows into her hand, sending her fingers splaying outwards like the force of the air did it itself. "All excuse blows away in the wind."

I know what she's talking about now. The night when I eavesdropped, and she tried to make an advance. Peeta told her 'not when there's company'. Basically not when me, Kat, was in the same shelter as them. Then I went to talk to Primrose, and decided to take Madge's offer of dinner. Plenty of time for an advance not to become an advance anymore but a success story.

Delly is informing me of this as if I'm going to be jealous of her, but the way she talks about getting to the point of intercourse with her husband isn't desirable at all. All excuse blows away in the wind? If Peeta truly desired her there wouldn't be excuses made in the first place. All she ever does when she tries to get a rise out of me is prove how pathetically desperate she is for a reaction. What does she want me to do? To strangle her with her yellow hair so she can run to Peeta and cry about how the savage attacked her? Please!

I envy nothing from this woman, despite what she seems to think. It's clear she can see my intentions beyond discovering my roots. Why else would she try to rub such things in my face? If she's trying to make me feel threatened, she's going the wrong away about it.

"It's so freeing, you know?" Delly continues, sighing in an exaggerated fashion. "Being joined with a loved one so intimately. Nothing between you but smatterings of air. I'm sure you don't know what it feels like, Kat, since you've spent your life with monkeys."

She's right. I've done nothing like that yet. That doesn't make me naïve, though. My instincts are tenfold more receptive than any human in London's. I wasn't spoon-fed the facts of life, I had to learn them on my own. I could probably get a better reaction from Delly's husband in one night than she could her entire marriage based solely on my own natural instinct to act. In fact, if I cared enough, I could probably get a better reaction from Delly herself in one night than Peeta could get from her in their entire marriage. I wouldn't give her the joy of it, though. Besides, she's in no way appealing to me in that regard.

Delly is nearly right up in my face now. She's trying to be intimidating, and it's not working. Is she finished peeing on her tree? The tree, in this case, being Peeta? God, she's so smug, it's almost painful. I'm fighting to hide a smirk of amusement. She reminds me of the unbearable alpha wolves who felt the need to remind everyone who their mate was every few minutes just to ensure that nobody even looked at them the wrong way.

"My husband would never want a savage like you," Delly snaps. I can't help laughing at that. It's a breathy sound, due to my lack of voice, but Delly can recognize the expression on my face well enough to know that she hasn't got the intended reaction. "Don't try to deny it! I've figured out your dirty game!"

I cover my face with my hand and shake my head. This woman truly is something else. Her intentions change depending on who she is conversing with. She baits me with her marriage; despite the lies she tells most likely on a regular basis about what's actually going on in said marriage. She blackmails Peeta with his inability to give her children; despite that being completely and utterly out of his control. She baits her friends with lies; despite the loyalty and trust you're supposed to have with friends. She really is a confused and mixed up being.

"You can laugh all you want but soon you'll realize that there will never be room for you here. I'll prove that I always get my way," Delly informs me.

I roll my eyes and wave goodbye to her, having been done with this conversation five minutes ago. Delly's nostrils flare at how nonchalant my reaction to her threats is and she spins on her heel; marching off in the opposite direction like a stroppy child. Despite her childish exit, I can't help wondering, what does she mean by prove that she always gets her way? What exactly is she planning?

I glance at the bedroom door curiously. Where exactly is Delly wandering off to at such an hour in her nightclothes, I wonder? Drifting towards the door subconsciously, I nudge it further open and look in from the threshold. Temptation be damned, it always gets the better of me.

Peeta's sleeping. I don't believe I've ever seen him sleeping before. Sleeping leaves a person particularly vulnerable, as they can be viewed with their guard down without them even being aware of the fact they're being watched. Why is Delly disappearing from their room while Peeta sleeps in their bed, unaware that she's gone at all? I could be intentionally villainizing her again, though. For all I know she's just left for a glass of milk.

I lean against the doorframe and simply watch for a minute. I've always been fascinated by sleeping creatures. Back home I used to crouch by bird's nests in the trees and watch them rest. It's the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest; the small twitches; the eyeballs occasionally moving beneath the lids; the question of what kind of world is expanding beyond the darkness of those closed eyes in the form of a dream. All of it draws me in. Kala used to scold me for bothering slumbering animals all the time.

Peeta sleeps on his front, hugging the pillow like it is his true love. I don't even need to enter the room to know that he's dead to the world, lost in a deep, deep sleep that only he will be able to pull himself from. The sheets are strewn around his waist and I wonder if he's cold; if I should slip in and pull them up to his neck for him. I decide to leave him be. I know I personally hate my dreams getting disturbed, I won't ruin Peeta's, even if it would be by accident. Delly would also know I had been in their room if I did it, too, and who knows how that would end up going.

His back is bare and I can see the marks Delly's fingernails have left in his skin. They look painful, but I can't say anything. If I ever get my hands on him in that way scratches will be the least of his worries . . . I frown. I wonder if I was wrong about him being submissive and gentle. Marks like that don't come from tenderness. Huh. Normally I'm a good judge of character. Then again, Peeta was the first human creature I ever encountered in my life. I'm allowed some room for error. At this point I sort of know that I can't take anything at face value. Not even Peeta, who I had thought was so easy and straight forward.

I notice something poking out from beneath his bed. His book of marks! Oh, there's that temptation again . . .

I don't even process my movements. One moment I'm at the door and the next I'm crouched in front of his bed, pulling the book out from underneath. The corners of the book are worn and even torn in places, showing just how often this has been handled and used. I'm not even the slightest bit surprised. Peeta probably opens this book every day.

When I open the book, I'm as taken aback by the markings now as I was when I first saw his baboon marking. The animals from my jungle; the trees; the leaves; the flowers. He must have done so many of these when I wasn't around. I suppose it makes sense, since this seems to be his favorite means of passing time. I wonder what it's like to be able to create such beautiful images with nothing but one's hands and a piece of charcoal. I'm good at doing stuff with my hands; like climbing trees and swinging from vines, however, there is no way I would ever be able to do something this careful and intricate.

I reach the last marked page and end up staring at . . . myself. This particular marking has a lot of thumbprints and slight smudges on it, as if it has taken a lot of time and many retries to get right. The resemblance is almost scary. Like I'm staring at myself in the water of the river. Peeta must be able to do this kind of thing out of the images in his head, as he has never sat with me like he had sat with the baby baboon at the bottom of my tree. I don't understand why he would choose to draw me, of all things. Out of all the amazing and beautiful things in this world, why would he use his time to make markings of me? There isn't even a marking of Delly in here . . .

I slide the book back under the bed and sit up on my knees beside the bed. I wish I could look into his head and see what he's thinking. Not out of means of invasion, more out of curiosity. I mean, I'd let him look into my head as well, but I doubt there is much in there that I haven't already told him. To me, Peeta is still an enigma and there are many things I am still to know about not just him; but London; the world around me; and my past. I wonder if I'm ever going to know the truth about any of this, or will forever remain a foreigner on the outside. It's a rather upsetting idea. Like I'm a youngling again, stuck in a clan of monkeys where I don't belong, struggling to find place and acceptance. Except this time, I don't know if I'm ever going to find it.

There's a creak outside. It's distant, and sounding like it's coming from the floor below. Delly must be on her way back up. I sigh and stand, knowing that the drama of being caught here will not be worth the extra seconds. I turn and don't look back as I leave. A part of me wants to bring the book of marks with me, but I know that Peeta will immediately notice its loss. I will examine that marking of myself in more detail at some point, I just need to find the right time to see it again.

Delly appears at the top of the hall as I'm leaving the room. "What were you doing in there?" she demands to know, lifting her nightdress' skirts and hurrying to the doorway. She looks in, as if expecting me to have done something extreme like throw her husband out their bedroom window or flip their bed in blind rage.

She looks at me when she realizes that nothing has changed, confusion painted all over her features. The savage not causing destruction?! So hard to believe, I imagine. I smile at her and shrug before starting off in the direction of my room again. Today has been wholly exhausting, and all I crave is sleep.

Sleep, and the bright yellow streaming through the darkness that it brings.

A/N: A massive thank you to everyone still reading and enjoying this story! Your love and feedback means the world to me! There are some major plot points to come, so please do stay tuned for more! Remember, I update every fortnight, but if there are any important changes to the schedule, I'll be sure to post it to my twitter feed so if you wish to stay in the loop, do follow me there! Let me know you're a reader and I'll follow back :)

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