"It's you, isn't it?" asks Gale.
It's early morning, and the two of us are hunting in the forest outside the fence. We've been keeping our customary silence for about the last hour, so his voice gives me a jolt when the question comes out of nowhere. I know exactly what he's referring to, but I decide to play dumb.
"What's me?" I ask casually, continuing to scan the forest for prey, my bow ready.
"Come on, Katniss," he says, and I realize he's stopped walking behind me, so I turn to face him. "You know what I'm talking about. Peeta Mellark."
"What about him?"
"You're the one he was talking about, aren't you? The girl waiting for him back home."
It's been two weeks since the Reaping, and Peeta is still alive. Alive, and occupying far too much of my thoughts.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Gale," I lie. "I barely know Peeta."
"I'm not stupid, Katniss," Gale says. "First you rush off after the Reaping without explanation, then when you finally come home you're acting all weird and distracted, and you've been like that ever since. I've never seen you so interested in the games before. And to top it all off, Darius keeps looking like the cat that ate the canary whenever you're around, and you've been shooting death glares back at him like I've never seen before."
"You're exaggerating," I try, but he's not to be put off.
"I couldn't figure out what was going on until a couple of nights ago, but then it all came clear when he made his little speech. He was talking about you, right?"
"No…" I trail off, but it's obvious I'm lying.
"No? Tell me where you went after the Reaping, then."
My mouth gapes as I rack my brain for an alternate explanation. Finally I give up.
"Fine," I say, looking away to avoid his grin of triumph. "Yes, it was me he was talking about. I think."
"You think?"
"Well, he didn't give a name, did he?"
Gale is laughing now.
"Oh, Katniss, come on! How many possibilities are there?"
I sigh.
"Okay, whatever. Yes, yes, it was me."
If Peeta was standing here right now, I swear I would kill him. I mean, I know he didn't do it on purpose. I don't think. But still…
It had happened two nights ago, when Peeta had been holed up in a cave with his little ally, Rue. Rue was from District Eleven, and she was twelve. She was small and quick, and she reminded me a lot of Prim. Most people in the District had been baffled when he chose to befriend her, but I thought I understood his motives. For one thing, Rue was no slouch in the survival department—she knew how to find food, and she could fly through the tree canopy like a bird, jumping from tree to tree. More importantly, I think, he was trying to make up for not being able to save Ana.
Ana had died in the first minute of the game—she simply hadn't been quick enough, and had had the bad fortune to be standing on a launch pad right next to the brutal Career from District Two, Cato. He had snapped her neck like it was nothing. Peeta, who had made a beeline for her the minute the gong went off, saw it happen even as he ran. The expression on his face had been heartbreaking as he called out her name. The next second he was barreling into Cato. He knocked him to the ground, and the two of them had wrestled for control. Miraculously, it had ended with Peeta pinning Cato, a knife he had recovered from the many scattering the ground around the Cornucopia held to the Career's neck. And then he froze.
It would have been so simple to push the knife in—to take out the biggest threat in the Game early on. But something stopped him. We could all see the struggle on his face—he knew he should do it, but his innate decency and sense of morality wouldn't allow it. He ended up punching Cato hard enough to break his nose, and then he had made a run for it, grabbing a pack and a spear as he went.
That night when Ana's face appeared in the sky, the Gamemakers had been sure to show us a close-up of Peeta's devastated face. He had wanted to protect her and had failed.
So when Rue had tentatively approached him for an alliance, he had welcomed her gladly, and they became fast friends. I suspect Rue has a little crush on Peeta, which led them into the conversation that has caused all this trouble in the first place. It was in the dark, and they had been whispering to try to keep their words private, but the Capitol had helpfully provided subtitles so we could all understand what they were saying.
"Peeta, do you have a girlfriend?"
Peeta laughs softly.
"No, not really."
"What do you mean, 'not really'?"
"It's complicated."
"Why?"
"Well, there is a girl I like, but I'm not sure how she feels about me."
"Does she know you like her?"
Peeta nods.
"I told her right before I left."
"What did she say?"
"She kissed me."
"Well, then…duh, she must like you."
"Maybe. Or maybe she was just being nice."
"No way. I think she likes you. What's her name?"
Silence, and then, "I think I'd rather not say. I don't want to cause trouble for her if I don't make it home."
"Well, what's she like?"
"Come on, Rue. You don't really want to hear all this, do you?"
"Yes I do! It's so romantic! Tell me—is she beautiful?"
"Of course."
"Is she sweet?"
A moment of hesitation.
"Yes, she can be."
"What else? Tell me, Peeta!"
A gusty sigh.
"Fine. She's beautiful. She's smart. She's strong. She's kind. She's loving. And when she sings, the birds stop to listen. Enough for you, Ms. Nosy Pants?"
A giggle.
"I guess so. I bet when you go home she'll be right there at the station, waiting for you. Don't you think?"
"What I think is that you're still very young. Life just doesn't work that way."
"Sometimes it does. It has to…doesn't it?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
Silence.
"Time for sleep, Rue. I'll take first watch."
The Capitol has taken this one little innocent conversation and turned it into a media sensation. All of a sudden all anybody can talk about is the love-struck hero from District Twelve. Most importantly, everyone is dying to figure out who the object of his affections is.
It's been an interesting couple of days, to say the least.
The girls at school are obsessed. They keep talking about Peeta as if he's some romantic god or something. They go on and on about how cute he is, how they love his blue eyes, and how jealous they are of the mystery girl. They say all this freely in front of me—I'm sure I'm the last person anybody suspects. The loner Seam girl with the handsome, popular Merchant's son? No way! The way they talk about him makes me feel weird. I find myself getting angry at them, but I don't know why. It's almost as if I'm feeling possessive of Peeta. Which is ridiculous, of course.
Watching Peeta suffer through the games has been hard enough. Watching and re-watching this scene has been nothing short of torture. Hearing exactly what Peeta feels about me is both wonderful and horrible all at the same time. In some ways, it's good to know he doubts my feelings for him—if he does somehow miraculously survive, if I decide to reject him it won't be such a shock. What baffles me is when that "if" had wormed its way in there.
"Katniss?" Gale's voice calls me back from my reverie.
"Sorry," I say. "What was the question?"
Gale laughs.
"I asked what the deal is. Do you like him? Did you really kiss him?"
I sigh. Gale is not really the first person I would have chosen to talk to about this. Not that there's ever been anything romantic between us, but I can't deny that there's always been an undercurrent of eventual expectations between us.
"I don't know, Gale," I say finally. "It's complicated."
"That's what he said. What does that mean? I didn't even know you knew Mellark."
"I don't. Not really."
Gale rolls his eyes.
"This is like pulling teeth," he says. Then he walks over to a fallen log and sits, patting the space beside him.
"Come. Sit. Talk," he says.
I hesitate for a minute before I give in. After all, who else am I going to talk to? Gale wouldn't be asking if he didn't want to know.
I start with the story of the bread, leading to the explanation why I had gone to see Peeta in the first place. This part I am sure Gale will understand. He knows about owing, and what a burden it can be for people who live the way we do.
"Okay," he says when I've finished. "So how did we get from there to the Great Romance of the Century?"
"Shut up."
"Sorry."
"You pretty much already know the rest. He told me he had feelings for me, I kissed him. That's it."
I know I'm leaving out quite a bit, but Gale doesn't need to know everything. Some things should remain private. Special.
"You, Miss I'm Never Falling in Love or Getting Married or Having Children, kissed him?"
"Well, I didn't think it would matter, Gale," I say sharply. "I had no idea he would survive even this long."
"So it was pity?"
"Yes. No. May…Oh, I don't know."
I can feel Gale looking at me carefully, and I stare at the ground, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Katniss, be careful," he says finally.
"What do you mean?" I ask, although I think I know where he's headed.
"Don't let yourself fall for someone who's going to be dead in a week."
"I know that Gale! Don't you think I know that?"
"I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"I know. I just…I don't want to talk about this anymore," I say abruptly, standing up and walking away back down the path.
Gale follows, keeping silent for now. I am irritated with him, and it's not hard to figure out why. His advice is excellent. It's the same thing I've been telling myself over and over for the past two weeks.
The problem is, I'm afraid it's already too late.
I'm not sure what wakes me, but my eyes pop open and I am instantly wide awake. I quickly look around the cave and realize Rue is not here with me. It's the middle of the day, but still…she knows we agreed not to go out alone.
"Rue?" I call out quietly.
Silence.
I clamber out of the sleeping bag, starting to feel anxious.
Rue and I have been teamed up for ten days now, and I can't believe how fond I've gotten of the girl in such a short time. She's like the little sister I never had, and the thought that something has happened to her makes me sick to my stomach. Which is stupid, I know, considering where we are. I never should have let myself get so attached, but it's too late now.
Cautiously I leave the cave, looking around for Rue or any other Tributes who might be lurking nearby. There's nothing; just the forest and the rushing stream. I decide to wait five minutes, and if she's not back by then I'll go find her. I head down to the stream to refill my canteen.
There are five of us left now. Me and Rue, Clove and Cato from Two, and the girl from Five whose name I still haven't remembered. I haven't even seen her since the day of the launch, she's been keeping such a low profile.
I've barely reached the water when a scream pierces the air.
"PEETA!"
Rue!
I drop the canteen and run towards her voice, pausing only long enough to grab my spear. I also have a knife that I carry with me at all times. I can only hope it will be enough.
"Peeta! Help me!" she cries again as I crash through the bushes. I realize that she's not very far away, and I slow my steps instinctively, not sure what I'm going to find when I reach her.
Then I hear voices, laughter. I slow to a creep, doing my best to move without a sound, a skill Rue teasingly informs me I am sorely lacking.
Lucky for me, the two Careers who have Rue trapped up in a tree are making enough noise on their own to cover my approach. I get as near as I can, and then using a large tree trunk for cover, I assess the situation. Rue is far up, peering down at the pair below her, obviously terrified. I can't figure out why she's not pulling her trick of jumping from tree to tree, until I really look and realize that Rue has had the misfortune to choose a tree that is just distant enough from its neighbors to make jumping impossible. It's probably the only tree in this Arena like it. It seems the luck that has gotten us through thus far has finally run out.
Cato and Clove are taunting Rue, who remains silent on her perch.
"Come on down, little bird!" yells Clove. "We promise we won't hurt you! Much, anyway!" she finishes with a cackle.
"Where's your friend, Eleven?" asks Cato. "Seems he's abandoned you, doesn't it?" He makes a tsk tsk sound. "It's too bad—I have something really special in mind for him."
I bet he does, I think. Even from my hiding place I can see Cato's black eye and his twisted nose that must still be giving him quite a bit of pain. I feel a small bit of satisfaction at that, but really all I wish is that I'd killed him when I had the chance.
What am I going to do? There's no way I can take on them both—I'm too weak, and they're armed and much more skilled than I am. And there are two of them.
I'm still frantically searching my brain for a way out of this when Clove gets impatient.
"I'll get her out," she says, and starts throwing knives at Rue. I catch my breath—Clove has a wicked aim. Fortunately, Rue is small enough to hide completely behind the large tree trunk far above.
"Forget it, Clove," says Cato after she has lodged her fifth knife into the trunk. "I'll get her."
He immediately starts to climb.
I can't help but think that for all the Career Districts train their kids to be lethal weapons, they sure don't teach them much about common sense. Or maybe Cato and Clove were just absent that day. Either way, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that there's no way the huge, muscle-bound Cato is going to be able to reach tiny Rue who is perched way up high, nearly at the top of the tree.
Geniuses they are not. Cato is climbing determinedly, while Clove cheers him on. It occurs to me that now would be an excellent time to move in on her. She's alone, and almost all her knives are now lodged in the tree above, out of reach. She's so tiny it should be easy to take her down if I can surprise her. Then I can take Cato on man to man.
I have doubts about my ability to do this and survive—I am weakened by days and days of stress, sleep deprivation, and near starvation. But what choice do I have? In my mind I picture Katniss watching me at home. What would she think if I turned and abandoned Rue now? It would assure my survival, at least for the moment, but I would lose any chance I ever had with Katniss along with any ounce of self-respect I might have. Life wouldn't be worth living if I did that.
Besides, it's Rue. I've grown to love her, and there's no way I'm leaving her now.
I wait until Cato is a fair distance up the tree—far enough that it'll take him time to get down. He won't be able to just jump down and come to Clove's immediate rescue. Then I make my move. Since I know it would be futile to try, I don't even attempt to be quiet. I simply launch myself at Clove, moving as fast as I can go.
She hears me coming, but doesn't have time to react. I throw all my weight against her, and she hits the tree full force. She's knocked out before she knows what hit her.
That went a lot better than I expected, actually.
"Clove!" I hear Cato scream from above.
I look up and see him already starting his way down. Rue is watching with hopeful eyes. All I can do as I brace myself to fight him, my knife in hand, is hope I don't let her down.
"You're gonna die, Twelve! You are going to pay!"
Cato is sloppy in his rage, jumping from limb to limb without care, hurtling himself down the tree.
Then all hell breaks loose.
There's a loud SNAP! as Cato lands on a branch that is too small to support his weight. I watch as he starts to fall in what seems like slow motion. He's just started to scream when I notice something attached to the branch that is falling with him.
A Tracker Jacker nest.
I turn to run, and almost immediately trip over a tree root in my panic. I hear the nest hit the ground behind me, and the air is filled with a loud buzzing. I scramble to my feet to run again, but I haven't been quick enough. I can feel the stings—one, two, three. Thigh, arm, neck, they come in quick succession. I can hear Cato still screaming behind me as I pump my legs harder. I have to get away. Have to make it to the cave before the hallucinations kick in. I have to believe Rue was far up enough to avoid the ire of the Tracker Jackers. She'll find me, take care of me, if I can just make it back to our cave.
I almost make it.
The stream is in sight when the world starts to tilt, when I start to hear the voices, when I start to see things more horrible than anything I've ever imagined. I try to keep going, but I'm swaying back and forth like a drunken man on a ship that's lost in a storm. I keep hitting the trees. Or maybe they're hitting me—they keep jumping out in front of me.
I think I hear a cannon fire, then two, and I wonder if one of them is for me.
"Katniss. I'm sorry," I whisper as I fall to the ground.
Then everything goes black.
AN: Wow, I can't believe the response this story has gotten. Thank you all so much for the reviews and alerts and favoriting. Seriously, you guys are awesome.
Special thanks goes out to for-prim for helping me get over the writer's block. You can all thank her for this long chapter and the quicker updates to come. She unclogged my brain for me!
Also, I should have mentioned this in the last chapter but I forgot. pointed out to me that the beginning of this story is a lot like the story "Reaping," by Swishy Willow Wand. (Thanks, for the heads up, !) There are a lot of similarities, but I swear nobody is copying anybody else. I've chatted with Swishy, and she was super nice—we agreed that there are only so many original ideas out there. Her story is awesome, by the way, and I highly recommend you go check it out right now.