Chapter 4
I wake up feeling normal. It's an odd feeling, one I haven't felt for a long time. All I know is that I am not Katniss the girl on fire, not Katniss the victor, not Katniss the Mockingjay. I am just me and it's refreshing. I suppose the last few days of having Peeta as a friend again has something to do with it. We don't do much together except eat a meal or two and I don't want to over-think it. I told myself I would take one day at a time, and that's all I'm doing to keep my tears away.
I soak in the tub and wash my hair. It's growing back again and even the biggest bald spot is not visible anymore. I dry it with a towel and braid it to my side. I put on some pants and a loose shirt. The day is a tad too warm for my father's hunting jacket. I still put on my boots and wash my face one more time before I look in the mirror. Not only do I feel normal, I'm also starting to look normal again. I see my bow and quiver in the corner of the kitchen and take them. They're exactly what I need if I'll be able to maintain this feeling of normalcy. I just have to keep trying.
It's still early and the town is quiet. Although very few people are back, the noise of demolishing and rebuilding is easily recognizable during the day. I walk through the meadow and slip under the fence. If they ever tear it down, it will be so strange, so open. I make it to the woods and breathe in the fresh air as if it's my first breath of the day. One of the reasons I've had trouble coming back to the woods is Gale's absence. I can still see one of his snares in the distance, but it's long been deactivated. I walk to our meeting place, though I don't stay there for long. I am afraid of facing any feelings that this place might incite. So I walk back into the woods. Together with the Victor's Village, this is the only part of my past that hasn't changed a bit. The trees still stand tall, hovering over me, and I can hear the mockingjays whistling an old tune. I just listen to them for a while and absorb myself in their music. It takes me back to my father and his never-ending singing. His beautiful voice echoes through my ears as if he was by my side. It hits me. I have no reason to fear Gale's absence. Before I ever shared the woods with the boy who would become my best friend, I shared it with my father. This was my father's place, our place.
I don't plan on killing any creatures today. I'm not going to become a vegetarian or anything like that, but I can't help the feeling that I'm responsible for the loss of so many lives in the past recent months. I'm not about to take one more, even if it's for food. Greasy Sae must be disappointed with the lack of game; I know she misses some rabbit or wild turkey. She'll just have to be patient. I think part of me is afraid of hunting again. I felt so sick the first time I came to the woods since my return that I try to avoid that feeling at all costs. Although this is my favourite place, it's strange to hunt when I'm no longer needed to keep others fed. This is new Panem and no one goes to bed hungry at night anymore. At least when I hunted during the rebellion, I had my hunting partner next to me. Now it's different, I'm alone in the woods like when my father died. I have to take it all in one more time. Learn to shoot my bow and arrow again for love, not for survival.
I walk deeper into the woods, watching my back in case a pack of wild dogs decides to chase me again. I haven't been this far in so long, but I know it's here. In about five minutes I find what I was looking for. My first practicing targets. They're a little old and not as evident as before, though it's clear my father did an excellent job carving them on the tree trunks. I take my bow and shoot my first arrow at the nearest target. Bull's-eye. Even though I'm rusty, that was too easy, so I try the farthest ones. I am shooting for almost an hour until my arms begin to hurt. I find some berries and eat them by a rock. Slowly the mockingjays make their way to my resting spot. I wonder if they know we're the same. That just like them, I was able to defy the Capitol by simply existing, by my refusal to die in the first games. I breathe deeply again and whistle a familiar tune. A four-note tune. Rue's tune. After a brief moment of silence, the tune surrounds me while it travels through the forest. I'm smiling. The woods have a meaning again.
I pack my bow and quiver on my shoulder and look for herbs. I gather some mint, but am careful not to damage the roots. I do the same when I find some wild thyme, parsley, and sage. I see a few other herbs that look familiar, but without my family's plant book I'm not sure what they are. I pack them separately in my hunting bag so I can verify it later. On my way back, I drop some rhubarb I found with Greasy Sae and borrow her gardening tools. I know she likes adding rhubarb to her rabbit stew, though only after I leave I realize I should have provided the rabbit too. But not yet, anyway. For now she can probably import some meat from outside the district.
I stop at my house first. Although I am sweaty and my shirt stinks, all I want is a nap. Maybe this morning was too much too soon, because I am exhausted. I change into a clean shirt and pass out on my bed. I am asleep for about ten minutes before I am awaken by a loud noise and yelling. I drag myself out of my room to find Haymitch sitting on my footsteps.
"Still sleeping at any time of day, I see," he says.
"Look who's talking,' I reply and come down a few steps. How many times have I found Haymitch passed out on surfaces where no other human being could possibly sleep on? At all times of the day? I'm about to poke some fun at him when I notice the smell. Or lack thereof. Could Haymitch possibly be sober? "What's wrong with you?" I inquire.
"What's wrong with you?" He scowls back at me.
"Haymitch, did you run out of liquor?" I can't think of any other explanation for what I'm seeing.
"No. Yes. Sort of. I'm starting the geese thing, you know. Actually, I was going to postpone trying to raise the little beasts until next year. Then I ran of liquor." He's looking around and I know he's wondering whether I have a hidden stash somewhere.
"Well, I'm sorry, but you finished the last bottles I had last week. Or, do you think I didn't notice my kitchen cabinets had been raided overnight?"
"Fine," he grumbles.
"Fine," I reply and we sit in silence for about five minutes. It's funny how alert Haymitch looks when there's no liquor around. I think he only blinked twice during the whole time I stared at him. He looks worried. Or lost. As much as the both of us could communicate through simple actions in the arena, I never got a hold of reading his facial expressions.
"Haymitch, are you alright?" I'm starting to get concerned with how little he blinks.
"You see, sweetheart, they say raising geese is fun. They also say I need a hobby." Haymitch has a habit of deflecting from the important questions. "I guess the real issue here is: how on earth do I get the geese to stay?"
"You don't mean you're actually trying to get wild geese to stay around, or are you?" I'm confused, I thought he had an idea of what he was doing.
"Where else can I find geese, Mockingjay? They've been flying this direction anyway."
I chuckle, but he looks offended. "I think wild geese won't do. You need to get some domesticated ones, or goslings. Why don't you talk to Greasy Sae about it? I saw her feeding some geese the goat man was raising once, maybe she can help." He nods, though he doesn't get up. I don't know why I think there's a deeper reason to why Haymitch wants to raise geese. Yet, I don't probe him further. His sober self can look even more broken than when he's drunk and grumpy.
I have to go to Peeta's. Not just because I'm hungry, although I hope he's been baking. I'm worried about Haymitch so I drag him in with me. The truth is, I have no idea why I even doubted if Peeta would be baking, since what's in front of me is clearly enough to stock two bakeries or more. Haymitch takes the opportunity to go through Peeta's cabinets and closets. I sense Peeta wants to tell him there's nothing to be found, so I gesture that it's better to let Haymitch be. It's something to keep him occupied. I sit at the table and find my favorites. The cheese buns are still hot. Peeta probably just took them out of the oven. It's like he timed it perfectly, just for my daily visit. Or maybe it's just a coincidence, since I'm watching Peeta and he doesn't look quite like himself. At least not like the part of the old Peeta I thought was surfacing in the last few days.
Suddenly it hits me why he's baked so much. Just like Haymitch, he's trying to keep busy to avoid something else. I gather that's the same reason I went to the woods this morning. We're all trying to run away from our fears rather than to face them.
When Haymitch comes back, he takes a seat next to me and begins to carve a loaf of bread with his knife. A year ago, Peeta would have scowled at him for destroying a perfectly good loaf. However, he doesn't even notice Haymitch, obviously too focused on kneading the dough. What is happening? At least with alcohol in his body, Haymitch would manage to keep us irritated or disgusted enough not to lose our sanity. But this, the three of us avoiding our problems like cowards, is just tragic. I realize I'm stuffing myself so much I might get sick. So before that happens, I push both Peeta and Haymitch through the backdoor into the yard. Peeta protests and mumbles something about the oven. I ignore it together with Haymitch's plea for going back inside to retrieve his knife. Today has to count for something and this is why I have my game bag with me.
I take out the gardening tools and start to prepare the earth. Haymitch and Peeta are looking at each other, probably wondering if I am out of my mind. It is only after I start to bury the mint by its roots that they clue in to what I'm doing. Haymitch can tell my reasoning even before Peeta kneels down to help me. He doesn't join us, though. He seems perfectly happy watching us bring the herb garden to life. I wonder if that's how it was when we were in the arena for the first time. Haymitch trying to keep himself sober while he watched us bond over our need for mutual survival.
We plant the herbs I don't quite recognize in a separate area, and when Haymitch says he's going after Greasy Sae, Peeta joins me at my house for hot chocolate while we try to identify the herbs in my family's plant book.
"This is helpful," he says. "Our mind is too fragile to keep every memory and detail intact."
Peeta would know about that better than anyone. I realize that as much as I would like to forget, there is a point to remembering everything we've been through. It made us who we are today. And without our memories, how can we know ourselves? So the following day, when I speak to Dr. Aurelius, I tell him my idea about the book, and a large box of parchment sheets arrives on the next train from the Capitol.
A/N: I haven't been feeling very motivated to keep writing, so excuse me if this chapter feels a bit uninspired. It's more of a filler chapter for what I was planning next. I'll try to do better next time.