Snow has begun to fall in District Twelve: as I stand by the fence in the meadow, rubbing my arms, I am transfixed by the steady trickle of feathery white flakes that within minutes have coated the buildings and people alike with a light dusting that looks not dissimilar to the way Peeta sometimes decorates his cakes. But when Peeta decorates cakes, it doesn't threaten people's lives the way the snow does: the people who are already cold and hungry become colder and hungrier by the day. My mother will soon see the annual influx of those suffering from hypothermia, flu or just plain hunger. They come to her because they do not know what to do. It's ironic, really, because as her stock of available medicines grows smaller by the day, soon she will not know what to do, either.

I shiver, glancing into the smothering blanket of white cloud that feels less like cloud and more like a wall. A prison cell that blocks out the sun – and with it, life. Snow reminds us that the Hunger Games don't just happen once a year; our people, usually so calm and helpful, will soon turn to stealing, bribing or hurting others in an effort to keep loved ones alive. I suppress a shudder at the thought that I am currently dwelling in an arena not so far from the one that I fought so hard to escape.

"Katniss?"

I whirl around, suddenly on full alert; with my head so full of sombre musings I had forgotten why I was there. I only have to glance at him to have it all come rushing back.

Gale.

He is thinner than he was before – or is that just my imagination? Suddenly, my weeks of gorging on rich food and throwing away what I could not eat feels like the worst sin imaginable. Dressed in his filthy miner's shirt and coal dust coated trousers, Gale provides a sharp contrast to the pure white of the powdery snow falling around us. We stare at one another with bated breath.

I am at a loss for how to act around him, something which has not happened during the course of our entire friendship. Should I hug him? He shakes his head, though, when I step towards him. That hurts more than the thought that I had previously been entertaining – that he might just not turn up. As I examine the barely veiled sadness in his, I can't help but selfishly think that it might have been better if he had stayed away.

"How are you?" As soon as I have spoken I realise how forced, how ridiculously polite the words sound, and I wish I had not said anything at all. Perhaps Gale hears this too, because his next words are just as civilly distant.

"Fine, thank you," he says politely. A pause. "They've been giving me more shifts down the mines." All of a sudden I notice the way his skin is so ashen from lack of sunlight, the deep black circles beneath his eyes that I want to touch, to wipe away. His eyes drop from mine. His next words are a whisper. "Rory signed up for tesserae."

My stomach drops. Despair for Gale's inability to avoid the one thing that he had always pledged to help his brothers escape floods through me, tinged with a layer of guilt: there I had been, worrying about how I had been affecting Gale. I had never for a moment thought of his family, the circumstances that are suddenly so much worse than mine. I do not hesitate, this time, when I step forwards to curl my arms tightly around his neck. He pauses but reciprocates, winding his muscled arms around my waist. I cannot breathe, but I do not care. For a second it feels like I am back where I am supposed to be – back in the familiar realm of Gale's protecting arms. I close my eyes and think of nothing but the premature grief that we share for poor little Rory, who we had fought so hard to save from our fate. The grief bonds us, making us one person. I am as much his family as he is mine.

"Better not let your fiancé see us like this."

All at once, the spell is broken. Any façade of closeness between us has dissolved, leaving behind it only an unbearable silence. I don't know how it happens but suddenly we are separated. He won't look at me. I know that if we are to discuss the one thing that we must discuss, we must do it now.

"Gale, I…"

But I don't know how. I've never let anyone down before – as I look at him, my best friend, standing there looking so ill and helpless despite the muscles and the cynical smile, I'm not sure if I even want to. It had all been so clear cut on the Victory Tour – Peeta and I sharing a bed, his spontaneous proposal, the way his touch burns its way into my core and makes me ache for more. I'd thought that I could… that it would be alright, claiming Peeta for my own. I hadn't ever spared a thought for the people who had already claimed me.

One look at Gale is all it takes to tell me that it isn't as easy as all that.

"I'm sorry," is all I can get out in a whisper. Just as he had done, I let my eyes drop to the floor so that I cannot see whatever is raging through his.

Suddenly my face is in his hands and he's gently tilting it up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. I am struck by how close we are, by how green his eyes are. The colour of the woods. "Just tell me one thing, Catnip." He's chosen that word on purpose, I know that – it says history. We have history, Katniss, and what do you have with the Mellark boy? "Do you love him?"

I can't answer. I can't. I know I should, force out some non-committal response or half-formed lie, but the words stick in my throat and burn it like bile. I am left with my mouth flapping open like a fish. Gale smiles at me, and suddenly a little of the sadness in his eyes has mysteriously gone. "I thought not," he says. He leans in even closer. I can feel his breath on my lips. "I don't know what's going to happen, Katniss, but…" a kiss, gentle and chaste, on the lips. Peeta's lips. But then why do they mould so easily around Gale's, and why is the heat he provides so… nice? "I'll be fighting too."

And then he is gone, leaving me reeling and clutching at thin air.

-x-

It takes me ten minutes for me to make the decision to move. It takes a further twenty for me to make the five minute walk back to Victor's Village. It takes so long because I keep stopping, contemplating doubling back and seeking Gale out, demanding he be my friend again and let the barriers between us fall.

But something at the back of my mind reminds me that I gave up the privilege of Gale's friendship when I acted so selfishly on the Victory Tour.

It's come down to the choice that I have been building up to since I kissed Peeta in the cave in the Games.

Gale… or Peeta?

Something tells me I don't really have a choice; I'm in too deep with Peeta, now. Isn't that the ring he gave me sitting on my bedside cabinet at home? Don't I spend most every night in his bed, much to the chagrin of my mother and the amusement of Haymitch? Don't I miss him, strangely, whenever he's not around, yearn for his touch, his kiss?

But still the urge to run back, hug Gale and tell him I'll do anything to make him happy again is so, so tempting.

Deep in thought, I wander past the house that I share with my mother and Prim and end up halting, a little bewildered at how I've come this far, on Peeta's front lawn. For a moment my confusion is penetrated by an amusing feeling of irony. Whoever rolls the dice that rules my life is sure doing a brilliant job.

"Katniss?" Peeta is just coming out of his door, presumably on the way to the bakery to see his parents. He smiles when he sees me, a smile so unequivocally happy that it makes my heart melt, and I can't help the surge of bitter satisfaction that I send mentally in Gale's direction: at least someone will always be happy to see me. With my egocentric revenge in mind, I allow myself a smile back despite the sadness I had been trying to conceal. Because Peeta knows me, and if he sees even the slightest flicker of my unhappiness in my eyes he will have to ask what is wrong. And I don't think I can tell him that.

Regardless of my efforts, my smile apparently isn't convincing enough. A slight frown clouds Peeta's face and he steps forward to take me in his arms. This isn't the response I'd been expecting - I'd been anticipating awkward, unanswerable questions. I melt into his arms, burying my face into the jacket that always smells of freshly baked bread, and feel some of the confusion drift away. "Are you coming inside?" Peeta murmurs against my hair. I pull back to frown at him – isn't he going to his parent's? – but he silences my questions with a kiss. "Come on," he smiles, and starts pulling me back towards the house. "They can wait."

I allow myself to be tugged inside and try not to feel guilty as I feel myself drifting a little further away from my best friend.

AN: sorry this chapter was a little non-eventful and also a bit short – the next few should be a little more exciting. Question: how would you guys expect Gale to "fight" for Katniss? What's his best way in?

Thanks for reading, guys, please review!