The sun is high in the sky and I guess it's around lunchtime. A light breeze cuts through the heat of the day just enough that I can wear my hunting jacket without getting too sweaty. Several people acknowledge me with a nod. I haven't had a conversation with anyone but Greasy Sae and Buttercup since I arrived, but some of my old neighbors still recognize me.
As I walk to where the fence bordering District 12 used to be, I find myself wondering about Haymitch. I haven't seen him since my return. I assume he's lost himself in a cloud of liquor and frankly, I'm too scared to venture into his house to check. All my previous encounters with his living standards have taught me to enter at my own risk.
I wade through the dry grass of the meadow. Some patches are growing back in soft, green tufts but like me, most of it will always be scarred. Parts of me may heal, but there will always be pain from deeper, unreachable wounds.
"You and I aren't so different," I whisper to the ground beneath my feet.
"Who are you talking to?" I turn to find a little girl standing behind me at the edge of the meadow. She's holding one of Peeta's cheese buns in her hand. She has wispy blonde hair that barely reaches her ears and a large gap between her two front teeth.
"Uh, no one," I croak. I clear my throat. "No one," I repeat, louder this time.
"Okay." The little girl turns and bounds out of sight behind a house.
I turn my attention back to the woods. I'm just hitting the tree line and I begin to walk faster. The relief of being away from everyone is almost exhilarating. The forest is my friend and lifeline. Here, I can think without worrying someone will overhear and lock me up in an institution. I creep through the pine needles silently, taking in all the sights, sounds, and smells around me. The occasional trill of a Mockingjay. The scent of tree bark. I hone in on fresh tracks and let my hunter senses take over. I return to town with a wild turkey and three rabbits in my game bag. It's not as large as my usual haul, but I'm overstocked with fresh meat. Greasy Sae tries to make me sell it, but for some reason I can't name, I'm afraid to.
I pass by the new bakery that's being built on my way home. It's still just a foundation, but I can already picture it finished with Peeta's delicately frosted cakes in the window. I'm about to continue down the road when I spot him coming from the opposite way. His blonde hair is disheveled and his face is dirty. The white shirt he's wearing is covered in paint splatters. My guess is he's been helping rebuild homes. Classic Peeta. Helping others when he should really be focusing on getting himself better. I may not talk to him, but I hear enough from Greasy Sae to know his nightmares, like mine, have gotten no better. I can only imagine how the remaining tracker jacker venom in his system amplifies the horrors.
I stand there, unsure of what to do. Chances are he's spotted me by now so I can't run away. I decide to turn back to the bakery and look interested in the beefy woman who's slapping on bricks. I'm praying he'll walk past me and leave me alone when I feel his presence beside me. It's all I can do not to run.
"Hey, Katniss," he says tentatively.
I stare forward. "Hi, Peeta." My voice is barely a whisper. It's silent for a long minute before I find myself speaking again. "Thanks for the Primroses. Prim would have liked them." It's the first time I've said her name out loud in a long time and I feel the tears beginning to form.
"They were for you, too," he says quietly.
I can feel him looking at my face so I look at the ground. "Thanks," I say again. And then I turn and walk home as fast as I can.