Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.
Review reply to anonymous: Thanks for the review. I hope this answers your question ;)
Review reply to BackAndForth: Thank you for the review and your criticism. Bear with me with this reply as it may be relatively incoherent (120 pages of law reading on 3 different subjects as well as lots of cases does that to a person ;)) I do actually agree with you. That was one i was particularly unhappy with (and trust me when i say the original draft was much, much, much worse) but i didn't think it was quite *as* bad :P It was actually supposed to be awkwardly phrased for the precise reason that it makes you think about what it actually says. Which you seem to have done. I don't like all writing to just plainly say: this is what it is, this is what you should think. So i made it relatively awkward to try and encourage readers to think about what the point of the oneshot was. Possibly, i didn't quite pull it off, in which case, i apologise. :) As for the last line, fair enough. It's debatable as to what a last line is meant to do but that argument is irrelevant. Hope that was somewhat coherent.
A/n: Hey, 2 updates in 2 days! Enjoy :D
19) Foxface – Geese
"Menna, I think we need to talk about this."
"Why?"
"Because ... well, for one thing, where on earth did you get them from?"
"The babies were by the pond and the mom was hurt. I told you."
"OK, but we can't afford to keep geese. We just don't have the money."
"I'll let them go when the mom's alright. So we won't be keeping them, Uncle."
"What if they belong to someone?"
"They shouldn't have let the mom get hurt then. They can have them back when she's OK."
It's the sort of argument you can only have with a nine year old. I've never seen anyone out-argue this one. I'm on the losing side already.
"OK, let's say no one owns these geese," I say, "and by some miracle the Peacekeepers let us raise them on free food. Menna, where are we gonna keep them, kid?"
She thinks about this for a few seconds. "I could keep them in my room."
"Your room is barely big enough for you. I'm not letting you sleep in there with three goslings and a goose. I'll never get you all out again!"
"Your room? Please, Uncle?"
I shake my head. "My room is your room with a dividing screen, kid. They're not getting in there either."
"But I have to help them, Uncle," she cries out. "She might die!"
I haven't seen Menna this emotional since she was six. And since last year, she's rarely ventured beyond mildly pleased or annoyed. For a few seconds, I'm stunned into silence.
"Well ... that's nature, Menna. Sometimes, animals die. It's the way of life."
She whispers something.
"Didn't quite catch that," I say cheerfully. I look at my arm and find I've absent-mindedly been petting the head of one of the goslings. I move my hand back. This will not help my case.
"I said," she mumbles, "that if she dies, there'll be no one to look after the little geese."
"Well," I say hesitantly, "maybe that's for the be-"
"It's not for the best!" she yells. "Moms and dads shouldn't die and leave their kids. Kids should have their parents." Tears well up in her eyes and she runs off into the house, leaving me in shock because I've not seen her cry for so long. The mother goose shoots me a look which seems to say Have a bit more tact, why don't you? I pat its head, dodge its beak and walk into the house.
Menna's easy to find; all I have to do is follow the sobs. She's curled up on her bed, body shaking. I sit down next to her and scoop her up onto my lap. She doesn't resist – she simply keeps sobbing.
"Come on, Menna," I say softly. "I didn't mean it like that." She keeps crying. I rub her back. "Of course it's not for the better to lose your parents. I meant if it's their time to die-" She sobs even harder. This tactic is clearly not working. "You and me, kid, we've had experience of people we love dying," I murmur. "You've had it worse. It's not easy to be you, I reckon, losing your parents in that accident and being stuck with me with all the stuff in this District going on. But it's different for animals."
"How?" she sniffles. "Those baby geese must love their mom."
"It ... it just is..." Suddenly, I'm not sure how it is.
"But it's n-not, Uncle."
"OK," I agree. "It isn't. But the fact is, we can't look after them."
She wails again. This is the first time she's cried in two years. Not even when her parents died last year. She's been locked inside herself for almost a year. I don't know what to do.
"We can try," I find myself saying. She looks up, eyes red but hopeful. "If it means that much to you, Menna, we'll try and nurse the goose back to health. I guess it's what my brother would have done."
She smiles. "Really?"
"Sure. Go bring them in."
She gives me a hug and runs outside. I find myself smiling, despite the fact that I honestly have no idea how I'm going to raise Menna, a goose and three goslings on no money. I think it's because, for the first time in a year, she's finally smiling and crying and wanting to do things. It might not be much but I have the geese to thank for it.
I guess the least I can do is offer them a bed, right?