AN: To the guest reviewer who pointed out the mistake about Gale's age, thank you! I went back and fixed it. As always, thank you all for the reviews and have a happy & fun Labor Day weekend!

I'm easily the first one up the next morning. Dawn is an hour or two away from breaking, but I'm restless enough for it to be past noon. I slip out of bed, noticing Prim curled against my mother on the bed across from mine. In sleep, my mother looks better, healthier. More like Prim, than a haggard, helpless being.

Buttercup lets out a hiss when I bump into him coming off the bed. His yellow eyes look just as tired as I'm sure mine are. Sleep is another struggle when winter comes.

It really is getting later into the season. When I slip into a pair of pants and my father's jacket and boots, I'm grateful for the extra warmth they give. Most of District 12 spends the winter months freezing and without light, and we're without exception. Even some of the merchant families have no electricity, just enough money to buy what they need.

I have a few hours to stalk around in the dark before I'm expected at school. It's pointless for me to attend school anyways, when half of it is about the Hunger Games which I am certain I don't need to know anything more about. Some of what we're taught may be useful for the other kids, those who aren't expected to feed their families. But, I filled my father's empty boots so many years ago, I don't remember what it's like to be a child.

I make sure Prim is there for every minute of her schooling, though. Education is a privilege, I know, and it's a wonder President Snow even bothers to make sure District 12 has any sort of education system at all. We're so far forgotten, we barely have enough food or water to last.

Education really has no value for me now, when I have no desire to be one of teachers who has to retell the Dark Days and the Hunger Games every year. Or any of the other careers they promise we could achieve — a farmer in District 11, a fisherman in 4, maybe even the mayor, or a doctor in the Capitol. All of them involve leaving District 12, though. Even the teachers gave up on trying to make 12 look good.

For Prim, however, I make sure to tell her over and over that anything she can dream of, she can be. I may be fooling myself, assuring myself that she'll get out of this hell hole, whether it's out in the woods or a better district. I can make sure she has what she needs to escape.

Escaping, really, is the word. District 12 may have been where I was born and raised, even where some of my happiest memories lay. But, it's hell here. The constant feeling of that emptiness in your stomach, being constantly tired because it's a struggle just to live. What I wouldn't do to live somewhere where survival wasn't a question.

Ask Gale, however, and he'd say that he'd rather be off in the wilderness. Truthfully, I wouldn't mind going with him, but I still have my little bird to care for. I'm the mother bird, guarding a nest that was built on the teetering edge of a branch, that I would have never picked for myself. But, I still have to protect the baby inside that nest.

But, if he asked me to leave with him, asked me to go, with every plan in place, would I? We could easily make a living out there — it'd be just like living in 12, without the Hunger Games. We could do it. We could definitely do it.

It doesn't matter, right now. I'm still out in the cold and Prim and my mother are still hungry. I've got enough time to take down enough game for breakfast, even if I have to do so without Gale.

I'm half blind without him. Half dead, half alive, even. I only seem to hear the birds behind me when they fly off, just out of the reach of my arrow. I only see the small deer at the edge of the field, when I turn around fast enough to scare it off.

But, I'm also half hoping Gale will turn up around the corner. He's often up this early, and he has even more mouths to feed than I do. An early morning hunting trip isn't totally out of the question.

I never stumble upon him as I make my way through the woods. I manage to land my arrow through the eye of not one squirrel, but two, which is meal enough for Prim and another one to trade. I take down an injured goose for my mother. Goose is a rare meal, considering the only time we ever see them down here is when they're migrating down to warmer weather. With it's injury, the goose couldn't make it.

I grab some of the herbs I know for my mother while I'm crossing back towards home. She never thanks me when I bring them, just nods and files them away in the neat cabinet. In some way, she must be thankful, because there's no way she'd ever go out into the woods on her own.

The town is quiet, when I slip under the fence. Nobody is lingering about the streets, but I spot some lights going on in houses, some children beginning to wake for school, adults preparing for work. I must be a sight — a lonely, solemn girl, a goose and squirrels slung over her shoulder, crossing the town square with her head bent low.

Even though the District 12 Peacekeepers are lax about the rules, I'm still afraid of being caught with game. I'm not sure why I decided to cross through town, which is the most obvious route home, but I'm too cold to take the extra time to go along the fence to our little shack. I'm frozen to the bone.

A few of the quiet, broken down shops are opening. Some of the men who work in the mines must stop by before they're stuck underground for the rest of the day. I imagine the shops must have been dressed up in elaborate, circus like colors one time, but for now, they're faded and broken.

I look into the bakery window as I pass by. I look down at the squirrel in my hand, and decide to step in.

I'm greeted by smells I can only dream of. I don't know the baker's family too well, considering they're fairly well off (as far as it goes in District 12) and my family is far from it. But, the baker buys Gale and I's squirrels, sometimes, if I meet him instead of his wife at the door. I've met the son once or twice before.

His wife is wildly against hunting. In fact, she must be wildly against most everything because I've caught a glance of her reaming out her son for some reason or another multiple times. The look in his eye always says that he's innocent, but she must see otherwise.

I find myself using the front entrance, this time. Gale and I almost always enter through their backyard to the back door, which is usually the safest way to not meet the wife. But, it's warm in the bakery and I don't want to go back out.

It's the boy behind the counter, this time. "Hello," he says politely, but it's not forced at all. He smiles heartily at me, and leans against the counter. "How can I help you?"

I don't bother with the pleasantries. "I usually sell squirrels to your father," I say plainly. "Could I trade this for some stale bread?"

The boy mentions for me to step up a little towards him. I follow, holding the squirrel up. "Shot him in the eye, no bloody marks on him," I add.

He brushes the blonde hair out of his eyes. He's got hair almost like my mother, and it'd be hard to tell he and I were from the same district. "My father raves about your squirrels."

I bring the corners of my lips up in a curt smile. "Glad to hear it."

He acts as if he's about to say something else, but he ends up nodding, but it's not towards anything in particular. "I'll go get my father."

"Great," I find myself replying. My average voice has nothing on his — he has the whole etiquette thing down. My excuse is because I have no patience to interact with people. When the district is probably riddled with Capitol spies, it can't be a bad thing.

The boy returns with a man who looks identical to him. They look just as how my mother and Prim look when they're together — in sync and together.

"Ah, Katniss," the baker says with a smile. His smile isn't forced, either. "Got some squirrels for me?"

"Yup," I reply, holding it up again. "Could I get some stale bread?"

"You got it," the baker answers, taking the squirrel from me. "Peeta, get her the bread while I go put this out back."

The boy's eyes light up when his father speaks to him, but his father is already out the door when the boy answers. "Sure, Pop."

He turns back to me, and then bends down as he examines the bread counter. They must have rearranged the store, because the only bread I've ever managed to get was from the pile in the corner.

A look of satisfcation registers on the boy's face for a moment, and he quickly looks behind him. When he turns back around, he grabs two loaves of bread.

"Take these," he grins as he pushes them towards me.

"What? No, these are two perfectly good loaves. I always get the stale ones. And never two of them, just one."

"Take them," he repeats. "Give one to the Hawthornes."

I turn my head. "No. This is good bread."

I can hear footsteps down the hallway, and the boy looks towards me with panic. "Take them! They're yours!"

He's terrified, so I stumble backwards. "What? Okay, I guess …" I say as I clamber out the door.

Whether or not I deserve them, they're still warm in my arms as I carry them to the Hawthornes. Looking to the sky, I can tell there's just enough time for me to deliver the loaf and then bring Prim to school.

I'm at the doorway of the Hawthornes' fairly quickly. Despite Gale spending nearly his entire life in the woods, their house is closer to the square than ours. I knock at the door.

Hazelle answers. When she registers it's me, her face lights up, just as the boy with the bread's did when he spoke to his father. "Oh, honey! How nice to see you!"

I return the gracious smile she gives me. "I, uh, I was at the bakery and traded some squirrel for some bread," I pull one loaf from under my arm and hold it out to her.

She eagerly takes it, but it's not pushy. "Oh, my god, where did you get this?! It's still warm!"

I'm the one to smile graciously now. "A good trade, I guess."

"You can't possibly give this to us, what about your family?" Hazelle protests. She's genuine about it, but I can tell by the way she turns the bread over and over in her hands that she really wants it.

"Don't worry," I answer, also pulling the other loaf from under my arm. "I ended up with two."

"Oh, my," Hazelle says. "A good trade indeed! Thank you so much, dear!"

"Anytime," I smile again. It's probably my all time record for most smiles in an hour.

"You off to school? Well, have a good day, you hear?" Hazelle calls as I climb down the steps.

"Will do, Hazelle!" I answer, finding myself smiling yet again. I trot the rest of the way home, oddly happy and light.