A/N: Wow!

(begins to happy dance)

Oh yeah! Uh huh, yep, I've got the best readers ever!

(trips over her own feet and faceplants)

Ow.

(leaps to her feet and begins dancing again)

Yeah, that's right. I'm that happy right now.

So glad you guys liked the arguments last chapter! Like I said, they were a lot of fun to write. This chapter is just Katniss . . . kind of. I do introduce a new character here. And while she may seem a little 'AC-how-in-the-hell-do-you-count-this-girl-as-a-character?' I promise that she is CRITICAL to the rest of the series. Especially in Mockingjay. She's got a huge role to play.

Anyhoo . . . on with the chapter, right? Yep. I think so.

Today's Random Disclaimer quote comes from The Dark Knight. You'll know who said it when you read it. :)

Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"


Chapter 3

The lake looks exactly the same. The water is still clear and blue, sparkling in the morning sun. Tall elms and oaks still surround it, creating a little niche that seems to envelope me comfortingly. Water fowl still hide in the shrubs along the bank, some of them taking flight at my sudden appearance, but I don't shoot them. I let them fly.

My feet carry me to a special spot along the bank. It's a soft patch of the greenest grass, a little ten foot wide piece of land that juts out into the lake. When I lower myself to sit on the grass, I'm surrounded by water on three sides. I'd always liked this little spot. It felt as though I was floating on the water.

I watch as the water laps gently against the edge of my little peninsula. The action has an almost mesmerizing quality about it. My eyes focus, and I see little schools of minnows, and I'm momentarily thrown back into a time where I would lunge into the water to catch them while hearing my father's laughing voice behind me. I flick my finger into the water and watch as the tiny fish scatter.

I exhale loudly and look around me, scanning the shore of the lake from end to end. Birds are in the trees. I see a flash of a black, white-striped wing—a mockingjay. I soak up the scene before me and slowly begin to feel as though my father is still with me, somehow. The mockingjay sitting in the trees. The calmness of the lake. The beauty of the scene. All of these things my father loved and I love them, too.

However, these reminiscent thoughts are soon overcome by my current state in which my mind is chaos, my thoughts jumbled. How could everything go downhill so fast? Could I really have been talking to Prim only hours ago in the kitchen? The memory feels dubiously old. And Peeta. Did we really have a fight? Were we really yelling at each other? How much does he doubt me?

Then there's Gale. Gale is in love with me. He wants me to be in love with him. I think over his argument he made to me and realize that he's right. We would be good together, and it does make sense, us being a couple. He was also right in that I never gave myself a chance. I never gave myself a chance to love him. If I had, would I be with him and not Peeta?

I'm I even still with Peeta?

I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on top. "What do I do?" I whisper.

Suddenly, I hear a whimper. Not a human sound, but animal. I instantly leap to my feet and string an arrow in my bow, pointing it toward the sound. I hear it again. It sounds like a dog. I remember my last run in with a pack of wild dogs. I'd barely climbed a tree in time. I still remember the sharp snap of their jaws, inches away from my feet.

My mind flashes to the Games. The mutts. Giant, mutant, wolf-like hounds that resembled the dead tributes. Razor sharp claws, four inches in length. Peeta and Cato falling into their midst. Watching helplessly as Peeta fought his way back onto the Cornucopia, covered in blood.

It's this image that is in my mind when the bush to my left rattles. My fingers are just slipping off the string when the whimpering creature appears. I quickly jerk my bow to the left and the arrow embeds itself harmlessly in the trunk of a tree.

Whimpering and hobbling its way toward me is a white and dapple-grey ball of fluff. Without my consent, my legs bend until I'm on my knees. I slowly ease out my right hand, trying not to startle the creature. When my fingers come into contact with the soft fur, I can't help but smile a little. The puppy whimpers again, but still licks my hand.

I don't know what's come over me. This pup could be rabid or disease ridden. More importantly, it could have a very protective mother out looking for it. The puppy suddenly lifts its head and looks right into my eyes, and I'm shocked when its purple eyes delve into my grey ones. I imagine that the color is an extremely deep, dark blue, but it could easily be mistaken as purple.

It's only now that I see that one of the puppy's paws is soaked in red. Blood. Something within me causes my hands to reach out and gently pick up the puppy and set her in my lap. I cup my hand in the water and slowly begin to clean the blood from the puppy's paw. Once the blood is gone I see a red ring wrapped around the paw, and I realize that the pup must have gotten caught in one of Gale's snares, but was able to wrench itself free.

"You're a little fighter, aren't you?" I say softly. I find myself admiring the pup. For not giving up, for fighting to live. Kind of like me in the Hunger Games.

I hold the puppy up in front of my face and stare at it. It really is . . . cute. Though her underbelly is pure white, the rest of her is a dapple grey. And then those eyes, so unlike any color I've ever seen, but they entrance me. However, there's something about the looks of this pup that tells me she's no regular wild dog. The face, the snout is too long.

And then it hits me. This isn't a dog. It's a wolf. A real, purebred wolf.

Wolves are as rare as money in District 12. Occasionally, you'd hear rumors about someone supposedly having seen one. My father had always said that the wolves were all gone, had fled the forests of the district during the Dark Days, heading far up north where it was safer. He'd always had a great respect for wolves though, for their intelligence and cunning. There was a story he'd tell me, of how when his grandfather was very young, barely five years old, he'd ventured into the woods for the first time. Of course, being young and amazed by the expanse of the forest, he had quickly wondered too far and gotten lost. Terrified of the dark and the unfamiliar sounds, my great-grandfather had wondered into a den.

It wasn't empty like he thought.

This is the part in the story where I had been nearly bouncing in anticipation. Seeing my excitement, my father would always grin and then reveal the creature that was also in the den—a wolf. Large and grey, the wolf had simply stared at him. My father always said that his 'grandaddy' had been frozen in amazement and fear. He'd been torn between the urge to touch the wolf's fur and run for his life.

Eventually, fear won out and my great-grandfather fled. Somehow, he managed to get back to a place in the forest that he remembered, and curled up against a tree. Minutes later, a pair of glowing eyes appeared, staring right at him. The wolf had followed him.

But it didn't attack him. My father would always swear, wearing a big grin, that the wolf came right up to my great-grandfather and then settled at his feet, staying there with him the entire night before darting off in the morning when his father had found him.

"What am I going to do with you?" I ask, and the wolf pup just stares at me.

I can see the intelligence in its eyes, the cunning. I can't believe that I'm entertaining the thought, but I have the strangest urge to keep the pup and take it home. What am I thinking? A wolf as a pet? Wolves are wild, truly wild. There's no taming them . . .

But those eyes . . . I feel some connection with this animal. Maybe it's because it thwarted death like I did in the Hunger Games. Maybe it's because it's wild and untamed, matching my need to stay out of the Capitol's clutches. Maybe I just want a friend that can't judge me, no matter what I do.

Almost as if sensing my debate, the pup leans forward and licks my face, and I can't help but laugh. I set the pup back down in my lap and it quickly makes itself comfortable, resting its head on my knee. My fingers are in its fur, idly petting my new little friend. I quickly learn that she likes to be scratched behind the ears.

Now that my mind is no longer occupied by thoughts of my father's old stories or the examination of my new friend, I can't help but delve into the chaos of thoughts that is Gale and Peeta.

"I don't know what to do, girl," I say, for some reason feeling the need to talk things out. The puppy is the only other creature here. "I won the Hunger Games, you see. And I fell in love with my district partner, Peeta. The thing is that I never wanted to fall in love. I always thought it was too dangerous, could cause too much pain. But Peeta made me think otherwise." I pause, bewildered that I'm confiding in a wolf pup. I must be desperate because I continue. "But after we won, I started to get nervous. I was scared and confused. I felt like two different people the closer we got to home. Gale and my old life were waiting for me, clashing with my new reality. I didn't know what to do, how to choose."

To my surprise, the pup actually looks up at me, as if it's really listening. It's almost like it's asking, "What did you choose?"

"I didn't really," I answer. "I want so badly to mesh them together, to combine them, but I don't know if I can. Especially now."

I think about Gale. I realize that if I had let myself, I could have easily fallen in love with him. He's right. It would have been easy. It would make sense. We were cut from the same cloth—both from the Seam, both losing our fathers in the mines, both of us knowing the burden of providing for our family, knowing that it's all up to us. The trust we built over the years, the friendship. I truly care for Gale, deeply in fact. He's my best friend.

And it easily could have been more, if I had only allowed it. But I hadn't, because in the back of my mind, there had always been the boy with the bread.

"I could have fallen for Gale," I tell the pup. "It would have been easy . . . but in the long run, I don't know if it would have worked out. Gale is fire and I have enough fire of my own. I need Peeta. There's something about him, something that gives me the courage to hope for something better."

The pup looks at me for another second before laying its head back on my knee. As if it deems our conversation over and I've found my answer. I realize that I have. The only thing that kept me from telling Peeta that I loved him along the train tracks was the past, Gale, subconsciously knowing what could have been. The need to resolve what had remained unsaid between us.

I only wish that Gale and I could have settled things amicably. I wish that I didn't feel as though I'd lost my best friend. Maybe Gale will come around. He can't be mad at me forever, right?

I sigh and look around. The sun is now high in the sky, and it's probably around noon. A bead of sweat has begun to cling to the back of my neck, and I feel the heat of the day for the first time since coming to the lake.

"Come on, girl," I say as I tuck her under one arm. I retrieve my arrow from the tree and stash it back in my quiver. "We've got a proclamation of love to write."

As I turn my back on the lake, I feel as though my father is smiling at me. Unable to help myself, I turn around to face the lake again. The peace and beauty it radiates causes a small smile to pull at my lips. "Thanks, dad," I say softly before resuming my trek through the woods.

It takes me a good two hours to reach the log where I hide my bow and quiver. By now it's probably two or three in the afternoon, and the sweltering heat is getting to me. The pup in my arms began to pant about half an hour ago. Speaking of the pup, I realize when I reach the fence that I can't really waltz into town carrying a wolf. If people recognized her for what she was, everyone would begin to fight for her, wanting to keep her until she'd grown so that they could kill her for her meat and her pelt. The thought causes me to tighten my hold on her. I need a plan.

"Wait here, girl," I say as I set her down under a tree. "I'll be right back."

The pup looks at me steadily for a moment before lying down. I think I'll have a lot of fun training her. We'll be great partners.

I slip under the fence and hurry to my old house in the Seam. Technically, it's still my mother and Prim's legal residence. It's still the official Everdeen dwelling. So if I died, they would be kicked out of the house in the Victor's Village and be forced to move back into the Seam. I still keep my father's hunting jacket and some clothes here, but the object I require is my game bag. I grab it from its resting place, hanging on the back of one of our rickety kitchen chairs. Buttercup, Prim's ugly cat, hisses at me as I pass him. He doesn't like the new house in the Victor's Village, and I think he only journeys there for Prim. Absently, I wonder if my new pet will chase him off or something.

I'm barely in the house for thirty seconds before I'm making my way back to the meadow as fast as I can while remaining inconspicuous. A little rush of adrenaline is flowing through me, having my own little secret mission. It reminds me of a game I used to play with my father, when he'd send me out to get something and I would return it to him as fast as I could.

When I reach the fence, I gaze into the woods and smile when I see a tuft of grey and white fur. "Come here, girl," I call softly. "Come on."

Hesitantly, the pup eases out of the tree line and comes to the fence. I lift up the bottom of the fence with one hand and then pat the ground in front of me with my other hand. "Come on, girl," I encourage.

Seeming to gather courage, the pup suddenly dives under the fence and into my arms. I pet her and scratch behind her ears in praise. "That a girl," I say before gently placing her into my game bag. "You just stay quiet, alright?"

It occurs to me that aside from whimpering when she'd first emerged from the bushes, she hasn't made a sound. Not even when I cleaned her paw. So she's quiet like me, too.

I walk back to the Victor's Village as quickly as I can without seeming odd. When I reach the flower-boxed entrance, I slow my pace to a leisurely walk. I'm in the clear. Suddenly, I'm at a loss of what to do. Do I go to my house or Peeta's?

The feel of my shirt sticking to my back causes me to go to my house first. I open the door, and am relieved by the cool air that hits my skin. "Anyone home?" I call, but no one answers. Prim and my mother must still be making the rounds with her patients. Or maybe they're just in town. Now that we have money, my mother has been lingering in the dress shops, buying materials for dresses and sometimes one that is already made. This doesn't bother me. Almost all of it is for Prim, and I can think of no better way to spend the money that I have no idea what to do with.

I climb the stairs and enter my room. Only then do I take my puppy out of my game bag. Immediately, she's up and sniffing her new surroundings. I find her an old piece of leather to chew on before hopping into the shower. I wash away all the sweat and dirt from the woods, even washing my hair once more with the vanilla shampoo I'm growing addicted to. I towel off and change into clean clothes, another pair of jeans and an old, tattered t-shirt that I'm too fond of to throw away.

I keep my hair loose, letting it fall in waves down my back. As I pass by her, my little wolf pup jumps to her feet and follows me to the opposite end of the room. I sit down in the desk chair and take out a pen and a piece of paper. When I look down, I see that the pup is sitting at my feet.

"I really like you," I say as I reach down to quickly run my fingers down her back.

Idly, I realize that I should probably come up with a name for her, but nothing has come to mind yet. I refuse to name her something cliché, like Princess or Baby or Lady. No, this pup's name is going to fit her just right.

My eyes focus on the blank sheet of paper in front of me. I know that when Peeta suggested I do this, he wasn't serious. In fact, at the time, he was being sarcastic and rude, which was typically my role in our relationship. But I realize that if I tried to tell him how I felt, it would be a miracle if he managed to understand me because I would be bound to fumble and stutter my way through it.

At least if I write it down it will be coherent.

I stare at the paper, willing words to come to me. What do I say? Well, I know exactly how to start. I resolve to just go from there, and hope that I'm able to concoct some string of coherency.

Peeta,

I'm not good with words . . .

I pause and scowl. This is stupid. I should toss this into the trash and then march myself over to Peeta's house. I should storm into the 'mystery room' or his bedroom or wherever he is, grab him by the shoulders, and then kiss him like my life depends on it. He'd know I love him then, right?

I shake my head. No. No, I've got to do this. I don't know if it's the unspoken challenge, or the fact that some part of me knows that my more . . . proactive plan of convincing Peeta of my feelings would probably only confuse him more, but I force myself to continue writing. This is for Peeta. Somehow, I know that the fact that I actually sat down to write out my feelings for him will mean more than any dramatic embrace.

I know you weren't serious when you asked me to do this, but I'm going to give it my best shot. This is my proclamation of undying love for you. I think I might even sign and date it at the bottom. Maybe even get Prim to sign as a witness.

I can't help but smile at the thought. However, I quickly refocus my attention to the paper in front of me. What do I say next?

I have to apologize. That day along the train tracks is my fault. I should have answered you. I should have reassured you, but I was scared. My past was colliding with my present, and I didn't know how they were going to exist together. My past was holding me back, but I've dealt with that now so . . . I'm all yours.

Okay. That sounds good, doesn't it? Yeah. Now, on to the mushy part. I feel a slight flush heat my cheeks as I think of what I'm going to write. He's not even present, and he's still capable of making me blush.

I may have realized my love for you during the Games, but it's always been there, I think, ever since that day in the rain. Peeta, you make me feel so much at one time that it seems impossible. There's nothing more comforting than your arms around me. There's nothing better than your lips on mine. There's no greater feeling of love than when I'm with you. You give me hope, Peeta, and that's a feeling that I've gone too long without.

I won't lie and say that what I feel for you doesn't scare me. I've never felt so intensely and deeply as I do for you. But, I think, as long as you are here, I'll be okay.

My father once told me that love is worth the risk, and you've proved that to be true. Because there is no greater happiness than when I'm with you . . . only you can make me this happy.

You can also make me mad as hell, but I love you, and that will always trump whatever else I feel. Always, my love for you will win out. I've realized, with a little help from Prim, that love is a strength that can't be beaten. Since both of us are alive right now, I think we've proved that.

This is my proclamation of my undying love for you, Peeta Mellark.

I love you,

Katniss

I read over my letter, a proud smile pulling at my lips. It may not be much, but it's how I feel, so he better just get over it. I look down at the pup at my feet. "Time to meet Peeta."

Her ears actually perk up in attention.

"Let's just hope that he's not allergic to you."


Aw . . . go Katniss for doing something right when it concerns emotions. Oh, the progress that has been made. Let us rejoice.

So . . . we met our new character that has yet to be named. This little furry friend might seem kinda pointless, but I promise you she is not. She has a legitimate purpose that will be touched on briefly in this story, but is very critical to Mockingjay, as I said in the beginning A/N. Hopefully, you like her!

As for the next chapter . . . Peeta is back! Yay! What will his reaction be to Katniss's letter?

Since I've had some questions about whether I'll be giving quotes from my Mockingjay rewrite (like I gave MLB quotes during STWOM) I've decided to address it. While I will give out Mockingjay teaser quotes, I won't start that until probably about halfway through this story. Until then, I've decided that I'll give a teaser quote to the next chapter in this story.

So, next chapter's little preview comes from Peeta. "Why is there a dog in my house?"

Lots of love,

AC