Gale

There's a commotion going on outside the house just as Rory, Vick, Prim and I set the table. My mother turns around, alerted by the noise, Posy still slung on her hip. "What was that?" she asks anxiously, looking around to see if we'd dropped a plate or something similar.

I shake my head in confusion. Nothing's been dropped or broken, and I know for a fact that there's little to no wind today—uncharacteristic at this time of year, but not entirely unwelcome either. I feel my back stiffen as I make my way towards the door, passing a confused Mrs. Everdeen on her way to the kitchen. Before I even open the door, I can tell something's definitely wrong here.

"Well, I'm not just going to sit there and rot to death!" Katniss yells. I burst open the door, ready to defend her, and am utterly confused to see two Peacekeepers and what looks like a Capitol doctor standing before her. I position myself in between them, my arm protectively drawing Katniss behind me as I take in the situation. It's so odd, to see a Capitol citizen in our drab little district. His hair, in what seems like its natural shade of brown, is sticking up all over his head, looking like he just got an electric shock. Which, if he was coming through the fence, he just might have. He's wearing the mandatory clean white uniform, holding a clipboard under his arm.

"Is there a problem?" I ask in my most authoritative voice, desperate to hide any trace of confusion. It's completely uncalled for that there should be anyone fancy in our district, unless you count our—most likely—mentally disturbed, perky escort, Effie Trinket. My gaze flickers from one Peacekeeper to the other, as they both take a slight step backwards, as if offering only the doctor to me.

"I'm Dr. Aurelius," the man says matter-of-factly, reaching his arm out. I stare at it for a few seconds before remembering that in the Capitol, where everything's sweet and spice and everything nice, it's considered good manners to shake someone's outstretched hand. "I'm Katniss's designated therapist from the Capitol. I've been dispatched here by President Snow to do a checkup on our dearest victor." He smiles at Katniss as he says this, but I'm too busy trying to control my shuddering from the name of our despised president.

"Well," I tell him, stepping back so I'm at the same level as Katniss, who is still glaring at the doctor, "now you see there's nothing wrong with her. Thank you for stopping by." I start to lead Katniss back through the wooden door, but a Peacekeeper swiftly moves to stop us.

"That's just it," replies Dr. Aurelius. "There is something wrong with her. I believe she was confined to her home in the Victor's Village until our specialists back in the Capitol noted some progress." With that, he brings out the clipboard and adjusts glasses I haven't even noticed that he's wearing. "From what I have here, she hasn't gotten any better. I'm curious to know as to why she'd venture out of her house in direct violation of our orders."

Katniss is silent, but she crosses her arms and stares sullenly at the ground. After a minute or so of awkward silence, I realize I'm the one expected to reply. "I thought it might be good," I croak finally, when my mind has fumbled together a plausible excuse that won't give away the illegality of our actions. "She needed the fresh air, not the pampered air conditioning that smells like mint."

Dr. Aurelius nods and jots something down in his notes, but his face remains the same: emotionless. Finally, he looks up, tired, and I can tell he doesn't really care about this so much as about a nap. He sighs, "Katniss, you are not to go anywhere but this house, your house, and the Victor's Village." I'm contemplating just how much trust the doctor is putting on Katniss's rather unreliable shoulders when the Peacekeepers step forwards, shove me aside, and one holds Katniss down while the other one is clamping something on her ankle. She squirms and releases herself from the guard's grip, her foot noticeably weighed down.

"Just in case," Dr. Aurelius sniffs, before the two Peacekeepers escort him away in the direction of the town.

I look at the heavy object around her ankle, a strange metal contraption that I immediately name the ankle breaker, with odd lights that blink at an unsettled pattern. Tentatively, I reach for it, and realize that Katniss is playing it tough. The thing must weigh quite a few pounds. "A tracking device," I mutter, standing up. At the word tracking, Katniss stiffens, shutting her eyes as her hands ball up into tight fists. I chastise myself mentally for using a word that could so easily remind her of the arena. Tracker jackers.

"Stupid Capitol," she mutters under her breath, bursting into the house as the ankle breaker chips off a bit of wood. She doesn't even bother to apologize before she's reached the main hallway.

As everyone's already seated around the table, only patiently waiting for our entrance so they can start eating the rabbits Katniss and I managed to pull in, nobody takes notice of Katniss's foul mood or newest accessory. Prim eagerly pats the empty seat next to her, which Katniss takes with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. I seat myself next to Posy and my mother. There's somewhat of a stiff silence until Vick proclaims, "Oh, let's just eat already!"

We all laugh and start carving into our meals, Katniss and I exchanging half-hearted smiles as we realize that there's enough for everyone to have seconds, since Rooba has been fairly generous with her trade today. Maybe it was the good news that the meat was picked off by Katniss, always a top-notch huntress, but the butcher was rather sentimental when I went inside.

After a few hearty conversations, as well as some good-natured jokes from Vick about Rory and Prim, we all become absorbed into the food. It's not that difficult to do, actually; it just takes a while because by now we've gotten so used to good baker bread that we almost immediately notice its absence on the dinner table. When someone actually points it out—Primrose, of all people, has certainly missed the pretty cupcake that has, until now at least, been waiting for her—it only brings a sad smile out of Katniss and absolutely no reaction out of myself.

Several times throughout supper, I notice Katniss's pupils widening, a thin sheen of sweat appearing and disappearing on her brow. From across the table, I can tell she's struggling with something, so when the time comes to clear away the plates, I volunteer her and myself for the job. I pick up after my family as she picks up after hers, all the time keeping a weary eye on her. But she doesn't smash a plate against the wall, doesn't try to cut herself—or myself—with the broken ceramic. Instead she marches to the kitchen with an air of determination that I can't put my finger on. Before leaving the kitchen, I grab her arm and pull her back. There's something wrong, and I doubt it has much to do with the shackle.

"Catnip," I whisper, searching her eyes for some sign of what has happened. I find nothing. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

She lowers her gaze, and if I didn't know better I would say it's just out of shame, and she wrestles out of my grip. "Not here, Gale," she mutters in reply, eyeing me scornfully. "Not here." She strides out of the kitchen, and at first the strange little limp of her leg merely echoes the ankle breaker, until I see them.

Red scars, as fresh as our meat, lining up perfectly with the edges of the shackle.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Out of a cliffhanger and right onto a new one. I know, I hate it too! Thanks again for the reviews, just reached 40 and I'm officially over the moon! Now, to my dear anon reviewer that I can't PM:

noname: Why, thank you! And I agree, I was never one for Gadge, but I wanted to include a little bit here to not keep Madge too OOC (at least, I hope nobody's OOC!) Well, right now I'm 14 but I turn 15 in August. And thank you!