Disclaimer – I do not own The Hunger Games or any of its characters. All credit goes to Suzanne Collins.
A/N: I wasn't expecting to get all those reviews over night, so thank you so much! The position for being my Beta Reader is still open, so if you're interested please Personal Message me :) UPDATE: I've got a Beta Reader
I wake up the following morning to the sounds of purring. I slowly open my eyes and they travel around the room. They stop on Buttercup who is sitting lazily on my mother's bed, staring at me with those orange eyes of his. I rub the sleep away from my eyes as I yawn and look at the small window. The bright sun's light streams through and casts an orange glow over the dwellings of the small bedroom.
It takes me a minute or two to adjust to the light; it looks like its early afternoon/late morning. I pull the rough covers off my body and am instantly greeted by the cold draft. I swing my feet off the bed and plant them onto the hardwood flour. I stretch my arms and let out a small yawn.
Buttercup's eyes narrow at me and another hiss escapes his mouth. "I'll still cook you," I mutter as I enter the bathroom. He hisses once more and leaps of the bed and strays into the next room.
Before I can wash my face, I hear footsteps rush up the rickety stairs and its not too long before Prim is in the bathroom. "Katniss, what are you doing up?" she asks me and ushers me out of the room. Before I can even explain she cuts me off. "Your back and knee isn't fully recovered yet," she explains.
"It's a lot better than last night," I tell her truthfully.
"It may feel better but its not healed. I saw you limping," she says and puts me back into the bed. The sheets were still warm with my body heat and I snuggle into them. "What you need is rest," her calming voice makes me want to fall back asleep and before I know it, I'm sent into a dreamless sleep.
I slept for most of day and am only awaken for meals. Prim makes me a sandwich for lunch with the remaining bread and cheese we have left and I make a mental note to trade for some more.
When I'm awaken for dinner its not Prim who wakes me up its my mother. When I look at her I notice that there isn't any tearstains on her face. She's not wearing her usual Seam clothes but a simple light green dress from her apothecary days. Her blonde hair is let down freely to her shoulders, framing her worn out face.
There's only one reason why she isn't locked up in her room and crying. She's a healer, whenever someone is hurt or injured she snaps out of her depression state and back into reality.
"How are you feeling?" her voice is soft and it's the first time I've heard it in a long time. She sets down what looks to be a hot steaming bowl soup on the side table. I take one glance at it and it's not the usual soup I get from Greasy Sae. Its one of my mother's homemade recipes she used to make when Prim and I were little.
I nod my head and she plants a small kiss on my forehead before walking out. I inhale the scent of fresh herbs and I feel like a child again. I take my time to eat the soup, savouring each taste as it hits my taste buds. The hot liquid travels down my throat, burning yet soothing and into my digestive system, the first warm thing I've had all day.
"Are you sure you're feeling better Katniss?" Prim asks me the next morning with concern embedded in her cerulean eyes as she strokes Buttercup who only continues to hiss.
"I'm fine little duck, thanks to you." I look at my mother whose in the kitchen today cutting up the last of the greens. "I'll bring back some of the berries you like okay?" I reassure her.
"I won't be long," I kiss her forehead before I sling my forage bag over my shoulder and leave the house.
The rain from last night has certainty made it harder to trudge through the meadow. I've already worn out the shoes and I can't afford to get them even more ruined. I glance around before I slip through the entrance and enter the meadow.
I quickly grab my sheath of bow and arrows and make my way over to Gale. We manage to collect some fish, a couple of rabbits, a turkey and squirrels. It felt good to get out of the house and enjoy the comforts of the woods.
Once we finish hunting Gale informs me that he has to head home to help his mother with some of the housework. I offer to help but he waves it off. We both divide up the meat and I tell him that I'll go and trade the squirrels to Mr. Mellark and the rest we can do tomorrow after school.
I peer through the bakery window to make sure Mrs. Mellark is not there. When I see no sight of her I push open the door and enter. The warm atmosphere from the large ovens and the smell of freshly baked bread and flour instantly greets me. The bakery is quiet because it's Sunday, but its business is as usual. I spot Mr. Mellark working at the counter flipping through some papers.
"Hello Mr. Mellark," I say as I approach him. "I've got some squirrels to trade," I say placing my bag down onto the counter.
He places the paper he was reading aside and a smile creases his face, "wonderful. Let's take a look then."
I unzip my bag and pull out the two red squirrels. He takes the squirrels from me and examines them carefully. "Caught them fresh this morning," I tell him.
"Fantastic shot," he says admiring the punctured wound. "Always straight through the eye. How much do you want for it?" he asks.
"How about two loaves of bread and some rolls?" I say. I'll keep one for my family and give the other one for Gale's and spilt the rolls.
"That sounds like a good deal. Peeta!" he calls out. "Could you please get Miss Everdeen two fresh loaves and some rolls from the back?"
I hear trays clattering and paper crinkling as he puts the bread into bags. Peeta appears a few minutes later, with streaks of flour over his cheek and sweat brews his forehead.
"Thank you," I say and take the bag from him. Our fingers lightly brush against each other and I ignore the strange feeling I have in the pit of my stomach. The aroma of bread must be making me hungry.
"Thank you Mr. Mellark," I say.
"No, thank you for the fresh meat. We'll use it to cook up a good stew tonight," he says.
I look around and spot some frosted cookies and think back to the promise I made Prim. "Mr. Mellark, how much are those cookies over there?" I ask pointing to the frosted ones on display.
"$2.99 each," he states.
I know for sure that I don't have enough for that. I nod my head, "okay thank you. I was hoping to get one for Prim, maybe next time. I'll see you later, pleasure doing business," I say before I make my way to the door and leave the shop.