Gale and I are the first ones to wake and he fumbles gingerly through Katniss' pocket for the key to unchain my hands from the strut, careful not to wake the others. A jerk of his head and I follow him upstairs into the dim, dusty shop. Tigris is nowhere in sight, but a small selection of plates is laid out for breakfast. Gale pops a fig cookie into his mouth and flicks on the television. The Capitol is reporting blearily about how well the battle is going, how rebels are being driven back and victory is within reach. Gale snorts derisively and shakes his head.
Cressida appears at the steps, grinding her fists into her eyes and blinking sleepily. She flops onto a stool and watches the report glumly. I hand her a cookie and she smiles half-heartedly.
"Are you crazy all the time, or just in spurts?" she asks conversationally.
"I'm not sure," I answer honestly. "I can control it most of the time, but it's still there. What does that mean?"
"It means you're crazy," Gale mumbles around a mouthful of liver mush. I sniff at a crackerful of the stuff and wrinkle my nose, pushing it away in disgust.
"Probably," I agree, dusting my fingers off and watching distastefully as he appropriates the discarded cracker. "But I'm not the one eating that revolting glob of organ."
He grins through the mush and pulls my portion over to himself, trading for his cookies. Cressida watches with sharp eyes, but her scrutiny doesn't bother me. I don't think she has a hidden agenda, she's here to tell the story. A buzz in my chest and Katniss appears at the top of the steps with Pollux right behind her. I concentrate on the plate in front of me, and she comes to sit with us, watching the screen with a grim frown.
Gale slides a lump of liver toward her and she smiles tightly. The screen fritzes and switches to a rebel break-in. They show progress as the rebels push three roads into the center of the city, using abandoned cars to trigger pods as they advance. Gale worries the trick won't work once the Capitol realizes what's happening, and, like he conjured it, the next shot shows a squad blown apart when the Capitol lures them into a falsely deactivated zone.
"I bet it's killing Plutarch not to be in the control room on this one," I grit angrily. I don't know how much of his loyalty lies with the rebel cause, and how much is just preening.
The reporter is back on the screen, looking far less confident and warning citizens which new areas need to be evacuated. Only moments later the noise on the street increases and Katniss moves to peer cautiously through the blinds. A wide river of people is flowing through the previously quiet avenue, leaving the evacuation areas in a rush of panic and unpreparedness to seek shelter in the city center. Refugees carry anything from hastily snatched family treasures to yapping dogs. Hardly any of them are dressed for the chilly weather and many of them are children.
I turn away, sickened by the sight. Gale stares in stony faced silence and I can practically feel the anger radiating from him. He will never forgive himself for the families in Twelve he was unable to save. I squeeze his shoulder as I walk back to the counter and he drops his head before following me back.
Tigris volunteers to go out and try and gather information for us. She locks us back in the cellar and we hear her footsteps shuffle across the floor above us and the sad tinkle of the bells over the door as she leaves. Cressida and Gale are wound to hair-trigger tension and glower darkly as Katniss paces endlessly in the narrow, close cellar. Hours creep by, everyone getting more and more anxious as Tigris' absence stretches endlessly on.
Just as I think Gale will actually chew his own arm off, the bell tinkles again and we hear a muffled shuffling around upstairs. When she pulls back the panel, the heady scent of hot, roasting food wafts down the steps and my stomach cramps with anticipation. We pile up the stairs and gratefully wolf down the crispy potatoes and juicy ham in quick, eager forkfuls. Tigris watches us proudly, nibbling at a chunk of raw ham. She grins modestly as she tells us how she was able to trade her warm goods for the provisions the refugees were traveling with.
Apparently the city is crammed with displaced citizens and those still comfortably ensconced aren't willingly flinging open doors to them. A sour looking Peacekeeper, a twin to Thread in his bitter, harsh manner, barks from the television about taking in the displaced. He has a very official looking table laying out the "guests" per square foot each citizen is expected to house, shows a ridiculous shot of the mansion staff cheerfully readying spare quarters in the President's home, and advises even shopkeepers need to stand ready to lend floor space if so ordered.
My stomach rolls unpleasantly. "Tigris, that could be you," I warn, looking around at the tiny, crowded shop. We need to get out right now. If Tigris is caught sheltering us, she'll face a horrific punishment. The whisper pitches higher as I feel anxiety's cold grip on my heart.
The Peacekeeper's voice takes on a stern, parental tone. He reports about a young man beaten to death by an angry mob who thought he was me, a photo in the top corner of the screen showing a smug, painfully young citizen shaking hands with a professorial looking older woman. His hair is blond, but other than that he looks as much like me as Katniss does. I feel sick and turn away from the screen, adding the death to the long list that can be laid at my door.
Katniss, suddenly helpful, volunteers to wash dishes, Gale quickly offering to help as well. As they gather plates and move to the back in the tiny kitchen, I watch them together. They move comfortably as a pair, familiar and in tune. He will take good care of her, she will be loved and safe. A strange mix of contentment and longing buzzes in my blood and I shake my head, turning away.
Pollux, silent as ever, is staring at me sympathetically. Cressida, eyes narrowed, watches me with her head slightly cocked to the side.
"You're not crazy all the time," she says softly.
I feel the crimson wave of heat rush up my face and I grit my teeth against a stammering denial that springs to my lips. My hands tremble a little, but otherwise I can look her in the eye.
"No," I shake my head. "That is the crazy part." I hold her gaze, and I see kindness there. "Please don't say anything," I ask quietly. "I have no right to be thinking things like that. It would only make people unhappy to talk about it."
Cressida watches me silently, neither conceding nor arguing, but Pollux shakes his head adamantly. His bright eyes blaze with a fervent purpose that surpasses a need to speak it. He gestures sharply from his mouth, his intent clear.
I shake my head again. "I can't say anything," I repeat firmly. "Please, Pollux."
Pollux still looks determined, but Cressida puts a gentle hand on his arm. "It's not our business, Pol," she says, but she turns to me thoughtfully. "He thinks you need to remember your brother. That you owe him a life well lived."
The shot lands squarely and I'm left speechless, saved only by the return of Gale and Katniss from the kitchen. They have a plan ready. Working on the assumption that Snow will have to let refugees inside the mansion, at least a few for show, they are determined to be among them. Cressida and Pollux will travel with them, as guides, but they worry that all five of us, in a group, will draw too much attention. Katniss, her eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at me, suggests I stay behind. I suddenly remember what a terrible liar she is.
Nodding, I agree. It's certainly true we draw more attention together. Especially the two of us. Splitting up makes perfect sense. She looks almost comically relieved, like a small child was tricked into not throwing a tantrum with the suggestion of a game of "Who can be quietest?"
"I'll go toward line B," I say casually. Her face freezes so tragically that I almost laugh out loud.
"To do what?" Cressida asks shrewdly.
"I'm not sure exactly." I, on the other hand, am an excellent liar. "The one thing that I might still be useful at is causing a diversion. You saw what happened to that man who looked like me."
"What if you…lose control?" Katniss worries.
"You mean…go mutt?" I retort dryly. "Well, if I feel that coming on, I'll try to get back here." She looks hesitantly relieved, but Gale knows I'm working her.
"And if Snow gets you again?" he asks. "You don't even have a gun."
"I'll just have to take my chances," I shrug. "Like the rest of you." He knows what I'm planning, and I'm grateful he understands. He'll be good for her.
After a long moment, he pulls his nightlock tablet free and hands it over to me. I feel its deceptive lightness in my palm. But I don't want to take my chance to be free at his expense.
"What about you?"
He shrugs, grinning darkly. "Don't worry. Beetee showed me how to detonate my explosive arrows by hand. If that fails, I've got my knife. And I'll have Katniss." His smile falters a little as he meets my eyes. "She won't give them the satisfaction of taking me alive."
"Take it, Peeta," she says, wrapping my fingers around it. "No one will be there to help you."
Gale holds my gaze over her head, giving a tiny nod, and I place the pill in my breast pocket.
Our last night in the cellar drags on forever. Everyone sleeps in starts and fits, waking with groans and cries in the dark. I lie awake, staring at the dark hollow under the stairs, fingers tracing the outline of the small bump in my pocket. My chance to be free of all this. Away from the scream of hatred that bubbles constantly through my mind, turning the world dark around me. Away from the ever present fear that I will hurt someone. Away from my total failure to stop being used as a weapon against someone else.
I do. I need you.
Gale moans quietly in his sleep. If he doesn't make it, she'll have no one left to keep her safe. I toss in my pile of furs as I think of the powerful enemies arrayed against her. Battling titans, both wanting to use her death to their advantage. The Capitol citizens, rabid with fear, who will be surrounding her on all sides. Her own sense of duty driving her forward, toward danger most would run from.
I do. I need you.
The hum rises in my chest, gentler but no less demanding than the whisper's furious hatred. I can't be finished yet. I don't know how, but I have to protect Katniss. Finnick was right, she doesn't think through the consequences of her actions. She only sees what needs to be done, and it may kill her. Gale is too fierce, too black and white, like she is. I can't be sure he won't rush headlong into danger and leave her alone to face the fury of the Capitol and the rebels on either side. To protect Katniss, I have to protect Gale.
The morning finally arrives and we're all grateful to be moving with purpose again. Tigris amazes us by transforming our filthy, hastily gathered patchworks into undetectable disguises that will stand up to even close scrutiny.
"Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," I marvel with a wink to the artist.
She glows and makes a gravely purring sound and her tail switches with pleasure. My heart goes out to her, thinking of how long she's been buried here, trying to forget her part in the horror that is the Games. Everywhere we go, we meet more people relying on us to bring them justice.
With our gear cleverly hidden and our faces artfully masked, we bid farewell to our hostess and ready ourselves to join the flow of refugees flooding toward the city center. Pollux and Cressida go first, a quick good-bye and they are gone, blending into the crowd without a backward glance. I breathe a silent plea for their safety and turn to Gale and Katniss, who will go next.
Katniss fits the key into the cuffs and removes them, my suddenly untethered wrists feeling like they could fly anywhere at any moment. I roll them around a few times, trying to feel like I can trust myself with freed hands. A sick heaving in my stomach is achingly familiar and I suddenly picture the jungle, steaming and close around us. Beetee had convinced Katniss and Johanna to take the coil of wire into the jungle, but every instinct I had was screaming not to let us be separated. Like then, I shove the instinct down and turn away from it.
"Listen," she says, her clear gray eyes searching mine. "Don't do anything foolish."
I'm caught off guard, I didn't think she knew which way my thoughts had been running. "No," I reply staunchly. "It's last resort stuff. Completely."
And then she flings her arms around my neck, pulling me close and tight. I freeze for just a second as the whisper rises to a maniacal scream, but then, almost by themselves, my arms wrap around her and the hum muffles the whisper into a distant buzz. I feel her pressed against me, smell her hair and feel her breath on my skin. A twanging thrum in my chest snaps into place and suddenly I feel complete and whole once more. It's as though the world had been swinging wildly around me and now was steady at last.
"All right, then," she says briskly, stepping back. I place one hand on the rack next to me as if expecting the vertigo to return, but I'm steady and strong. Katniss and Gale say good-bye to Tigris and disappear out into the freezing cold.
My chest aches, this is wrong. I can't let her out of my sight. I was wrong. The jungle is all around me again, I should never have let her go.
"Go after her, boy," Tigris purrs, her voice rough and low. "She'll need you."
I meet her golden eyes for a moment, see there what I know to be true. I nod silently and squeeze her arm. "Thank you. For everything. We'll make it right."
"You can't," she says, her eyes dropping away. "But you can stop it from continuing. Good luck." And then I'm out in the street, hood pulled close and eyes searching for the pair in the crowd.
The snow is falling thicker and heavier, but the sun is rising as well. It's easier to see, and I'm dismayed to easily pick out Gale's hulking form, moving with less downtrodden despair than he might imagine. Katniss too, moves with far too much purpose. I snake along behind them, eyes on the street and trying not to draw attention.
The air splits as a sudden burst of gunfire slices through the crowd and bodies tumble in a spray of red mist. Gale and Katniss dart behind a display rack just before another sweep of bullets levels more of the citizens who run blindly, screaming and crouching uselessly in the empty street. My eyes dart to the rooftops, it's rebel troops. Aiming for Peacekeepers, but hitting anyone standing upright. They begin dropping onto the street causing even more panicked chaos.
I grab the people milling frantically in useless circles near me and yank them to the sides, into doorways. "Stay calm, stay quiet," I hiss sharply. "They aren't coming for you. Stay out of the way and you'll be safe."
A man gathers his wife and child tremblingly close, pressed against a rack of stationery cards, watching me with frantic eyes. "How can you be sure? Maybe we should run for it?"
"Run where?" I demand. "Stay here, and tell anyone you see in the streets to get out of sight."
I feel a nauseous pull as I worry I'm losing Katniss. I lift my head quickly above the rack and scan the street, Gale's form is just disappearing across the intersection. I duck back down and press closer against the wall, hurrying along the street after them. As I cross into the next block it no longer matters that he stands out like a sore thumb. The rebels are streaming down the walls of the buildings, filling the streets and crowding behind cars and shop racks. Peacekeepers march determinedly to meet them, both sides blazing gunfire at each other and in between, panicked and with nowhere to go, are the refugees. Bleeding, crying, disoriented, they mill about while being mown down by enemy and friendly fire alike.
Cursing, I duck behind an abandoned car. Two more men are crouching there already, eyes wild and limbs trembling. Peering around the bumper, I can see a delivery truck to the side of the street.
"Listen," I hiss at the two men. "We have to get to that truck. If we can tip it, we can gather people behind it, out of the line of fire."
One man shakes his head adamantly. "No way," he cries. "I'm not going out there."
But the second man nods and we watch for our moment. In a pause, we sprint for the truck and crash around behind it, trembling and panting, but safe. A crack from up ahead, followed by a hiss and screams that cut off in chillingly bubbling cries.
With desperate haste, we shove our shoulders against the side of the truck and begin to heave. Two more people run to join us, one is cut down as she runs, but then we feel it begin to tip. It rocks and sways for a moment before crashing over onto its side. With relieved screams, the frightened refugees crowd behind and inside the sheltering bulk, cowering as the zinging bullets spray the streets all around them. If they stay here, they'll be safe.
I take a quick glance around the side and sprint swiftly across the road to the narrow doorway of a printer shop. Darting up the street the way Katniss was going, I drop and cover my head as a humming purple glow radiates from up ahead. Aside from the low hum, a tone matched by the frantically chattering whisper, I can find no danger, so I leap to my feet and continue up the avenue.
Bodies litter the street. Shot, trampled, bleeding from all orifices, and some looking – could it be cooked? I tremble for a moment, turning to empty my stomach into the snowy street before gritting my teeth and sprinting up the block, pleading silently I haven't lost them.
The Peacekeepers are thinning out, there's less gunfire as I run and I worry I've chosen the wrong route. I slow, trying to get my bearings, trying to feel the tether pull me toward her. A gigantic cracking sound and the barest tremble in the earth below my feet. Screams from up ahead. I run.
Hordes of people are rushing toward me, fleeing something terrible, but I hear her voice, frantic and not caring who can hear her.
"Gale! Gale!"
I round the corner and skid to a stop, teetering crazily on the edge of an impossible drop. The street has completely disappeared. It just ends. A dizzying stench from below and a buzzing pull in the back of my brain. There are mutts down there.
"Over here!" My gaze whips to the familiar voice and my breath catches in my throat. Unbelievably, Gale is dangling over the abyss, clinging to a railing around an apartment door.
"Cover yourself!"
I snap my head around and see Katniss, safely on the other side, on steady ground. She lifts a gun and fires expertly at the lock until the door swings open. Gale heaves himself inside, landing in a pile just inside the door. And then the Peacekeepers have him.
He screams at Katniss to run, to shoot him and go, but she can't hear him. Can't imagine what he's asking of her. They're pulling him inside. In no time, they'll realize who they have. Katniss turns and sprints away and I check my breast pocket for my insurance. It's there, snug and waiting. Moving quickly, I inch along the narrow ledge remaining of the street and teeter on the step of the apartment where Gale disappeared. I knock firmly on the door.