Seasons of Wither, Chapter 5
The next few days come and go, and I begin to feel as if I am starting to get a handle on controlling my vomiting. I do have to admit that it's becoming more and more difficult to hide this all from Gale. A large part of me wants to tell him, wants to ease some of the burden off myself. I feel like I'm doing this alone, which I pretty much am. I don't doubt that Gale will stand up to his responsibility when and if the time comes. That's just the type of person he is.
I guess the worst part is trying to wretch in secret when we are in the woods together. I usually use the excuse that I have to pee, which works since he always gives me my privacy. Unfortunately, I really do have to pee a lot now, and Gale has come to believe either I am drinking way too much or have an incompetent bladder.
"You're floating again, Catnip," he says to me one day after I return from behind the bush for the fifth time that morning. "I don't know what you've been drinking, but I think maybe it's time to cut back."
I blow off the comment with a laugh, blaming it on the tea we had been drinking.
Today we are spending our time shooting doves, which we don't often do. While roasted dove is delicious, you have to shoot a whole lot of them to get a substantial amount of meat, which is why we usually go for the bigger game like pheasants, rabbits, and squirrels. But with the decline in all three, we opt for spending our morning bringing down the smaller prey.
I have a whole bag of them by mid-afternoon, but I've lost almost all of my arrows as well. Smaller birds are hard to hit, and many of my arrows go flying into the woods never to be seen from again. Gale does manage to retrieve a few, but almost all end up being bent beyond repair.
But we're in good spirits today and I'm not feeling too badly either. I'm being careful about my eating habits. Though there still isn't enough to go around, I am sure to keep a little bit down at all times to keep myself from getting too sick. I've learned that trying to go on an empty stomach almost always results in feeling queasy. Right now, I am tired, but my stomach is calm. It's all that I can ask for.
Knowing that we have enough for now at least, Gale and I find ourselves walking along, chatting happily since we're finished hunting for the day, when the sound of something struggling in the grass forces us to stop. His eyes meet mine apprehensively before we both notch an arrow into our bowstring and move ahead with precaution. I can hear a low growl coming from the tall grass in front us, and I know it is the sound of a lynx.
They're usually very skittish, and left unprovoked, tend not to attack. But I can tell by the sound that this one is making that it has been badly injured. Gale and I slowly step forward to see the lynx lying in the grass on her side, her tongue hanging form her mouth as she pants hard. The animal is on the edge of death, and appears to be completely paralyzed and unable to move. But the part I cannot manage to tear my gaze from is the bright green foam that clings to her mouth and tongue. I can feel all of the blood drain from my face at the realization. In an instant, Gale's worst fear has been confirmed—there's most definitely something spreading through the wildlife here, and it is both unnatural and deadly.
I look down at the bow I still hold in my hand, and without a second thought, put the animal out of her misery.
…
Gale and I don't say much to each other after what we'd just witnessed. We walk back quietly towards his house, and I find that I'm much too upset to go home by myself. Mother and Prim are in town picking up more medical supplies, and for some reason, I just don't feel like being left alone right now.
I can hear the kids laughing and squealing as we near his front porch, and find the object that Rory, Vick, and Posy are all fawning over. A medium-sized dog is licking their faces, and his entire emaciated body is shaking as his tail wags wildly. With a dull silver coat, thin skin stretched tightly over his ribcage, cloudy eyes, and a long, skinny take that goes between his legs as I approach him, this animal might be the ugliest creature I've ever seen in my entire life. Except for Buttercup, of course.
But to Gale's two brothers and sister, he's a regal canine.
"What do we have here?" Gale asks with a smile, sinking down to his knees to scratch the dog's ears. I move to do the same, but he quickly backs away from me in fear. I guess I've never really been much of an animal person.
"He's a dog and Rory found him," Posy informs in her sweet, high-pitched voice. "We're gonna name him Rocky and let him sleep in the house."
Gale and I look up as the front door creaks open and see that Hazelle is stepping out onto the porch, shaking her head as she wipes her hands on her apron. "Rory found him wandering around the old warehouse. Apparently someone dumped him off there because they couldn't feed him anymore. They begged and begged, but I told them they'd have to ask you."
Gale's eyes meet his mother's, and I can see a bit of contempt there: He doesn't want to be the bad guy.
"He's a good dog, and maybe you can teach him how to hunt," Rory offers hopefully, though I'm sure Gale is thinking the same thing I am: There's no way that mangy thing could ever hunt anything. "We can water him and feed him every day. He won't be very much trouble," the boy pleas.
Gale sighs a bit before standing back up. "I know, and I know you guys would take really good care of him," he begins softly. "But he's a big dog. As much as I'd love to let you guys keep him as a pet, there's just not enough to feed him right now."
"But Prim has a cat," Vick points out. "They feed him the leftovers they can't eat."
"A cat eats a lot less than a dog this size," Gale informs them. "You three know I'd let you keep this dog if we could, but there's not enough food to go around as it is. We just can't afford another mouth to feed right now."
The kids begin to cry, except for Rory who only looks like he's on the verge of tears. I can feel my heart sink at their reaction of having to give up their already beloved pet, especially as I think of Prim and how attached she is to Buttercup. It's almost too much for me to bear. I'm not sure if it's the upset kids or the realization of what Gale had just said, but I find myself stifling a sob as his words echo in my mind:
We just can't afford another mouth to feed right now.
Gale quickly leans down to lift his tiny sister up into his embrace in an effort to comfort her, and she wraps her scrawny arms around his neck as she weeps uncontrollably in his arms. Watching the act finally sends me over the edge, and my eyes tear with emotion as I find myself choking awkwardly on a sob of my own. It must be loud enough to stand out amongst the children's, because when I look up, Gale is staring at me strangely.
"Hey, he can stay the night inside, okay?" he tells his younger siblings, glancing up at me just in time to witness a tear slip down my cheek. I quickly turn my back away from the heart-wrenching scene taking place in front of me as I work hastily to wipe away the evidence that I've been crying. "Give you a chance to say good-bye before we find him a new home." The offer does little to cheer them up, but they accept.
Their cries finally begin to die down a little once Hazelle calls them in to eat.
"You okay?" I feel Gale's hand on my shoulder once the children are back inside with the dog. I just shrug, because obviously everything isn't fine, but I know that trying to talk about it with him will send me into another fit of sobs. Exhaling a slight breath, he holds my face in his hands, and his concerned gray eyes stare into mine as he tries to decipher whatever is going on in my head right now. But I'm not even sure I know that myself.
I think that I've cried in front of Gale twice in the past four years that I've known him. The first was when I was 13 years old. We'd been hunting in the woods all day to come back and find that the electricity in the fence had been turned back on. Unable to squeeze under the hole in the chain link without the risk of getting fried, we were forced to spend the night outside in the wilderness together. Over the course of the next seven hours, I had convinced myself that the electricity would never be turned back off and that we'd never see our families again.
The second was when I twisted my ankle. It was the most intense pain I had ever endured in my entire life. I couldn't walk or even move my foot. I was in agony, but I vividly remember Gale lifting me up from the ground and carrying me back to my mother. He even stuck around until I was feeling better, and kept me company until I was able to walk again three days later.
But there was no real excuse for my tears right now. None that I can tell him about anyway.
"I-" I choke out. "I just feel bad for the kids," I offer. Because I did feel bad for them, but that was only half of the truth. The other half was that in several more months, I was going to make everyone else's lives a lot more difficult than this dog ever could.
I feel pathetic standing there front of him, tears streaming down my cheeks as my face scrunches up in that ugly way that it does when I'm really upset. Gale shushes me quietly as he pulls me against his rigid chest, encircling my body with his long arms. Just like the only other time he'd really held me like this, I'm aware of how small I am in his arms. How weak and fragile I must appear to him, which maybe I am right now. "It's okay, Katniss," he soothes in my ear, but I can tell by his tone that he is utterly confused by my breakdown. I don't cry, and I'm not an emotional person, especially about animals. But I still take the time to relish in his warm embrace as my tears soak into his knitted shirt. I know that he can't even begin to understand the real reason why I'm so upset, since the only one carrying this burden right now is me.
Gale takes me into his home and pours me a warm mug of tea as I try to settle myself. Before I even realize what's happening, there's a steaming bowl of stew before me, and I'm eating dinner with his family. My hand shakes unsteadily as I try to eat with as much finesse as possible, but my stomach is so empty that I feel like I'm on the verge of passing out. I catch Gale and his mother exchanging a worried glance as I finish my meal in silence. Soon my bowl is empty, my shaking has subsided, and I feel guilty for having eaten their food.
"Don't worry about it, Catnip," he assures me afterwards, but I still make sure to give him a few extra doves so that the guilt won't eat me alive tonight. After seeing me back to my house, Gale's large hands clasp gently on my shoulders as I stare back at him self-consciously. "I don't know what's going on with you, but I really wish that you'd just tell me."
But I can't tell him, not after everything that's happened today.
…
It's late in the evening before my mother returns home with Prim, who passes by me without saying a single word and then shuts herself into the bedroom. My mother sighs as she begins to replenish her medical supplies.
"What happened?" I ask my mother, noting the hint of sadness in her eyes.
"We lost a patient today."
"Roxy?" I ask in surprise, since the last I'd heard, she was going to have a baby.
Mother shakes her head. "The baby. She'd been expecting for awhile and miscarried today. You're sister is incredibly upset about it."
I nod in understanding. Losing any patient, no matter their ailment or age, always comes as a blow to Prim. She's young, and although she has an incredible talent for healing, doesn't deal with death very well. I feel bad for her, and know that this loss will probably affect her for awhile.
"I thought Roxy was pretty far along," I say uneasily. I'm usually not that curious about Mother's patients, but Roxy's case hit too close to home for me. Another unplanned pregnancy.
"Three and a half months," my mother informs me. "But her family couldn't keep food on the table the way it was. Without the energy and nutrition her body needed, it just wasn't ready to carry a baby to term."
My mother sends me a sideways glance as I stand silently watching her organize her medical supplies. I've zoned out at her words. Roxy's miscarriage may have been a blessing in disguise. One less mouth to feed, one less child's name to be chosen from the Reaping bowl.
"Katniss," my mother says as she pulls me in front of her by my elbows, but my mind is still fixated on the news she'd just given me. "I know you haven't been feeling well lately..." she begins, treading lightly around the subject. "Throwing up and feeling tired. If there's something—anything at all—that you would like to tell me, I'd really like to hear it." My attention snaps back to my mother as I stare blankly into her knowing eyes.
This would be my opportunity to get this off of my chest, to confide in someone who could possibly help me through it. My mother knows what's wrong, I'm certain of it. I've been acting too strangely lately for her not to have noticed. A part of me wants to tell her everything, about Gale and my pregnancy and how I'm too scared to do this. But another still doesn't trust the woman who checked-out and left her two daughters to starve only four years ago. I think about the nature of Roxy's miscarriage and decide that maybe there's nothing to tell.
I shake my ahead. "No. Everything is fine," I say in a daze as I walk towards the bedroom to check on my sister. It was time to face the hard facts about life in the Seam: With the way things are right now, I know I'll most likely lose this baby before my second trimester.
Gale may never even have to know the truth.
Early the next morning we meet in our usual spot to hunt before school. "I let the kids keep the dog," he informs me, glancing at me to see my reaction.
I look ahead as we walk further into the woods and nod. "Good," is all that I can say, because there is nothing else for me to tell him.