Seasons of Wither, Chapter 12
"I want bread."
The words just flow from my mouth one morning as I follow Gale to check the snare line. He's fiddling with the rope of one in his hands when he looks up at me curiously.
"The white kind that the baker sales with the tiny seeds on the crust," I go on dreamily. "And maybe a glob of honey."
Of course I can't help but to want the very thing that I can't shoot, snare, or pick myself. It would only make sense for me to crave something that I can't even have right now. Gale is unable to suppress a smile as he adjusts the snare. It was empty of course—so far, they all are. This has become typical as of late.
"I see you've moved on from your strawberry cravings," he says as he stands back up. "Baker's bread, hm? Maybe if one of us can shoot a squirrel or two we can get something arranged."
We haven't been to the baker's backdoor in weeks now. What little game we've managed to kill gets split between our families. It's usually not a good idea to trade something substantial that has the protein to keep you going for something fluffy and pretty much void of offering any lasting energy. The white baker's bread has always been a delicacy for my family. I could easily make something out of the grain ration that the Capitol sends, but after throwing it up after breakfast this morning, I don't want to even think about it.
Gale takes my hand as he helps me down the hill. It kind bothers me that my center of balance is a bit off now, what with my expanding waistline. I used to be able to trek through the woods just fine, but I've become quite clumsy over the past couple of weeks and Gale doesn't want to take any chances of me doing a belly flop out here in the woods after what happened just three weeks ago. Pregnancy makes me feel weak, and I don't like it one bit.
The summer sun beats down on us and I make sure to drink plenty of water as we go. With the arrival of summer comes a small break from school before going back to class in eight weeks. I welcome it with open arms. Though it's been established that I will never finish my schooling, it's been agreed between my mother and the superintendent of the school that I will continue to attend classes right up until the baby is born. Until then, I will be doubling up on my studies, stuffing my head full with as much knowledge of coal and Capitol propaganda as humanly possible. But it should give me enough distraction to keep my mind off of the horrible things people have continued to say about me.
Gale is preparing to start work in the mines in about a week—something I try not to think too much about. We need the money to keep going, but I don't like the idea of him working such a physically-laboring and dangerous job.
I continue to follow Gale further into the woods to check the last snare he had set. I'm barely paying attention when the sound of something being thrown roughly to the ground causes my head to snap up. Gale's quiver bounces off of the forest floor, spilling arrows everywhere before he slumps to the ground. For a second my heart stops, and I think that he's been shot, but when he pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face into his hands I know that this isn't the case.
"Gale...?" I ask him unsurely. He doesn't respond, but instead pulls his hand down his face in anguish. I stand in front of him, looking down at him, confused.
"They're all empty," he finally says. I can see the worry in his eyes, the complete hopelessness and desperation. "Every single one!" he growls, sending my father's handmade bow into a nearby bush.
I stand silent for a moment, trying to take in the sight before me. Gale gets stressed sometimes, but never like this. Though things have never been quite this tough before, and the stress of the baby probably isn't helping anything. To say that the past couple of weeks have been hard would be an enormous understatement. There hasn't been enough to eat for awhile now, even less than before. I haven't experienced the feeling of satiation for days now, having made sure that Prim is getting a substantial amount to keep her going before I allow myself to eat. My morning sickness is still going full force, even with the homemade herbal remedies my mother gives me to help.
"What kind of father am I going to be if I can't even keep you fed?" he asks, his voice wavering. "How am I going to take care of a kid!"
"I'm fine, Gale," I say quietly.
"You're not!" he practically yells. "Look at how skinny you are, Catnip. You're pregnant and I can count your damn ribs!"
It's an insult, almost. But I can't get mad when Gale is sitting there on the ground on the verge of an emotional breakdown, blaming himself for everything and feeling completely inadequate. He's buried his face back into his hands when walk I up directly in front of him so that the toes of our boots are now touching. I've never in my life seen him like this before, so vulnerable and self-loathing.
"This isn't your fault, Gale," I tell him. "We both know what's happening, what's killing off all the wildlife. Don't let the Capitol's interference with nature make you question yourself."
He's still shaking his head as I speak to him.
"Listen," I begin in a serious tone. "You're scaring me," I tell him, and he looks up.
"Katniss-" He has a look of guilt in his eye right now, which is just what I'd been hoping for.
"If you give up like my mother did, I'm not really sure what I'll do. I have to know that I can count on you, okay?" I tell him, my hand trembling slightly as I lean down to pick up the quiver off of the ground. "You know that I can't do this without you."
"I wouldn't do that," he mumbles. "You know that I wouldn't do that to you."
"Then get the bow," I tell him, standing back up. "My father isn't around anymore to make you a new one, and my bow-making skills are a bit questionable. Get your stuff together so we can make the best of this. There's a little spring a couple of miles from here that couldn't have been tampered with. There will be more game there."
Gale swallows hard and nods before standing up and dusting himself off. I take his hand into mine for awhile, but we don't speak much for the rest of the afternoon. I'm still angry at him, even though I can understand the tremendous amount of stress that has been put on him as of late. I've been feeling it, too, but I've also been trying to deal with it better than I had over the past few months. If we're to get through this, I know we must keep ourselves composed, because the moment that we go off feeling sorry for our poor selves, we've basically given up.
…
I do end up shooting a squirrel that day, two actually. Gale takes down a rabbit, but hits it in the gut, which renders a great deal of the meat useless. I try not to look disappointed at that, as with all of the herbs we'd gathered it will still make a fine stew.
After returning back to the district, Gale and I stand eagerly on the baker's back doorstep, waiting for him to answer. The smell of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air, and my stomach growls loudly in anticipation. I can almost taste it right now.
"We'll just trade one of them," I tell Gale before the baker answers the door. "The other I'll feed to my family tonight."
He nods. "It's a fine squirrel. You should be able to get a couple of fresh rolls out of it."
But both our faces drop in disappointment when it is not the baker, but his youngest son, who answers the door. Peeta Mellark seems perplexed to find us standing there after weeks of not having anything to trade. I hate the look of utter dissatisfaction on Gale's face as his game bag drops to his side.
"Your father home?" he asks, and Peeta silently shakes his head. It's rare for Mr. Mellark to not be in the bakery at this time of day. His home is located right above the store after all. It's just our luck that we've managed to come knocking one of the few times that he isn't around.
Gale mutters and obscenity under his breath, and my hand reaches out to brace his shoulder. The last thing I need is another hissy fit right here behind the bakery. "He be around later?"
"Hard to say," Peeta answers unsurely. "He's out picking up bags of flour at the marketplace. He has to hitch up the wagon, so it might not be 'till nightfall."
"It's okay, Gale," I assure him. "It's not a big deal. Really," I tell him softly.
"No, you wanted bread, so we'll get you some," he begins, opening the palm of his hand to reveal two coins. I quickly grab his hand and force the money back into his fist.
"No. You need to save that. I don't need anything. It was just a hankering, I'll live." The last thing I want Gale doing is spending the last amount of money he has on a stupid loaf of bread to feed my craving. Meanwhile, Peeta watches perplexed as we bicker back and forth at his backdoor.
"My mother told me that your cravings are your body's way of telling you that it needs something, so don't ignore them, Catnip. Besides, maybe it'll help settle your stomach," he goes on, and as if on cue, Peeta's eyes fall over my waistline, studying it incredulously. My arms quickly cross over my abdomen as they usually do when I'm trying to hide my condition, but it's impossible to conceal now that he's already noticed. His eyes glance up from my baby bump to meet mine with a strange mix of emotions—disbelief, pity, and...disgust, perhaps? It's hard to describe, but he looks at me as if he's just been done some huge injustice. It's a bit surprising studying the array of emotions that cross the baker's son's face, since the rumor had been going around school full force when we were let out for the summer and it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to him. I sink back, adverting my eyes and feeling extremely uncomfortable.
Gale gently takes me by the arm and tucks me behind him, breaking Peeta and my awkward exchange of glances. This move seems to snap Peeta out of his stupor.
"I can make the trade," he tells Gale. "Let's see what you've got."
Gale removes the squirrel from his burlap bag and hands it to Peeta by its tail. The baker's son looks it over, holding it as far away from himself as possible as if someone had just handed him a dead rat. He goes on studying it, though it's clear to see that he has no clue what exactly he's supposed to be looking for. He nods. "Alright. Be right back," he says before returning to the door a short while later with two small loaves of bread.
My heart skips a beat as I watch the steam roll off of the two freshly-baked breads.
"No," Gale refuses, defiantly pushing the loaves away as Peeta holds them out to us. "Your father would never trade that much for one squirrel."
My eyes widen, and I don't think that I've ever wanted to hit him so badly in my entire life. I bite my bottom lip, because it's all that I can do to keep myself from grabbing that bread out of his hands and making for the hills with it. But I know Gale too well to think he'd swallow his pride for a loaf of bread. Everything we bring home is from a trade, and we don't accept handouts. Never have. It seems wrong to do in a district where someone dies of starvation almost weekly.
"Just take it," Peeta retorts a bit grouchily. "My father's been going on about fresh squirrel for weeks now. Besides, we had a surplus today."
Gale finally accepts the bread and the door closes in our faces before we can thank him for it.
"Why did you act that way back there?" I ask Gale as we walk away. "Pushing me behind you like that? You don't own me. I'm not your property, you know."
"He was making you uncomfortable," he answers me with a shrug. "Besides, I didn't like the way he was looking at you."
"What? You were protecting me from Peeta Mellark? He's about as nonthreatening as they get!" I say, and Gale chortles a sarcastic laugh at my reply.
"For someone who's pregnant, you really are too innocent, Catnip."
I don't put much thought into Gale's words. My mind is too busy trying to conceive why anyone would have a surplus of food in this district, especially during a famine. I hate it when I realize that the baker's boy had just done me another favor that I'll never be able to repay.
…
The best part of this terrible week is when I sit down at the Hawthorne's dinner table with Gale's younger brothers and sister with the fresh loaves of bread we have just brought from the bakery. I slice the bread up into neat, even slices and Rory grabs the small jar of honey out of their cupboard to smear on the top. The kids and I all chew happily, because we haven't eaten anything this good in so long. Hazelle stands at the table side smiling happily, and declines a piece of the bread when I offer it to her.
"No," she assures us. "The best part of this is watching you all enjoy it."
Gale still accepts a slice, though. But he's frowning and thinking hard about something as he eats it. I don't know if it was the empty snares or the strange trade at the bakery that bothered him more. I try to enjoy my small feast without thinking about how he will be hundreds of feet below the earth in a few short days, heaving a pick and pounding out coal.
"Do you have a baby in your belly?" Posy suddenly decides to ask me out of nowhere as she stares up at me with her big gray eyes. The question's enough to make me completely lose my train of thought.
Hazelle and I exchange a quick glance, because I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to handle questions like these. I'm not exactly a positive role model for little girls right now.
"Posy, I told you how Gale and Katniss are going to have a baby," Hazelle swoops in to save me from this uncomfortable conversation. "The baby is growing in Katniss' belly right now."
"Oh," Posy replies, going on to take another bite of her bread. "Does that mean Gale put it there?" she asks with a mouthful of food.
I squint, pinching the bridge of my nose at her curious question. Right when I think that I'm going to have to explain this all to a four-year-old, Rory bursts out laughing. I look up see that Gale is grinning, too. I try to suppress my smile as I look down at the confused little girl who sits beside me.
"I think that was half the fun for Gale," Rory says teasingly, and Hazelle gives him a look of warning almost instantly.
The kid's mouth is too smart for his own good. Now Gale is blushing and the room is silent and everything feels so awkward.
"I think that I should go," I finally say as I clear my throat, quickly wrapping up a piece of bread for Prim and my mother before standing up from my place at the table.
"I'll walk you," Gale says, sliding out of his chair and following me out the door.
I finally allow myself to stifle a laugh as we begin to walk down the dirt road in front of his house.
"Wow, that was-" I begin.
"Extremely awkward," Gale finishes for me. "Not as awkward as the beating I'll have to deal to Rory when I get home though."
"Go easy on him. He got his smart mouth from you," I tell him as he takes my hand. Intimate moments like these between Gale and I are a common occurrence now, and it doesn't feel so strange to be sharing them with him anymore. We hold hands a lot, hug on occasion, and even kiss sometimes. We haven't established the nature of our relationship, but it seems like a funny thing to hold back on considering that we're having a baby together. A part of me knows that it has more to do with Gale's loyalty towards his the mother of his child and not his actual feelings for me though.
We walk for awhile in silence, just enjoying the cool night air and the sounds of summertime. Even with everything that's going on right now, it's hard not to let the melody of nighttime insects and the smell of flowers filling the air lift your spirits.
"I won't leave you," Gale finally says out of nowhere, sending me a sideways glance. "Just so you know, I would never do that to you. I'm taking complete responsibility for the both of you," he promises. "I'm going to take care of you, Catnip. Don't ever think that I wouldn't, okay?"
I nod, knowing that he's referring to our earlier conversation in the woods.
We walk for awhile before Gale sighs loudly, causing me to place my hand on his forearm to gain his attention. I know that he's been contemplating something all day, and I just want to know what's going on in his mind right now.
"What is it?" I ask him, a bit apprehensively.
"Before we get to your house, there's something I want to talk to you about," he says, stopping suddenly in the road and glancing nervously at our surroundings before choosing to go on. "I think that this whole thing with the Capitol poisoning me has been an eye-opener. I've been thinking about this a lot lately—the fact that you're still of reaping age, that we've got this baby on the way, that there's nothing more for us here than to work as slaves for the rest of our lives. I think that we should get out of of this place," he says quietly.
I frown, shaking my head in confusion. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"
"Me and you. After you have the baby, I think we should leave the district."
But I'm still utterly confused. "But they won't let us go to another district. You know tha-" And then it all hits me at once. He's not talking about going to another district. He's talking about running away into the woods.
"We both know how to live out there, Catnip," he goes on. "We could hunt, build shelter, keep on moving. There's all of that unsettled space between districts, and we can live out the rest of our lives there. No starvation, no reapings, no Capitol trying to control every aspect of our lives. We could do it. After the baby is born, we can run."
"No," I say harshly and quickly begin to walk away. He's lost his mind. Maybe the poisoning had messed with his brain, because Gale Hawthorne has actually gone mad. He catches my elbow before I get very far.
"The Capitol is slowly but surely killing us, Katniss. They're cutting us off from our only means of survival right now. We could all starve, if not now, then in the future. I won't watch you or our child stand in the crowd for the reaping year after year to maybe even die in the arena" he says, his tone harsh as he squeezes my arm a little too tightly. "You and the baby are my family now, and it's my job to protect you from just this sort of thing."
"And what about the kids, Gale!" I exclaim. "What about our mothers? They rely on us! Are we just supposed to leave them to fend for themselves? No. I won't leave Prim behind. I was the only person keeping her alive for the longest time, and if my mother looses it again, there will be no one here to protect her. I just won't do it."
"Your mother if fine now," Gale argues. "And it's not about them anymore, Katniss," he goes on. "This baby is going to be our first priority from now on. Children aren't supposed to raise their brothers and sisters. We're going to have our own family, and that's going to come first."
"So you'd let Rory and Vick and Posy be called up on that stage to be sent off to be slaughtered?" I say. "How is it okay to flee to save our child, but leave them here to take their chances?" I ask him as I angrily pull my elbow from his grasp. "You know, a couple of months ago you criticized me for running when things got too hard. Well, you know what? You can't run from this either," I tell him detestably.
And then I march right up into my house before slamming the door loudly behind me.