Seasons of Wither, Chapter 22
The first thing that comes to mind when I see the dead bird in the bottom of Gale's game bag is that chickens are domesticated poultry—they do not live in the wild. They are considered a delicacy here and very few of even the Merchant-class can even afford them.
No. Even if Gale had wandered out into the woods drunk last night—had somehow managed to get himself through that electric fence—it would have been much less dangerous that stealing a chicken from a Merchant.
Stealing is punishable by death.
Everyone in 12 knows of this law, even the very young. The temptation is always there—the Cartwright's peach tree, the Mellark's pigs, the Price's chickens. If any of them were to catch a "filthy" Seam kid stealing food from them, they'd be executed by Cray immediately.
And now Gale has gone and done the worst thing he possibly could have.
A sense of pure terror runs through me. It's the same terror I feel when I dream of Prim being reaped, of my Mother falling into a depression again, of Gale dying of the poison, or of my baby being stillborn.
But that terror is only replaced with rage when I look into the sitting room where Gale still lies on our couch, sleeping soundly as if he hadn't just committed such a dangerous crime.
I waddle across the room quickly—I can't walk with any sort of finesse anymore—knocking Gale's muddy boots from where they lie perched on the arm of the sofa, causing him to awaken with a gasp.
He jumps a bit in surprise before rubbing the weariness from of his bloodshot eyes.
"Katniss?" he asks with a frown as he slowly sits himself up, obviously trying to remember how he'd gotten here last night and why he is still here this morning. "Wha-"
I shove the burlap sack roughly against his chest, and he jumps back in surprise.
"You need to get rid of this before Cray and the other Peacekeepers come looking for it," I tell him.
He grimaces as he glances down at the bag on his lap, obviously putting the pieces together of whatever had happened last night.
"Catnip," his tired, hungover voice rasps.
I shake my head. "Are you actually this stupid, Gale?" I ask him. "Or was is just the alcohol? What were you thinking? Going out and stealing when you know that you'll be shot dead by the end of the day for this!"
Gale stands up suddenly, perhaps a little too quickly judging by the way that he sways slightly when upright and looks like he's about to throw up.
"Calm down."
"Don't you dare act like this was just another trip to the Hob. I know better, Gale!"
Gale swallows hard as he stares back at me. "Okay," he admits. "We agreed a long time ago that we'd rather die by a bullet to the head than to slowly starve to death, Katniss. How is taking from those who have more than enough so much different than poaching on Capitol land, huh?"
"The difference is that no one cares if we hunt, but right now but there's an angry Merchant out there who'll be fuming when he finds himself a chicken short this morning!"
"No one saw me," Gale says flatly.
"Oh? And are you sure about that? You might not as be as sly and cunning as you normally are when you're drunk!"
"I wasn't drunk!" Gale yells back, but then pulls his hand through his hair, sighing. "Okay, so I drank a bit at the Hob last night when I tried selling off some of Father's old things."
"So you sold your most prized possessions to buy some white liquor, did you?"
"No," he says. "I didn't. I got three coins for the last of a stack of old books after half an hour of haggling. Old Abernathy was there, and maybe he was feeling a little sympathetic, or maybe I was ranting a little too much about the Capitol-"
"In the Hob! Gale, you know we can't say anything inside the fence, not where officials or anyone else can hear."
"I know, I know."
"And you drank with Haymitch of all people? You detest that drunk. I can see it already, you turning into a bitter alcoholic at age 18."
"It was one night, and it's not like I'm ever going to do it again. I just.." he sighs. "Katniss, I don't think you know how much pressure I'm being put under here. No one can afford your mother's medicine right now, Prim and Rory signed up for tesserae, and you...you're withering away to nothing and you're about to give birth. Things aren't going to get any easier once the baby's here."
"You said everything would be fine," I mutter, hating how things always come back around to me. I've always felt that this whole mess was my fault, but I hate hearing that Gale blames me, too.
"I think we can agree that things will never be fine, Katniss," Gale says detestably. "Sure, it's especially hard right now, but when has it ever been easy? I'm doing what I have to do to keep you alive, and if that means sacrificing myself, well then so be it."
I shake my head. "You really are stupid," I tell him. "To criticize me for accepting help from Madge when we need it the most and then stealing food to get ahead. The most I ever cost you was your pride. This could mean your life, Gale!"
There's a long pause as he stares back at me in disbelief.
"So what do you want me to do?" he finally asks. "Bring the bird back to life and sneak it back into the coop, because I don't think that's a possibility here."
"Get out of here. And get rid of the chicken," I tell him. "Bury it next to your dead dog."
He huffs in reply. His hard gaze if fixed on me, but I can't seem to meet it right now with the words I offer him next.
"I can't be with you if this is the way it's going to be. Maybe you have a lot to worry about, but so do I. I could lose Prim, you know that. Hell, I could even lose this baby before this is all done and over with. I sure as hell don't need to worry about losing you, too!"
"So what? Your ending this over a stupid stolen chicken?" he asks me.
I clench my teeth together, not because I'm angry, but because I'm so close to bursting into tears.
"I'll send for you when the baby's coming."
His eyes darken at my words.
"That's not fair, Katniss! You can't use this baby against me. This is my kid, too!"
"I didn't say that he wasn't," I retort. "And I would never use your child against you, but I'm not sure how much more of your self-sacrificing I can take. I just...I need to be away from you for awhile."
"For how long, Katniss?" he asks through gritted teeth. "Until that frigid heart of yours is capable of loving someone?"
I grimace at the insult directed towards me. But maybe he is right; maybe I'm just incapable of loving.
Some mother I'm going to make.
"Just go," I tell him.
Gale shakes his head.
"This ridiculous, Katniss. I won't let you push me out of your life just because you're scared. If you think that not being with you will keep me from doing whatever I have to do to keep you and the baby from suffering, you're wrong."
He waits for me to reply, but I don't. I can't speak to him right now; I can barely even look at him after what he's done.
And then he's gone, leaving his words echoing in my mind.
I'm lying on my side in the bedroom of our home, watching the snowflakes which fall to the ground outside. The weather has grown colder over the past week, dipping well below freezing during the night. This is the first snowfall of the year, and seeing as it isn't even officially winter yet, I know that it will be a brutal one.
It's been four days since I've spoken to Gale, but it feels like a lifetime.
Prim has fallen ill with the flu, so I spend my time helping our mother to do odd chores around the house to get my mind off of things—washing up our winter clothes, scrubbing the floor and windows, and even helping her sort through the medicinal herbs that she has been drying to store for the winter. All of this time that we spend together feels like we should be bonding, but instead neither of us say much.
Our home has never been spotless, but now it looks immaculate.
"You're nesting," my mother laughs one day, poking fun at me in an effort to cheer me up. I am certain that she overheard my argument with Gale the other day, but she's not commenting on it. I can tell that she struggles with the decision of whether to ask me about what had happened or to mind her own business. Seeing how the first never really works out, it seems that she's chosen the latter.
And the thing is that I'm not nesting—I'm just trying to distract myself from the terrible loneliness that has overtaken me. It's almost scary how much I've allowed myself to depend on him, not just for monetary support, but for the friendship we've shared over the past four years. He is more to me than just a hunting partner anymore, so much more that the thought of ever losing him causes my chest to constrict and my breath to labor—neither of which is particularly good for the unborn child I'm carrying.
So I spend my time doing simple jobs until my back all but breaks and I go to bed early.
When Gale does come to check in on me, my mother tells him that I'm sleeping. However, with the regular spasms taking place in my lower back, sleeps seems a million miles away.
That night Mother goes out to help a small boy in the Seam who has fallen ill with a dangerously high fever as I stay in, taking care of Prim and checking her temperature regularly. My mother has been offering up her services, helping many of the children who'd come down with whatever this bug is that is going around. Though no one can afford to pay her right now, my mother knows that many of her clients in the Seam will make good on finding a way to repay her come spring.
I just hope this illness is nothing serious, though I've taken to imagining worst case scenarios after everything I've gone through over the past several months.
"Katniss, I'm fine," Prim tries to convince me that night as I rush to give her a couple more fever-reducing tablets when I see that her fever hasn't broken yet. "It's the flu. My temperature isn't dangerously high, and I'm not hallucinating. You do have two heads, right?"
Handing her a glass of water and two small pills, I stop to smile down at my little sister, smoothing her sticky hair back from her sweaty forehead. It's amazing how she can still make me smile even when she's feeling so horribly.
"You need to relax, Katniss," she rasps, still looking pale and tired. "Get a hot compress for your back pain and go lie down."
The winter storm outside carries on through the night, as does my backache. I don't get much sleep, sitting up through the better part of the night hunched over on my bed with my hand resting on my lower back.
I try some hot tea and warm compresses as Prim had suggested, but nothing seems to work.
Come morning, I'm tired, sore, and several inches of snow have accumulated on the ground, though the storm has died down into just a few flurries. But the sun is out, and the day looks bright.
I meet my mother at the door as she trudges in with her medical bag in hand.
"How is the boy?" I ask her, taking her coat and shaking it out before hanging it up to dry.
"Fine," she tells me. "Reduced his fever and he's keeping down liquids."
"You look exhausted."
My mother smiles down at me, cupping my cheek with her ice cold hand. "I could say the same for you. Rough night?"
"A bit."
"Well," Mother tells me, unwinding the scarf from around her neck. "Considering all the snow outside and the fact that everyone seems to be coming down with a fever right now, I'm giving you the option of staying home from school today," she tells me. "With only three weeks to go, I'm not going to expect you to make the walk to school everyday, twice a day, especially on your own."
I think about it for a minute. What I wouldn't give to spend the day in bed as opposed to the cold building with my even colder classmates. But the thought of spending another restless day thinking about Gale and Prim and tesserae and all of the terrible things that could happen is going to drive me insane, and considering how spotless the house looks, I won't have anything to do to try to forget about any of that.
"You'll be here to care for Prim?"
My mother nods. "Unless something comes up. Then I can call on Hazelle. She's not doing much washing, what with the snow and all."
"I need to go then," I tell her. "Just this last week. I don't feel very useful around here anymore."
My mother smiles, not trying to change my mind, just nodding in understanding.
My persistent back pain eases slightly on my walk to school, but I'm still exhausted from my lack of sleep last night. About halfway to the school, however, I realize that I forgot all of my books at home.
It's too late to turn back, so groaning, I carry on.
I spend my morning in extreme discomfort, shifting my my chair throughout my morning classes to ease the strain on my thighs and back and squeezing the edge of my makeshift desk when the pain gets to be too much. I don't think much of it, since I'm never really all that comfortable anymore.
At lunch Madge is gone, no doubt at home with the fever. I sit alone at our table, empty-handed and lying my head down on the tabletop in an effort to squeeze in a short nap. But with all of the commotion going on around me and misery of my complete discomfort, it's impossible.
It's some time after fifth period when I go to the bathroom and discover that I'm bleeding. If that isn't enough, on my way back to class a wave of intense pain hits me all at once—a consuming cramp that causes my entire abdomen to harden into a tight ball. I place my palms and forehead against the cold tile of the hallway walls, seething in pain and panting until it finally lets up. Exhausted, I lean against the wall for support, wrapping my arm around my abdomen while still shaking from the intensity of the cramp I'd just experienced.
A contraction. I just had a contraction.
I've been feeling strange and achy all day, but I'd summed it up to fatigue and perhaps the beginning of the flu that has been going around. But the way that my back still aches makes me think that maybe this contraction wasn't my first one. Maybe I'd been having them all night.
And the blood? Well, there's a pretty good indicator of what's happening to me.
I'm in labor.