A/N: Hi guys! Update here. Please stick with me. I got my new laptop! New laptop dance! Updates will be sooner,
if you stick with me. PLEASE DO... BAI!... Please review, PLEASE... :3
The next morning, I wake up at dawn, which is about 6 a.m. I check to see if anyone else is awake; no one is. I eat some fruit & nut bread for breakfast, and get ready for hunting. I don't want to waste time, so, at around 6:30, I walk upstairs to Prim's room and wake her, whispering "Be quiet. We don't want to wake your father or Finnick! Come on, we're going hunting!" Her facial expression tells me how she feels. Ecstatic. We rarely hunt together, and Prim treasures every time that we do.
Prim is the perfect tribute. She can climb the thinnest trees; perfectly skin rabbit and squirrel; she can shoot a groosling or turkey dead before they even know that they're in view. She'll be fine food-wise. She'll definitely ally with the District 12 male, whoever he is, and maybe with the tributes from 11, 14(which was the United Kingdom), or 20 (previously The Netherlands). The one problem will be the Careers. From districts 1, 2, 4 and 18. District 18 specialize in weaponry. Sounds like the perfect Career District, I thought. It seems Snow thought that too, as he built a training center in District 18. The Careers from 18 were accepted by the other Careers almost immediately, whom saw them as more help, not more competition. They are the perfect Careers, too. The country that 18 is placed over, were very involved in two very dangerous wars, before the Dark Days, called the World Wars. Many millions died in them, and the second one was ran by one man, who chose his Capitol to be there. He was like a past Snow. Snow is like a present him. They're like twins, but from different times.
As we hunt, I see a flock of groosling. I turn to tell Prim, but she's already shot three dead. She has amazing reflexes. I shoot one by the time she's shot her fifth. All 6 in the flock are dead. "Prim... wow. That was... incredible. Better than me..." I complement, stunned by her actions. She blushes and mumbles "Thanks."
"No, Prim. That was absolutely fabulous. That... that was better than anything I can do." I tell her honestly. "Those reflexes could save your life. I know killing a person is different, and I tried to kill as few as possible. I only killed two people in my time in the arena. Marvel, the boy from one, because he threw the spear that killed Rue; and Cato, the boy from two, because he was dying a slow, painful death, and I wanted his pain to end. Those reflexes though, mutt-wise, could be your savior. You will have to kill; you'll be forced to kill, but that doesn't mean that you can't apologize for it, or say goodbye. You can." She nods her head, mutters something I don't hear, and we continue through the woods.
*"^"*
We come home with the six groosling, a squirrel and two rabbits. We pluck the groosling, skin the squirrel and rabbit, and head off to the Hob. Even though the coal warehouse was useless since we directly send coal to the Capitol, the warehouse was rebuilt, and abandoned immediately, re-building the Hob. We trade three groosling with Greasy Sae, which earns us a few chuncks o parrafin and promise of soup when needs be; both rabbits and a groosling to Rooba, which gets us 25 coins; the squirrel goes to Ripper for free, which leaves us with two groosling. We go home, and find no-one is home. I look to the clock; 1:20. "That's right," Prim says, looking away from the clock, "Dad and Finnick are working at the bakery." She grins.
"Well then," I begin, almost certainly thinking the same thing she is. "Maybe, we can do some more... training?"
"Yes!" Prim squeals in delight. There's my little girl. I head for the supplies, grabbing throwing knives, an axe, the edible plants book, fire starters (un-needed), some string, some groosling feathers and my quiver of arrows."Now Primrose, where shall we start today? Hmm?" I ask, trying, and failing, to hide the smile on my face. She chooses the obvious choice; bow-crafting. We take to the woods once again, for prim to find a suitable branch. Once she does, she removes the bark and starts putting it into shape. I give her the string, leaving all the work to her, and watch. She cuts just the right amount if string, and within the next two minutes,has a new, fully functioning bow. She already knows how to make arrows, and crafts a dozen. She moves on to the throwing knives, which she finds difficult at first, but manages to improve. She doesn't need to be professional, so it doesn't necessarily matter. "You know, I could probably do it." Prim grins. throwing her last knife, which ends up slightly off-target. Her words have taken me aback. "Of course you could. You will. Don't underestimate your abilities." I tell her. We put the supplies away and have some cheese buns that Peeta left for us for lunch.
Peeta and Finnick arrive awhile after Prim and I had lunch. We're watching some Capitol comedy movie, which doesn't disappoint. The boys join us, laughing at the movie. It's nice to have something that makes us smile at a time like this. Seeing Prim laugh reminds me just how young she is; just how terrible Snow is. We enjoy the rest of the movie eating a food called "popcorn", which is delicious, as expected, with it coming from the Capitol. I heard that this food was eaten before Panem even existed. We laugh through the movie, and when it is over Peeta goes off to make dinner, while Prim, Finnick and I watch some Capitol kid's movie, which isn't too bad, all things considered. Finnick is delighted with it, and Prim seems to enjoy it too. They are being children, which is all I want, and that makes me smile, too. I absent-mindedly run my fingers through Prim's long blond curls. It soothes me, in a strange way; it calms me.
After the second movie ends, we have dinner; roast groosling with carrot and roast potato. It's a nice meal. Prim and Finnick go to bed once their finished, leaving Peeta and I to discuss today's training. "So, how'd it go?" Peeta asks, sipping his tea.
"Good; Prim can make a bow, and a good one at that. She tried the throwing knives. She's no Clove, but she's good. Not great, but good." I tell him.
"I was thinking, and I'd like to bring Prim to the bakery tomorrow, get her to loft some of the flour sacks. It'll be useful if she can hold a large weight. " Peeta points out. I nod in agreement.
"Speaking of the bakery, how was it with Finnick today?" I ask, trying to talk about the games as little as possible.
"Oh, he was good. He enjoyed trying to ice the cakes. He has quite a steady hand." Peeta inform me.
"Oh, well he must get that from both of us." I say, smiling. Peeta yawns, finishing his tea. "I think someones a little tired." I tell him, getting up from the chair. I head up the stairs behind him, struggling to hold back a yawn. In truth, I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally. Peeta kisses me goodnight, and I kiss him back, heading into the bedroom. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
*"^"*
I am surrounded by trees. It is a familiar scene. Then it hits me; the arena. My arena, the place that haunts me even though I certainly will never be going back. I am running, though to where I don't know, but I keep running. I stop in some bushes. I see a table, and a girl running up to it; Foxface. I am running next, and then I am on my back, someone kneeling on my chest. It's Clove. She's playing her knife around my face. I see a dead Rue, a dead Peeta, two dead Finnicks, two, almost identical, twelve-year-old Prims. Cato is now here, and Foxface is cutting off my hands, with a knife she must've had. Clove is saying that she is "Getting revenge for Glimmer and Marvel," and that "There's no lover boy to save you now." Then, Peeta's dead body is left with me; And my mother's and sister's; And my children's.
*"^"*
I wake up, a covered in a thin sheen of sweat. I scream, but quickly calm once I see Peeta lying beside me, his harms holding me tight as if to say that he'll never let go; never leave me. I take one of the pills we have for really bad nights, like tonight for me, and have a glass of water. I soon fall into a dreamless, or more of a nightmare-less sleep.