Disclaimer: Hunger Games is not mine.

Author's note: I know it's been literally ages since I've posted anything. And I am so sorry! I just haven't had the time. But here's a new chapter! Hope you like it! =)

Katniss

Despite the torturous events that yesterday held for me, I wake up in a good mood. That's because today is Saturday, and Saturday means hunting with Gale. It's early – dawn is only just beginning to break over the trees – but I'm wide awake. I dawn my hunting clothes quietly, step into my boots and am out the door without waking my mother and Prim.

My feet deftly tread across the dirt road that leads toward the fence. I pause for a moment to listen for the hum that indicates danger, but hear nothing. Once I'm on the other side, I draw my bow and quiver from their hiding place and make my way to the cliff surrounded by berry bushes where I know I'll find Gale. He's probably been there for an hour already.

I climb the incline toward our spot and, as I expected, there is Gale, crouching down and gazing out at District Twelve over the bushes. I copy him – the view is the same as always. The square is silent. The roads of the Seam are just beginning to fill with miners heading to work.

"What was Peeta Mellark doing in the Seam yesterday?" Gale asks suddenly, without turning his head to look at me.

"What?" I say, thrown off guard by his question.

He turns his eyes on me now. "I saw you and Peeta Mellark walking into town from the Seam yesterday. What was he doing there? Why were you with him?" Something about his tone makes me think that he's more than just merely curious, but I push the thought aside. Of course he's just curious.

"Madge invited Rye Mellark to her house after school. She wanted me to bring you, but I know you don't like Rye. So she invited Peeta." His name sounds strange on my lips as I speak it so casually, but I brush the thought aside. "I was thinking of staying home, but Madge made him follow me."

"Ah," he responds, a look of amusement spreading across his face. "Well, then, I suppose I owe you for keeping me out of it."

"I would have gotten out of it, too, if it wasn't for Prim," I respond a little sourly. I can see the questioning look in his eyes, so I continue. "She practically dragged Peeta with us to the Seam. He gave her a cookie."

"He knows what he's doing," Gale said thoughtfully. "Of course you wouldn't say no to Prim."

"Unfortunately," I reply. In truth, the evening hadn't been nearly as bad as I'd anticipated. But that still doesn't mean that I enjoyed myself.

After a moment more of watching District Twelve, Gale and I rise in silence. I shoulder my bow, and he his snares, and we make our way back into the forest. He nods to me and heads east, while I go north. This is what I love about hunting with Gale – we don't need to talk. We know our jobs and we don't waste any time in doing our respective parts. In the end, we both reap the benefits.

I must be in luck today, because I manage to shoot two squirrels and a rabbit before I even reach my destination. I deposit them into my game bag and soon find myself at the edge of a small clearing between the trees. I hear the turkeys before I see them, and my feet become light beneath me. I notch an arrow and draw the string of my bow, taking aim. It only takes me a moment to mark my target, and when I release my grip my arrow flies straight. The turkeys take flight, except the one that I've claimed. I retrieve my kill quickly – the turkey fills my game bag, so there's hardly any use in going after another one.

I take my time doubling back to the cliff, and manage to gain one more squirrel on the way. I run into Gale on my way back. He's untying a rabbit from one of his snares. This is how it's always been since we started hunting together. I'm a better archer, but I can't trap like Gale can. My snares have gotten a little better with his help, at least. Together, we've caught a turkey, five squirrels and three rabbits. This is the best time of year to hunt – the forest is overpopulated with wildlife due to the ideal weather. We take full advantage of it, of course, so that our families can make it through the lifeless winter months without starving.

We slip back through the fence and make our way toward the merchant's district. Like last weekend, we find our way to the back of the bakery. Gale raps his knuckles on the door, and suddenly I feel a wave of nerves rush through me. I don't know where they came from, but all I can think of is that I do not want Peeta Mellark to open that door. What will I do if he does? I can't just ignore him like I usually do, can I? Not after yesterday.

My stomach clenches in a slight panic when the door swings open and I am greeted by blonde hair and blue eyes – but I quickly let out a breath of relief. It isn't him. It's Rye.

"Well if it isn't the almighty huntress herself!"

I smile. Gale scowls.

"I come bearing squirrels," I say for Rye's amusement. Gale doesn't find it funny, and pushes past the both of us into the bakery with his game bag. I sigh and follow him, trying not to laugh at the look Rye gives him. I can see why they don't get along.

"Hello Gale. Katniss," a kind voice says from inside. I smile at Mr. Mellark as he approaches us. The baker is a good man who pays us fairly for our game. I look around, pretending to be interested in the cakes while Gale trades with the Baker. In reality I am searching for him.

"Peeta has the day off," Rye says from behind me. I turn to look at him sharply. A knowing grin is plastered on his face, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Why do I care whether Peeta is here or not?

"That's nice," I say, hoping that my voice sounds casual and not embarrassed. "I guess you weren't so lucky?" I add, trying to change the subject slightly. I'm surprisingly comfortable talking to Rye. But I am still uncomfortable talking about the boy with the bread.

"I'll have the afternoon off when Tan gets here," Rye responds, easily taking the bait. "I might drop in on Madge."

Apparently Rye had a good time last night. "She'd like that," I tell him.

"Come on Katniss, let's go," Gale says from behind me. He is done trading, and I can tell that he doesn't want to be around Rye any longer, so I nod.

"Thank you Mr. Mellark," I say to the baker, and he gives me a smile. I return it, nod to Rye, and step out of the bakery. As we close the door behind us, Gale tucks the wrapped bread into his game bag.

"He was friendly to you, wasn't he?" Gale says, and I can hear the irritation in his voice.

I give him a pointed look. "He has no reason not to be," I remind him. "He isn't so bad."

"He's an ass."

"Okay, then." There's no arguing with Gale when it comes to something like this. And like I said, I can see why Gale and Rye don't get along. They're cut from two very different cloths. They won't ever see eye to eye.

We walk for a few minutes in silence before we emerge into the square. As we cross it, I hear my name. "Katniss!" The hair on the back of my neck rises a bit at the sound of the voice. I know immediately that it's him. No, no, no. But there's no escaping him – he's spotted me and is already crossing the square at a steady pace. I glance quickly at Gale, but he just looks irritated at the interruption.

Realizing that I can't escape, I come to a halt and wait for Peeta to reach me. Gale stops beside me and crosses his arms impatiently. It doesn't take long, and when he comes within a few feet of me, he smiles. Forcing myself not to look away, I notice that he has this way of smiling with just one side of his mouth. For some reason, I feel warmth spread up the back of my neck as I take it in.

It would be polite to smile back, but I don't. I just wait for him to say what he wants. I should at least say hello, but I can't form the word. I just stand there and hope that this moment will end as quickly as possible. After our discussion last night, I should be at least a little more comfortable speaking with him. But I'm not. If anything, I feel more awkward than before.

Peeta doesn't seem deterred by my lack of manners. I'm thankful that he doesn't hesitate to get on with why he stopped me. "Here," he says, pulling something from his pocket and shoving it into my hands before I can see what it is. After a moment, I recognize it as a cookie like the one he gave to Prim yesterday. "For your sister."

"I can't pay for this," I say immediately, handing it back to him. But he doesn't take it.

"I'm not asking you to."

"I mean it. I can't accept this."

"It isn't for you to accept," he says, shrugging as though what I'd said didn't matter. "It's for your sister."

I glance at Gale for help, but am surprised to find his dark gaze locked on Peeta – not quite a glare, but almost. But it seems that I have no alternative. Peeta refuses to take the cookie back. And part of me would love to see Prim's face light up when I hand it to her. So I pocket it. "Thank you."

At my thanks, Peeta cracks another smile. "Tell her that I'd still be glad to teach her how to make the colored icings, if she wants. Maybe tomorrow."

I can't believe him. What exactly is he trying to do? I want to protest, but I am too desperate for this conversation to end. So I just say "Maybe," and turn away from him. Gale is quick to follow me.

"What's he playing at?" Gale says lowly to me as soon as we're out of earshot of the square.

I hesitate, because I don't really know the answer. Peeta's words from our conversation last night rush into my head.

"I talk to everyone."

"I'm not everyone."

"That's why I talk to you."

I try to wrap my mind around the fact that the boy with the bread doesn't talk to me just because he's friendly. He tries to talk to me because I'm different from the rest. But right now, I can't figure out what he stands to gain from it. What does he want with someone like me?

"You should stay away from him," Gale says suddenly. "He's a merchant. He's probably just trying to get you to go to the slag heap with him."

"Gale!" I exclaim in shock. Apparently Gale has a pretty strong opinion about what Peeta wants with someone like me. My face instantly heats up at the thought of what he is suggesting, and I don't hesitate to punch his arm. Oftentimes, the poor girls of the Seam are desperate for food or money, and so they go crawling to the merchants in hopes of exchanging a good time for a scrap of bread or a few coins. I am not one of them.

"Oh come on, Katniss, don't be so naïve," Gale says, not even flinching when my fist collides with his flesh. "Why else would a merchant bother giving anything of value to Seam trash?" Seam trash. I hate that phrase. But I know that Gale is only using it to prove his point. It's what the merchants think of us. He's right. But somehow, I don't think that's what Peeta is trying to accomplish.

"If that's what he wanted, he wouldn't need me," I point out, trying to get over the awkwardness of the topic. Talking about anything sexual with Gale just felt wrong, even in the current context. "There are plenty of Seam girls who beg for that. He'd go for one of them."

And of course there's the fact that Peeta Mellark would probably have no trouble pursuing a girl of higher status, like Madge. I remember his crooked smile and know that I'm right.

"Just be careful," Gale says sharply.

"I always am. I'm not stupid, Gale," I retort. "Or desperate," I add. "And I don't need you to tell me how to take care of myself."

Gale lets the subject drop, but I can tell that he's still thinking about it. Part of me wonders why he is so concerned. He knows that I can hold my own. We walk the rest of the way in silence, and eventually reach the point where we fork off to go to our separate houses. Desperate to get home – to end this miserable walk of embarrassment – I increase my pace. My house is only a few yards away. But before I can stray far, Gale catches me by the arm.

"Come on Catnip, you know I didn't… mean anything by it," he says lowly, and by the way he looks away I can tell that he feels awkward now, too. He regrets bringing it up. "I know you can – that you can you know, fend for yourself - "

"Gale," I interrupt him, feeling my cheeks redden once more.

"I just don't trust him."

Closing my eyes for a moment and willing that this can be the end, I sigh and respond. "I know. It's fine. Now I need to get inside and start dinner, okay? I'll see you tomorrow." Offering him a weak smile to show my sincerity, I pull my arm from his grasp and attempt once more to reach my house. This time, he lets me.

I've never been more relieved to close the door behind me. I vaguely recognize in the back of my mind how pathetic it makes me that such a small amount of social interaction can so easily overwhelm me.

It isn't until later on, when the smell of rabbit stew is wafting potently through the house, that I hear Prim's voice drift through the air. I turn from where I stand at the stove, filling three bowls, to see her come through the door, followed shortly by our mother.

"Katniss!" Prim shouts excitedly, like she always does. And as always, I can't hold back my smile. Prim's enthusiasm is impossible to ignore.

"Hope you're hungry," I respond fondly, setting her bowl of stew on the table. Then, turning to my mother, I offer her a less sincere smile in greeting. "Everything okay with Mrs. Stantson?" I ask, curiosity laced in my voice.

Prim answers before my mother can. "Oh yes, she's just wonderful! Mom says that she'll have her baby any day, right Mom?!" My mother agrees, but I can see the worry in her eyes. A new baby in the Seam isn't considered a joyous occasion until the infant is properly born and proven healthy. But nobody would dare tell Prim something like this. Especially when her excitement at the new child is so clear.

Keeping my voice light, I respond with some slightly fake enthusiasm. "That's exciting! Does she know what she'll name it yet?" If I can trust Prim to do anything, it's to have chatted Mrs. Stantson's head off about something as unimportant as the baby's name.

"Well, I think that if it's a girl, she should name it Holly. Don't you think that's a sweet name? I sure do," Prim says, taking a bite of her stew.

For some reason, the word sweet makes me suddenly feel the weight of the cookie in my pocket. I'd forgotten about it until now, and I wish that I still could. But how can I deny Prim such a simple pleasure when it's right there for me to give to her? After all, it would be a waste to throw it away, and I know that Peeta will never accept it back. So, with the knowledge that I'll never stop owing Peeta Mellark, I pull it out and set it on the table beside her. "Looks like you've got an admirer," I say to her as her eyes take it in.

"Another cookie?" she squeaks, clearly surprised. But her eyes are bright with happiness as she unwraps it to reveal a pretty colored flower. "Oh, it's beautiful! Katniss, is this from Peeta?"

I tilt my head and give her a look. "Come on Prim, who else would have given you a frosted cookie?" She knows that I could never afford it. "He also said – " I cut myself off, because I really don't want to tell Prim. Because I know that she will be overjoyed and that I will be forced to take her. But again, how can I deny her his words? Like he had said, they weren't for me to refuse. They were for Prim. So, reluctantly, I start again. "Peeta said that he can show you how he colors the icing, if you want. Tomorrow."

I choke the last word out because I really don't want to say it. The resulting look on her face makes me feel slightly better, but I still feel sick to my stomach. Because I know that tomorrow, I will be spending more unwanted time with Peeta Mellark. Gale's words ring in my ears, about Peeta knowing what he's doing by being kind to Prim. And I despise them, but I secretly wonder if they're slightly true.

Author's Note: Okay guys! Like I said before, I am REALLY HONESTLY TRULY sorry that this has been dead for so long. I haven't even logged in to check my account in months. But when I did, I was SO SURPRISED to see how much positivity this story received, so I felt as though I definitely owed you guys another chapter! It isn't super long or exciting or anything, but it's something! I hope you guys like it, and I'd love to read your thoughts, hopes, constructive criticism - anything! PLEASE READ AND REVIEW AS ALWAYS, because you guys are wonderful =D

HAPPY READING!

UrbanLegend645