It is my least favorite season of the year. When the temperatures rise, temperaments do as well. I am no exception. I wipe the sweat from my brow as I stalk towards town square with my game bag slung over my shoulder. The sleeve of my shirt is already damp before I drag it across my forehead. The smell leaves something to desire.
If I need anything, it's a tall glass of ice water and a bath. I also need to dump the contents of my bag, my prizes from a testy day spent broiling in the unforgiving rays of the sun. No amount of canopy or cloud cover saved me from the sweltering heat, and most of my snares and traps had been set out under the direct light of the sun. My mood is a few shades from pleasant as I carry the bag towards the butcher first.
I know better than to spend the summer in the woods, but I've returned for lack of better ways to occupy my time. The oppressive heat in the bakery is no better. Peeta and I have quickly found it unhealthy for our budding relationship to spend such hours confined together in the heat. So sometimes I brave the weather, knowing it will only be worst indoors.
Pushing through the door to the butcher's, I toss the bag down onto the counter without commentary. I'm too worn out to even speak. The effort of opening my mouth would potentially pitch me over the edge and cause me to pass out. A cold soak, indeed, as soon as I get home. I'll worry about bartering to spend the money tomorrow. Today, I just want to get home and wait for the sun to set, to catch a small reprieve before tomorrow.
Coins are pushed across the counter. Sweeping them into my palm, I don't even bother a glance. The price is non-negotiable after all. And Rooba has been more than fair this summer, glad for the meat when others are smart enough to stay in the shade of their homes. With a lackluster nod in thanks, I depart as swiftly as I entered the shop. The smell of raw meat turns my stomach since I haven't eaten all day. Fresh fruit is what I want though, not hot meat.
The trek toward my house is merciless. It seems to get further and further outside of town with each passing day. My legs threaten to buckle, but I push them on. I will fill the bath as soon as I get home, I promise to them. Still they protest.
Just as I make my escape from town, the Goat Man catches my eye. I try to divert my attention, but I'm not quick enough. He beckons me over, and though I am tired and in no mood to socialize, I am not so rude as to completely brush him off. My legs halt with relief as I turn to face him. As I stand and stare towards him, he motions me closer.
With an exhausted exhale of humid air, I move closer. I wait for him to speak, dreading having to strike up conversation. But in this respect, I am spared. He says nothing at all, makes no attempt to speak. His aged fingers, permanently arched towards the center of his palm, move to grasp a rope lead. His hand shakes as his tries to close his fist around it while holding it out towards me.
My eyes follow the length of the rope. When they reach the end, my stomach turns for another reason now. At the end of the rope stands a small goat who reminds me of Lady soon after Prim nursed her back to health. The resemblance is uncanny, a twist of a knife to the gut. I keep telling myself I am over these moments of weakness. That one day the memories will cease to hit with such a force that knocks me off balance. I've been wrong so far; that day has yet to come.
His empty hand reaches for me, draws mine closer to him as he places the rope in my palm and curls my fingers around it. As I stare at him in bewilderment, he gives a nod of his head in affirmation.
"I don't have anything to trade," I tell him dumbly. The weight of coins sags against my belt, but in the moment I forget them, too shocked to think logically or clearly.
Shaking his head, he squeezes my hand before he pushes it back towards me and releases. As he stands there, he proceeds to shoo me away now that our business is apparently concluded. I can't move. All I can think about is how long we bartered when I bought Lady for Prim. I remember how hesitant he was to drop a single coin from the cost. And now he's giving me this goat, apparently for free.
War has changed us all. I see it every day in new and startling ways. I don't know what has spurred this act of kindness, but I vow not to let it go unpaid. I will bring him milk and cheese. I'll add bread from the bakery when I drop it off. I will love this stupid goat as much as my sister loved hers. I will remember this act of kindness and strive to make ones of my own.
With a nod in thanks, I head home without a word. My mind reels. I'm sitting on the front steps, my bath long forgotten, when Peeta comes home from the bakery. The goat stands at my feet, obliviously chewing on a patch of grass. Peeta raises an eyebrow in question. I chew on a piece of ice from my glass of water as I relay the short story.
Joining me on the steps, he asks what I'm going to name it. I've thought about it since the moment we arrived home, and I think I've finally got the answer. When I tell Peeta, he lets out a roaring laugh. He laughs so hard his eyes water. I think he may suffocate from the lack of oxygen, unable to catch his breath between the gaffs of hysteria.
As he sits and leans forward casually to rub the top of the goat's head, the questions slowly come. Prim had a goat? Real. I told him about it in the cave during our first Games? Real. The more we play this game, the more real everything becomes. The hazy memories are few and far between, and I take it as a sign that we're almost there. One day, we might be able to leave this game behind us. One day, there will be nothing left to doubt.
When Haymitch comes for dinner that night, his reaction is quite different. His face falls to a scowl as he stares me down. "Appropriate, though, I guess. There's an uncanny resemblance," he says, glancing back and forth between me and the goat. "Though I have to say, the goat is probably more attractive than you, Sweetheart."
At the sound of her new name, the goat bleats merrily as we herd her into the back and head inside to eat.