XVII
…
I left a note on the counter that I had gone out. I didn't say where or with who or why. I just told Cato that I was out and would be back by afternoon.
It was dark now, but dawn was approaching.
I made my way through town silently, staying in the shadows even well after I entered the Seam. With the new Head Peacekeeper, Thread, the number of those patrolling the district increase. And I know I wasn't doing anything wrong, but no one was out and if seen, it'd only raise questions. And if I was seen and I was approached, I don't know how it would go. After everything, I don't know how I would act. The only Peacekeeper I could stand was Darius, and even he got on my nerve sometimes. All I know was I just didn't want to be seen and I didn't want to meet Thread… not yet.
I make it to the meadow unseen, just as the sun peaks into the sky. I walk through the yellowed and dying grass silently. I don't make a noise, but listen in to what voices the world around me had to say.
The trees creaked. The birds chirped. The wind chilled. The grass mumbled.
There were no leaves rustling or gracefully falling to the ground. There were no or few creatures scampering around in the tall braches of the trees. There were no insects buzzing around the once present wild flowers.
Winter was here. In just the past week the temperature dropped drastically and all, if any, leaves were left in the trees fell. The wind picked up and everything lively seemed to sink away. Any day now it would snow, there was already ice covering half the district.
I make it across the fence and to the part of the fence that I had come accustom to slipping under over the years. Staring at it now brings back memories… the first time my father took me out into the forbidden woods to the time I shot my first squirrel successful through the eye and the time when I had first met Gale as well as the last time I was where, the day of my Reaping.
I suck in a deep breath, picking a nearby fallen stick off the ground. Then letting out my breath, I toss the stick at the fence, clarifying it wasn't alive.
Wasting no time I slip under and across what Gale and I had called "no man's land" before disappearing into the barren brush.
Fallen leaves and branches littered the ground. There were no animals in sight; only the soft sound flapping and ruffling wings seemed to echo through the branches from somewhere deeper in the forest. The trees were bare and some were missing bark. The only things that seemed to be the same as I had remembered were the still green evergreens and few stringy weeds peeking out from under rocks and aside tree stops.
I don't waste too much time retrieving my bow and heading to the usual waiting spot.
When I get to where Gale promised to meet me, I sit down on the lightly frost covered rock. I adjust my quiver on my back and pull my knees to my chest. I rest my elbows on my knees, my bow dangling from my fingertips in front of me.
It feels different, the bow. It was mine, the bow I had used since I was maybe six. It was my own flesh and blood… and yet it felt so foreign. It wasn't like before, when I use to hunt early in the mornings before school with Gale, it didn't feel like the same bow. The Games, that's what's changed. The Games changed everything, my family, my social life, my mentality, my sensitivity, and my bow. Now, it was something else. It felt rough in my hands, too power, too right, and too wrong. It wasn't an item of survival anymore; it was an item of slaughter.
I'm so consumed that I don't hear the silent footsteps come up from behind me. I jump to my feet when I feel him tap on my shoulder.
He holds his hands up in surrender. "Woah there, Catnip."
I look to him confused and his eyes dart toward my hands. That's when I saw it…
There was the bow in one hand and in the other an arrow. My feet are planted, knees bent, and knuckles white. I was in an attack position.
Shit.
Quickly slipping the arrow back into the quiver and bow over my shoulder I press my hands against my forehead, stepping what.
What was going on?
I don't know what happens, but next thing I know is that I'm bent over and Gale is kneeling down and cocking his head to his eyes look into mine.
"Hey," he says, "you okay?"
No. But all I can do is nod anyway.
He does too and I stand up. He gives me a careful look for a moment, looking me over, and then stands up too.
He gives me a wiry look, "Up to check the snares?"
I nod.
And we go. We walk the hidden path that I know by the back of my hand. We check Gale's snares and we reset Gale's snares. We bit whatever herbs and berries are still left knowing that soon it'll be months till we see them again.
It's as we walk that I realize Gale is more… relaxed, especially more than he was last night. He was a stone wall last night from the moment he opened the door. He didn't speak much and his eyes were always watching Cato casually by my side. He would send glaring looks at him when he didn't think I was looking. He would mutter thinks under his breath and "accidentally" say inappropriate things when he did talk, taking every chance possible he could to make a stab at Cato.
He was horrible no less.
As he stops along the path, he kneels down on the ground. He brushes some leaves aside to reveal the falsely triggered snare. He lets out a sigh, fixing the strings to their original state. It's when he's done he stands up, brushing the dirty from his pants and turns to me, giving me an odd look.
"You okay, Catnip?"
"Why were you like that last night?"
He looks to me confused. "Like what?"
"Horrible to Cato. Mean."
He lets out a breath, rocking back on his heels and rolling his eyes. "Why do you care?"
I give him a look and he lets out a breath.
"He's a killer, Katniss, a cold blooded killer. You've seen him kill, we watched his Games. And no less he's from District 2, basically born and bred from the Capitol. I mean, did you really think I'd be okay with this, him being here? Hell, I'd been more okay if Finnick O'dair came back with you instead of him."
And all I can say is, "You know nothing, Gale."
That's it, that's all said.
We continue, silently. We finish checking the snares. And then we start back.
It's as we reach near where we met that there's a result. And the people who we are, we quickly duck down behind a near rock taking cover. We don't move for a moment and either of us says a word. When some time had passed, Gale makes a motion with his hand for me to stay down while he peaks over the rock. His face does not fill with fear or panic when he spots whatever it is that made the rustling noise, but he motions for me to come look. And there, less than ten feet away are two squirrels.
Game.
Swiftly and silently I go to grasp my bow in front of me and an arrow from my quiver.
Yet…
Before I can notch the arrow something comes over me and I don't know what, but I can'.t that's all I know, I can't. I can't shoot the arrow in my hand; I can't kill either one of the squirrels in front of me. It's just, no. and so reaching back, I drop the arrow back into the quiver and loop the bow over my shoulder so its string hung across my chest. Then standing up, I purposely step on a nearby twig causing the squirrels to look up before scattering.
I glance at Gale in the corner of my eye to see him staring at me. I don't think much of it though. Instead, I just keep going.
We make it back to the district in silence.
It isn't till we're about to part that I stand up for once. I stop in my tracks and Gale does the same, more or less surprised by my actions. I shuffle from foot to foot before looking up at him.
"You know, I'm like him."
"Katniss-"
"No." I say cutting him off. "I'm a killer, a cold blooded killer. You've seen me kill, you watched me in the woods here and you watched my Games. And maybe I wasn't born and bred from the Capitol or District 2, but I am no better than him. If anything, Gale, I am worse than him. So if you have a problem have a problem with him than you have a problem with me."
"Katniss-"
"You can't talk about things you don't know anything about Gale."
"Katniss-"
"I won't be going hunting next Sunday."
"Katniss-"
"Cinna will be coming in next week."
"Katniss."
And this time he says my name I freeze, caught off guard by the desperate plea in his voice.
"When will I see you again?"
I look down at my boots.
"I don't know."
He nods. "When will you be leaving for the Tour?"
"Three weeks."
He nods again. "Okay."
And I nod too, this time turning to leave before it's too late.