I was right about the coming snow. It falls in thick, wet flakes without letup. The wind makes visibility next to impossible and it seems to find every loose board and crack to sneak through. There's almost no point in baking bread for the bakery today because no one's going to come in this blizzard. But baking helps me take my mind off of my troubles, so I wind up in the kitchen anyway. The swirling whiteness outside leaves me to understand the significance of the whipping. Things are going to be very different here in Twelve from now on.
And the funny thing is, I'm not dead terrified like I'd thought I would be. Because this is what I've been fretting about all along. There's no more "ifs" and "maybes". The cards are on the table, even if it's a rotten hand. I know that this new Head symbolizes new times. This crackdown is surely meant to stifle any thoughts of rebellion and so far, it's working. Look how quickly people left after the whipping. We've realized how powerless we are in the face of the Capitol. I've realized what a dastard I am. Leaving to save my own skin. Thinking only of myself and how ashamed I'd feel facing my son who was once again braver than I.
So the days pass. We hole up inside, keeping the doors and windows shut tight, the fireplace blazing, doing everything we can to fight the mounting conditions. By the time the clouds have conquered our streets and houses, Twelve is literally buried under ten foot drifts. The untouched, white surface glitters, reminding me of the Peacekeeper's equally pristine uniforms. It's not a good comparison. Everything that took place before the blizzard returns full force. Peeta blatantly defying authority. Gale's flogging. Thread. Due to the snow, I haven't seen Peeta since the square. I wonder if he'll drop by once the roads are cleared or if he's still angry with me about trying to hold him back.
My wife's the one to tell me about the new developments. A whipping post, stockades, and a gallows. She went out early this morning to get some necessities from the public market. Apparently, Thread's wasted no time in creating means of punishment. She also tells me that the black market has been burned to the ground. It seems that District Twelve will be entirely reformed by the time spring comes.
"The mines are closed, too," she says, shaking her head. "I guess the rumors of rebellion here reached the Capitol."
"Does that mean people aren't going to resist?"
She shrugs. "Right now everyone's too scared to leave their houses. This blizzard gave us a good reason to stay indoors, but I don't think anyone's in a hurry to step out of line after what happened to the Hawthorne boy."
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of these torture tools right outside our door. We'll know about every single person who passes through their horrors. It's almost longingly that I think of the house in the Victor's Village, far away from the moans and cries sure to come.
Much to my surprise, Peeta and Katniss do drop by a little later. She purchases some cakes, but I think it's mostly to give Peeta some time to talk to me. It's not like it matters. We don't discuss Thread's new tools or the whipping. Nothing of worth. There's still a coolness when he addresses me and I know he's still upset. I was only trying to protect him, but I've disappointed my son once again. Well, I'm almost used to that feeling now.
"Crazy weather, huh?" Peeta says stiffly.
"Yeah. Everything okay where you are?"
"Sure. The houses in the Village have nice insulation. Do you think we'll get anymore snow?"
I shrug. "I don't see how there's room for another flake."
As the days pass, a general feeling of panic begins to manifest. Not because of the stocks or the whipping post, although they see plenty of action, but because of the food shortages. I take back anything I said about us making it through the winter. District Twelve is starving. It seems that every child is signing up for the tesserae, even some of the merchant kids which is unheard of. The problem is there's just no one buying. People are reluctant to leave their houses most days. By trying to squelch the talk of an uprising, the Capitol has created a much larger problem that I doubt they even care about.
I begin to feel guilty about the money our family possesses. We have handfuls of it, much more than enough, and the district is utterly famished. I see the children's skeletal faces in the windows before their mothers pull them away and draw the curtains. I stop charging for bread, letting folks take one loaf until the day's supply runs out. Not even my wife makes a comment about this because she's seen the shaking hands and gaunt faces of our neighbors. Parcel Day, which was supposed to be our saving grace, arrives bringing spoiled food that's infested with other hungry vermin.
And yet, Thread still finds every reason to punish our starving people. Every time I hear the sound of the blasting hose with its powerful stream of water hitting the stones of the square, I know the Peacekeepers are washing away the crimson bloodstains of another victim of the whipping post. Twelve can't take this much longer.
Peeta still comes to the bakery in the morning. He's the only person who isn't completely miserable. He knows, of course, what's happening. He understands why we bake twice as much bread for no cost. But something is sustaining the glow in his eyes and I have a nagging suspicion that it has something to do with a certain girl who wears a braid in her hair. To think that just a few months ago, Katniss and Peeta were barely speaking to each other and now, they're the only people in our district with life left. Yes, Peeta is definitely okay, more than okay.
So it's only natural that I'm much more concerned about Twelve's state than I am about Peeta's - that is, until two Peacekeepers show up at our door looking for him.
My wife glances out the window when they rap on our door and her face hardens. "It's Peacekeepers," she says and hurries to open it.
"Are you the legal guardian of Peeta Mellark?" the female asks. No greetings. No pleasantry.
"Yes, I'm his mother, but -"
"We're requesting to speak with him. If he is home, he is required to come forth. We have a few questions regarding Katniss Everdeen," the female's partner says. He stands rigidly, ignoring the bitter cold that descends upon our warm bodies like vultures.
I step father into the light, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. "Peeta isn't here. He lives in the Victor's Village."
"Who are you?" the woman demands.
"I'm his father." I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. What could these two Peacekeepers want with Peeta and why have they come here? They said they needed to ask him questions… about Katniss. I may not know what they expect to hear, but I do know Peeta. He'll never do anything to condemn her, even if it means convicting himself. "But, why have you come to us? Peeta hasn't been here at all today."
"We've already checked his designated residence and it was vacant. We are required to check all possible locations before marking him missing as well."
As well?
My wife sniffs. "He's probably off somewhere with his fiancée."
The woman raises her eyebrows, challenging my wife's cool tone. "Katniss Everdeen has not been seen all day. She was reported going beyond the fence at an early hour this morning. We do not know who else she brought with her or where she went."
"So you think my son might be with her?"
"At the very least, he may know where she's gone," the woman says. "But since he cannot be located, his status is the same as hers."
"Give them at least until sunset," my wife cries, "before you go bringing in reinforcements and it's discovered the two of them were off picnicking for the day."
"In this weather?" the man laughs humorlessly. "The fence surrounding the district is charged and it will be charged every day, twenty four hours, from now on. If they are outside the boundaries, they will not be coming back in undetected."
I'm reeling. Could Katniss and Peeta really have left the district? For good or just for the day? Katniss goes into the woods all the time, but now, with the fence on, she won't get back in so seamlessly. I'm sure she's gone into the woods, but would Peeta really have gone with her? And what will happen to them if the Capitol finds them on the other side of the fence like they're bound to? Are they important enough to pardoned or will punishments be inflicted? A sickening feeling arises in me as images of Peeta and Katniss being whipped until their backs are bloody, raw slabs of mutilated flesh flash before my eyes. But instead of losing it, I surprise myself. "Have you checked Mr. Abernathy's place?" I ask in a low voice.
"Mr. Haymitch Abernathy?" the woman repeats haltingly "Why, no, we weren't -"
"Before you send out a search team, check there. I know Peeta and Katniss have been spending a lot of time there." I have no idea if that's true. Haymitch is so drunk most of the time that I doubt he has much company, even from our victors, but it's enough to buy my son more time to appear.
The two Peacekeepers glance at each other, trying to decide whether to take my suggestion into account.
"Dad?"
Everyone turns to see Peeta, standing at the door to the kitchen. The smell of baking bread follows him. There's a hint of kind of spice. Dill, maybe. And cinnamon, too. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. I've just finished -" he stops abruptly as he catches sight of the Peacekeepers. I can see him trying to piece together the situation.
The first feeling to register in my brain is relief. Because he isn't beyond the fence. He can't be convicted of leaving Twelve if he's standing right here. But as the Peacekeepers get over their disguised surprise, I also feel a little anxious. Peeta is still in hot water, even if he isn't outside the district. He'll be picked clean until they're certain he has no idea where Katniss is.
"Peeta Mellark," the woman says. "How long have you been here?"
"I came through the bakery door about five minutes ago." He gestures backwards towards the kitchen. "I was supposed to help my dad with the bread this morning, but -"
"So, you haven't seen Katniss Everdeen at all today?" the man interrupts.
Peeta's face turns steely as he comes forward, standing in front of me to face the Peacekeepers. "No, she wasn't home."
"And when was the last time you saw her?"
"What's happened?" I feel Peeta tense beside me. "Where is she?"
"Mr. Mellark, we're going to need you to come with us," the female Peacekeeper says. It takes me a moment to realize he's talking to my son, not next
"No," Peeta says. "Not until you tell me what's going on. Where's Katniss?" There's genuine fear in his voice, laced with defiance.
"Katniss Everdeen disappeared into the woods early this morning. If you know of her whereabouts, we're demanding that you tell us."
My son stands taller, folding his arms. "How do you know? Maybe she's in the market? Did you see her going under the fence?"
The female Peacekeeper narrows her eyes. "Mr. Mellark, I'm asking the questions here. Do you know where Katniss Everdeen is?"
"She's not in the woods," Peeta says automatically. "She's not beyond the fence. The snow's too thick to even walk where it hasn't been cleared."
"Someone reported a figure crawling under the fence early this morning," the woman insists doggedly.
"So? That could have been anyone," my son says.
"Katniss Everdeen is the only person who regularly presses the borders of this district. We've already checked and Gale Hawthorne is at home."
"But you don't -"
"Mr. Mellark!" the Peacekeeper barks, her voice rising. "We're not asking your opinion. We want the facts."
"I don't know where she's gone, but I can guarantee you she's somewhere here in Twelve," Peeta tells the Peacekeepers in a measured tone.
"We'll see about that. Please follow us."
My son swallows hard. "Where are we going?"
The man looks very put out by that fact that his possible witness is interrogating him when the reverse should be true. "We're going to Katniss Everdeen's designated home in the Victor's Village where you will await further questioning. And, because your father was so kind to bring up the close relationship between Katniss and your mentor, we will be bringing Mr. Abernathy along too."
Great, so it's my fault that Haymitch will be dragged into this.
"If what you say is true," the man continues. "And Katniss isn't outside the fence, then she will surely be home for dinner. We have a message for her from Head Peacekeeper Thread. Believe me, we want her to show up as much as you do."
Peeta bites his lip. He no choice but to be marched down the steps and along the road. Just before he rounds the bend, he turns and glances back at me, his lips moving.
"What?" I call after him.
"Take the bread out of the oven!" he calls over the wind.
I nod. The message is clear. Pretend that everything's fine. Continue about business until something truly happens. Forget the fact that my son is defending a girl who everyone knows is guilty. If a figure went under the fence this morning, it's without a doubt Katniss Everdeen. The question is, what form will her punishment take?