"Get out of here, girl."
"Only make it worse."
"What do you want to do? Get him killed?"
Voices hiss at me as I fight my way through the crowd, but I ignore them. Some people try to hold me back, but I yank away from all of them. Another meaty impact echoes through the square as I finally make it through to the cleared space near the post. "Stop it! You'll kill him!" I shriek as break free from the crowd.
I stop dead when Gale's assailant turns to me, and I finally get a look at his face. It's hard, with deep lines, a long, straight nose and a cruel mouth. Gray hair shaved almost to nonexistence. Eyes so black they seem all pupils. His cheeks are flushed with the exertion of flogging Gale, but he's not breathing heavily at all. "I take it you want to be next?" he sneers at me, pointing with the whip.
I flinch away from him and swallow hard to keep my dinner from making a reappearance. "I…"
Luckily I'm interrupted by another sound. "What the hell is going on here?" Peeta's voice demands. I look back to see him just emerging from the crowd, standing tall, his shoulders back, projecting an air of importance about him.
I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. He doesn't recognize the small girl cringing away from him, with no makeup and no fancy Cinna dresses, as the Hunger Games victor from television. Peeta is much more easily recognized out of context. It's enough to make this mystery Peacekeeper pause in his punishment. "This girl interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal."
"That girl is my wife, and that man is her cousin, and you just bought yourself a whole heap of trouble."
I have no idea what trouble Peeta thinks we can cause for this Peacekeeper, in fact I'm not sure threatening the Peacekeeper is a good idea at all, but while the man's attention is focused on Peeta I take the opportunity to approach Gale's unconscious form. His shirt has been torn away from him. I try to use the scraps to daub at his wounds, but there are too many of them, too deep. We can't do anything until we can cut him down and get him flat.
I hear the man speaking behind me. His voice is still cold, but I can detect a slight edge of doubt. "If you and your wife consort with known criminals, that's not my problem."
"Oh, really? Well, it's about to be, mister. You see, a camera crew is coming here next week, all the way from the Capitol. My wife and I are filming a television special to announce the impending birth of our first child. Do you think Uncle Gale is going to be ready for filming by then after what you've done to him today?"
The crowd, stunned into silence when we confronted the Peacekeeper, now begins murmuring to each other at Peeta's revelation about the baby. No doubt wondering if it's real or if he just made up a baby to sway the man. Meanwhile, while he's been talking Peeta has positioned himself between the Peacekeeper and the whipping post where Gale and I are.
"He was poaching," the man says, but now he's beginning to sound defensive. I glance up again at the turkey nailed to the post above Gale. Did he really go out to the woods? Did he really go hunting? Did he condemn everyone we were trying to save by having this baby in the first place? The thought is too terrible to contemplate, so I put it out of my mind for now.
"What, are you talking about the turkey? Is that what this is about?" Peeta asks, sounding as if he can't believe it. "Those things get inside the fence all the time. They're pests. Head Peacekeeper Cray pays people a coin a head to help keep them under control. Go ask him if you don't believe me."
"Peacekeeper Cray has been reassigned. I'm Head Peacekeeper here now."
"Well, if you're ending Cray's program of paying people to keep wild turkeys out of town, you could have just made an announcement rather than beat a man half to death," Peeta says with derision. "President Snow personally approved the television special we're doing next week, you know. He's taken a keen interest in our family since we won the Games. If we have to change our plans, he's going to want to know why." In a weird way, everything Peeta is saying now is actually true.
Before the man with the whip can respond, a new voice calls out, "What the hell is going on here?" It's Haymitch, I see him now coming from the other side of the crowd, a panting Rye Mellark behind him. Haymitch has been on television for 25 years, not to mention the mentor of the Co-Victors; him I know this new Head Peacekeeper will recognize. Haymitch stumbles a bit as he steps over the body of an unconscious Peacekeeper, who I realize is Darius, with a huge red mark near his temple. What happened to him? Did he try to come to Gale's aid before I got here?
Haymitch stays away from Peeta, far enough that the Peacekeeper has to take a few steps back in order to keep them both within his sight. It's just like when a pack of wild dogs will spread out to surround their prey from different angles.
Peeta doesn't move from his position between the Peacekeeper and me, but he turns to address Haymitch, gesturing behind him towards the post. "Look what this guy did to Uncle Gale! He'll never be ready for filming when they come to do the baby special! And all over one of those stupid turkeys that Cray pays people to kill when they get inside the fence!"
Haymitch catches every hint Peeta drops him. "Ah, hell," he grumbles, and turns to the Peacekeeper. "Who authorized you to mess up my new Victors' baby show? I'm not taking the fall for this one when the Capitol finds out."
Faced with the three of us, the man hesitates. We're probably the only three people in the district who could make him do that, who can make a stand like this and not simply join Gale at the whipping post. I know we'll never be able to do this again, and there will doubtlessly be repercussions later, but at the moment all I care about is keeping Gale alive.
The new Head Peacekeeper glances over at his backup squad. With relief, I see they're mostly familiar faces, old friends from the Hob. None of them appear to be enjoying the show. "Is that true? About Cray?" he asks them.
One of them, a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae's, steps forward stiffly, and she nearly matches Peeta's ability to lie using the truth. "There was never an official policy, but Cray did pay people for killing turkeys sometimes."
"Well, that practice is hereby discontinued," the man says sternly. He turns back to Peeta and me, running his hand along the length of his whip and spattering us with Gale's blood. "Get your cousin out of here, then, girl. But if he poaches again he'll be right back here under my whip, no matter what illegal activities your old Head tolerated." He turns to the surrounding crowd. "That goes for all of you as well! Cray was too comfortable here, and got lax in his duties. Those are not problems that will continue under my leadership." He quickly coils his whip into neat loops and stalks off in the direction of the Peacekeeper offices, followed by most of his new subordinates. A small group stays behind and hoists Darius's body up by his arms and legs, carrying him along behind. I catch Purnia's eye and mouth the word "Thanks" to her before she goes. She doesn't respond.
Haymitch comes over and passes his knife to Peeta, who cuts Gale free from the post. I try my best to catch him, and at least manage to turn him onto his stomach. "Better get him to your mother," says Haymitch.
Most people have fled the square by now. Even Rye is nowhere to be found. Peeta talks the old woman who runs the clothing stall into selling us the board she uses as her countertop, for a price only a Victor could afford, and only after we promise not to tell anyone where we got it. If the new Head Peacekeeper wanted to make sure everyone in the district was afraid of him, he's accomplished his goal.
Haymitch, Peeta, and two miners who work on the same crew as Gale hoist him up on the board. Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, offers to help us, and I ask her to go and get Hazelle for me. She promises to stay with the other kids so Hazelle can come to see Gale. Her gray eyes are scared but determined; my mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles.
As we walk, Gale's crewmates Bristel and Thom help us piece together what happened. Word apparently spread quickly through the district that this new Peacekeeper, who Bristel says is called Romulus Thread, was hauling Gale through town to the whipping post, so they both saw everything that happened there. Gale was forced to plead guilty to poaching and sentenced to the whipping, to be carried out immediately. All of this must have been happening even as Peeta and I were eating dinner. Thom says that by the time I showed up, Gale had been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. I can't believe it took us so long to notice the noise.
Hearing what Bristel and Thom saw, I can fill in the rest of the story myself. Cray always paid well for wild turkeys, it makes sense that Gale would go to his house if he had one to sell, not knowing that this Thread would be there instead. Standing there holding the turkey, there was nothing Gale could have said to defend himself, not that Thread seems like one to listen to any defenses anyway.
But where did Thread come from? I saw Cray buying white liquor at the Hob two days ago, and Thom reports he'd been seen around the district earlier today. But now he's nowhere to be seen and Romulus Thread is clearly in charge.
It seems very unlikely that our Head Peacekeeper just happened to be replaced mere hours before Gale showed up at his house carrying contraband. But the alternative, that Thread has been lying in wait, ready to reveal himself the moment someone connected to me did something punishable, sounds like pure paranoia.
"Lucky he only had the turkey on him," Bristel is saying. "If he'd had his usual haul, would've been much worse."
Thom nods his agreement. "Damndest thing, though. He hasn't hunted for months before today."
No, of course he hasn't been hunting. He knew his brothers' and sister's immunity from the reaping depended on him not hunting. Was he really so stupid as to go out today? Just like Romulus Thread, I find that turkey he was caught with pretty damning.
The discussion is all too much for me, and I have to stop and puke by the side of the road. Thom and Bristel think it's from the blood, but Haymitch and Peeta know better. I'm thinking about what Gale just cost us. What will happen to Prim. What will happen to my baby. If Gale survives this, I may kill him.
Peeta asks what happened to Darius. Bristel tells him that Darius tried to stop the flogging after around twenty lashes. "Only he didn't have the leverage to talk him down like you Victors did. He grabbed Thread's arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him."
"Doesn't sound like much good for any of us," says Haymitch.
My mother is taken aback when she opens the door to find us carrying a bloody Gale on a countertop. "New Head," Haymitch says, and she gives him a curt nod as if no other explanation is needed.
Mom and Prim quickly get to work, mixing medicines and heating water and preparing bandages. Haymitch tells me not to worry, that there used to be a lot of whippings before Cray took over and my mother always treated the victims. I don't know why that's supposed to make me feel better.
When Hazelle arrives she says nothing, merely sits on a stool next to Gale and presses his hand to her lips. My mother doesn't even pause her treatments to acknowledge her.
Peeta appears at my side. "Can I talk to you?" He still seems tense, like he's barely holding himself together. I see Haymitch showing Bristel and Thom out as we pass by the door. "Don't know what will happen with your crew," he says as he presses handfuls of coins into their hands. I don't know if it's because they're scared or if they're just not as stubborn as Gale and me, but they take the money.
Peeta pulls me into the study, and practically slams the door behind us. He takes several deep breaths before he speaks. "Katniss, what the hell were you thinking?"
I don't understand the anger in his question. "What do you mean, what was I thinking? He was going to kill Gale."
"And you thought it was a good idea for him to kill you too?"
"I'm fine," I snap at him. "What is this, are you jealous that I tried to save Gale? I never would have expected this from you, Peeta."
"That's not what this is at all. In case you didn't notice, I was right behind you," he says, and I can hear him trying to keep his anger under control. "If you had just stopped for one moment, I would have caught up with you and you could have let me confront Thread."
"And somehow it's okay for you to throw yourself between Gale and the Head Peacekeeper and it's not okay for me?" I demand.
"Yes!" he practically yells.
"And why is that?"
"Because I'm not pregnant!" he roars. It stops any retort I might have had dead in my throat. I almost choke with how fast my throat closes off, while Peeta continues venting his anger. "He wouldn't have even had to hurt you. He might have simply knocked you to the ground the wrong way. Gotten in a swift kick while you were down. Any of a hundred different things that you would brush off by the morning could have killed the baby! For someone who was so afraid of your children dying that you didn't even want to have any, you sure didn't have any qualms about Romulus Thread killing this one today!"
Peeta's words, carefully crafted as always, cut deep. I've never heard him use his skill with words to attack before. But at base he's not wrong. I didn't give a single thought to the baby, the only thing in my mind was saving Gale. I could have let Peeta confront Thread on his own, let Peeta confront Thread while I went and got Haymitch to back him up, or my mother to start Gale's treatment that much sooner, or even just stayed inside the bakery and kept the baby safe. But instead I ran straight into the middle of danger, and I put my child in even more danger.
It's another thing Gale and I have in common, I guess. We've both done stupid things today to endanger people I'm supposed to protect.
Having delivered his scathing rant, Peeta seems to deflate. He falls into a chair and hunches forward, his head in his hands. I have nothing to say so I say nothing. Peeta's accusation hangs heavy in the silence between us.
After a few minutes Peeta lifts his head, and I can see there are tears in his eyes. His voice is ragged as he speaks. "Katniss, I'm-"
He's interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
At first I just stare at it. Who would even be calling? Haymitch and Peeta are already here, and the only person I know outside the Village who even has a telephone is Madge at the mayor's house. But even then whenever we want to talk we do it in person. Occasionally I've spoken with Effie or Cinna by telephone, but this isn't even my phone. To the best of my knowledge the phone in my mother's house has never been used before.
Since Peeta makes no move to pick up the handset, I finally do. And somehow I'm not surprised at whose voice I hear when I press it to my ear. "My dear Mrs. Mellark. You are having quite an exciting evening, aren't you?"
I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat. "President Snow."
Peeta's head snaps up, but he doesn't say anything. "I'm sure you're busy with your patient, so I won't keep you any longer than necessary," the president says. "Need I remind you of the terms of the deal we worked out when you were in the Capitol?"
"No," I croak out.
"Good, that's good," he says. "Now, as you're no doubt aware by now, your 'cousin' Mr. Hawthorne has violated the terms of our agreement. I told you to keep all of your family members inside the district from now on, even the fake ones. I'm sure you realize that this violation now renders our agreement null and void."
I can't breathe, but somehow I force words out. "I'm- I'm still having the baby…"
"Yes, you are," President Snow says. "And all of Panem will celebrate with you. Don't worry, we'll have the finest doctors in the Capitol available to make sure that your pregnancy is not adversely affected in any way by the stress of mentoring your dear sister in our upcoming Quarter Quell."
I'm not sure if I try to sit or simply fall; either way I miss the chair and wind up on the floor. I try to put the phone down, but have trouble doing so because apparently I'm no longer holding it. Where did it go? It couldn't possibly matter any less.
I think Peeta is trying to talk to me, but I can't concentrate on what he's saying. All I can think about is Prim fighting in the Quarter Quell. Prim who wouldn't hurt a fly. Prim who cries over the pain felt by her dinner. Prim who found a half-starved worm-infested wretch and adopted it and named it Buttercup. Prim who will most likely be dead mere minutes into the Quarter Quell. And then what? Will Rory be in the 76th Games? Or will he be Prim's district partner in the 75th? Vick will likely get his turn, and Posy. And come the 88th Hunger Games, it will be time to mentor my own child. My sweet baby boy, my little Peeta, slaughtered by some brute like Cato, his death dragged out as long as possible in order to put on a good show for the sponsors, replayed endlessly for the infatuated Capitol audience.
Peeta has picked up the phone now. I wonder why? He hates me, because I tried to kill our child. Our child is as good as dead anyway. So is Prim. Prim is dead, and Gale killed her. So why talk to the president when he's already decided to kill everyone? Why bother? Why do any of us do anything? Why am I even here?
My body reacts before my mind does and I'm running out the door, across the lawns of the Victor's Village, into the twilight. I need to be alone, for just a few moments. I need time for my battered mind to catch up with the nightmare I'm now living. I can't stand to be around anyone or anything right now, not even the people I love the most.
There's only one place I go when I need to be alone. Without conscious thought, my legs carry me to the Meadow. I'm practically at the district fence before I realize exactly what I'm about to do. For a moment, I almost do it anyway. Gale has already condemned us all to death, why shouldn't I enjoy the freedom of the woods one last time? How much worse can I possibly make it?
But if growing up in the Seam teaches us anything, it's that things can always get worse. I don't know how, but I know I won't allow myself to be the reason for it. I back away from the fence as if it's electrified, as if it's a wounded animal that might jump out and bite me if startled. I wander aimlessly away from the Meadow, and eventually I find myself at my old Seam house.
I've only been here a handful of times since we got back from the Games. It's sort of a sad monument to my old life, with no fire warming the hearth and all of our belongings gone and much of the furniture scavenged by other Seam families. There's only one bed left in the tiny bedroom, a bare frame with no mattress. The comfortable couch covered in mended tears in the upholstery is no longer in front of the fire. The great wooden table where my mother once treated patients remains in the kitchen, now left bare and empty.
For the first time, I don't see the house as an unpleasant reminder of everything my old life lacked - food, security, Peeta. Instead I feel a deep nostalgia for a time when I knew how to deal with my life. Hunt, go to school, hunt, check the snares. Trade in town, trade at the Hob. Simple. Exhausting. Terrifying, as it always felt like we were one bad break away from starving again. But nothing I couldn't handle. And nothing that prepared me for my current problems.
Prim will be going into the Games. Sweet, gentle Prim. Prim the healer. Prim my baby sister who I'm supposed to protect. Prim who will be 13 years old and completely out of her element and surrounded by 18-year-old brutes who have been training to kill for their entire lives.
I stuff the front of my shirt in my mouth to try to stifle the scream that tears its way out of my throat. I fall to my hands and knees and sob uncontrollably, fear and grief and despair finally building to the point where my small body can no longer contain it all. I huddle under the table as if it can protect me, and I break.
When I come back to myself, my throat is raw and my head aches. Night has fallen, the red tinge of sunset now replaced by feeble shafts of moonlight streaming in through the window. I close my eyes tightly against its intrusion, and curl myself up in a ball against one of the table legs, as if the world will forget about me if I make myself small and inconspicuous enough. It's getting chilly now, and my coat is still back in Peeta's parents' apartment, but I ignore it and allow myself to go completely numb. I've dealt with cold before, and besides the cold is just one more aspect of the world I have no interest in right now.
The world hasn't exactly been treating me very well tonight. And if the world insists on treating me this way, then I don't want to be part of the world right now. I'm sure it will get on fine without me.
…..
Hello old friends. It's been a while.
So… Right off the bat, I know it's been like 6 years since my last update. All I can say is that at some point I petered out of interest in THG fandom, petered out of interest in writing, and just… stopped. To tell the truth I've barely looked at this story since like 2017, but the other day I found myself remembering a particular scene and wanted to read it again, and then I re-read the entire story, including the parts I hadn't published yet and my notes for the parts I haven't written yet, and I found that I wanted to read more of it. And since it's my story, that pretty much means I have to write it.
I can't guarantee I'll finish this story. I can't guarantee there won't be another years-long gap between chapters. I can't guarantee that this isn't the last thing I'll ever post. And I for sure can't guarantee that my writing style and memory of THG canon details now won't stand out like a sore thumb compared to my writing style and memory of THG canon details from 2015. But for however long my renewed interest lasts, I'll be continuing this story. I mean, we're well over 100,000 words in at this point and we're what, like a third of the way through Catching Fire? Let's just see how long this bout of inspiration lasts.
I make no apologies for falling off the face of the internet for several years, this is a pastime and if I want to pass my time doing other stuff I'll do other stuff, but I am kind of sorry to show up again after so long with the shortest chapter in the story since Chapter 1. But I've always planned to break the chapter here. I don't really do cliffhangers normally, these last two chapters are about as close as I'm ever going to come, but I couldn't have a scene like that and NOT end the chapter with it. I do have at least one more chapter written and only some proofreading/polishing away from being published. After that, who knows?
Originally the end of this chapter was a mirror of Katniss's reaction to the Quell announcement in Catching Fire, and I think enough parallels survived that that's still fairly obvious, but the more I worked on this chapter I just couldn't maneuver her to that basement in the Victor's Village without completely forcing it, and the nostalgia Katniss has for her old life at the start of CF fit this point in this story really well. It's that scene I re-read the other day and said, damn, I should publish this. So I hope it worked for you.
I laughed for about ten minutes when the title of this chapter occurred to me. Isil'zha veni to anyone who got the reference.
Next chapter: Katniss will have to come out of hiding and face the future eventually.
Preview quote from Chapter 18:
"You sacrificed my family to protect them."
