AN. Looks like Camp Nano is already paying off! I know it's been a long wait, so I won't waste your time with long explanations. I just really want to say, "Thank you!" For reading, liking, commenting. It really makes my day to get your messages and reviews, and to know you're still following.
We still have a couple more weeks left in July, I'll try to use them wisely. In the meantime, enjoy!
CHAPTER 17. The Fence.
Mr. Mellark was in the small office where he went over the bakery's monthly purchase orders when Peeta knocked on the door.
The baker looked up from his ledger and found his youngest son standing at the threshold. "All done, son?"
"Yup." Peeta tilted his head towards the kitchen. "The cakes are ready. I already placed them in their boxes and left them in the fridge."
Mr. Mellark smiled fondly at his son. Even as a young boy, Peeta had always been a patient and dedicated worker –probably why he was so good at frosting the most delicate designs. He was glad to see that becoming a victor hadn't changed his work ethic. "Are you heading out?"
"Yeah, I'm going over to Kipling's, and then I'll head home."
"Make sure to keep warm." Mr. Mellark glanced out the window. The blizzard was over, but a thick blanket of snow still covered the town. "It's cold out there."
"I will, Pop." Turning to reach for his coat, Peeta added, "I'll see you next week."
Peeta stepped out onto the cold street. He slipped his hands into his coat pockets, ducked his face into his scarf, and began walking. The chilly air stung his cheeks but, after two days of being stuck indoors with nothing but the sound of the howling winds outside his walls to keep him company, he was glad to be out for a while.
Keeping to the narrow backstreets of the merchant quarter, he reached the general store and slipped in through the back door.
Mrs. Kipling sat on a small stool while she sorted out the canned goods she had received before the blizzard hit. The creaking of the old door opening caught her attention, but she wasn't surprised by the victor's intrusion. "Morning, Peeta. What can I do for you today?"
"Good morning, Mrs. K., I was hoping to get a few supplies. I used up everything I had during the storm."
"Sure thing." Mrs. Kipling stood and stretched her back. She wasn't a girl anymore, and the humidity of the last few days wasn't helping her aching joints. "Come with me, I'll get you sorted in no time."
With her usual efficiency, the shopkeeper took care of her customer and, before long, Peeta was back out on the street. His messenger bag, heavy with cans and food, hung across his chest.
Treading carefully on the icy cobblestones, Peeta reached the main square and stopped short.
His mouth dropped open in shock. In the few hours it had taken him to decorate a couple of cakes, the whole square had been swept clean.
Pressing his back against the nearest wall, he took stock of the scene before him.
An entire company of Peacekeepers, aligned in perfect formation, marched along the square. Their pristine white uniforms gleamed under the bright winter sun.
Looking up, Peeta discovered a few others along the rooftops occupying nests of machine guns which they kept trained on the street below.
A huge banner with the seal of Panem hung off the roof of the Justice Building. The heavy-handed reminder of President Snow's presence made Peeta's stomach turn, but the thing which unnerved him the most was the line of new constructions set up in the center of the square.
Bitter tasting bile climbed up his throat as he considered what the whipping post, stockades, and gallows were going to be used for.
Some streets away from the square, a blaze flared up. The long plume of smoke reaching for the sky could only come from one place. The Hob.
Peeta pushed himself away from the wall. For an instant, he considered rushing towards the old building to make sure there were no casualties, but the sudden appearance of a white uniform by his side made him change his mind.
Peeta stood dead-still. Out of the corner of his eye, he examined the Peacekeeper. His uniform was clean and pressed but, judging by the creases on the elbows and neckline, it had seen better days.
Not one of Thread's men, then.
Peeta still hadn't decided whether he should address the officer or not when the Peacekeeper leaned in and whispered, "I checked it this morning." Tilting his head towards the burning market, he added, "Made sure it was empty before they lit it up."
Peeta nodded. He was about to thank the man for the information when a whistle rang in the distance.
The Peacekeeper straightened up. "Better get going," he said before turning and swiftly walking away.
Peeta watched as the officer joined the rest of his battalion. A tuft of red hair escaped his battered helmet. One small thing setting him apart in the crowd.
XXXXX
Before anyone else could notice his presence, Peeta began walking again.
His heart raced in his chest -thrilled and terrified all at once. Somewhere out in Panem, something big was happening, President Snow wouldn't have felt the need to show this much force otherwise.
Too restless to go back to Victors' Village, Peeta let his feet wander down the familiar paths of the Merchant Quarter. Before long, he had reached the school.
The low-rise building was as a sad sight. Chipped paint. Cracked walls. Broken windows. The school was just another example of the poverty and neglect that touched everything in Twelve.
As a cold winter breeze blew the remnants of the snowstorm away, Peeta's mind flew back to the days he'd spent in the draughty classrooms where he had frozen every winter and the stuffy gymnasium where he had suffocated in the summertime.
His childhood had been a mix of excitement and boredom; apathy and hard work sprinkled with brief moments of joy. Long hours of tedious classes that blended together in his mind; exhausting shifts working at the bakery under his mother's stern eye; happy moments of triumph he had shared with his brothers and the rest of the wrestling team.
Life hadn't been perfect –he had known bitterness and pain- but he had been foolish enough to think he was safe.
Things were different now. As a victor, he saw the world for what it really was: a dark, cold, frightening place.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the loud screech of the front gate opening.
A steady trickle of students, wrapped in their warmest winter clothes, spilled out of the building and onto the empty street.
Peeta buried his face in his scarf and waited.
"Peeta?" Madge called out. In a few quick steps, she reached his side. "What are you doing here?"
Peeta shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by."
Wrapping her arms around herself, Madge stepped in closer. "Have you been by the square?"
Peeta nodded.
"How does it look?"
Like a prison courtyard, Peeta thought. Instead, he said, "It's been wiped clean." Looking back towards the school to make sure no one was paying attention to them, he added, "The Hob's on fire."
Madge's eyes widened. "Already?"
Peeta pulled back. "What do you—"
Grabbing her cousin by the elbow, Madge pulled him closer. "The new Head Peacekeeper stopped by my house last night."
The thought of the stern man with cold blue eyes made Madge shiver. He had been polite enough, but the way he had spoken to her father —his words dripping with thinly veiled disdain— made her skin crawl.
Ignoring the discomfort settling in her bones, Madge pressed on, "My dad took him into his office, but I overheard a bit of their conversation." Glancing behind her back to make sure no one was listening, she whispered, "There are almost 300 new Peacekeepers in town, and some of them have been with the new Head for years. He said they're here to reinforce their installations in the district, and to put a stop to all irregular activities." Letting go of Peeta, Madge straightened up. "It makes sense that they'd start with the Hob," she muttered.
Peeta nodded, eagerly processing Madge's report. Her words confirmed everything he'd heard in the last few days. Everything pointed in the same direction. President Snow's problems weren't contained to District 8 anymore.
As far as he knew, there hadn't been any open acts of rebellion in Twelve but, could it be that President Snow's agents had detected some activity and that Thread's presence was more than a mere warning?
Bursting with questions, he leaned back into Madge's side but, before he could ask anything more, he saw Katniss and Prim walking towards them.
"Hi, Peeta!" Prim exclaimed waiving a mittened hand in the frosty air.
Straightening up, Peeta waved back. "Hey, Prim!" He turned to Katniss. "Hi."
Katniss's eyes lit up. Two twinkling stars pulling him in. "Hey," she said back.
"Were you helping out at the bakery today?" Prim asked, capturing Peeta's attention once more.
Peeta nodded. "I just finished. Thought maybe I could walk back with you?"
Prim's face broke in a brilliant smile. "Sure!"
"So, what are we waiting for?" Madge reached for Prim's hand. "Let's get going! I'm freezing out here!"
Without missing a beat, Prim slipped her hand in Madge's, and they both began to walk. Katniss and Peeta fell into pace, trailing a couple of steps behind.
"So," Peeta said, softly bumping his arm against Katniss's as they walked, "you OK?"
Katniss shrugged. The last couple of days hadn't been great. She had spent far too many hours trapped indoors as she waited for the blizzard to pass through. Luckily, her pantry had been well-stocked, and her family hadn't gone hungry but, with nothing else to do, her mind had kept spinning around in circles —thinking about the new Peacekeepers and what their presence in the district might mean to her and her business.
As if he could read her thoughts, Peeta whispered, "Too much time indoors?"
Katniss smiled. "Yeah." She took a deep breath, greedily filling her lungs with crisp snowy air and exhaled. "It's good to be out again."
They were about to turn the corner to the square when Peeta stopped short. In one swift motion, he reached out and grabbed Katniss's arm to halt her movements.
Startled by the abrupt change in pace, Katniss pivoted round. Her arm bumped against Peeta's chest, and he leaned forward, placing his free hand on her shoulder to keep her huddled next to him.
"I need to tell you something," he whispered.
Wide-eyed Katniss looked up. Peeta's face was so close that she could read the silent apology in his eyes, feel his warm breath against her cheek.
A lump settled in Peeta's throat. He didn't know how Katniss was going to react to what he was about to say, but he knew this was the only way to keep her safe. "The Hob is on fire."
Katniss's mouth dropped. Uncomprehending, she shook her head. "What?"
"Listen to me." Peeta tightened his hold on her. "The new Peacekeepers are cleaning up the district. They want to get rid of all irregular activities, and they started with the Hob."
Irregular activities. The two words —dangerous as a bolt of lightning— coursed through Katniss's spine, scorching every last shred of hope on their path.
Dread sunk in. Every muscle in Katniss's body pulled back until she was as tight as a bowstring. Irregular activities, her mind repeated like a broken record driving the words deep into her conscience until she understood what they truly meant.
It was her! Irregular activities meant her!
Panicked, Katniss tried to twist out of Peeta's grasp and run. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she saw herself making a dash for the woods and sneaking under the fence to check her snares.
They might have caught something, she reasoned knowing it was just a lousy excuse — a lie. All she really wanted was to feel the cold wind kissing her cheeks, to escape the sinking feeling pressing down on her chest, to fool herself into thinking she was still free to do as she pleased.
But it was no use. Peeta's firm grip on her arm and shoulder kept her rooted in place. "Stop!" he whispered. "Please."
Drawn by the sound of Peeta's voice, Katniss stopped fighting. Defeated, she looked over her shoulder.
Madge and Prim had stopped a few steps ahead of them. The mayor's daughter had wrapped an arm over Prim's shoulders and was leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Prim's red woolen hat bobbed up and down as she nodded in response to whatever Madge was saying.
The sight of her sister cocooned in Madge's embrace brought peace to Katniss's heart. Something in the world had just shifted, but Prim was still safe.
Katniss couldn't help but think that others might not have been so lucky. "What happened to the vendors?" she wondered out loud.
"They're all fine." Peeta's assurance captured her attention once more. "No one was hurt."
Katniss reached for the lapel of Peeta's coat and clutched it in her small, tight fists. "How do you know?"
Letting go of her arms, Peeta covered Katniss's hands with his. The small movement brought them even closer together. Their cheeks were practically touching when he explained, "One of the Peacekeepers told me. He said he had checked and that the building was empty, that everyone was safe."
Katniss pulled back. "A Peacekeeper? Who?"
Peeta shrugged. "I hardly saw him, but he's one of Cray's men. I could tell from his uniform. He seemed very young. Early twenties, maybe?"
Katniss tilted her head to the side. A glimmer of hope shone in her eyes. "Red hair?"
Peeta nodded. "Do you—"
"Sounds like Darius," Katniss muttered.
"Darius," Peeta repeated committing the name to memory. "You know him?"
Katniss nodded. "He eats at the Hob. We trade with him sometimes."
Peeta looked down at their clasped hands. As much as he liked being this close to Katniss, he knew this wasn't the right place or time. They had to get going. "What will you do if I let go? Will you run away?"
In spite of herself, Katniss laughed. "No. I just want to go home."
With a sigh, Peeta let go of her hands and watched as Katniss slowly opened her fists and ran her hands down his chest until they dropped to her sides. "Can I still walk with you?" he asked.
A shy smile turned her lips. "Of course! Let's go."
XXXXX
Days went by, dark, cold, and dreary. The blizzard was gone, but District 12 remained icy cold.
Every morning, Katniss went to school with her heart in her throat —foolishly hoping for a change in circumstances— but things just went from bad to worse and, every afternoon, she left the dilapidated old building feeling dispirited and broken. Her weary eyes saw nothing but misery and pain painting the world around her.
The streets of the Seam grew quiet as neighbors locked their doors to the cold winds and unexpected changes.
A week after cleaning the main square, Head Peacekeeper Thread and his men shut down the mines and, claiming a long-overdue safety check, kept them closed.
For the first time in years, President Snow addressed the nation to announce food shortages. The measure made the number of kids signing up for tesserae soar, but their families received no relief.
All over Panem, empty cargo trains waited at their stations for promised grain rations that never came.
In the Merchant Quarter, the shelves were bare. Even those lucky few who still had money to spend were forced to leave the stores empty-handed.
Desperation grew. The installations in the square saw plenty of action. People were dragged in and punished for offenses so long overlooked most had forgotten they were illegal.
By the time the eagerly anticipated food for Parcel Day arrived, spoiled and defiled by rodents, people were too weak and scared to do anything but go home and cry.
In an effort to keep the population contained, a curfew was enforced.
The bell on the Justice Building rang at seven in the afternoon —giving all district residents 30 minutes to go home. A second announcement, at six in the morning, signaled the end of the lockout.
Anyone caught breaking curfew without proper authorization was immediately detained. The punishment was swift and harsh.
XXXXX
Katniss sat on a tree stump with her arms crossed and a murderous scowl on her face.
"Are you sure it's on?" Rory asked.
Katniss pointed to the fence. "If you get closer, you'll hear it."
Like a cautious bird exploring new territory, Rory inched towards the fence. Leaning forward, he waited for the soft buzz of the live wire to reach his ears.
His eyes snapped open, and he immediately pulled away, startling Katniss with his loud gasp. "You're right!"
Too distressed for words, Katniss nodded.
Rory turned to look out onto the forest. After a long pause, he asked, "What now?"
Katniss shrugged. "It's not the first time it's been on. They usually turn it off after a few hours."
"Should we try tomorrow then?"
Katniss stood up and patted her bottom to brush the snow off her coat. "Yeah. Let's go home."
The two hunters walked back to the Seam in silence. Neither was brave enough to voice their thoughts but, as they said their goodbyes on that wintry afternoon, they both shared the same fear.
This was just the start. The following day would be no different.
Later that night, as Katniss struggled to find sleep, an old, familiar terror gripped her.
She had spent years breaking the law to put food on the table. Things hadn't always been easy, but Cray's negligence had worked in her favor. It had only taken the occasional turkey, and a few handfuls of medicinal herbs to keep him happy and off her back.
Sadly, the old Peacekeeper was gone, and he had taken all the shortcuts and shady deals with him.
As the ghost of winter tightened its fist around the district's throat, Katniss worried about having to face an empty larder once more.
The memory of Prim's sallow cheeks, brittle hair, and chapped lips haunted her; a cruel reminder of how easy it was to lose everything when you had so little.
Her old fear sank into her bones, making her nauseous, so she tried to fight it by turning a thousand questions over and over in her head. She wondered about surviving the unforgiving winter without her woods -or without the Hob- and worried about losing herself to the hollow pull of helplessness that made her believe all was lost.
As the tide of a restless sea, the questions kept coming, but the dark embrace of night offered no answers to settle her mind. Instead, frustration bubbled up inside of her, like a sharp, angry cry aching to be released.
Not wanting to wake Prim up, Katniss tightened her fists and limbs, stiffening her entire body to keep from screaming into the night.
She had taken every risk and faced every challenge; sneaking under the fence, going into the Hob, haggling and bartering with merchants and Seam folk alike.
She had bled and stumbled; shedding tears and sweat as she struggled to perfect the skills her father had passed down, and she had thought she was so smart while doing it —so astute and resourceful; like a confident business owner striking deals left and right. But she wasn't.
She had been arrogant and proud, much too blind to see that she was no better than the thousands of people who followed the rules every day. But she knew better now, and she knew she had been wrong.
Why else would she be back at the starting point, scrambling to stay up on her feet?
But I'm not, she reminded herself. We're not alone. We're not without resources. Mother's got patients, and we've got Lady, and Gale, and Peeta now.
The thought immediately comforted her -although Gale and Lady hadn't been much help lately.
The goat's milk had dried up -and she wouldn't start milking until spring when she had her kids- and Gale had even more problems than Katniss did. The closing of the mines meant that he wasn't making any money, and the electrified fence hurt him just as much as it hurt her.
Luckily, he still had Hazelle's income. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to keep Rory from signing up for tesserae, and the rest of the family from going under.
But Peeta… Peeta was something else. He was like a ray of sunshine breaking through a storm cloud.
The hours she spent in his greenhouse remained the one good thing happening in her life; what kept her sane in the face of so much suffering.
It was odd, being in the oasis that was Victors' Village where, even with the shortages, Peeta still had more than most. Even without his Capitol shipments, his pantry was well stocked, and he grew more vegetables than he could eat.
Despite not being able to hunt and trade, Katniss still went back to the Seam with a small basket full of herbs and vegetables every time she visited.
She always tried to keep their exchanges as frugal as possible, —after all, she was no longer providing him with meat or fish— but a few extra day-old bread rolls, tomatoes, carrots, sweet potatoes, and handfuls of green beans still made their way into her basket every day.
When she confronted him with the excess in payment, Peeta simply shrugged. He looked almost bored when he insisted that the extra goods were an adequate payment for all her help.
Katniss didn't agree, though. She knew he was giving her far more than her help was worth.
The last thing she wanted was to take advantage of him -and owing people was ranked right at the top of her things-I-hate list- but, after several unsuccessful attempts to get him to change his mind, she stopped arguing.
As much as it pained her, Katniss knew she was in no position to be picky or proud but, what really made her give up the fight, was the fact that Peeta's generosity seemed to know no bounds.
Maybe it was because she had seen what he could do, —like giving her those loaves of bread without expecting anything in return— but Katniss had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't the only person who was benefiting from his largesse.
Peeta had never mentioned anything, of course, but Katniss had noticed how the vegetables they canned every week seemed to disappear almost as soon as she turned her back on his pantry.
At first, she had logically assumed that Peeta was taking them over to the bakery, but the quick glimpses of the sturdy glass containers she had caught on her walks through the Seam had made her think otherwise.
The Capitol might have forgotten about Parcel Day, but Peeta hadn't, and he was trying to make up for the government's neglect in the only way he knew how.
With a slow, deep breath, Katniss released her accumulated tension onto the mattress. Her sore muscles complained after being strung so tightly, and she happily welcomed the relief.
Momentarily free of worry, her mind flew back to Peeta and the conversation they'd had earlier that day.
They were almost finished for the day when she mentioned in passing that Prim was hoping to keep one of Lady's kids. It wasn't a bad idea, and Katniss wished she could make it happen, but the truth was that they didn't have enough money -or space- to have another goat.
Looking up from a basket full of plump cherry tomatoes, Peeta had immediately offered a solution. "I could buy Lady's kid. We could make a little pen out there by the pond and keep it there. Prim could come by to milk it and take care of it whenever she wants."
"No!" Katniss narrowed her eyes and tried to look menacing. She knew Peeta had money, but the way he seemed to make these life-altering decisions on a whim unsettled her.
Ignoring her angry glare –certain that it was more the result of habit than animosity- Peeta gave her a half shrug. "Why not? I've been thinking about setting up a chicken coop, but this might be a better idea."
"A coop?" That was a surprise! She remembered Peeta's family had a pig pen in town, but keeping a coop seemed like a lot more work. "What do you know about raising chickens?"
"Not much," Peeta admitted with a small shake of his head. "That's why getting a goat is a much better idea. Prim already has one, and she could teach me everything I need to know."
Satisfied with his response, Peeta crossed his arms and pushed his shoulders back.
Katniss pursed her lips, silently standing her ground. She recognized a challenge when she saw one, and Peeta was obviously waiting for her to throw the next punch.
She almost did, but the shy smile on his lips and the vulnerability glimmering in his eyes immediately made her cave.
Peeta Mellark, victor of the 74th Hunger Games, was generous and charming, a handsome golden boy with the most winning smile, but he was also stubborn, infuriatingly so, and –as far as Katniss was concerned- whatever Peeta wanted, Peeta got.
She didn't really understand how he did it, but it seemed that he always had the right words to counter her objections and, on the few occasions when he didn't, all he had to do was look at her —with those kind blue eyes that sparkled like they had been dipped in sweet honey— and smile.
Katniss didn't know what it was like for the rest of the world, but she certainly couldn't refuse him anything when he did that.
"Fine," Katniss said, trying –and failing—not to mimic his goofy, triumphant smile. "You can talk to Prim about it and see what she thinks."
"Great!" Peeta picked the basket with the tomatoes and motioned for the door. "Let's go wash these, shall we?"
Exhausted after a long, day Katniss fell asleep a little while later, holding Prim close for warmth —tenderly cradling her in her arms as she dreamed of a different world; a place where her family could be safe -where innocent children didn't have to die. The type of country where she could be free to live, to love, and to hold Peeta's hand.
XXXXX
One more snowstorm fell on District 12. Delicate snowflakes covered the world under a white blanket, hiding the horrors of the previous weeks.
The school's front gate screeched open, letting the students out for the day.
From his place across the street, Gale marveled at how different the world seemed. He couldn't remember ever seeing such a subdued crowd.
The usual rowdiness and bustle of teenagers and children playing about had been replaced by an almost eerie silence heavy with cold, hunger, and fear.
He spotted Prim first —her red hat always gave her away. His siblings were a few steps behind her. Katniss took up the rear.
"Hey, everyone," he said, approaching the group in two long strides. "Ready to go home?"
Posy raced the short distance between them stretching her little arms in the air. "Yes!"
Chuckling, Gale lifted his sister into his arms. Posy wasted no time wrapping her skinny arms around his neck and pressing a cold kiss to his cheek.
At least someone in the district is still happy, Gale thought. Turning to Katniss, he asked, "Want me to take Prim home?"
Katniss nodded. "Thanks."
With a small smile, Katniss kissed Prim's cheek, told her she'd see her later, and left the group to begin her slow trek to Victors' Village.
Following her usual path, she reached the edge of the Meadow and kept on walking until she could see the fence and the forest beyond.
It was silly, taking this detour, but she did it every day. She couldn't help herself. Even with Peeta's greenhouse and with enough food at home, Katniss's heart ached to be on the other side of the fence.
She missed the air, and the trees, and the soft trickle of the water in the stream.
Unable to stop hoping, Katniss would reach the fence and lean as close as she dared. Then, she would hold her breath and wait for the low hum of electricity that invariably came back to mock her, bringing her back to the cold reality of being a prisoner in her own district —of being forced to depend on what the Capitol was willing to spare.
With the same dogged determination which had kept her alive after her father's death, Katniss walked up to the fence once more. She leaned in, held her breath, and waited.
Nothing. In the dead of winter, she couldn't even hear the buzz of an insect's wings.
Katniss gasped, covering her mouth with her hands to stifle the sound. The fence was off!
The fluttering of mockingjay's wings flying past brought her out of her momentary stupor. Looking up, she found the little bird gliding happily through the air.
With one more flap of its glossy gray wings, the mockingjay swooped down, landing on the branch of a neighboring tree.
Katniss laughed. Then, like a rabbit getting ready to make a mad dash across a field, she quickly glanced both ways.
She was alone.
Without wasting another second, Katniss dropped to the ground and pushed the old tear on the fence open just enough to squeeze underneath.
Moving quickly, Katniss reset the wire back in place. Using her hands, she quickly patted the snow around the entrance to mask her movements.
When she was done, she stood up and ran, disappearing into the forest she had missed so much.