A/N: The following chapters are intended as individual works of fluff that take place within the years of the Hunger Games universe. They begin before the 74th HG, and will probably end before Prim's death, but I might be persuaded to go beyond that. Everything takes place within the established canon, although it's always possible that things like who won the HG in a given year will be rendered invalid if Suzanne Collins continues to write books. Ideas are welcome.
The victory tour had just ended, and Gale and I had spent our Saturday hunting in the woods. The winner had been a female from District 4, but I hadn't paid much attention beyond that. We hate the games in 12, and, besides, I was only just beginning to think I could keep my family alive.
Especially with Gale sharing his knowledge with me on how to set traps.
We'd started working together last October. I'd been studying one of his snares, and after warning me that stealing meant death, I'd explained that I had simply wanted to create snares that caught animals. He'd seen my bow, and agreed we could work something out.
Slowly, we became partners. We began to rely on each other. We can't hunt all day, everyday. We both have school, after all. So, what you can catch when you aren't hunting can give us what we need nearly as much as when we are hunting.
It's been a challenge, to say the least. My family needs more than just food to survive. Prim's been outgrowing her clothes, which is encouraging because it means she's still growing, and she can wear my old ones. I have also grown an inch or so, which means needing to buy new fabric. Our shoes are starting to pinch as well. And we need soap to keep our clothes and bodies clean. My mother has started to come back to us, so she's handling the laundry and the like. But it all costs money. We need thread, too, and sometimes new fabric. Shoelaces. Coal. The list feels endless at times.
So, in addition to hunting, we reade. It's illegal to hunt, of course, but the peacekeepers turn a blind eye as long as you don't show up at the regular market. Gale trades at the hob, and has been taking me. I had been with my father, before he was killed in the mines, and had gone by myself. I also sold directly to some of the merchants. Still. I expect my trades are better now that I have a partner.
We've had a good haul today. Better than usual, and Gale's pleased. As we divide the goods, he grins at me, but I only nod back. I'm glad my family isn't likely to starve in the near future, but between anger at my mother for having given up for months, and grief over my father's death, it's hard to find any reason to smile.
Gale handles most of the trading at the hob, going from stall to stall. I don't mind, am grateful for it, really. He's been hunting and helping to provide for his family far longer than I have. And he's two years older than me. Only four more years before he has to go into the mines, assuming he doesn't get reaped in the Hunger Games. Like me, he's taken out tesserae each year since he turned twelve.
But it's winter, and the next reaping isn't until July. We have plenty of time to plan for that. Anyway, it's more likely it will be an older kid from the seam. The odds especially aren't in their favor.
I stay by Gale's side, not clinging to him like I would have my father, but not risking staying far off. Some vendors haggle with him, others accept his offered trades right away. We know to keep enough of our game to keep our families feed for tonight. We'll hunt again tomorrow, and trade, but nothing is guaranteed. Besides, I can't bear the look of hunger in Prim's eyes.
We stop by one of the vendors, Carmond, who has dried vegetables. Since those don't grow in the winter, Gale knows his prices will be high. Among his offerings today are ears of dried corn.
"What are those for?" I ask, nodding towards them.
Carmond grins. "You pop them over a fire. Add some salt or seasoning, and it's a fine treat. Filling, too."
My stomach growls at the thought. Even when my father was alive, there was a lot we could never afford. The cakes and cookies at the bakery. Anything inside the sweet shop. Even the coffee my mother loved was a rare treat. But popped corn, or popcorn, was something we could enjoy weekly. My mother would add salt and seasoning to it, and it was savory and delicious. I glance at the ears again, longing for it. For myself as much as Prim.
I glance at Gale, whose face has taken on a brief expression of longing.
"Must be pricey," he says, casually. "Not something we can likely afford, right, Catnip?"
He's begun the bargaining process. We still have a lot of game left, even taking into account what we've set aside for our families.
"Right," I agree, nodding. Since we've already purchased some turnips and carrots, I glance around. Casually. "Should we see what Greasy Sae will pay for our squirrels?"
Gale nods, a hint of amusement and understanding on his face, when Carmond speaks up again.
"I can be persuaded to lower my price," he offers. Casually.
"You haven't told us your price," Gale counters.
On and on they go. In the end, we get six ears for ten squirrels. It's the total of the squirrels I shot that day, but not a bad deal, really.
We trade for salt at another stall, and by the end of the visit, our game bags are much lighter, but we have more than enough to take care of our families'.
"You going to pop some any of that tonight?" Gale asks.
I nod. "Prim will be thrilled." I pause. "How much should I pop at once?"
"I do a full ear. But there's more of us," Gale amends. "You could start with half an ear. You have a pan to use? And know how to cook it without burning yourself?"
I try not to bristle. I may be only twelve, but I know how to cook. And I have popped corn before. Besides, my mother can help.
"Yes, I've done it before," I answer, simply.
Gale gives me an appraising look, then nods. "All right. Come over if you need any help, though."
It's my turn to nod.
We walk back to our houses in relative silence, except for confirming our plans to meet up early tomorrow and spend the day hunting. Gale says winter is the worst time of the year, because some animals migrate (like a lot of the birds), so it's often small game. And it will be months until plants can grow. I'm glad I knew to gather nuts and what plants I could find before the cold weather began. Grateful that I began braving the woods near the beginning of spring, instead of at the end of the summer.
More grateful for the family book of edible plants. Peeta's burned bread kept us from immediate starvation, but the book gave us the knowledge to stay alive.
Prim jumps up from a chair and greets me with a hug when she sees me. I return it eagerly, then run a hand over her two braids. I used to wear my hair like that, when I was her age. Now, it's a single one, down my back.
"I have a surprise for you!" I tell her.
She bounces on her feet. "Tell me!"
I raise my eyebrows. "Guess, first."
She glances at my bag. "It can't be another cat..."
I groan. Buttercup is the world's ugliest kitten. He has recently become her pet, never mind my initial attempt at drowning him. In all fairness, he was ill and flea infested. But my mother and Prim healed him, and now he's just a healthy, ugly cat who hates me.
"It's not a cat. Here, I'll show you." I remove the ear of corn from my bag. "There's three. Gale thinks we'll only need half of one for tonight. We'll pop it, like we used to."
Prim squeals, and hugs me again. "Popped corn! Oh, thank you, Katniss!"
My mother joins us. "That will be a lovely treat. Thank you, Katniss."
Despite the warmth in her voice, I feel myself stiffen. I still feel betrayed. She's back, now, but she as good as abandoned us before.
"Thank you," I say, stiffly. Turning to Prim once more, I tell her, "Do you want to help me prepare supper?"
She nods. I clean the inside of two rabbits for stew. It will be a good dinner. Prim sneaks the entrails to Buttercup, but I don't mind. We eat the meat, not the organs. They say in school that some people used to eat everything. Even the eyes. The idea makes me ill. I can disembowel a rabbit or a squirrel or a rat, but there are certain parts that are only good enough for ugly cats.
I add a bit of spices to the soup, then mix everything in. The aroma wafts around our small house. Tonight, we won't be hungry.
I devour my portion, but Prim and my mother eat more slowly. When the bowls are empty, my mother goes to the sink to clean them out. I take out a pan with a long handle, and carefully cut out half an ear of corn into it. After adding a small amount of salt and spices, it's ready to pop.
"Can I help?" Prim pleads.
But I won't let her. "Not this time, little flower," I say, gently, "but you can watch me."
This is enough for my little sister, and she stands by my side as I hold the pan over the flames. It makes me think of being in the hob earlier that day, deferring to Gale, knowing he has far more experience than I do. One day, the vendors will look at me with the same grudging respect, even admiration.
The corn pops slowly at first, then faster. The dry kernels expand into fluffy pieces of popped corn, ranging in color from white to almost yellow. It smells wonderful, familiar. I hold and gently shake the pan until it's clear that every kernel that will pop has popped. My father told me that there would always be a few stubborn kernals, no matter how long they hovered over the flame.
I remove the pan from the fire, then carefully set it on the table. It needs to cool down, and I have to divide it into three bowls. Gale was right. Half an ear was plenty. More than plenty. We'll certainly go to bed with full bellies tonight.
The smell of the popcorn brightens our small home. It helps that the fire is still going strong. It may be freezing outside, but our house is warm, and if not as bright as a sunny day, certainly bright enough. Cheerful.
I divide the popcorn carefully between the three of us. Were it up to me, Prim would have the lion's share, but her eight year old sense of fairness would never allow it. So, I distribute three equal portions in three bowls, and each one is full when I'm finished.
"It looks lovely, sweetheart," my mother tries again, when I hand her her portion.
"Thank you."
My reply isn't as stiff as before.
Which I give Prim her portion, she inhales the scent, and a look of wonder passes her face. The way it does when she sees the cakes in the bakery window. Cakes we can never afford, but I can't deny her the ability to look at them, at least.
Gale's less pessimistic than I am in that sense. He says if we kill a deer, we could afford one. Perhaps. But we'd need to buy so much more before we could spend that kind of money on mere luxuries.
But we can afford popcorn, at least sometimes. Prim and I eat slowly, savoringly, in front of the fire. Each piece is delicious, the best mix of salt and spice. And it's fluffy and crisp, too. It's gone before long, and I wish there was more, but my stomach is full and I feel a rare sense of contentment.
After Prim and I swap out our day clothes for our night ones, I undo my sister's braids and brush out her hair. Her hair is fine, soft to the touch, but I know it will need washing tomorrow. So will mine, come to think of it. Our mother will heat the water if I ask her.
Prim and I say goodnight to our mother, my younger sister hugging her firmly, as though still scared that she might leave us again. I take it as a near given. And even if she remains with us, it doesn't matter. She stood by while we nearly starved.
But I love Prim more than anyone else in the world. I hold her close, as much for comfort as for her warmth, in our bed. The covers are warm, and her scent is familiar. I don't even protest when Buttercup jumps onto the bed, giving me an obligatory hiss before snuggling against Prim's other side.
"Love you, Prim," I tell her.
"Love you too, Katniss," she answers, yawning.
That night, there are no nightmares.
A/N: Next up will probably be a chapter about Prim and her new goat. Suggestions for future chapters that take place within canon are welcome. Not all chapters will be linear, depending on when I come up with ideas. As always, please leave constructive feedback!