Thanks to my mother and sister's care, Lady makesa full recovery less than two weeks after Prim turned ten. All the bite marks have disappeared, hardly even scars, and her milk is thick and creamy.
Just the milk alone would fetch a good price, but I know you could make more than that. Goat Man sells cheese, after all, and sometimes butter. I don't expect he would tell us how, though. Prim has her charms, but he likely wouldn't want to help someone who could compete with his market.
I don't mind. We'll do well with the milk, and Prim positively adores Lady. It's a remarkable thing to have an animal of actual value, who's still a beloved pet to my little sister, and since a good deal of the seam (and some merchants) witnessed the exchange, I don't need to worry about Lady being stolen. She can stay outdoors, eating better than the rest of us, as safe as Prim's ugly cat.
But when I pick up Prim from school the following day, even more good news awaits me. She's holding a book in her hands. It's brown, with a worn binding, and I expect it must be as old as our mother. Maybe older.
"Look what Mrs. Hedgestone gave me!" my sister squeals, before I have a chance to ask.
Holding it so I can see the cover, I read the faded title. "Livestock--a Beginner's Guide."
"I told her about Lady before school began," she went on, "and she found this book from the library. Only, it hasn't been used in ages, so Mrs. Hedgestone said I could keep it!" Then, my sister turns to the back of the book. "Here are the sections about making cheese and butter!"
I return her smile. "That's great, Prim. Have you begun to read it?"
"A little before lunch, but I didn't get very far. I think we can use the pages from the index for most of what we need," she explains. "And with Lady already making a lot of milk every day, we should start soon!"
Prim isn't wrong. After a year and a half spent hunting and gathering in the woods with Gale, I know we're not likely to starve. But there's still so much we still need just to get buy. I make sure Prim never goes to bed hungry--I take on that burden, myself. But some parts of the year yield more than others, and even though my mother has her apothecary shop, it's not enough.
Besides, there's always the chance of being reaped. I'm fourteen, so my chances go up every year. So do Gale's. Prim's still too young--she has another two years before her first one. I won't ever let her take out tesserae.
Yes, the sooner we can turn the milk into products that will sell or trade for more, the less my family will feel hunger.
That night, after we finish our dinner and homework, we pour over the pages. I can see why Prim's teacher didn't mind handing the book over, aside from her sweetness and likely elation about having Lady as a pet. The binding is worn to the point where some pages are nearly falling out. Nearly every page is yellow. Some are almost impossible to read, the print is so faded. Thankfully, those don't have anything to do with goats or goat milk.
The book must have been written before the Dark Days, or perhaps came from the Capitol by way of Peacekeeper or someone on business. Or another district, one with complicated machinary--like Ten. But the author didn't assume that everyone would have such advanced machines, because for every section about creating things like cream and cheese and butter with these items, there's just as much for doing it by hand.
Yes, it will be a lot of hard work, but Prim is eager and enthusiastic.
"You have the woods, Katniss, and Mom has the apothecary. Now, I have Lady, and I can help that way," she explains, once we've carefully set the book down.
"You already help," I remind her. But when she looks crestfallen, I add, quickly, "Of course, being able to make cheese and butter from the milk would be wonderful."
"I can trade with them, can't I? For bakery bread, and things at the hob?" she asks, as I brush her hair.
"Not the hob," I answer, firmly. "But you can trade with any of the merchants. Best to go with Gale and me in the beginning."
Prim doesn't protest at my having banned her from trading at the hob. Perhaps, she'd do well there, but I don't want my ten year old sister trading somewhere that's, if not exactly forbidden to Twelve, certainly attracts more of a criminal element. Gale and I are that, by necessity, but Peacekeepers are among our highest paying customers. Besides, I had to work up my nerve to go there alone.
The next few weeks, the ones when Prim only has milk to sell, but it still brings in plenty of coins, go quickly. I can feel the burden of caring for my family lighten. I had initially felt a slight sting of envy that Gale still had all of his money after I bought Lady, while all but a handful of coins had disappeared from my bag. Now, I see I ended up with the better part. His money will stay with his family for as long as they can hold onto it. Mine will grow, as Lady can live for decades, and produce milk every day. She'll pay her price many times over.
Of course, the joy she brings to Prim is of another kind of value entirely.
Our mother helps, too, when she can. Making cheese and butter is hard work, and time consuming. Prim can't just stop going to school, and neither can I. Not that we learn much of great value. But, perhaps, if neither of us is reaped, by the time I am in my twenties and Prim is past the reaping of her eighteenth year, we'll be able to breathe and eat with more ease. I will hunt all the time, and maybe we can afford another goat or two for Prim. She'll likely marry. Maybe we'll all live together. It's not unheard of. Especially when few people in Twelve reach old age.
Anyway, the first rounds of butter and cheese are hardly fit for us to eat, let alone sell. We don't become ill afterwards, but the taste is wrong. The second round is better, and my sister and our mother keep at it until it's worthy to sell. The baker is among Prim's best customers. As is Rooba, the butcher.
After that foul Buttercup eats a whole block of cheese, and then threw it up right in front of my side of the bed, Prim begins to protect it. I don't scold her, only her cat after she's gone to school. I may have scruffed Buttercup a little on the hard side, and told her I wasn't past drowning her.
We both know I wouldn't. But I'm not past wishing, sometimes, that she'd get into a fight with a wild animal. We'll never be friends.
Come Reaping Day that year, we celebrate the fact that Gale and I have been spared with bread and butter after our dinner.
It's nearly as good as the syrup we used to pour on our bread when my father was still alive.
Author's note:
Lots of speculation in this chapter. I decided to make Katniss fourteen and Prim ten for a few reasons. First, Katniss needed to have some experience hunting with Gale, but it couldn't be too close to Prim's reaping. When Katniss tells Peeta the story in the cave, you get the sense that Lady isn't exactly a new addition to their household. After all, she's brought in her price several times over, which could have been an exaggeration, but still suggests that they had her for at least a couple of years. Next, Katniss initially wants to buy her sister a dress or a hairbrush, suggesting that her sister is getting to be of an age where she's starting to care about her appearance. Prim mostly wears Katniss's old clothes, so this would be truly new, not just new to her.
Finally, I don't believe that making milk-based products is common knowledge, nor is it something Katniss's mother would have grown up doing. Her family were of the merchant class, so while learning that trade is believable, I think they probably bought or traded their food. And I doubt Goat Man taught Prim. That means trial and error...and perhaps some written information. Twelve wouldn't have a public library, necessarily, but I see no reason they wouldn't have old books. (Side note: yes, you can make butter from goat milk, at least according to google. The Covey likely didn't know the whole process involved.)
Once again, any speculation is mine alone, and can be invalidated by future canon.
As always, I would love a constructive review/comment, especially if you enjoyed this!