AN: Written for white-dandelion-seeds who requested a birthday drabble for her sister.

Prompt: Canon compliant story about a toast baby and Haymitch's geese.

Ethan's Adventure

Ethan Mellark stood on the tips of his toes and peered over the fence into Haymitch's backyard.

His gray eyes narrowed as soon as he found the gaggle of geese which had woken him up with their cranky honks in the middle of the night.

"Nuisance," Ethan whispered, pouring all his anger into the word Haymitch usually used to talk about his geese.

At almost five years old, Ethan didn't know exactly what the word nuisance meant but, judging by Haymitch's tone, it wasn't something good.

He had never understood why Haymitch complained so much about his birds. But, after hearing them last night, the boy was starting to believe that, maybe, it had something to do with the fact that they could keep the entire neighborhood up with their shenanigans.

Unaware of Ethan's annoyed scowl, —or perhaps unconcerned— the fat birds waddled about, stretching their long necks in the warm sunshine as they grazed.

Their fluffy plumage gleamed —white as a spring cotton cloud— under the golden morning light.

Ethan sighed, already letting his irritation go. No matter how loud they were, the geese were the prettiest animals he had seen up close. For the longest time, he had longed to run his hands over their wings.

Touching the soft down Haymitch gave Momma to fill cushions and comforters when the birds molted was one of his favorite things. The small feathers were as warm and soft as a caress, and Ethan imagined that the long feathers on the geese's wings would be as smooth as the beautiful silk dress Momma wore on New Years'.

But, as much as he wanted to reach out and touch them, he knew he wasn't allowed.

Momma said the geese were dangerous. Her face always turned serious when she reminded Ethan to steer clear of them. "I know you think they're pretty, but they're just as big as you are, and they've got sharp teeth inside those bills. They're not our pets, Ethan. Just leave them be, OK?"

Ethan always nodded –he could tell Momma wasn't playing around- but he wasn't sure her words were true. Yes, he had seen the teeth —Haymitch had shown him once when his parents weren't around to scold him— but he couldn't believe the geese would ever hurt him.

How could they when they always seemed so happy to see him? They all waddled over to the fence to greet him with happy honks whenever he went by.

Which was more than he could say about Whiskers, the family cat Willow had found hiding behind the bakery once.

Come to think of it, Whiskers wasn't very fond of the geese either.

Willow said it was because he had snuck into their garden once –back when he was a kitten—and one of the geese had stomped on his tail.

Ethan was sure it had been an accident. Haymitch's geese were rowdy, but they weren't mean. Still, Whiskers never went inside the fence, and if the geese ever came out –which they sometimes did—the cat kept his distance.

Unlike Momma, -and Whiskers, apparently- Papa didn't think the birds were dangerous, but he didn't like them much either. He called them thieves.

Papa was always telling Haymitch to lock them up and was quick to blame them whenever a loaf of bread went missing.

Momma knew better, though. "They feed on grass, Peeta," she'd say, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "They might peck here and there for breadcrumbs, but they don't need to sneak into our kitchen to take a whole loaf."

Momma's teasing always made Papa huff and puff in response.

Ethan didn't like it when his Papa was upset, but the thought of a fat bird waddling at full speed through Victors' Village with a loaf in its bill always made him laugh. He would have loved to see one of the feathered thieves in action!

After some more grumbling on Papa's side -and some more teasing on Momma's- the conversation invariably turned to Haymitch, who was the most likely culprit.

Papa's forehead would crease the way it did when he was cross but, as soon as he mentioned stepping out to give Haymitch a piece of his mind, Momma put her hand on his cheek and whispered something in his ear.

Ethan didn't know what secrets his parents shared when they acted like this, but Papa's protests invariably turned into a soft hum when Momma whispered to him. Their hushed conversations always ended with laughter and a kiss.

Ethan didn't care much for kissing, but he liked it when his parents laughed. It warmed his chest from the inside; made him feel safe.

If Ethan's parents were happy, everything in the world was right.

Except, this morning, things were not right.

Ethan scrunched up his face in confusion. Something was definitely up. It was odd enough that Haymitch's geese had kept him awake during the night, but now they were ignoring him!

Letting go of the fence, Ethan stomped toward Haymitch's front door. He knew it was early, -his grouchy neighbor preferred to stay in bed until the sun was high in the sky- but he didn't care. There was a mystery here, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

With the fierce determination he had inherited from his parents, Ethan climbed the steps to the porch, closed his little hand in a fist, and knocked the way Papa did: loudly and without pause.

He was still pounding on the door when it swung open, and a bedraggled Haymitch appeared at the threshold.

Before Haymitch could say anything, Ethan spoke, "What's the matter with your geese, old man?"

Haymitch's eyes snapped open. Unlike his mother, the boy was mostly sweet-tempered. "Hey! What's with the attitude, Kid?"

"They kept me awake all night!" Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, his gray eyes dropped to the floor, and he scowled. "And now they won't even talk to me."

Haymitch ran a hand through his hair. It was sticky with sweat and… Well, he hoped it was just sweat. Crouching down, he patted the boy's shoulder. "Don't take it personally, Kiddo. They're just a bit tired, that's all. Wanna see something neat?"

Intrigued, Ethan looked up. "Yes!"

"OK, follow me." Haymitch stood up and closed the door, using the motion to stretch his back. The geese weren't the only ones who were tired this morning. With Ethan at his heels, he walked to the kitchen.

Before going in, Haymitch stopped and turned to the boy once more. "OK, grab on to my legs, walk behind me, and don't let go. Understood?"

"Yeah, but-,"

"No, no. No buts. If you want to see this, you have to do as you're told. Stay behind me at all times."

Ethan pouted. He wasn't satisfied, but he was much too curious to challenge Haymitch at this point. "Understood."

"Good. Oh, and one more thing, don't make a sound. Think you can do that?"

Holding on to the legs on Haymitch's pants, Ethan nodded.

Haymitch went into the room, carefully adapting his strides to Ethan's short legs. The pair moved past the kitchen table and kept walking until they reached the entrance to the laundry room. Instead of going in, Haymitch stopped.

Intrigued, Ethan peeked from behind the victor's legs to see what was further ahead.

His eyes popped open, and he gasped. Remembering Haymitch's instructions, he tightened his hold on the victor's pants.

A goose and a gander sat on the floor just a few steps away, right in front of the washing machine. Between them, protected by the grown birds and a soft, worn blanket, two newborn goslings napped.

Ethan leaned forward, pressing his face to the side of Haymitch's legs as he tried to get closer without alerting the geese. The babies were so small he was sure they could fit in Haymitch's hands! They were nowhere near as beautiful as their parents -they had no feathers, and their bills were gray- but the little family seemed peaceful and content.

Ethan knew he had promised to keep quiet, but he just couldn't help himself. "Can I pet them, Haymitch?" he whispered.

"No!" Haymitch hissed. Before the geese could react to their intrusion, he turned around and carried Ethan out of the room and back to the entrance hall. "Not right now," he said once they were out of earshot. "But I'll tell you what, when they're a little older, I'll let you. And when you grow up a little bit more, I'll let you pet the bigger ones too. How's that, Kid?"

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Promise?"

"Promise." Crouching down, Haymitch placed Ethan back on the floor. "Now, scoot along! I haven't slept all night, and it's time for my nap."

Ethan scrunched up his nose. "Are you going to sleep like that?"

Haymitch looked down at his clothes. He hated to admit it, but the kid made a good point. He looked like he had gotten into a bathtub without undressing first.

His wrinkled trousers were dripping at the cuffs, and there was a brownish stain on his shirt that looked suspiciously like bird droppings.

How did that get there, Haymitch wondered, stretching the fabric to inspect it. "I'll take a shower first. How's that?"

"Good. You…" Ethan twisted his lips the way his father did when he was looking for the right words to say. "You sort of stink."

"Alright!" Haymitch opened the front door. "Now get out of here! And don't come back until tomorrow, you hear? We all need some rest."

Walking backward, Ethan stepped onto the porch and waved. "Goodnight, Haymitch!"

With a chuckle and a nod, Haymitch closed the door.

Ethan rushed into his house. In his eagerness to share the happy news, he let the front door slam shut behind him and kept running until he reached the kitchen.

His Papa was there, standing by the stove. The scent of melted butter and cinnamon filled the air, and Ethan's stomach rumbled in response. Papa was making French toast!

"Morning, Papa!" Ethan pulled out his usual chair and sat down.

"Morning, E!" Papa looked up from the pan. "You wash your hands?"

"I did before I went out." Ethan inspected his palms. Everything seemed to be in order. "I haven't touched anything," he grumbled.

"Where were you, little one?" Papa placed two toasts on a plate next to a spoonful of fresh fruit and doused them with maple syrup.

"Over at Haymitch's."

Papa looked up; blue eyes worried as he carried the plate with toast up to his son. "This early?"

"I wanted to see what was wrong with the geese."

Papa took a knife and fork and began cutting the toast into bite-sized pieces. "You heard them last night?"

Ethan nodded. That was old news, though. "But guess what, Papa?"

"What?"

"We're gonna have to lock our doors from now on."

Papa stilled his movements and gave his full attention to his son. "We are?"

"Yup!" Ethan stabbed a piece of toast with his fork and smiled. "Cause we got two new thieves in the neighborhood!"