CHAPTER 1. Winter

It's been 10 days since Katniss Everdeen kissed me.

I was passed out cold lying on her kitchen table. The sweet medicine coursing through my veins made me feel like I was floating. The only thing that kept me tethered to reality was Katniss's hand holding mine, our fingers intertwined.

She'd never held me like that before; it was like she was keeping me in place, like an anchor, stopping me from slipping away into the dark waters of pain and confusion.

That's when it happened.

She had been gently running her fingers through my face. Suddenly, she brought her lips to my ear and whispered, "I'm sorry." Then she leaned in and she kissed me.

It didn't last very long. And, as she softly pressed her warm lips against mine, my mind raced to that one other time when our lips had touched.

XXXXX

She'd just come back from the arena and I'd desperately needed to show her how I felt about her.

I had spent the last few weeks watching her fight for her life on TV. During the first few days, she did everything I would have done if I had been in her place, but the game makers couldn't just leave her alone. She'd scored an 11 during her training sessions and they wanted everyone to see what she was capable of.

I could hardly breathe when I saw the Careers stationed under her tree. The baker's son's watchful eye on her made me very nervous. What game was he playing?

He was trying to survive, that much was obvious, but why was he using her to do it? He had proven to be strong and smart enough to join the career pack, why wasn't he playing like a career then?

After, as Katniss fought the effect of the tracker jacker poison, he helped her. He paid dearly for it. The career's sword slashed his thigh.

I watched, dumbstruck, as the baker's son hobbled to the stream's edge. Once again I wondered what his angle was. Was he really willing to exchange his life for Katniss's?

A few days later Katniss's young ally was killed and the strong, brave girl who had destroyed the career's supplies became despondent and, quite frankly, a bit reckless. I desperately wanted to reach out to her, to let her know, somehow, that she wasn't alone, that I thought she could still make it back. I've never felt so helpless in my life.

And then, everything changed.

First she received a gift from District 11. Then she was told she could have a new ally in the arena, someone she wouldn't have to kill in order to survive.

I could hardly contain my rage when I saw Katniss and the baker's son kiss for the first time. Having her stuck in a cave taking care of a dying boy who was only holding her back had been one thing, but watching her share her first kiss with someone who wasn't me was almost enough to throw me over the edge of madness.

Once again the Capitol was controlling our lives. It wasn't enough to starve and overwork us to within an inch of our lives, to send the district's children into an arena to fight for their survival, now they were intruding in a moment that should have naturally remained private. Why was the girl I loved being forced to kiss a complete stranger?

That night the Capitol took something precious from me. That night I lost the opportunity to be the first person to kiss the girl I loved.

Even though it hurt to watch I understood why she behaved the way she did inside the arena, after all, she was just trying to make it out of there in one piece. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that the way she acted once the Game was over really surprised me.

My blood boiled over when she ran into the baker´s son's arms and acted like she would happily stay wrapped in his embrace forever. The bitter taste of bile made its way into my mouth every time Caesar Flickerman tried to interrupt their inappropriate make-out session.

The Game was over, so why was the baker's son still groping my girl? Who did he think he was anyway? Why did he act like he owned her? And, why was she allowing this? She couldn't possibly be enjoying it, could she?

I kept telling myself that it had all been an act, just a plan to gain sponsors and stay alive. There was no way any of it was real. I didn't know why she was humoring those silly Capitol people who seemed so interested in this inane romance. They were even dumber than I thought if they were falling for this act.

I kept telling myself that it didn't really matter; she'd be back home soon enough. The important thing was that she'd made it out of there alive, and now that she was a victor she'd be able to do anything she wanted. Wasn't that what being a victor was all about after all? Once you survive the Games you are free to live your life in any way you want, right?

I couldn't wait to have her to myself. I counted every minute I had to wait until I could get her alone in the woods. Our woods. Once we could talk everything would be explained.

Getting to spend some time alone with her turned out to be more difficult than I'd anticipated. My work down in the mines and all of the celebrations she was expected to attend kept interfering with our private reunion.

A couple of weeks went by before we could meet at our usual spot. She got there before I did. Once she saw me, she started crying, clearly relieved to see that I still wanted to be with her; that I wasn't mad at her for what she'd done inside the arena. There were so many things I wanted to say to her, so much I wanted to ask, but, by the time she'd calmed down, I could tell she wasn't interested in talking about any of it. She just wanted to act as though nothing had happened; she wanted to forget.

I was happy to oblige, I wanted nothing more than that. I just wanted to go back to the way things were before that horrible day when her sister's name had been called in the town square. So I filled her in on all the news from town. I didn't mention the mines or the Games. I didn't ask what her plans for the future were and I certainly didn't discuss the baker's son.

By the time we were done hunting, I had started to feel like we had succeeded in keeping the rest of the world at bay. There we were, back in our woods, just a boy and the girl he loved. A boy and a girl who were free of the Games. I had already survived my last reaping and she'd never have to participate in a reaping ceremony again, the time was right, I was finally free to make my intentions known.

Under normal circumstances, I would have gone to her house and I would have given her flowers, then I would have taken her to the Meadow. I would have delivered a short speech. I would have told her how much I cared about her, how much she meant to me. I would have assured her that, even though I knew she wasn't interested in marriage or children, our lives would be better if we lived them together. Besides, who were we kidding? If she cared about me as much as I cared about her, she would probably change her mind about that anyway.

But these weren't normal circumstances, so I decided to take a different approach. I decided to skip the flowers, the Meadow, and the speech and just go for it.

I leaned in. Her whole body went stiff under my touch as my lips found hers. She didn't reject me, but I could tell that I had made her uncomfortable.

I berated myself afterward. What had I been thinking? It was the first time we saw each other since her return to District 12. She'd been expecting the comfort and familiarity of her best friend. She didn't need to have my romantic advances shoved down her throat! She already had the baker's son for that. Why had I been so blind?

The thing is, I hadn't been trying to pressure her. I'd just wanted her to know I was there for her and that I knew her romance with the baker's son wasn't real. That she didn't owe me any explanations; that the bond we shared went beyond that; that nothing had to change between us; that I was ready to pick up where we'd left off.

Where we'd left off.

Where had we left off?

I'd never told her how I felt about her. Not when I admired her determination and strength while she managed, almost single-handedly, to keep her family afloat. And definitely not once I realized how much she'd grown up; how she'd turned from a scrawny little girl into a young woman who could make your heart melt when she smiled, something that was made even more precious by the fact that it didn't happen very often.

I had always assumed she knew how I felt about her. How couldn't she? I thought that some of my actions and comments had made it pretty obvious. I had seen the way people from the Hob looked at us. How they just assumed we were together, how they knew we belonged to one another.

Then again, she was never one to overanalyze things. She was always better with actions than with words. She'd been constantly consumed with worry over Prim's wellbeing and, up until recently, I'd never seen her pay much attention to any of the boys or men who approached her. Since I never really said anything to her, why wouldn't she be surprised by my sudden advances?

So, I tried to give her space. It wasn't that hard, my job at the mines kept me busy during the week anyway. And on those precious Sundays when we would meet at our usual place I tried to act as though nothing had happened. We kept each other company. We talked about people in town. We hunted and we divided our game. We never mentioned the kiss. She never talked about her new life in Victor's Village, and I never mentioned the mines. Our new routine wasn't perfect, but it was good enough.

Then the Victory Tour came along and everything changed. Again.

She was only gone for a couple of weeks but, by the time she came back, she was already engaged to the baker's son.

Engaged!

A hot rage consumed me as I saw him drop on one knee and ask Katniss to marry him.

But, watching her was much harder.

I thought my head was going to explode when she pulled him into her arms and promised to keep him close and keep him safe for the rest of her life.

It's not real, I kept telling myself; it's just an act. But something in the way she wouldn't let go of his hand made me feel queasy. So I made up some stupid excuse to get out of the celebration at the mayor's mansion and I spent the entire Harvest Festival hiding in the woods.

It wasn't that bad. I hadn't had that much free time on the other side of the fence since I started working in the mines and I was able to catch a couple of rabbits and some squirrels.

Any sense of calm I'd recovered during those days quickly vanished when I stumbled upon the offering she'd left at our meeting place the following Sunday.

Her fiancée's gloves. Really?

By the time I made my way to the cabin where she was waiting for me, I was already fuming.

The second I walked through the door, she started talking about President Snow's visit to her house.I was shocked to discover that he'd threatened her family and mine.

Surprise gave way to joy when she asked me to run away into the woods with her. She was finally coming back to me! Finally acknowledging my feelings for her, our feelings for one another, our love.

That's what I thought at first. She quickly corrected my mistake, though. Apparently, she'd been too scared to sort out her feelings for me but, when it came to endangering her family by bringing the baker's son (who knew nothing about survival in the woods) along for the ride, she wasn't that afraid.

When she started talking about the unrest she had seen in the districts I snapped.I just couldn't believe my ears! It was like a dream come true! We were not alone. We weren't the only ones who were tired of the oppression. There were those who were willing to fight back!

The President's visit to District 12 could only mean one thing: these rebels were not weak and he was afraid of them.

But, for some reason I didn't understand, Katniss didn't seem interested in joining the fight. She just wanted to hide, and I just needed to leave.

In hindsight, I should have reigned in my temper a bit better. But I just couldn't stop myself. When she started talking about how scared she was, I realized that, for all my talk about love and friendship, I honestly didn't know what her new life was really like.

As I angrily made my way back to town, the same questions kept racing through my mind in one continuous loop: Who was this person I had been talking to? What had happened to the girl who was brave enough to feed her family while ignoring the dangers on both sides of the fence, the girl who volunteered to go into an arena just to keep her sister safe?

Well, there was one thing I knew for sure, she was no longer a girl. She was a victor.

Victor.

The word always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, a reminder of the wedge that separates us. Is that what victors are like? Selfish, cowardly, detached, weak.

Apparently, she'd spent the last few months being nothing more than a puppet, smiling and dancing and kissing on cue.

All around her, the country's been about to explode. But she just wanted to keep pretending, acting like nothing's happening, like it's alright to starve to death and to risk your life working in the mines, in the fields, in the factories that benefit the Capitol and keep the districts enslaved.

It seems like our freedom hasn't been important to her, no, as long as those close to her are fine then the rest of the country can burn. I should be flattered. I'm on the short list of those she's trying to protect, after all. But, somehow, I'm still disappointed. She could do so much good if she wanted to.

I angrily cursed under my breath as I made my way back to town.

If I hadn't been so focused on my anger and my disappointment, I probably would have noticed the group of Peacekeepers assembled in the square or the sharp smell of disinfectant that wafted from Cray's old house. I might have seen the group of people from the Seam hurrying back home; talking in hushed voices, their eyes trained on the fallen snow along the road.

But I didn't notice any of these things. And it wasn't until I was face to face with our new Head Peacekeeper that I realized I had made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

XXXXX

My whole body was on fire.

I could hear distant voices, but I couldn't focus my attention on what they were saying. I didn't have enough strength left in me to care.

My body was burning.

The pain was so acute and overwhelming that I wished the fire would consume me once and for all.

The cold snow instantly relieved my burning flesh. I could feel the soft flakes melting into the open gashes on my back. I sighed in relief. Maybe I wouldn't burn, after all.

I felt a soft pinch in my arm and my body went numb. I was completely relaxed. I started drifting away. The morphling's soft embrace cradling me, carrying me to the clouds.

I'd been flying for a while, floating softly, like a kite, held down to earth by a delicate string when I heard her voice reaching out to me.

"I'm sorry," she said. And then she kissed me.

This kiss was completely different from the one I gave her. Her lips were relaxed and soft, the kiss tender and warm.

I don't know if it was the medicine running through my body or the tenderness of her touch but I was enveloped by warmth. It wasn't the blazing heat of passion I'd felt while making out with those girls from the Seam I had occupied my time with before I realized how much my Catnip had grown. This was a comforting kind of heat, the kind that burns softly and lasts longer.

Suddenly, I felt no more pain, no more envy and no more anger, no more sorrow. For a moment, I was completely at peace with the world. It was a delicious feeling.

After, I felt her forehead resting on my shoulder. I could hear her breathing as it slowed down to a steady rhythm. I could tell she was drifting off, surrendering to sleep.

The warm embrace of sleep pulled me under and I let myself go.

XXXXX

I don't remember much about my first days at the Everdeen's home. I remember pain so overwhelming I could hardly breathe at times. I remember feeling so weak and so broken that I wondered why they were even bothering with me. Didn't they have anything better to do with their time than try to keep me alive?

The only thing that made my situation somewhat bearable was the brief respite provided by the medicine Mrs. Everdeen regularly pumped into my system.

For the first couple of days, Katniss barely left my side. She sat next to me as strong cold winds howled outside, throwing fat snowflakes against the walls and windows, encasing the sturdy house in an icy shell, isolating us from the rest of the world.

She paid close attention to my every noise and my every move. Sometimes, before drifting away into my drug-induced slumber, my feverish mind recalled the soft tingle of her lips pressed against mine.

She never held my hand again after the first night.

As days went by I felt her becoming restless, her whole body aching to be outside, on the other side of the fence, preferably. I can't say I blamed her, though. If I'd had an ounce of energy to spare, I would've been running through the trees as well.

After a couple of days, the frozen coat that covered the house began to melt and I could hear the Victor's Village coming back to life. A steady trickle of visitors started coming through the door. My crew mate, Thom, came by to check up on my progress. A couple of pregnant women from the Seam came in looking for Mrs. Everdeen's help, and Even Haymitch made an appearance in the late afternoon, the stench of a three-day bender trailing behind him.

I sometimes wondered how my mother and siblings were faring back in our own modest little house. Did they have enough coal and wood to keep warm? Did they have any food left? I felt so useless, but the pain and the medicine made it impossible for me to move.

I slept on the kitchen table for several days. My injuries were still fresh, and they didn't want to risk moving me into the spare bedroom. Even though they tried to be quiet around me, I could still hear everything that happened around the house.

One morning, while Prim was at school and Mrs. Everdeen was out, Katniss's fiancé showed up, the usual loaf of freshly baked bread tucked under his arm.

After what sounded like some very awkward chitchat, Katniss asked him to join her in the study. They must have thought I was completely out of it, because they didn't bother closing the door behind them and, even though they were practically whispering, I could still make out what they were saying.

"Hey, can we talk?" she asked.

"Sure, Katniss. What's up?"

"I... I just wanted to say 'thank you.'"

"Oh... it's fine, I baked a lot during the snowstorm. Something to pass the time I guess. I still have a few more loaves at home, I'm taking them over to the community home later today, before they go stale."

"Oh... hmm... that's not what I meant," she added, sounding so nervous that my curiosity was instantly piqued. "I wanted to thank you for... for what you did the other day... for... for Gale."

Surprise ran through me like a bolt of lightning. What was she talking about? What he did for me? What was that exactly?

"Katniss... you don't need to thank me," he replied. His voice turned serious as he added, "Actually, I wish I'd reacted sooner. I should have stopped it before you got hurt. Besides... it's not like I had a choice."

My head started spinning. I couldn't stop it, so I just tried to control my breathing as I followed their conversation.

"C'mon, Peeta! You had a choice!" Katniss hissed in annoyance.

"Really? And, what choice was that exactly? Should I have allowed that beast to keep on going until he finished Gale off? 'Cause that's what would've happened if we hadn't stopped him," he countered.

We. In plural? What had he done?

I'd been trying to recall what had happened in the square. I remembered being tied to the whipping post, and Darius trying to stop his new boss. The image of the new Head hitting the young Peacekeeper in the face kept playing in my mind.

I had lost consciousness shortly after that.

The next memory I had was of me lying on the table while Katniss yelled incoherently and her mother and Prim tended to my wounds.

The fiancée's voice brought me back to the conversation in the study. "I'm just grateful that he didn't call my bluff," he said.

"But, that's exactly it Peeta, you challenged a head Peacekeeper! You dared him to hit you! What would've happened if he'd done it? How did you know he wouldn't?"

My mind raced as I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. The baker's son had challenged a Peacekeeper? I needed to understand what had happened in that square.

"Well, I didn't," he snapped back at her, "but I couldn't just stand back and watch. What Thread was doing was wrong. You know it, and I know it. Hell! Everyone who was there knows it! That's why Purnia eventually intervened. Honestly, Katniss, I don't regret doing it. I'd probably do it again."

His words hit me like a direct punch to the stomach. He had been willing to put my safety before his.

Something in his voice made me believe him when he said he'd do it again.

I had seen Peeta Mellark fight more than once. I remembered some of his wrestling matches at school and, like everyone else, I had seen what he'd done during his Game. I had never imagined he'd stand up for me, though. I'd given him no cause for that.

Catnip seemed quite flustered by his words. She clearly didn't want to argue anymore when she added, "well... I… I just... I wish... We need to be careful, that's all I'm saying."

I heard him sigh heavily, then, with a tired tone, he answered, "that, I won't argue with."

"Good." Katniss's relief was palpable. "Ready to take a walk into town?" she asked.

"Sure. Let's go."

After they left, the house was engulfed in silence. As I processed all the information I'd just received, I realized something. One way or another, the baker's son had risked his life to protect me.

I didn't really know what had driven him to do something so reckless. As far as I could tell, he had been trying to protect Katniss. But, even if my safety hadn't been his primary concern, I'd benefited from his actions. To hear Katniss tell it, I pretty much owed him my life!

This was a debt I would never be able to repay. How could I, in good conscience, keep on treating him like an enemy?

I'd hated him since the first time I'd seen him on TV, holding Catnip's hand during the tribute parade. After, when he publicly declared his feelings for her, I instantly accused him of being manipulative and false. But, after everything that had happened in that arena, even I had to admit that his love for her seemed genuine. He'd definitely risked his life more than once just to keep her safe. He had even been willing to let her shoot him once the rule change was canceled.

And, if what Catnip told me in the cabin was true, he hadn't been in control of anything either.

As I drifted away into a dreamless sleep, one thought occupied my mind. The baker's son had saved my life.

Katniss's fiancé had saved my life.

Peeta Mellark had saved my life.

XXXXX

I've spent the last 10 days staying at the Everdeen's home in the Victor's Village. Once the open cuts on my back began to heal I was moved from the kitchen into the study.

The study doesn't have a proper bed, but the long, backless couch that Mrs. Everdeen calls "chaise longue" is good enough for me. Besides, their spare room is on the top floor and I didn't have enough energy to climb the stairs during the first days of my stay.

This room is a bit sterile. There's a large, dignified desk with a couple of straight back chairs that look very formal and not very inviting, and a round corner table, with a small reading lamp, stands beside the couch.

The large windows on the side of the sofa face the front of the house. They're covered with two layers of curtains.

The first layer is made of some sort of gauzy material, it's so thin that it's almost transparent; apparently its function is to provide privacy from outside onlookers.

The fabric on the second layer is soft and thick; when the curtain is drawn, almost no light comes through, it makes the room incredibly dark and stuffy, reminding me of the huge elevator that lowers me into the mines every morning.

I had a small panic attack the first night I slept here. I had trouble breathing and I kept thinking the walls were going to collapse in on me. As soon as I got up that morning I opened the thick curtains.

I haven't touched them since.

I've spent most of my time here inside this room. I haven't had enough energy to do much and Mrs. Everdeen and Prim needed to make sure that my wounds healed properly. They didn't want to risk an infection by allowing my injuries to open up from unnecessary movements.

Between the inactivity and the medication, the memories of my days here are foggy. Whenever I'm awake, I try to make sense of everything I've learned in the past few days. My mind keeps going back to the conversation I had with Katniss in the cabin; the realization that things are changing around us.

A revolution may be underway in some of the other districts but Twelve is small and poor. People here are hungry and afraid and, if the new Peacekeepers are any indication, the Capitol isn't ignoring us anymore.

But politics and revolutions haven't been the only topics on my mind. Being here has also allowed me to see a different side of Katniss's life. A side I'd never seen before. A side I didn't expect.

I've noticed that the bond she shares with her fellow victors is stronger than I'd imagined. It's not difficult to understand why they'd share such a strong connection. They're the only ones who know what it's like to make it out of an arena alive, after all. I guess I just hadn't given it much thought before now.

Back in the cabin, I accused her of being selfish and cowardly for wanting to run and hide. It drove me mad that she was willing to risk her life, our lives, by trying to bring Haymitch and Peeta into the woods with us. But, after the way they all stood up for me during Thread's punishment, I realized that this is how they operate. They protect each other.

After their display on the square, I have to give them credit for being brave and selfless. It's been humbling to accept that I'll never be able to pay them back for what they did for me that day.

According to Mrs. Everdeen, the scaring process has begun and I'm no longer at risk of an infection, so I'll be free to go back to my family tomorrow morning. I'll still have to come by a couple of times a week to have my back checked, but I can start working again.

I'm a bit anxious about going back home. With everything that's happened lately: the heightened security inside our district, the arrival of spoiled food and supplies, I really don't know where any of us stand.

Fortunately for my family, Catnip convinced Haymitch to hire my mother. I know that has meant that my siblings haven't been as hungry as the rest of the people from the Seam. But I also know that after my run in with Thread, people tried avoiding my mother and they're probably weary of my family's connections to the district's victors. I wonder how they'll treat me once I get back.

It's sometime past midnight. Everyone's asleep. The whole house is quiet. I'm lying on the couch, warmly cocooned in soft blankets. Soft moonlight filters through the drapes. A light flurry has begun to fall. The soft snowflakes cast playful shadows against the wall. I'm completely relaxed. I can feel sleep taking over and I happily give into it.

Screams.

Blood-curdling screams pierce the air. I'm startled awake.

Where are those horrible noises coming from? It only takes a few seconds to figure it out. Katniss's room.

I'm fully awake now. I stay still and listen. A minute goes by. She hasn't stopped yelling.

It's not the first time this has happened.

Before my whipping, I never knew Katniss had nightmares. I guess this is something else I've learned about her since I started staying here. She hasn't really told me what she dreams about but, judging by her screams, it must be something awful. Frankly, I think she's a little embarrassed by the whole thing, because she's never mentioned the dreams themselves. She must know that I know about them, though. It's impossible not to when she wakes up screaming like that in the middle of the night.

The truth is that I've never known what to do on these occasions. The first time it happened I considered going to her but, before I could make up my mind, I heard Prim making her way into her sister's room.

I was relieved. I don't know if I would have been able to calm her down. Prim, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what to do. After a couple of minutes, the yelling had stopped, but I could still hear Katniss's sobs echoing through the hallway. I felt so helpless my heart ached.

Tonight is no different. Except that, for once, I can, at least, venture a guess as to what, or rather who, she's dreaming about. The anguish in her voice as she screams for Peeta to run sends a chill down my spine.

I hear Prim's rushed footsteps as she runs along the upstairs corridor. A couple of minutes later the familiar sobs replace the screams. I breathe.

One more scream shatters the silence. My heartbeat speeds up again as Katniss voices her refusal. "NO!" she yells.

It's only one word but it fills me with pain and sorrow. I listen intently as Katniss runs noisily down the stairs. I'm painfully aware of the fact that she doesn't sound like a hunter anymore. Right now, she's just prey.

I stand up, hastily throwing the covers and blankets to the floor, but I make no attempt to reach for the door. I don't want to scare her away.

I listen closely to her movements. She's right outside my door. I can hear her fumbling around in the foyer and, a moment later, I hear the front door open and slam shut.

I rush over to the window. Through the delicate material of the drapes, I see Katniss running away from her house and going towards Peeta's.

I almost don't believe my eyes when I see him running towards her. Did he hear her scream all the way to his house? He must have, why else would he leave his home in the dead of night?

She's still running and shows no signs of slowing down. They're halfway between their two houses now. He stops and opens his arms to her. She runs right into them with such force that he almost loses his balance. They sway dangerously, teetering on the brink of collapse until she pulls him close to keep him from falling onto the snow.

I silently watch as they stand there, in the middle of the deserted street, holding onto each other. Neither one seems willing to let go. I'm suddenly aware of the way my heart is racing inside my chest. I take a deep breath trying to get it to calm down, but I keep my eyes trained on the scene unfolding in front of me.

After a few minutes, Peeta lets go of Katniss and takes a small step back. I see him fumble with his coat's zipper. Once he manages to unzip it, he holds the flaps open in his hands. Katniss doesn't waste any time as she closes the distance between them; diving into Peeta's coat and wrapping her arms around him under the garment's fabric. His arms encase her, keeping his jacket wrapped around her like a blanket over her small frame.

They're both huddled inside his coat, her forehead rests against the crook of his neck and I can see their breaths coming out in small puffs against the cold air.

Peeta rubs slow, soothing circles on her back as they move in a gentle rocking motion. Two bodies delicately dancing with the snowflakes.

My heartbeat has slowed down to a more reasonable pace. My eyes are still focused on them and I realize I'm watching them in the same way I'd consider prey. I carefully study their every movement and, even though I can't hear them from here, I try to read their reactions. I need to understand what's happening here.

Their faces are just inches apart. He pulls his head back to look at her. She pulls away from him slightly, just enough to see his face.

He tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, and I'm suddenly surprised at how natural the gesture looks. I don't remember ever touching her like that. I've seen him do it tons of times, but always in front of the cameras, for show. I never imagined she'd allow him to do something like that in private. She doesn't seem to mind, though.

It hasn't stopped snowing.

Peeta shakes his head. The faint dusting of snow that had been gathering on his hair lands on Katniss's face, and she wrinkles her nose as the cold feathers touch her cheeks. There's a small smile on her lips and, judging by the way her shoulders are shaking, I think she's giggling.

Katniss giggling.

Not something I see every day anymore.

The salty wetness on my lips pulls me out of my reverie. I'm crying!

I can't remember the last time I cried. When I'm upset, I normally tense up. My heart races inside my chest, and my whole body is consumed by fire. My hands become tightly shut fists, and the instinct to spring into action overwhelms me. But this is different. I feel like I can't move.

There's no strength left in me.

I can hardly breathe. I feel defeated, helpless. There's nothing I can do to change what's happening in front of me and. Honestly, I don't think it would be right to even try.

Time ticks by.

They talk. Their breaths turning into white clouds of warmth against the winter chill.

I watch.

Suddenly, Peeta lets go of her and takes a small step back. She's still holding onto him, partially protected by his coat.

He tugs at the scarf around his neck. I watch closely as he untangles it. I don't think I've ever seen a scarf like this one before. It looks like it's… orange? Yes, orange, a very pale shade, but orange nonetheless.

The color isn't the only thing that catches my eye. Scarfs are usually made out of rough, thick yarn, but this one looks too thin. The fabric seems to be soft and delicate and, as he holds it, fully stretched out in front of him, I can see that it's long and wide. I wonder what something like that costs, and if there's any real justification for it's worth. I won't deny it's nice to look at, but I'm sure that my shabby old scarf protects my neck just as well.

Peeta wraps his scarf around Katniss's neck. She stands very still as his hands move in small circles around her head. Once he's finished, she pulls on the edges of the scarf, tightening it around her neck, and immediately ducks her nose inside of the soft length of fabric.

They stand like that, looking at each other for what feels like an eternity but can't be longer than a few seconds. It's a cold night and, now that Katniss is no longer protected by Peeta's coat, you can see that she's started to tremble.

He says something. She nods.

Katniss turns on her heels, but she doesn't walk away. He reaches out to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and leads her back to her house.

The door opens and, as she steps into the house, I finally hear their voices.

"Good night, Peeta," she whispers.

"Sleep well, Katniss."

Panic has been replaced by calm.

I try to follow Katniss's motions once she closes the door. It's impossible. The silent hunter is back.

I know she's back upstairs when her bedroom door creaks.

I lie back down on the couch, resting my head against its arm. The covers that once brought me comfort now feel stifling. I close my eyes and try to piece this puzzle together. But I can't really concentrate with the sound of my heart pounding heavily inside my chest.

I try to conjure up pleasant thoughts. Try to remember Katniss's kiss, its softness, its warmth, the peace that enveloped me immediately after.

Two words interrupt my thoughts. I'm sorry. I'm. Sorry.

My eyes snap open. That's what she said right before kissing me "I'm sorry."

I try to focus on that night. I was splayed on her kitchen table, my back a bloody mess, more dead than alive. I've never been more broken or vulnerable in my life.

Did she kiss me because she felt sorry for me? She didn't say, "I love you" or "please don't leave me" or "I need you." She said, "I'm sorry."

What was she apologizing for? For what had happened that day? The fight we'd had, my whipping? Or was she apologizing for something else, something deeper, like not coming home from the Games to me or not reciprocating my feelings? When I told her that I loved her that day, she only answered, "I know."

She's never said that she loves me back. Is that what she's sorry about?

The truth is that things haven't been the same between us since she came back from the arena, and we're both to blame for that.

I know I shouldn't have pressured her when she came back from the Games. When I kissed her the way I did, I showed her what I wanted. I never asked what she thought or how she felt about it.

Honestly, I never even entertained the possibility that she might not be interested in me. I always thought it was just a matter of time. I was older and more experienced, and she'd always followed my lead. She always came to me for advice.

I never thought she'd ever run to anyone else for comfort. Not even Prim. She was the one comforting and protecting Prim, and I was the one protecting her, or so I thought.

But how did I protect her, really? Where was I while she was climbing up trees and cutting down tracker jacker nests? And, when she was scared and half frozen while her enemy screamed into the night. Where was I then?

I was here, stuck underground, watching her on TV, badmouthing the Capitol but following most of their rules. Feeling proud, strong and defiant for breaking the law in order to feed my family, while conveniently ignoring the fact that my dealings with corrupt Peacekeepers were what really kept me safe. I was never free, and I was never powerful. They had me on a leash. Cray's leash was just a bit longer than Thread's.

My mind keeps spinning but my body can no longer keep up. I give up trying to stay awake, there's no way I'll be able to figure out all of my problems in just one night and I need to rest. Tomorrow I'll be back home and I'll probably be going back to the mines the next day. I'll have enough time to think while I'm stuck in the dark pit.

As sleep takes over I hear the soft whisper of the wind and I let the images of dancing snowflakes carry me into oblivion.

I wake up to the sound of Mrs. Everdeen moving around in the kitchen, she's talking to Prim.

I leave my room to go into the downstairs bathroom, which has been exclusively mine during my stay. After washing up, and changing into the clean outfit that my mom delivered yesterday, I go into the kitchen. I find Mrs. Everdeen and Prim sitting at the table, in their usual seats.

"Morning Gale," Prim greets, "did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, very well," I lie. Prim doesn't need to know about my problems.

Just as I settle into my usual seat, I see Katniss coming in through the door. She looks a bit pale, but the circles under her eyes are not as bad as other mornings. She hasn't gotten out of her sleep clothes yet, and her braided hair is a bit disheveled. She's extended Peeta's scarf and she's using it as a shawl, keeping it tightly wrapped around her upper body.

I briefly wonder if she kept it on her as she slept.

Prim looks at her sister in surprise. "Wow! That's pretty," she says, as her hand reaches out to touch the orange fabric. "Ooh, it's very soft. Is it warm?"

"Yeah, it is." There's a soft blush on Katniss's cheeks and, is that the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips?

I'm not sure Prim notices it as she keeps inquiring about the garment. Her blue eyes sparkle as she asks, "Cinna made it, right? I love the color! Will you let me borrow it sometime?"

"Uh, sure… one of these days Little Duck," Katniss mumbles.

Satisfied with her sister's answer, Prim starts talking about a school project she's working on.

Apparently, she has to draw a diagram of a mine's compartment and Peeta is going to help her with it. I'm curious as to how much can Peeta Mellark possibly know about mines and their deep underground compartments. But I bite my tongue. This is not my family, and no one is asking for my help.

After breakfast is over Prim heads out to school. Right before leaving, she kisses my forehead and tells me she's very pleased with the progress I've made. She sounds so grown up, so much like a true professional, that I can't help but smile at her.

Katniss and I finish our breakfast in silence while her mother goes back into her bedroom to get ready for the day.

"So, you're going back to The Seam," she says as she stands up from her chair. The orange shawl has come loose, and it hangs limply from her shoulders.

"Yep, I've been released by my doctors," I say trying to make it sound like a joke, but I really don't have enough energy to pull it off. There's a hint of cinnamon in the air and, I don't know why, but it's making me nauseous.

"Good. I'm glad you're alright," she adds in a quiet voice. "I guess I'll see you back here in a couple of days when you come back for your treatment."

"Yeah, sure."

"Good," she says again. "I'm gonna go get dressed, say hi to your family for me?" she asks.

"I will, see you later then."

"Bye."

She turns to leave, and I notice the movement of her hands as she tightens the shawl around her body once more.

She walks out of the room. She doesn't look back.

Mrs. Everdeen takes another look at my injuries and applies a fresh bandage on top of my scar tissue. She gives me some instructions on how to take care of my back and tells me to come back in a couple of days.

After I've thanked her, and collected the few belongings my mother brought over, I head out onto the street. It's the first time I've been outside in days.

It's not snowing anymore, but white freckles still litter the ground. I take a deep breath. The cold winter air numbs the dull ache that settled on my chest a few hours ago.

As I walk towards the gates that surround the Victor's Village, I remember how the soft, cold snow coats healed my wounded back.

I wonder if the chilly breeze will heal my wounded soul.

XXXXX

AN

I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

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The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.