I don't own the Hunger Games. I asked, but Santa didn't pull through.

They say you never know what you have until it's gone. But what if it's not gone? What if it's just…someplace else for a short amount of time? Somewhere that is so close. So painfully close. But you can't shake the awful feeling that you'll never see it again. That it really is gone. After all, it has been 24 years since District 12 has had a victor. That's longer than either of us have been alive. It's a long time. Too long.

I still can't get over that feeling. When Prim's name was called, I knew what was going to happen.

Katniss loved...oh god. Loved. Past tense. Stop it, Gale. She's not gone yet. Quit thinking like that. Katniss loves her sister too much to let her go. But what was really killing me was that there is nothing I could have done to stop it. It's not like I could have volunteered for her. I'm clearly not a girl. That wouldn't have worked.

And volunteering as the male tribute would have been stupid. That would mean we'd be up against each other. When it came down to it, there was no way in hell I could kill her. I'd probably just stand there and let her shoot me. I'd smile through it, too, because once I'm dead, she'd be that much closer to winning. To surviving. I'll do anything if it means protecting her, only because I know she'll do the same.

What am I thinking?

God, I'm an idiot.

I am supposed to be in the square, watching with the rest of the town. But that is ridiculous. If anything happens to her and I am there to witness it, I'll probably either die on the spot, or lose my mind, right there in the middle of all those people. Even the thought of seeing her face on the big screen makes me want to break down and cry.

I take a deep breath and look around, not surprised by where my feet have taken me. I am standing on the rocky ledge where we shared breakfast before she...before the reaping. It is our spot. I set my quiver of arrows on the rock and sit down. Only then do I realize I haven't caught anything all day. Although, now that I look back, I hadn't really been trying. I don't think I nocked a single arrow. My heart was elsewhere, I guess.

It feels weird. I've never been here, at the ledge, without her by my side. I don't like it. I can't imagine I'll ever get used to it. Then it hits me. The finality of it all. The fact that this is how life is going to be from now on. She is gone. I just can't get it into my head. Life without Katniss is hard to imagine, even if I am already in it.

My only hope is that whoever kills her, doesn't end up winning. When the Victory Tour comes around, the chances of me throwing myself at the victor and beating them to a pulp will be far slimmer if I knew my Catnip hadn't died by his or her hand.

My Catnip? Well, maybe she is, now that I think about it. I love her. She's been a sister to me. I don't know how I'm going to manage without her. Although lately she's been feeling less and less like a friend and more like...something different. Something new. I don't know if she noticed before she left. I hope not. I haven't even sorted out how I feel about her yet. I know I love her. I just don't know what kind of love it is. It feels wrong to imagine being in love with her.

And I know she doesn't love me. At least, not the way I love her. And why on earth would she? After all, she was 12 when we met. Tough, but a child nonetheless. I was an adult, at least in her eyes. There's no way she regards me as anything more than family.

Why am I such a creep, I wonder, grimacing in pain as my stomach rumbles. I haven't eaten in a day and a half. My stomach is at the point where I feel that if I don't eat soon, it will turn and eat itself. A feeling I and the rest of the people from the Seam are much too familiar with. But the emptiness of my stomach can't convince my nausea to go away and I turn toward the bushes, trying my best to be sick only where I can hide it.

I don't realize I am crying until I feel the rolling tears trace their way over the bridge of my nose and down my chin in a steady stream. My back hits the cold stone ground and I cover my face with my hands, hiding in shame from the face of the setting sun. I don't cry. Not when dad died. Not when Katniss volunteered. And certainly not now.

I roll over onto my side and what I see makes my heart catch in my throat. Sheltered between two bushes is a small patch of catnip. Now that I am facing it, I can smell its minty scent traveling towards me on the evening breeze. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, relaxing in the simple smell of something I know so well. Something I loved. No. Something I still love. And I'll keep on loving it, even if it doesn't come back, because the kind of love I have for it, for her, will last forever and a day. And no lady in a crooked pink wig, or a control-freak government, or even the Hunger Games, is going to take her from me.

I reach for my quiver and flip it upside down, dumping a dozen or so arrows onto the rocks. Am I crazy? Of course. I pick up the first one and snap it in half without hesitation. The sharp crack of the shaft brings me back to reality and I realize how stupid I am being. But reality isn't going to change my mind, I decide, and pick up several more, snapping them all at once.

By the time I have broken every single arrow in half, my hands are numb and trembling. But I am not done. I scoop them up and bring them over to the small patch of catnip. The end of each arrow is splintery and sharp and I jab one into the soft ground around the patch. When I am sure that it is going to stay firmly rooted where I placed it, I stab the rest of the pieces in the ground, enclosing the catnip in a rudimentary fence that comes up to my calves when I stand up. If I can't do anything to help Katniss, I can at least look after this make-shift garden for her. I know she would have smiled if she could have seen it. Could have? No. When she will see it. When I show it to her. When she comes back.

It's been 24 years. 24 years is too long. Too long for District 12 to sit and wait, hidden from the eye of the public by the Capitol. We aren't going to be hiding for long. Soon everyone will have their eyes on us. I know Katniss will make sure of that. But until then, I have a promise to keep. I stand up and grab by bow and empty quiver, heading off to make more arrows. I have to hurry if I am going to get a kill in before nightfall. Prim and her mother are depending on me until Katniss comes home. And she will come home. I am sure of that now.

Feel like sending me a review? This is an updated version of the one I posted a while ago. Let me know if you find any typos or something. I appreciate constructive criticism!

~Alexandra