Author's Note: Alright, alright. I know. I'm a terrible slacker, who doesn't deserve to call herself a writer, but before the few of you who actually care about this story start yelling at me, let me explain. I was gone for most of last summer, and once school started back, I got really busy with school, extracurriculars, and social stuff. I know that it's no excuse, but… Please don't kill me! *hides behind Gale* Now, for the few of you who actually still care about this story, here's the long overdue Chapter Seven.

Gale gets to his feet, ignoring the twinge of stiffness in his calves. Yesterday, he and Katli had hiked through the main street of the district, trying to get clips of the recovery efforts, and how they had affected the residents. It hadn't been easy, with so many of the residents treating Gale like an outcast, but with the determination of Katli Ballentine on his side, they had finally secured a few interviews. It had been a very stunted process at first, and many of the responses they had gotten had been very jaded, but Gale had just numbed himself to it all and pressed on. And with Katli by his side, they residents had ultimately begun speaking more comfortably.

Something seems off about his red-headed partner today, though. She's not her usual fiery self; instead, she seems more guarded and wary, as if she is gaging him for something. He's not quite sure what she hopes to find, but it's unnerving him. He doesn't like it when people hide things from them; this was a paranoia that dated back to before the war. It had really hit him hard after his whipping back in District Twelve, after he had discovered that you couldn't bet on anything to stay constant. He always anticipates change, and when people start acting like something climactic was about to occur, it makes him uneasy.

"I'm estimating that we'll be done with our last interviews in about three hours. Then we need to head back and start discussing a way to compile and organize the interviews." Katli interrupts his thoughts with a business-like tone. He narrows his eyes thoughtfully at her tone of voice.

"I thought you were the one who was good at all the organizing." Gale answers casually. Katli whips her head around to glare at him, glaring at him with sharp green eyes.

"If you think that I'm going to let you sit around while I do all of the work, you've got another thing coming." She snaps at him, and his eyes widen.

"Calm down, Ballentine, I was only—" She interrupts him with a hot retort.

"Don't tell me to calm down. I'm here to assist you, not do your work while you sit back or go meandering off into the woods doing God knows what." Her voice is almost a hiss, and he has to bite back a retort of his own. Who does Katli Ballentine think she is? As if she knows his life story! As if she knows what the woods mean to him!

"I'm going back now. Find me when you stop acting like such an entitled Capitol type." He knows that he should stay, but her comments about the woods sting, probably more than they should. She had no idea of his story, of what memories the woods hold for him. The surrounding forest, as different from his first home as they might be, is the only place where he can feel truly at ease. There, he can remember without regret. There, Katniss's face, her voice, can come to him in his memories without it being marred by the realization that she is now married to the boy she fought alongside in the arena all those years ago. There, he can exist in his memories, lose himself without regret. For anyone, especially a Capitol brat, to belittle that is unacceptable.

He storms back up the street, conscious of the residents of the district staring at him with undisguised coldness. The few of them that don't despise him make no effort to hide their curiosity at his foul mood, but he isn't in the mood to make small talk. A group of men around his age catch his attention, coming towards him on the street. He keeps his eyes down, not interested in starting trouble, but they seem to have other ideas.

"Look who decided our district was good enough for him. Better hurry along, Hawthorne, before the ashes of the Nut destroy your fancy shoes." One of them, a brawny man with uneven facial hair, calls out to him boldly. Gale feels his jaw clench tightly, but he makes no response. It has never been a matter of the district not being good enough for him; it was the other way around. His guilt and their prejudice had never allowed him to often venture into the main square. It has never been about his own superiority.

"What? Are you too good to talk to us? I suppose you're too busy with all of that fancy Capitol work to respond." A shove comes to his shoulder, and Gale stiffens, but he doesn't react. He waits for them to move out of his way, and when they don't, he shoves past them. He ignores their raucous laughter as the one who had spoken roughly grabs his upper arm and pulls him back. Gale swings himself around and glares at the group of men—well, they're more of boys, really—and squares his shoulder.

"I suggest that you let go of me." He says in a low, harsh voice, reminded of one of the higher-ranking soldiers doing the same thing to him in District 13 after he refused to pressure Katniss into openly choosing between he or Peeta. The man simply laughs, and his laugh reminds Gale of another laugh, the one of Peeta during one of his hijacking episodes, the one where he tried to strangle Katniss. The man's grip only tightens, and before he knows what he's doing, Gale twists out of the man's grip and pins him up against the wall of a nearby building.

"I told you to get off of me." He snarls, glaring fiercely into the man's wide, scared blue eyes.

"Gale Hawthorne. What in the Capitol's name do you think you're doing?" The shrieking voice of Katli causes Gale to loosen his grip on the man as he turns to meet her burning jade eyes. Taking advantage of his weakness, the man shoves at him, and he stumbles as the ground swirls up to meet him. Rough hands grab at his shoulders now, dragging him back into an upright position. Gale feels one, two burning blows to his face before he is dropped to the ground again. He is vaguely aware of the icy gazes of the townspeople and the increasing volume of Katli's voice as she tells the group off as he touches a hand to the welt forming on his left cheekbone. What had he just done?

I tear through the woods like a madwoman, anxious to reach the district. I had climbed a tree earlier in the day and had seen the telltale signs of civilization. There are fewer prints nearby, and the birds of the trees chirp loudly and without fear. I can almost believe she hears the noises of the district in the distance, but that might be her own imagination. I wrinkle her nose at the acrid smell of near-Capitol life that begin to invade my senses. There is certainly no mistaking that particular scent. It is the scent that President Snow would have called "progress." Now, knowing that I am so close, so very close to seeing Gale again, my heart is fluttering like a rabbit's. It's not the butterflies that I used to get, when I still loved him, this new kind of nervousness is foreign to me. It's not terror, it's not romantic butterflies, and it's not wariness. This kind of flutter is strictly anxiety.

The rusted metal of a fence-pole causes me to stumble, and I curse under my breath as I regain my balance. Then, I smile slightly as I realize that this is the remnant of the electric fence that once surrounded the district. It had been torn down in the war, but now, it served as a land mark. I was so close, so close to finally reaching my destination. Then my smile falls as the flutters of anxiety overtake me once more.