Spurious Minds

Chapter One

Chapter One 
Katniss Everdeen's Point of View

"This year, in celebration of our great government and the districts' behavior since the Dark Days, a special rule change is in order!" booms Claudius Templesmith's voice, loud and clear into the pitch black night and chilling air. "In this year's final four, if you and your district partner are still alive, you will be crowned victors."  

The hairs on the back of my neck nearly stand on end, as if I've been electrocuted. My hands grip my bow, my quiver, and my pack.  

Peeta. He must be alive. He has to be- he hasn't been in the sky at all.  

Before I can get my bearings and calm my heart rate, I call out his name.  

"Peeta!"

The blade of the serrated knife glints in the retreating sunlight as I shift it from hand to hand, one set of frozen fingers to the next, my mind debating whether or not to leave it with Peeta. My eyes find the sleeping boy who lays limp next to me, his eyes closed with bags beneath them, mouth and lips rimmed with the blue stain of the berries' juice. His hair is a mess of tousled, dusty blond waves, and his cheeks are red from the chilling wind.  

I kneel beside him, sliding my hands under his head, before righting him so that he lays with his head against the deflective sleeping bag's material, his neck not bent in such a way that is uncomfortable. My lips find his chapped ones in a long lingering kiss- and I run my hand through his hair for extra assurance- for show and the audience.  

The knife is tucked in my belt, because Peeta was right about frosting - camouflage - being his last defense. If I'm lucky, no one will find him while I'm gone at the feast, and he'll still be unconscious too, so he won't know a thing.  

After making a meal of the smaller, bonier fish that lurk in the waters near the cave, I ready my weapons, before curling up next to Peeta. Shivers don't wrack his body nor trail every movement like they do mine, because he is scorching in the bag. I sink down deep next to him, and feel that it's not possible to be so close and far to someone at the same time.  

I have to stay awake. I can't risk missing the dawn.  

My head rests in the crook of Peeta's neck, as I wait it out. I can picture the looks on the viewers' faces, and doing this out of comfort and not love, doesn't seem so bad all of a sudden.  

I hope he won't hate me when he wakes.  

I wish that it wasn't this way.

"You're a terrible liar, Katniss." 

My eyes snap open. I was in a daze. I almost fell into unconsciousness, like the boy beside me. Shaking my head, and as quietly as I can, I gather my supplies, leaving the backpack and first aid kit.  

I kneel beside Peeta once more, wondering how in the world he would have picked a monster like me. I plant a quick peck on his lips; then, tucking the rumpled sleeping bag back up around his shoulders, I murmur, "Who can't lie, hmm?" before disappearing out of the cave.  

The cold air hits me, and my hands fumble for the zipper of Peeta's jacket, because I've taken it from his fever-heated body. He won't need it, anyways. If I'm alive by the time he wakes, then I'll be able to cure him (to the best of my incompetent abilities), with what medicine is given at the Cornucopia. 

Leaves rustle, and in my one well-working ear, sounds are distorted, with the beat of my heart a wild background to this night. My bow is shimmering, it seems, in the slivers of crisscrossed moon light. My feet plod the way through memory-triggering land, and the hollow Tracker Jacker nest meets an untimely end as I kick it into the nearby bushes. When it crashes into the leaves, though, as I try to draw attention to myself and hope to see less faces in the morning, there is no sound. None. The silence causes a ringing and popping in my ears, and I bring my hands to either sides of my head.