Rising Storm

Chapter 1

Katniss

I walk into the house after taking my last breaths of freedom before the victory tour when Prim greets me rather formally at the door. I give her a questioning look to which she responds with a gesture towards the Presidential guards I hadn't seen before. I hand her my coat and scarf as I follow them into my study, where I work on my music and Prim does her homework. They open the door for me, and I walk in to see President Snow himself sitting in my chair.

"Miss Everdeen," he says. "So lovely to see you again. Won't you please sit down. We have much to discuss before you leave on your tour. " I hesitantly walk over and sit down in front of him, awkwardly crossing my leg over my prosthetic. He smiles at that. "I see you've gotten used to the new leg."

"I manage," I say, feeling a twinge of pain from my phantom limb as he reminds me of it.

"Yes, though I'm sure it was quite the adjustment to lose both it and the boy, eh?" He says as he takes a bite of one of the cookies Peeta continuously sends me in hopes of rekindling our failed friendship. A friendship I don't want but wish for more than anything. "How did it feel to know you broke his heart without even knowing it? How did it feel to know your instincts were wrong?"

"None of that happened," I lie. "We're quite happy actually."

"Yes," he says. "The very definition of love is ignoring each other for nearly six months, isn't it?" I look down at my hands and clutch painfully to my real knee as more of the phantom limb pain creeps up. He smirks and stands up. "Face it Miss Everdeen. Your little ploy has all but failed. The districts are angry, talking of revolt. You caused it. The girl on fire has released the spark that will burn Panem to the ground. Your failed attempt at cheating my games will kill thousands should you not convince them that the story of the Star Crossed lovers not be true." I look up at him, feeling frightened for the first time in a long time outside my dreams.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, surprising myself and hiding my fear from my voice.

"Convince me I'm wrong," he says. "Convince me and the rest of Panem that you and Mr. Mellark are totally, ready to end it in love. If not, accidents can be very easily arranged." I look down and he smirks. "Good luck on your tour Miss Everdeen. I can't wait to see what the next little chapter of your love story has to offer." He leans over the back of my chair and whispers coldly in my ear. "Goodbye, Miss Everdeen." He leaves, taking the smell of blood, horridly coming from his breath with him.

I start shaking in my chair as I hear the door close behind him. I've cursed us, made the quiet life I wanted for us. And Snow is right. This is going to be very difficult considering I haven't even attempted to talk to him.

He has though. Not face to face, but there have been letters with my name written on the front in his careful script finding their way under my front door. Letters I never read but find myself collecting in a box under my bed. A box of nearly a hundred attempts to try and apologize or try to pull me out of the depressive hole I've hid in since losing my leg. I hear a knock on the door and get up suddenly, turning to it as it opens. I prepare for the worst, for Snow to come back, but luckily, it is only Cinna and my prep team.

They get to work, carefully brushing and curling my hair, painting my nails, eyes and lips. They turn me from a battered, scar covered girl with matted hair and chewed nails to a painted doll worthy of a Capitol magazine. I hadn't realized how long my hair has gotten until it was out of its braid and rolling down my shoulders, stopping at my waist. They make two skinny braids on either side of my head and wrap them around the rest of my hair, pulling it away from my face and causing it to fall in a smooth, waterfall of dark curls down my back.

They dress me in dark pants, leather boots that pinch my toes on my right foot. A warm, kitten soft sweater the color of my eyes and a warm leather jacket. A silver fox ruff around my shoulders, warm and soft. I'm happy it's not over dramatic. I want to be me for first encounter with the boy with the bread to be as normal as possible in our situation.

"He's going to love you, Katniss," Cinna says. I look down and sigh. "I would have given you heels, but I wasn't sure how well you were managing that new leg of yours. I look down and flex the unfeeling contraption, making the toe of my boot turn in a small circle.

"I think I'll try them in Eleven," I say.

"Yes, I think that will be fine," he says. "It's warm there, so no ice. And even if you do need help, I'm sure Peeta can be someone to hold on to." I laugh sadly, not wanting to give anything away. He gently wraps an arm around my shoulder. "Come on. It's time to go." I nod and he and the others lead me out.

I stand on my front step as Peeta walks across the yard to me. I act as though I just can't wait any longer and rush off my steps and into his arms. Unfortunately, doing so takes him a little by surprise and pull him down on top of me as I slip. It would be awkward, but for the cameras, it can't be. Peeta smiles at me and and pulls me into a soft, gentle kiss. I return it and after a few moments, he pulls away, getting off me and helping me up. I give him a small smile and he lays an arm around my waist.

"You should be more careful," he says softly and I look down shyly. I feel the cameras leave us, and as they do, so do the fake smiles on our faces.

"I'm sorry for what I've done," I whisper. "And for what I haven't done." He shakes his head.

"Is that really all you have to say to me?" He asks. "I've tried for six months to talk to you. You wouldn't even be talking to me if we weren't going on this tour." I look down at my feet and feel a tear running down my cheek.

"I didn't know what to say after what happened," I say. "I didn't want your pity. I wanted you to love me because you loved me, not because I almost died or because I lost this stupid leg. But that isn't what I saw in your eyes the last day I talked to you. I saw pity and anger at yourself for letting this happen to me. That's why I never talked to you. That's why I still don't want to talk to you. Because you've never been honest with me, Peeta Mellark. Not once." I start to try and walk away but I feel him gently yet firmly grasp my arm just above my elbow.

"You never read them did you?" He says. I look at him feeling puzzled. "You probably just burned them, huh, girl on fire." I realize he means the letters and rip my arm from his grasp.

"You don't know me as well as you think," I say, feeling a great deal of anger towards him. "I'm going to go say goodbye to my family and grab something from home to take with me." I stomp away from him, feeling that I already regret the words we said. Why can't I be kind to him and understanding? Why did I have to just go and make this all so much worse?

I run upstairs and throw the piles of clothes lying beside my bed away as I reach for the elegant keepsake box with the Mockingjay carved and burned so carefully into the top. I open the clasp and check that the thirty three letters, one for every week since the games and a few extras at the beginning, are all still there and safe. When I'm satisfied that they are. I close and lock the box, slipping the key on my bare gold necklace chain. I slide the box into a handbag I have laying around, not that I ever carry a thing like that but it will look less suspicious than the box itself, and hurry to my tour, the thought of what these letters might say weighing heavily on my mind.