Gale's Story (THG Fan Fiction)

Gale's Story (1)

A/N: Hey Guys! So... this is a Hunger Games fanfic, mostly focusing on Gale and his life after Mockingjay. If you haven't read the trilogy it might be difficult to follow, but give it shot! I'm warning you now... there ARE spoilers. This chapter took me awhile to write, but hopefully they'll come easier now that I've uploaded the first one. It also may seem a bit boring, but it'll get better, I promise! All characters and ideas from The Hunger Games are property of Suzanne Collins. xXvote,comment&enjoy

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I wake to the dull, grey light of morning and the soft coo of a dove perched in the evergreen just outside my window. The cool mountain air nips at my bare skin as soon as I leave the warmth of my bed, and I quickly don a pair of trousers over my briefs. I can’t help but think of Katniss while I finish dressing. Today would be the seventh anniversary of the mining accident that killed our fathers. I want nothing more than to be with my family and the girl that I love in District 13. Thoughts of the time I spent comforting her during the Rebellion rush to mind.

In a few steps, I’m already across my small cabin and in the kitchen. Without really tasting it, I chew on a piece of stale bread I found on the counter. Once I’m finished I take a drink of water out of my canteen and begin to make my way to work.

The sun is well overhead by the time I arrive in the heart of District 2 and to the building I work at. After witnessing my performance during the Rebellion, designing weapons with Beetee and leading raids into the Capitol, President Paylor offered to have me trained as a civil engineer in District 2. I told my mother, Hazel that the only reason why I was going was because the pay was incredible and I would be able to support our family better, but we both knew the real reason why was I needed to see if I could forget Katniss and the life I had imagined for us.

Inside I am greeted by the office secretary, Isla. She attempts to make her voice sound seductive, but muddled with her Capitol accent it sounds more like the call of an exotic animal. The kind of animal you would find outside of Panem’s borders, and have no problem slitting its throat.

“Good morning, Mr. Hawthorne.”

I stifle a laugh and nod my head in her direction. Ever since I came here it has been evident that Isla has had some sort of feelings towards me, feelings that I could never return. After the Rebellion President Paylor ordered the people of the Capitol to assimilate within the districts. I never could understand this, it’s like she forgets living in the districts, with barely enough to get by and the Peacekeepers. Or even the Hunger Games and the way the people of the Capitol centered their lives around it.

Once I am settled into my office I begin to work from where I left off the previous day, planning the layout of the sewage system for District 5. I have trouble concentrating on my work and in four hours the only thing I’ve accomplished is moving my papers around. I keep thinking of my father and the families in District 12 who also lost a loved one on this day, seven years ago.

I never had a close relationship with my father like Katniss had with hers. Anything I knew about hunting I had to teach myself, or I picked up from Katniss. After spending all day in the coal mines my father would come home and have a glass of whiskey to unwind. That didn’t bother me; it made sense considering the conditions he had to work in. I only know of them because every year in grade school we had to take a field trip into the mines and I was forced to work there when I finished school.  He would never stop after just one drink, and when he became inebriated had no control over his anger and would take it out on my mother. Whenever I tried to intervene it would end with me getting a slap to my face.

I decide to take my lunch break and go outside to clear my thoughts. After sitting underneath the shade of a tree for a little under an hour, I return to work. The afternoon drags on and again I am not able to concentrate enough to do any work.

Once it is finally over, I go to check the snares I had set earlier before going home. To my disappointment the first one comes up empty. The second had snared around the neck of a squirrel, it thrashes about wildly and cries to its brethren for help. Not much of a meal, I think. I pull my knife out of my back pocket and slit the rodent’s neck. As I near the third snare I hear a cry in the distance. It sounds like the voice of a girl; I begin to run in her direction.

When I reach the source of the cry, I observe a young woman. Her right ankle is caught in something, and she’s using her arms to try and free it. I realize that it’s caught in my snare. I can’t stop myself from laughing as I walk over to her.

“Seems like you’re a little tied up.”

The girl is startled and snaps her head up at me. Her golden blonde hair frames her pale face in soft curls and her plump lips are a rose colour.

Afraid I have been staring to long, I bend down and gently free the rope from her ankle. She lets out a sigh a rubs her ankle in relief. The girl looks up at me from under her eyelashes, her hazel eyes sparkling in the morning light.

“Gwendolyn Wright, but you can call me Gwen.” She holds out her hand in a friendly gesture.

I place my hand in hers, “Gale Hawthorne.”

“Was this your snare Gale Hawthorne?” She emphasizes my name, while picking up the now useless snare.

“Yes it was. Pretty good snare if it can catch you. Why is a pretty girl like you, out in the big bad woods anyway?” I ask.

“I was going for a hike, you know, enjoy the fresh air.”

“Ah, well can I interest you in some dinner?” I hold up the squirrel I had just killed with a smirk.

She stands up, brushing off her floral blouse and brown trousers. “I think I’ll take a rain check, but maybe I’ll see you around town, Gale Hawthorne.”