Mockingjay: The New Story

Chapter Eight

Gale’s POV

I watch as Katniss sits at the window, staring as our district fades away into trees and scenery. The flight to Thirteen will take around forty-five minutes. A weeks’ time on foot. She holds her game bag close, the cat’s head sticking out and licking her hand. Katniss doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“She has a cat?” Plutarch suddenly asks.

“It’s her sisters,” I reply. He nods, but continues to look at Katniss like she’s crazy. She is in a way, but aren’t all Victors?

I walk over to Katniss before Plutarch could ask any more questions I did not want to answer. I reach for Katniss’s hand once I am sat beside her. She closes her eyes and we hold onto the last bit of Twelve Snow somehow did not destroy. The rest of the flight is silent, Katniss seeming to be sleeping the whole time because her eyes are closed and she looked tired enough to have fallen into sleep.

“We’re here,” says Plutarch. Katniss doesn’t move. Buttercup had jumped out of her bag and was laying against her stomach where her second hand laid still. “Wake her. We have a meeting.”

Plutarch leaves without another word. I shake Katniss to wake her, she jumps and Buttercup rushes off of her lap. I chuckle. She sees that we had landed and gets up, grabbing her bag. We walk to Command together, silently. Katniss wraps her arms around herself, as if she is cold. I know she isn’t. Seeing Twelve’s ruins has taken a toll on both her and myself. I hadn’t seen the aftermath of what the burning flames ensued. It was harder seeing what was left then watching it burn.

We enter Command, yet no one has noticed us because everyone has been set standing in front of a television screen in the far side of the room that airs the Capitol broadcast around the clock. They never usually watch it since it is mostly propaganda. The Capitol anthem began playing and the camera filming showed none other than Caesar Flickerman. His colorful get up made his skin look not as pale as usual, his purple hair seemed to be faded and blotchy. Katniss pushes herself to the front of the crowd, standing inches from the screen. The camera zooms out further and we all see the guest is Peeta.

Katniss makes no sound, nor movement. She stares at him with a toneless face. I was the only one who could see the water build up in her eyes. Her eyes never leave Peeta, who looks healthy to the point of bewilderment. How could he have become so perfect when it was just weeks ago seeing him bloody and unrecognizable? He was glowing, flawless in that Capitol full-body-polish way. He looked nothing like the dying boy I tried my ever so hardest to rescue a month ago.

Caesar adjusts himself more comfortably in the chair across Peeta and gives him a studying look. “So… Peeta… welcome back.”

Peeta smiles slightly. “Bet you thought you’d done your final interview with me, Caesar.”

“I’ll confess, I did,” says Caesar. “The night of the Quarter Quell… who ever thought we’d see you again?”

“It wasn’t part of my plan, that’s for sure,” says Peeta. His frown makes lines appear on his forehead, his cheeks puff out. These are things you notice when your best friend is staring him down, what you think she is looking at and thinking herself.

Caesar leans towards Peeta a little. “I think it was clear to everyone what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so Katniss and your child could survive.”

“That was it. Clear and simple.” Peeta runs his fingers over the carvings on the chairs arm. “But other people had plans at well. Others didn’t like mine.”

Of course other people had plans, I think. I can see Katniss look at him in the same way I am.

“Why don’t you tell us about that last night in the arena?” suggests Caesar. “Help us sort some things out for us.”