My mother's soft touch wakes me up. A sad smile stretches across her face. One I've seen in every parent of District Twelve. My finger reach out, seeking her arms just the way I used to when I was a child. Her fingers brush my hair.
Her fingers, calloused and hard, yet so gentle on my face. Within a week Posy was born, she was hunting the streets for work, with four mouths to feed. She kisses my forehead and leaves to the back of the house to finish the laundry.
She had to stay with the kids last night, to make them sleep. I follow my mother to the back. Wash my face, pull on a shirt and trousers, slip my legs into the worn boots. Inside lays my game bag, empty except for a squirrel. I saved it for today. The day of the reaping.
I go to the bakers'. The reaping isn't until two. Yet no one is out today. Doors locked, shutters closed, families huddled together. I knock the baker's back door thrice, hoping the baker's witch of a wife is not around. The doors open and the golden warmth of the bakery hits me. The old baker acknowledges me and disappears back inside. He comes back, baring a small loaf of bread. The squirrel is worth more, but I don't argue. I reach for the cold squirrel in back. When I look up, I can see the sadness etched all over his face.
''Good luck boy,'' he mutters
Surprised, I nod and start walking again. As soon as I enter the Seam, I slip into its shadows.
***
The Meadow comes into view. I pick my pace as I near the chain-linked fence, slide under a loose stretch and enter the woods.
Although trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching off the Capitol lands carries the severest of punishments, I still do it as it is the only way to feed my family.
I retrieve a bow and sheath of arrows from a hollow log and head to the rock ledge overlooking the valley. I settle there, waiting for the only person I trust.
I think I should tell her what's going on in mind. The idea has been there for a while now. I'll tell her after the reaping I decide. Maybe she'll agree.
The sun has not yet begun to rise, but I can see its dull rays. I didn't expect her to arrive so soon. It's reaping day after all. I hear her pushing the bushes to make way. I couldn't resist plunging an arrow into the bread. Helps cheer up the atmosphere.
"Hey Catnip," I say as her head pokes out of the thick bushes covering our ledge.
"Look what I shot."
She laughs. She never smiles except in the woods. I remember the first time I ran into Katniss. A frightened twelve-year-old, examining my snares. She was just like me, another oldest kid of the family, with no father. She lost her father in the same blast that took mine. It took her several months to trust me. And then one day, we became an unspoken team. Dividing the work and spoils. Making sure both our families had food. The arduous work of hunting became easier to bear.
Katniss takes the bread from my hands, pulls out the arrow and holds the puncture in the crust to her nose, inhaling the smell.
"Mm. Still warm," she says. "What did it cost you?"
"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling a bit sentimental this morning," I say. "Even wished me luck."
"We all feel a little closer today don't we?" she grumbles. "Prim left us a cheese." And she pulls it out.
Mm. That should make a good breakfast. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast," I say. Then fall into the silly Capitol accent and mimic the tireless maniac Effie Trinket. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" I pluck a few berries. "And may the odds-" I toss a berry in a high arc towards Katniss.
She catches it in her mouth. "-be ever in your favour!" she finishes with equal verve. Of course, we joke about this. There's no use in panicking.
She grins as I pull out my knife and slice the bread. She turns to face the valley and takes a deep breath, inhaling the woods. Her muscles relax as she picks the bushes free of its berries.
No one at school would believe you if told them that you saw Katniss smile. Inside the fence she always has her back straight, her face expressionless, cold. She warms a bit in the Hob. But not as much as she does in the woods. I've even heard boys call her 'Winter Fire'.
Katniss watches me, my hands as I spread the cheese and place a few basil leaves I found on the way. Her face lights up when I hand over her share. Looking at her, I know I can't wait till the reaping's over to tell her. She will agree. And someday, when we are free, maybe she might be my 'Winter Fire'.
We settle in the nook of the rocks. I watch her lick the excess off her fingers. OK.
"We could do it you know," I say quietly.
"What?" she asks.
"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it."
She just stares at me.
"If we don't have so many kids," I add.
The look she gives me. I may have caught her off guard. But she's alert now.
"I never want to have kids," she says. It's like a slap on my face. Does it mean she...
"I might. If I didn't live here," I say. Maybe she'll get it.
"But you do," she rants, irritated.
This is getting nowhere. She'll hopefully get to her senses later. "Forget it," I snap.
I can see the different emotions washing over her face. Fear? Anger? Katniss can be tough, but I don't see why she's refusing this opportunity.
She sighs finally, tired of thinking. "What do you want to do?" she asks. We can hunt, fish or gather. I take up a deep breath and sigh.
YOU ARE READING
the untold tale (A Gale Hawthorne story)
Fanfiction"Maybe I'll tell her after the Reaping. Maybe she'll be my Winter Fire someday." But there's only one rule: Kill or be killed Gale Hawthorne's life takes a drastic turn. One that's going to break his heart. His best friend gets Reaped into the Hunge...
