Chapter Text
The first leaves of autumn have begun to fall. I trudge through the woods and back to Victor’s Village with my morning haul, eyeing the fallen leaves with a feeling of trepidation ingrained in me from years of hungry winters. The changing season signals what will surely come soon: empty woods and empty bellies. Not that my family will worry about that this year. For the first time in our lives, we have more than we could need.
Two of the squirrels I brought down this morning go to Hazel, Gale’s mother, whom I visit with before returning home. The other will go to Peeta, for I have no need of it. It has been nearly three months since Peeta and I won our Games. We’ve since fallen into the habit of trading with one another—my squirrels for some of his bread. It feels natural to rely on each other in this strange way. Yet, we hardly interact outside of these little exchanges.
I still haven’t managed to sort through the complicated web of emotions I experienced during the Games. I don’t know if I can. Peeta avoids me for it, though I’m not sure if it’s for my sake or his own. I don’t seek him out, either. We’re both a little to blame for our current estrangement.
Passing through the iron gates of our neighborhood, I make to climb the steps to Peeta’s porch, his squirrel hanging in my hand, but Haymitch cuts me off. I blink at him in surprise.
“Katniss,” Haymitch says tensely. Katniss, not sweetheart or some other ridiculous nickname. I know immediately he is being serious.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Hang onto that for a minute,” my mentor says, gesturing to the squirrel. I read between the lines easily. This conversation isn’t going to be shared with Peeta. “Walk with me.”
I follow him at once, my eyes flitting back to Peeta’s house. His lights are on and smoke pours from his chimney but I don’t see his shadow moving in the windows. I wonder why we are leaving him behind. However, it’s no surprise Haymitch doesn't want to talk in Victor’s Village. None of us have ever said anything aloud about it, but I’m sure we all know nothing we say in the privacy of our own homes is truly private.
Haymitch leads me away from the village in silence towards a place where we can speak more privately. My heart beats erratically in my chest as I try to imagine what it is he has to tell me. Have I done something? Has Snow finally come to collect for my illegal hunting beyond the fence? Or worse, is it something to do with the nightlock berries? I flit from scenario to scenario with mounting anxiety.
At some point, Haymitch glances back at me and narrows his eyes. My panic must be written all over my face. Quickly, I try to school my expression into something more neutral. There’s no telling where cameras might be.
A curt nod from Haymitch tells me the effort is passable, and a few minutes later we find ourselves in the Meadow. Hardly a second passes before I pounce.
“What? What happened?”
“Take a breath, girl,” Haymitch orders. “Your panic ain’t no use for this.”
If he meant to assuage me, he has done the exact opposite. “Haymitch,” I snap at him, demanding. “Don’t play games with me. Tell me what’s going on.”
Haymitch drags his hands down his face desperately like he can hide away from what is happening. When his hands fall away I finally catch a clear glimpse of his expression. My mentor looks tired; more tired than I’d ever seen him in the Capitol before Peeta’s and my Games. His eyes are rimmed red with exhaustion, his skin pale. He also, alarmingly, seems to be sober.
“You didn’t grow up with young victors, not like the other districts. So you haven’t seen it,” my mentor drawls. He’s testing my patience with his vague words. “I need you to know what happens next is nothing special. Nothing you brought on yourself or could have avoided, okay?”
I say nothing, or rather, I don’t know what to say. I just let him continue
“There’s something the Capitol likes to do with victors they think are… attractive,” Haymitch stutters over the word ‘attractive’, “I thought you’d avoid it, what with the narrative you and Peeta sold about the star-crossed lovers. I wanted your love story to be untouchable.”
“Untouchable?” I echo, confused.
“People with wealth… Sometimes they… they crave the celebrity,” Haymitch elaborates, wringing his hands messily, but his eyes hold mine, alert, imploring, desperate. “The life of a victor is a real Capitol fairytale to some. They want to feel like they can be a part of the story. So they pay Snow for the chance. Katniss, are you following?”
I feel sick. I’ve never seen Haymitch so uncomfortable. I think I get what he means now, but I don’t want to be right. “Quit speaking in riddles. What are you saying?”
Haymitch swallows. “Your presence has been… requested, in the Capitol.”
I may be young, but I’m not naive. The true meaning of Haymitch’s words sink into my bones with horrifying clarity. I feel stuck, unable to move, and so I am surprised to hear myself speak so calmly.
“I’m being sold,” I say, “like one of Cray’s girls.”
“Yes,” Haymitch answers matter of factly. He has no more need for storytelling. Nor do I want it.
“And if I don’t want to go?”
“There’s a reason they can’t make those of us victors with no family fall in line,” Haymitch frowns, settling his hand on my shoulder to steady me. Prim, I think. If I don’t go, something equally awful, or worse, will befall my little sister. An awful and resolute feeling of acceptance slides into place in me.
I have no choice.
I have only just processed this when something even more terrible crosses my mind.
“Peeta?” I croak, unable to say the question out loud.
Haymitch shakes his head no. “His leg, it keeps him safe.”
A strange mixture of relief and anger races through my veins. Relief, because Peeta is out of danger. Anger, because Peeta—kind, decent Peeta—is no less whole or beautiful just because he lost his leg, and anyone who thinks so is a fool.
The anger is useless, though, because the Capitolites’ view of him is what will save him. Relief wins. Peeta is safe and for whatever it’s worth I can breathe again.
“When do I leave?” I ask, suddenly numb.
Haymitch huffs a solemn breath. He looks almost apologetic. “Now.”
If I weren’t already buried under the grief of what is happening, I am sure the realization that I have no time to prepare would have taken the ground out from underneath me. I flinch.
Haymitch sees it. He lifts his arms awkwardly and brings them around me like he isn’t sure what he’s doing. Still, it brings me comfort. I bury my face in his chest and refuse to let myself cry.
“I’m so sorry. I’m here, Sweetheart,” Haymitch promises. He doesn’t tell me it will be okay, because it won’t be, but at least he’s here. I’m suddenly so grateful for the old man it steals my breath. All too soon, Haymitch pulls away.
“Come on. We’ve got to get back, say your goodbyes, pack a bag. Your train leaves at noon.”
“Don’t… Don’t tell Peeta.” I make the request and grasp on tightly to the one piece of control I have in all of this. It brings me some comfort. I can keep him safe.
Haymitch raises an eyebrow like this should’ve been obvious, a given. “No one will really know what you’re doing in the Capitol. We’ll tell your family you’re going to work on your talent with Cinna. But—we don’t have to tell Peeta you’re leaving at all, if you don’t want to. Boy’s so damn stubborn I doubt he’ll come sniffing you out anyway.”
I wince at the implication, but maybe it’s for the best Peeta won’t notice I’ve gone anywhere. Haymitch realizes his misstep and tries uncharacteristically to soften the blow by adding that I’ll be back before anyone can realize I’d left.
It doesn’t really help.
Our conversation dies as we leave the Meadow but my mind races. I wonder what awaits me in the Capitol. Will it be a man, or a woman? Will they be cruel? How far will it go? I’ve only ever kissed Peeta and Gale, and the thought of going any further, let alone with a stranger paying for the right to touch me, makes my stomach turn. I wish desperately for five more minutes in the Meadow to ask Haymitch the questions I hadn’t yet considered before leaving.
Peeta’s squirrel is still in my hand, I realize, and I force my grip to loosen. I’d been holding on for dear life.
We reenter Victor’s Village and Haymitch crosses to his house. Silently, I creep up to Peeta’s doorstep and set his squirrel down in front of the door. I ache to knock and make my presence known, to tell him everything and face what’s next with him by my side like we did before, but I can’t. I turn and head back to my house where Prim and my mother are.
“I’m home,” I call out into the entryway, holding my voice as steady as I can. I think of what Haymitch said about families and plaster a smile on my face. Prim tramples down the stairs, her braids fluttering over her shoulders.
“Katniss!” Prim greets, throwing her arms around my midsection.
“Hey, duck,” I affectionately sweep my thumb across her cheek. “Can you help me with something?”
Prim nods, her blue eyes curious. “Of course!”
“Come upstairs, I’ve got to tell you about something.” I gesture with my chin towards my bedroom. Prim follows me up eagerly and watches as I dig through my closet until I find an old leather bag.
“Grab some pajamas, will you?”
“Pajamas?” Prim asks, even as she goes towards my dresser and pulls open the drawer where the items in question should be. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I am. I told you about my talent, yeah? Cinna needs to meet me in the Capitol so we can work on my designs. I need to leave in a few minutes and I’m going to be gone a couple of days,” I explain, hating to lie to her but wanting her worry even less.
Prim nods like that makes perfect sense. “I wondered how you were going to work on those without his help. It’s smart of you to go.”
I shift on my feet uneasily, not meeting her eyes. “Yes, it is.”
“Will you be gone long?” My mother peers into the room, obviously having listened in. Her eyes betray the concern that Prim can’t comprehend. She’s worried about me being in the Capitol.
“No, not long,” I shake my head and try to infuse my voice with as much confidence as I can muster. My mother breathes out in relief and I watch as her face relaxes.
“Good. Let me make you something for your trip,” she says, vanishing from the doorway. I hear her steps as she goes back downstairs and I turn to Prim. Her nimble hands have folded a few sets of pajamas and even some day clothes. I don’t have the heart to tell her I probably won’t need them. I doubt they’ll let me walk around in something not of the Capitol while the sun shines.
I tuck the folded clothes into the bag. “Thank you, Prim.”
“You’re welcome,” Prim smiles. I reach for her hand, tethering myself to my sister for the next few moments we have, and grab my bag with my free hand. Together, we walk down the stairs.
Our mother waits for us in the entry way, something wrapped in parchment paper in her hands. I release Prim’s hand before wrapping her in a tight embrace, breathing in the easy scent of her lavender soap like it’s like the last time I’ll ever smell it.
“I love you, Prim,” I tell her, pulling away.
“I love you, too,” Prim repeats, tilting her head curiously. I turn away before she can see through me. My mother pulls me into a quick embrace next and I let her.
She stuffs the parchment wrapped item into my hands and as we pull apart I peer into its folds. It’s sourdough, and it’s warm. I try to form a word but my lips don’t respond.
“Peeta brought the bread over a few minutes ago,” my mother explains. “So it’s fresh. There’s turkey and apple slices too, and some of Lady’s cheese.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t trust myself not to fall apart if I stay in this house a second longer, not with their eyes on me and Peeta’s gift burning a hole in my hands. I stuff it into my bag for later and hurry out the door.
Haymitch is waiting for me on my porch this time, having finished whatever he was doing at his house. He looks me up and down and sighs.
“Come on, kid.”
We walk in silence to the train station, and I know without him saying anything that he won’t be joining me for this trip. I force my thoughts to quiet and focus only on putting one foot in front of the other. A death march.
The train isn’t ready for boarding when we reach it. As we wait, I crush some of the newly fallen leaves under my boot. Maybe this will be another hungry winter after all.
Finally, some Peacekeepers urge me on board. Haymitch and I say nothing in parting—nothing he can say will help me now, not with all of these eyes on us. I step onto the train car and jump when the door slams itself shut behind me. I turn around, suddenly desperate, and make eye contact with Haymitch through the window.
He holds my gaze steadily and nods. I nod, too, trying to control my breathing. Neither of us looks away, not when the train starts to move, not when a Peacekeeper barks at me to find somewhere else to be. Finally, we roll out of the station and I can no longer see my mentor. I’m on my own.
I inhale a shaky breath and squeeze my eyes shut.
I am terrified.