Chapter Text
In the end Maysilee didn’t explain anything to her sister. After quick bath, she simply laid down and fell asleep, exhausted from both march in the snow and her own conflicted feelings. She dreamed of the old Walter’s barn. She sat there, shivering from cold. Every time she tried to light a fire, her fingers shook too much and she couldn’t get a single spark. Cold enveloped her, sinking into her skin and bones, until it wasn’t blood that run through her veins, but ice. Then suddenly she found herself in the Arena – she laid in the exact same place and position as the tribute from Seven. Eyelashes covered in frost, lips chapped, limbs heavy. She knew she wouldn’t make it.
She was freezing. Both in her dream and in reality.
Maysilee’s eyes opened suddenly. She laid for a moment, coming to her senses. She was in her soft bed, her body healthy… and cold. She sat down and immediately felt shivers running down her spine. She stretched her hand and touched radiator. It was ice cold. That was to be expected.
‘Merry.’ She shook her sister’s arm. Merrilee muttered something incomprehensible. ‘Wake up, heating isn’t working.’
Then Maysilee got out of bed, threw a blanket over herself and left the room. She could already hear the bustle in the hall. She walked into the salon, to find her mom tidying the hearth. Upon seeing Maysilee, she started explaining:
‘Pipes have frozen. Everywhere, as far as I can tell. Dad took Wyatt to get some wood and coal.’
Maysilee sat beside the table and checked the wall clock. Quarter past six. How early did they wake up? Did Wyatt manage to get enough sleep?
‘He could’ve taken us too’ she said, although the thought of leaving house during snowstorm made her flinch.
‘They’re probably helping with snow clearing, since entire District is buried. It’s a heavy task, I don’t even remember the last time we’ve been through that. He didn’t want to tire you out, and since Wyatt is staying with us… He worked in mines, so it’s nothing for him.’
Maysilee didn’t doubt it, she simply considered it unfair to have his first day starting like this. He was supposed to help with the shop, not running around shovelling. Especially after sleeping in the barn, heavily exhausted and cold. And what if he happened to meet his brothers in the streets? Their labour would be helpful, but for the sake of Wyatt she hoped they stayed at home, far away from him.
‘What about the shop? Are we opening?’
‘I think so. School is closed, so you don’t have to worry about it.’
Not like Maysilee planned to go there anyway. Yesterday it was already cold there, so after entire night it would be even worse. In the sweet shop she could at least count on never-ending supplies of warm tea and cocoa. Besides she doubted any client would show up. Who would care about sweets in such circumstances?
As it soon turned out, she was absolutely right. Since the hour they opened – eight o’clock – until now – nearly noon – not even a single person peeked inside. Not like Maysilee would even see them through heavy snow. She could barely outline shovelling men’s silhouettes, moving around with spades. From time to time she could see her neighbours coming out of their houses with trays of sandwiches or cups filled with warm brews. Her mom and Merrilee launched a similar initiative as well, providing working men with snacks and drinks. Therefore she happily agreed to stay within sweet shop’s four wall and enjoy time free of any obligations. Or, as she put it so diplomatically, to guard the family business.
She still felt half asleep, her body uncomfortably cold despite her constant consumption of ginger-honey tea and thick, wool sweater she was wrapped in. She blamed it all on the previous night. She didn’t get enough sleep, hence now her body demanded even more rest. It made her think about Hunger Games – how did tributes managed to survive without proper meals, shelters, all by themselves? How would s h e survive, when she was used to decent lifestyle, without hunger or cold?
Maysilee shook her head. Reaping was still far away, she shouldn’t rack her brains over such horrible scenario. Besides she could never predict how she’d cope in the Arena. It depended on too many factors, including the place itself. As long as it wouldn’t be freezing wasteland, she’d manage. Somehow. For now she should focus on present matters. Like two silhouettes approaching sweet shop. Snowstorm eased off a little, therefore she could recognise incomers. Her dad at the front, and Wyatt tailing him with his jacket opened. Maysilee immediately rushed to the door.
‘How is it?’ she asked, when they came in after a few futile attempts to brush the snow off themselves. Now small paddles were forming under their feet. ‘Are you fine?’
She looked first at her father, then turned her gaze to Wyatt. His face was red, lips chapped after many hours spent outdoors, though surprisingly he appeared healthier than yesterday.
‘Real nightmare’ her father admitted with brutal honesty. ‘I don’t remember winter like that. All of the Panem is paralyzed, they called off every delivery for the next two days.’ Oh. So it was t h a t bad. ‘We’ve been shovelling the tracks since six and it barely did anything.’
‘I’m sorry. Maybe I should join you?’
‘No need. We’re waiting for the equipment from Three anyway, but I don’t think it’ll get here today.’
‘Tomorrow neither’ suddenly said Wyatt. Then he silently added: ‘I counted odds.’
Maysilee chuckled. If he was in the mood for counting odds, his state surely improved.
‘Either way, the next few days are going to be very difficult. Fortunately Wyatt helped me bring wood, so we won’t be freezing.’
Her father didn’t look at or touch Wyatt, but his tone alone could tell he was proud of his new housemate. Young Callow remained indifferent, simply standing tall as if waiting for the next order. Maysilee couldn’t tell if he didn’t catch the praise, or he didn’t care. Maybe he felt like he had to prove himself?
‘Are you done for today or…?’
‘We’ll eat something and go back with sunset’ answered her dad, while going straight to the doors leading upstairs. Maysilee wondered, if he chose to go this way to see her, or because their outdoor stairs were too slippery. Probably both.
‘Don’t overwork yourself!’ she ordered.
‘You too, honey.’
‘Oh, I definitely won’t.’
She chuckled, but her good mood vanished in mere seconds. She was sitting in the sweet shop, doing absolutely nothing, while her not too young father and beaten up Wyatt worked their fingers to the bone, so that Twelve could survive blizzard. It’s been long since she felt so useless and uncomfortably privileged. Yes, she hated cold, but it didn’t mean she wanted to sit it out without putting any effort. She wanted to help. She n e e d e d to help.
‘Dad, wait.’ She quickly caught up with him. Mister Donner looked at her. ‘I want to go with you.’ He opened mouth to protest, but she didn’t let him. ‘Please, I’ve been sitting here whole day. Not a single person came. I don’t want to waste time if I can help even a little bit. Merrilee can cover for me anyway. Please.’
Her father glanced at Wyatt, who straightened up instinctively.
‘I…’ he hesitated. Then he sighed heavily. ‘Only if you’re sure. It’s really cold, wind is heavy…’
‘Okay.’
Maysilee beamed and took off her working apron. Finally she was about to put her muscles into work. No more sitting, thinking about Hunger Games and worrying about Arena. Just pure work.
She couldn't be any more right. It was pure work. Or rather labour. Exhausting, physical labour for which she wasn’t ready at all. Although thick coat did great job in keeping her warm, she sweated terribly in it. As a result, her body was cooling down. It wasn’t too long before she started feeling shivers all over her body. She didn’t let it show, because she knew how men surrounding her would react. They’d probably call her delicate flower or some other stupid name and send her home. She wouldn’t let them. She came to help, not to collect pitiful stares. Therefore she stayed, even though soon her arms started to hurt from shovelling. How did her father and Wyatt could do it for the whole day?
Speaking of the devil – both men stayed near her. Mister Donner talked with one of their neighbours, while Wyatt shovelled with his usual, indifferent face.
‘Was it that bad in mines, too?’ asked him Maysilee. She needed to avert her attention from shivers and pain in her arms. Conversation seemed to be the only available option to achieve that.
‘Worse.’ She arched her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Here at least I know I won’t bury alive.’
‘Oh.’ Right. It wasn’t that rare of an accident. In Twelve everybody had someone who either died in the Hunger Games, or in mines. ‘Yeah, that was stupid question.’ She tried to laugh it off, but her teeth clattered and she couldn’t stop her body from shivering.
‘You cold?’
Of course she was. And of course she wouldn’t admit it. She couldn’t be that weak, she was out for less than two hours!
‘Nah, it’s nothing.’ She waved her hand dismissively. Even that gesture was difficult at this point. ‘Bet you didn’t expect your first day would look like this.’
‘I didn’t think I’d make it at all’ Wyatt admitted quietly. Maysillee blinked. She couldn’t think clearly because of the cold.
‘You mean my father would be too strict or…?’
‘I mean survive. In old Walter’s barn. Before you showed up I was sure it’d be my last day.’
This time cold that enveloped Maysillee didn’t come from weather.
‘And you didn’t want to come back home? Even though you knew?’
‘I told you I had nowhere to go. Coming back after that argument…’ His voice faltered. For a moment his eyes were absent, as if he was recalling the scene that happened in his house before he was kicked out. Then he cleared his throat and summarized: ‘I’d rather go on my terms.’
For a moment Maysillee just stood motionless. Swirl of emotions went through her. Anger – first on Wyatt’s ruthless family, then on Wyatt himself. That he could just give up like this. After being free from reapings, after surviving these hellish seven years in constant fear. And all of that for what? For dying in some dilapidated shack?
She lifted head and looked at Wyatt. Took in his black eye, hunched posture, open jacket. Her anger was gone, replaced by far worse feeling. Despair. Over Wyatt. Over Twelve with no mercy for loners. Over Panem with its cruelty. Over… over everything.
‘I’m sorry’ she squeezed out. Even in her worse days she’d never think about giving up. Her response was always to fight, to claw out no matter what. To think Wyatt was resigned with freezing to death shook her to the core. If it wasn’t for that conversation she overheard in the class, he…
A sudden gust of wind made Maysilee shiver again. Though this time she couldn’t hide it.
‘You should go back.’
Wyatt’s words were loud enough to draw attention of her father. Concerned, he approached his daughter and touched her forehead. He nearly jumped up.
‘I knew it was a bad idea’ he muttered and then ordered Wyatt: ‘Take her home immediately and lay her close to fire.’
‘I’m f-fine’ she tried to oppose, but her chattering only further undermined her credibility.
‘You’re not.’ Mister Donner took the shovel away from her and once again spoke to Wyatt: ‘Go.’
Young Callow nodded and without any warning, bent down and picked Maysillee up. Wave of heat went through her body – both from weather and sudden contact. His open jacket wrapped her from both sides and in the middle she could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. How could he hold up so well in just plain sweater? Why couldn’t she be at least half as weather-beaten as him?
‘I c-can walk’ she assured and tried to wriggle out, but to no avail. Wyatt didn’t even budge.
‘I know, but it will be faster this way.’
Practical as always.
‘I m-must be heavy in t-this coat’ she still tried to convince Wyatt to let her go. God, she must have looked so pathetic. Like some… damsel in distress!
‘Still not as heavy as Beau.’
She blinked.
‘W-who?
‘My older brother. He liked to drink. Too much.’ For a moment a shadow fell across Wyatt’s face. ‘Then me and Kennedy had to drag him home.’
‘Kennedy?’
‘My other older brother.’
Ah, so these were the names of Wyatt’s infamous older brothers. They treated him like trash and he still used to help them at their lowest. Maysilee wasn’t even surprised.
‘You’re t-too good’ she murmured. She tried to fight coldness and heat replacing one another in her body, but she had no strength left. She really should’ve stayed home when she had a chance. She only made a fool out of herself.
She didn’t realise she said it out loud, until she heard Wyatt’s calm voice.
‘Nothing foolish in trying to help.’ While he spoke, she felt his chest vibrating against her ear. It was comforting, like listening to cat’s purr. Instinctively, she leaned into him, trying to hide entirely from the wind and snow. He hugged her tighter in response. ‘We’ll be your home soon.’
‘Our home’ she corrected him. She heard him gulping. One beat of his heart, then two. Deep breath.
‘Our home’ he agreed.