Work Text:
I’m waiting for Gale in the market square, watching the faded banners that mark the festival flutter from the stalls as I wait. I’m alone today, Prim is coming later with some of her friends this year.
The day of the Harvest Festival is slightly better than most days, people usually save up to have something extra for today, and thrifty ones sometimes have something to spare, for the kids at least. I’ve sold enough strawberries and squirrels during summer to have enough saved to buy a half dozen molasses apples, a treat which will be a hit with Prim’s little circle. I know Gale certainly has something planned for today, but I haven’t bothered to ask, even if I’m curious.
I finally see Gale coming, walking towards me from between the stalls, a paper parcel tucked under his arm, which must be the the kids' treats He looks different somehow, and it takes a bit to see that it’s his clothes that are making the difference.
He’s wearing a thin grey sweater under a red shirt and dark yellow jacket, they seem to be new things from the lack of patching and threadbare spots, although I can’t imagine where he might have gotten them. He looks good though, a slight smile tugging on the corners of his usually flat mouth, and his hair is loose, not tied back as he wears it in the woods.
Looking at him, part of me wishes I had thought to dress up more this year, my hair is falling out of its braid, and the only decoration I have is a necklace that used to belong to my father, made of small polished beads and a cloudy blue-green stone. Prim had offered to do my ears so I could wear my mother’s old silver earrings, but I had refused, not that I’m scared of the pain, Prim had her ears done by a schoolmate - it hurt a little, but not much, Katniss! - but I would only lose the earrings while hunting.
Anyhow only the people that want to dance dress up, and I don’t dance much. Prim does, she’d spent the morning pinning herself into one of Mom’s old flowy skirts. Gale comes up, smiling a bit more as he slips right beside me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Thankfully my face doesn’t redden too much, although my stomach still gives that funny little twist.
We’ve been together two months now, and I still haven’t gotten over that giddy feeling that overtakes me whenever he gives me a touch or kiss. I wonder if it will always be that way.
“Katnip,” he greets.
“Gale.” I say, focusing intently on making out the print on a banner three stalls down so I don’t start smiling like an idiot. He’s not fooled though, and nudges me in the side with his elbow. But that’s all he does, he never teases me, and even Prim does sometimes.
“Let’s go get the apples,” I say, clumsily. But there is a line already queueing up to the stall, and I don’t want the garnishes to have run out before we get there. Things like pine nuts and walnuts are fairly easy to come by, and usually get put on the apples, but for the festival they sometimes manage to get crushed toffee, or candy sprinkles. But only a little bit, and only the first customers get them.
We go off towards the stall, and I eye the parcel under Gale’s arm, trying to figure out what’s in it. It’s rather big, but it’s wrapped too thickly for me to guess at what it is from the shape.
“You’ll see,” he says as we take our place in line, sounding amused.
"Is it new clothes?" I pinch the sleeve of his jacket, finding I like the feel of the material. Not that I care about clothes much, but everyone here wears the same things over and over until they fall apart. Outside the Seam, and especially the shopkeepers and their families will have nicer things, and more of them. I do try to keep Prim dressed well, and Gale's mother Hazel, who washes for a living will sometimes be paid in clothes nobody wants or outgrew.
Gale pats at his coat as if he just remembered he has it on, something like a wince pulling at his lips for a moment. "These were dad's. Mom...she said I could have them now, since I can fit them."
Oh. I find myself rubbing my own arm, the leather of my father's jacket a smooth softness under my fingertips. The sudden impulse to take Gale's hand comes next, and I do before I lose courage, slipping my hand into his his free one, the callouses on my fingers catching against his own. He doesn't react much, but I think I see the corners of his mouth turn up. We don't usually hold hands, or do the stuff other couples at school do. Mostly because don't want a lot of people noticing that we're together yet, and because I just don't feel the need to. Agreeing to be his girlfriend was more natural than I thought it would be, it feels like an extension of what we do in the woods. We talk, laugh, hunt. Look out for each other. I just get to call him mine now.
He squeezes my hand as we move up in line, I decide to stay like that. Not many people will notice here, and it'll all I can do to tell him I understand. After a few long moments he shifts, taking the parcel from under his arm and holding it up. "It's not clothes." he says.
"Candy?" I guess. "Toys?" The carpenter will make neat little things off the odds and ends of wood scraps, you can pay extra to have them painted. But he shakes his head.
"Not toys. This was Dad's, Mom said I could have it too." He hands me the parcel, and I have to take it with one hand. Holding it, I can feel that it's hard, square shaped under the padding of the wrapping paper.
"What is it?"
He squeezes my hand again, smiles a little more than before. "I think you'll like it," he tells me evasively, and I blink.
"It's for me?
"Of course," he smiles. "Happy festival, Katniss."
Later, I sit on the edge of the square, watching Prim whirl around with a girl from her class out of the corner of my eye, and open my present. It's box with a lid covered in a pattern of dark and light squares, and it opens to show rows of tiny carved figures. The entire thing is shiny and scraped from age and what I can assume is years of use, but it's clear it was well-taken care of. Gale is watching from over my shoulder, and he reaches over to pluck out one of the carved figures.
"What is it?" I ask again.
"It's chess," he tells me this time, holding the figure up to the light. "It's a game, Dad said he used to play it on breaks with his freinds in the mines, and he taught me how. Mom put it away after he..." he trails off, but he doesn't have to say more.
"You want me to play with you?" The board and it's little figures look bewildering, I've never seen anything like it. Here, the word game has a sinister connotations, but Gale is looking at the little figure between his fingers with such fondness that I can't help but be interested. But... "...I don't know how though."
"I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't think you couldn't learn it." Gale says bluntly. He takes the box from my lap and dumps out the the little carved things, setting it back down between us and putting on the lid. He sets the figure he's holding down, deliberately placing it.
"So this is the pawn," he begins.