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I’m wearing a modest bronze band on my finger by the time the seventh spring in our newly-built District 12 arrives. I personally would have accepted even a dandelion stem for a ring, but Peeta had insisted on getting us matching rings. What’s the harm in bringing back a little tradition , he’d said. I was too overwhelmed with affection to argue. A few months since our private engagement by the lake, a gentle stillness hangs in the air, one from which I would have eagerly fled to the woods back then. Now I welcome it. I can't get enough of quiet days, when the ever-present burden of fear that compresses my chest lifts a little.
Hand in hand, Peeta and I walk in silence to the second Hob marketplace. the former coal miners recently constructed a cozy new trading center where my (fiancé) and I make a regular pilgrimage; I hawk my catches and Peeta trades his premium cakes for assorted goods. Since the coal mines closed down, the district mayor has been trying to diversify our industries—there’s a poultry farm, a small greenhouse, several tiny factories. I can walk around town without remembering the human ashes that once blanketed the ground.
A trill by my feet interrupts our stroll. “Hey, Buttercup. Didn’t freeze to death last night?” I hate to admit that Prim’s old cat and I have struck up an amiable friendship. It felt wrong to mistreat the only living reminder of my baby sister. After a couple of rocky years in our relationship, I even sneak him a few scraps of food when he’s hungry. Today, that doesn’t seem to be an issue, as he dangles a mouse from his teeth. A fresh catch from the field.
“He takes after his caregiver, Katniss,” Peeta nudges me. I’m swatting his cat-fur-covered shoulder when I hear it.
Gale’s voice.
I couldn't have mistaken it. Of course, I should have expected his return eventually—District 12 will always be his home. But it’s still a shock to see him, looking older but mostly the same, treading out of the Hob with a girl at his side. They’re laughing at something together, looking for all the world like a happy couple.
“Gale” leaves my mouth before I realize. He glances up, barely startled to see Peeta and me staring at him. Gale and I lock eyes across the street.
“I’ll head on in to meet the customers, alright? You take your time,” Peeta says, squeezing my hand before entering the Hob. I thank the skies once again that he is always so considerate.
My feet cross to meet Gale and his new girl. “Katniss! I’m Athena Huynh. It’s so nice to meet you.” She’s delicately pretty, with warm almond-shaped eyes and soft features. I can tell she means it when she extends a hand for me to shake. Throwing a glance at Gale, she says, “I’ll leave you both to it, then!” and awkwardly turns to join Peeta.
Part of me knows I should be more welcoming to her, but all I can focus on right now is Gale’s carefully expressionless face a few feet away.
“New girlfriend, huh? She’s sweet.” I’m glad my voice carries no trace of bitterness. The initial surprise has worn away, leaving nothing but relief? Joy? At seeing my former best friend. I still can’t picture Prim’s death without recalling how Gale played a critical role in that final bomb. To this day, no one knows if it was his or some other rebel’s. I haven’t forgiven him. I don’t think I ever will. But time has begun to wear away my jagged edges like my rib bones and my defensive prey-like mind. I’m tired of being hurt and hurting others, and I see this sentiment reflected in Gale’s eyes. I can speak to him a little, right? That’s all this is.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I met her in my neighborhood in Two. She’s lovely, and she doesn’t take any of my bullshit.”
Never in my life have I heard Gale describe someone as “lovely.” Athena must have done a number on him. And I’m glad that he’s found someone to love, the same way I have with Peeta. It’s what we both deserve after the war.
“How…have you been?” I ask as if I’m prodding my toe onto an icy lake about to crack. “Is District Two treating you alright?”
Gale shifts the weight of his leftover fare, a dead turkey, to his other hand. I’m momentarily taken back to another lifetime in which he lies bloodied on my kitchen table while I stroke his hair. “It’s so different from here, sometimes it feels like the other side of the planet. But I’ve settled in. I got promoted to Public Defense Captain—and I’m doing everything in my power to become the exact opposite of those Head Peacekeepers.” He takes a breath, as if he didn’t mean to tell me all that. “How are you, Katniss?”
Hearing him say my name would have sent a rush of grief and pain through me three, two years ago, or even one year ago. But I know I’ve been healing when it doesn’t come. “Just living day to day, you know? I hunt, Peeta bakes, Haymitch raises geese in between hangovers.” I look down, scuffing a melting snow chunk with my boot. “I see life start to buzz around town like it used to, and I know I made the right decision to come back home.”
Gale takes a step closer, but I don’t move away. “Are you happy here? With Peeta?” I almost scoff at his question—how could he possibly still care about that?—but his sincere tone stops me.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m happy. We take good care of each other. The nightmares will stay for life and I know I’m never going to be completely right in the head, but who is, right?” I get a chuckle out of him.
“You should see the amount of mental wellness centers the Council has been setting up around our area. It sounded ludicrous to me at first, but Athena attended a session—she said it helped.”
Can you imagine? Panem, with a new government (now called the Council), caring for its citizens. While I know it’s a huge step in the right direction, the idea of “democracy” still makes my head buzz. A few weeks ago, Peeta taught me a new word to refer to President Snow, “dictator,” that I never knew existed.
“One foot in there and I wouldn’t be allowed to leave,” I say, making a circular motion with my finger around my temple. Gale knows it’s true.
“Always the optimist, Katniss,” he scolds sarcastically, but there’s no fire behind it. Both of the blazes within us have died down to a soft flicker.
I kick his boot. “Like you ever were.” We laugh together for a moment, reclaiming a distant moment in time. When he was my other half, and I was his. I know this conversation can’t last, the blossoming trees rustling as a breeze picks up. It glides in between the two of us.
I know we’ve kept Athena waiting too long, because she discreetly peeks through the door of the Hob, her eyes innocently wide. “She’s waiting for you, Gale.” And before I think better of it, I wrap my arms around his waist. One last time . Gale’s body stiffens for a second before he returns the embrace. “Be happy, alright?” I whisper.
“I’m doing my best,” he murmurs. We pull away at the same time. “And I’m happy I got to see you here. Congratulations on the engagement,” he remarks with a grin, free of resentment or jealousy.
My ring finger twitches as if I’ve forgotten about it. “Thank you,” I tell him as Athena takes her spot and intertwines her fingers with his.
“Take care of the woods,” Gale reminds me.
“Count on it!” We wave goodbye until the couple turns down a path to Hazelle’s new house, where they must be staying. I swing the Hob door open to assist Peeta, whose hands are filled with herbal concoctions, teas that he likes to drink on chilly mornings.
Already, he’s watching my face for any sign of distress. I shake my head, lips curving into a smile at his good-natured concern. “You don’t need to worry, Peeta. Just saying goodbye.”
I grab some of the tea bundles to help him, and we start down the familiar path back to the Victors’ Village. “It was only right that you met him today,” says Peeta. “I think you both needed the closure a long time ago.” As always, he knew what emotions were weighing me down before I did. “And I talked to Athena—she grew up in the poorest area of District Two, mastering how to plaster mortar before she even entered school.”
“So she’s not a Capitol-spoiled brat. At least she understands how we grew up…Maybe she is good for him.” I gaze at Peeta sideways. Seven years after the Games, Gale and I have both found our dandelion yellows on the other sides of Panem. “Funny how two people can know they’re meant for each other.”
He doesn’t speak, but I feel his response in his arm resting across my shoulder as we continue. I observe the young sprouts of grass collecting at the base of our home. A bluebird rests on the porch railing. It flutters away at our appearance, leaving only its bright melody in its wake.