Archive of Our Own ^beta

Life always feels better when he’s up in the trees. Up there, Burdock can overlook the rolling hills of District 12 and watch the forest span for miles and miles, and all his problems feel just a little bit smaller.

The leaves shudder in the breeze, and he relishes the quick relief from the humidity. If his shirt is already sticking to his back at this hour, it’s sure to be a scorching day.

He tries the buck call again, cupping his hands to his face. The bellow startles some small creature way up in the branches above him–a squirrel maybe–and it scampers along to the next tree. His legs are going numb and the sun’s starting to break through the trees, so he knows he’s gotta wrap up soon. The Peacekeepers will be flooding the Seam in less than an hour, knocking down the doors of anyone they can’t see through their front window. The town folk have it a little easier, but if his curtains aren’t open and their eyes aren’t glued to their televisions, watching kids hack each other to death, he’ll earn a night in a concrete cell. At least in that case, he could keep Lenore Dove company. Haymitch would throw a fit knowing the way they’ve mistreated her.

Burdock’s losing patience and losing time, and he’s just about to try the call again when a mockingjay alights on the tree across from him. It stares at him with those dark, glossy eyes and mimics his gruff tones. It’s a strange sight coming out of that tiny thing.

At least the birds are on my side today, he thinks. The mockingjay waits with him for several minutes, but the deer aren’t showing their faces today.

Begrudgingly, he half climbs, half slides down the tree trunk. It’s not the most graceful landing, but he dusts off the splinters from his palms and hoists the morning’s loot over his shoulder. A couple rabbits, a small basket of blackberries, some ginseng root, and a bundle of chamomile comprise his bounty. It’s not much, but when he’s working against Peacekeeper time, it’s better than nothing.

He stashes his bow and arrows at the edge of the forest. When he replaces the mossy board back over the hidey hole, he bids them goodbye. “Stay safe, my love,” he says, patting the lid. That bow is his most prized possession, and he can’t imagine the pain he’d feel if he returned to an empty box.

He’d store it at home if he didn’t have to worry about the Peacekeepers’ safety checks, but as a known friend of a tribute, the Peacekeepers seem to scrutinize him even more closely these days. No way they’d let him strut through town with a weapon like that; it’s a fine tool, hand-carved by his pa. The arrow tips are Covey-made, and the quiver is stitched from an old leather boot that was starting to let the rain in. It’s smelly and worn and it’s not the prettiest, but it’s a fine piece of craftsmanship, and far too precious to end up in the hands of the Capitol.

Burdock keeps his head low as he sneaks back into town. In normal times, the Peacekeepers are usually some of his biggest customers, but they’re quick to tighten up while the Hunger Games are happening. Even the ones who are a little more merciful crack down when they have Capitol Headquarters to impress.

The butcher barters some salted meat for the rabbits and promises to let him have the furs once he’s done processing them. Fresh rabbit stew tastes a helluva lot better than salted meat, but it’ll last longer in storage.

When he wanders down the alley that backs up to the storefronts, he spies Asterid in that pretty blue dress of hers–the one that matches her eyes. She’s half hidden by the gate to the trash area, tucked into their rendezvous point. His heart skips a beat when she notices him, a shy smile on her face.

He rummages in his pack. He’s been a supplier for the apothecary for a couple months now, ever since he worked up the nerve to ask Asterid for some wildcrafting lessons. Since the Games started, it’s been their little tradition to meet at late dawn before the shop opens and before the Peacekeepers get suspicious. She receives gifts from the forest, and he lives off the gift of her company. The cash sure doesn’t hurt, either.

“Ginseng and chamomile,” he announces as places the bundles in her hands. Their fingers brush briefly. “For health and luck.”

Her eyes well with tears, and he wants to wipe them away for her. “Didn’t help Haymitch much in the reaping,” she says sadly, tucking the goods into her shoulder bag. 

There aren’t many words to put to the grief they have for their best friends, but there’s a shared understanding in the space between them. Other than Blair, Asterid’s just about the only person he wants to see these days.

“He’s made it this far,” says Burdock, but he’s not sure when he became such an optimist. Something about this girl and her sunny yellow hair. “So’s Maysilee.”

She dabs at her cheeks, and he wishes he had some kind of handkerchief that wasn’t soaked in dirt and rabbit blood. “They can’t both make it.”

Somehow, that barbed wire on the boundary fences got snagged on his throat. He’s choking back tears now, too, and he desperately wants to stay longer. If only they could suffer together.

“Go,” she implores, pushing him away. “Before the Peacekeepers start going door to door.”

She has more sense than he does at this moment, so he obeys.

He creeps out the back alley and almost makes it to the edge of town when he runs into Otho Mellark. Probably done with his early morning prep at the bakery. Not exactly the person he wants to see at the moment, but at least it’s not a Peacekeeper. He waves down Burdock, much too cheery considering the bloodbath they’re about to witness.

“Find anything good this morning?” he asks.

Burdock shrugs. Otho grows uncomfortable in the silence, and he scuffs his feet around. “Hey, thanks for having my back at the reaping. I’d be a goner if you didn’t knock me over.”

“Yeah,” says Burdock. He wishes Otho would get to the point already.

Otho kicks some pebbles. “I’m sorry about Haymitch.”

“Yeah,” he repeats. He’s heard so many apologies in the past weeks, it hardly registers. Burdock doesn’t have the patience or the strength to say much more than, “Me too.”

Otho looks satisfied by this answer, but he’s still lingering. Burdock figures he’s not just there to hear hunting stories and profess his profound sorrow.

Burdock’s getting restless. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, uh…” Otho fidgets with his hands. “If you come across any blackberries while you’re out there, could you bring them by the bakery? I want to make a berry tart for Asterid to cheer her up–she liked it the one time I brought it to the store. I think blackberries are her favorite. I can trade for some sugar.”

Burdock shoulders his pack, full of blackberries. He’s glad he put the basket inside his bag, out of sight. “Yeah, sure, Otho. Whatever.”

They’re not her favorite–strawberries are–but no way Burdock is giving that information to Otho, and he’s sure as hell not giving him his blackberries.

The baker boy offers him a somber smile. “Thanks, Burdock.”

Burdock mutters under his breath all the way back to the Seam. My best friend’s in the Games too, don’t I get a special treat?

He doesn’t like returning home in a sour mood, but at least he’s stewing over Otho Mellark’s romantic pursuits instead of Haymitch fighting for his life. He’s sure the Marches would gladly marry their daughter off to the bakery heir than to a Seam boy who’ll probably end up in the mines one day, just like his older brother. Hunting and gathering can only take him so far, let alone support a family. He sobers up soon enough when he crosses the threshold into his home and his family already has the television tuned into the most horrifying live-feed ever.

He’s just in time to witness the replay of a boy getting eviscerated by squirrels. Burdock gulps, thinking of the ones he just saw darting through the trees.

“Cutting it close, son,” his father says from the couch. But it’s not reprimanding. He looks at him with sad eyes, and pats the empty space next to him.

~~~

Burdock wipes his brow, slick from the evening heat. The late summer sunsets make the air stick like taffy, even in the darkest hours of night.

Scurrying under the fence and belly-crawling across the itchy lawn are the easy parts. Looking out for Peacekeepers and their dogs when he’s about as vulnerable as a worm on a rock is much harder.

With much effort and a few snags on the bushes, Burdock tippy toes along the stone wall of the Peacekeeper base, counting windows as he goes. Eight’s the magic number. He crouches, cups his hands to his mouth, and lets the mellow sounds of mourning doves make their way up the stone wall.

“You’re dumb as dirt, Burd.” Lenore Dove’s scolding whisper is music to his ears. They can lock her up, but they can’t smother her spirit.

Yeah, Burdock knows he’s being dumb. But sometimes a person has to be dumb to care for the ones they love. And it’s what Haymitch would do, if he were here. Lenore Dove’s his cousin and his best friend’s girl–that’s as good as a life debt in his eyes.

The little window is too high up to see her, but Lenore Dove sticks her fingers through the bars. “Whattya got?”

“It’s not much, but… open your hands,” he whispers. Last time, he’d brought some dried veal and the knowledge that Haymitch was still fighting. But she already knew it. “ They got the Games on in here, just for me, Burdie ,” she’d said. He doesn’t wait for a response before he stretches up as far as he can, barely reaching the window, and sends blackberries and salted meat tumbling down into the dark cell.

There’s a slight commotion as Lenore Dove catches the falling food, and it feels about loud enough to wake the whole District. Burdock winces, and hopes the Peacekeepers have worse hearing than he does.

“Thanks, Burdie,” she says. “Now get .” 

He scans for Peacekeepers, and lets the wind carry him all the way home.

~~~

The crickets sing when he slips into the woods the next morning, even earlier than usual. He tossed and turned all night, dreaming of Haymitch and poison darts and Lenore Dove behind bars, and the croaking snores from his brother weren’t exactly a lullaby.

The light from the waxing moon guides him towards his hidey hole, and he stumbles into a tree when he sees a human shadow coming his way. “ Gah!! ” he yelps.

So much for sneaking around.

“No, no, Burdie–it’s me.” 

Burdock lets his eyes adjust to the darkness, but he would know that sweet voice anywhere. It’s Asterid March , of all people, looking beautiful as ever in the soft moonlight. Was he dreaming? Yeah, he was definitely dreaming. But in his dreams, he’s usually bringing her flowers or kissing her lips or taking her dancing at the Hob, or he’s being chased through the town square by Pa March after doing all three.

When she steps closer, she’s got a smile on her face like she’s holding in a laugh. Burdock would be embarrassed, but he’s just glad to see such a genuine smile on her face for the first time in weeks. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” she giggles.

No, she’s real this time. His heart is racing, and he can’t tell if it’s from the scare or the girl standing in front of him. Probably both. Burdock can barely spit any words out. “What are you–Asterid–why…How?”

She rubs her arm. “Couldn’t sleep,” she says. “I’ve seen you walk out this way in the morning. Thought I’d wait for you here.”

He blinks, trying to wrap his mind around all of that information. You’ve seen me? You waited for me? It’s a little too much for his brain to compute at such an early hour.

“Oh,” is all he manages at first. He swallows his nerves. “Do you want to come with me? Hunting, I mean.”

“I was hoping so,” Asterid’s gaze might just melt him into a puddle. “I can’t take being holed up in that shop anymore. I want to know what the forest is like.”

Burdock’s been given the mission of a lifetime, and he hopes he doesn’t screw it up. “This way,” he directs.

Asterid crosses her heart when Burdock makes her promise not to give up the location of his hidey hole. The grin on her face is stronger than all the drugs in the March apothecary. 

Yeah, you can shove that little fruit tart in your pie hole, Mellark.

It’s still too dark for shooting, but they check some of the traps and he shows her how to restring the bow in case they run into any critters on the way to the lake. His usual path is worn into the dirt, and he knows he’ll have to start taking a new route soon before people start catching onto the trail. But for now, it’s their safest bet as they travel through the darkness.

“You sure you don’t want me to carry anything?” Asterid asks.

“No, no,” says Burdock. Who said Seam boys can’t be gentlemen? “I’ve got it.”

When they breach the treeline, Asterid gasps. The lake is breathtaking at this hour–all dark and silvery. It feels like another planet. Moonlight glitters off the water, and the waves lap gently at the shore.

“Wow,” she says. “This must be the most beautiful sight in all of Twelve.”

Burdock stands next to her, drinking in the early morning air. He could show her a million more beautiful things out here–just wait until they trek up that hill or venture out to that waterfall. When he looks at her face, all full of wonder for the lake, he’s already making hundreds of plans for their future. 

“Look up,” he says.

The stars await her gaze. As she takes in their celestial beauty, her mouth opens in awe. 

She turns to look at him, and he quickly realizes he’s been staring. “Now what?” she asks.

Burdock has some line and a hook in his pack, and he helps Asterid wind the line around a sturdy branch and dig up some worms from under the rocks. She doesn’t seem to mind the mud, and she’s a pro at knots–Burdock remembers the time she stitched up Blair when he got cuffed by a Peacekeeper for raising his voice.

“Now, I don’t have a pole with me, so this’ll have to do.” He holds the branch to her, and she accepts it with a sharp nod. Asterid’s a diligent learner, but he knew that already. She’s always been at the top of their class. “You wait there for a bite. I’m gonna forage along the shoreline.”

Burdock takes a break from digging his hands into the silt to steal a look at Asterid. It’s like she’s sparkling in the starlight as she gazes wistfully at the waves. She casts the line again, graceful and deft in a way only she can pull off. Now this is the best view in Twelve , he thinks.

Once he scrubs the last of the tubers in lakewater, he plops down next to her. The lake’s beginning to twinkle and shift, and those rosy hues from the sun are creeping in. 

Burdock twists off the plant roots from the stems–Asterid’s told him the leaves are medicinal–and hands her a bouquet of arrowhead leaves and white flowers. “Here you are, Miss March. Katniss for your apothecary.”

She smells the blooms like they’re roses. “Why thank you, Mr. Everdeen.”

The fish aren’t biting, and the sun is starting to rise, so they retreat back into the forest. He can’t imagine her climbing a tree in the nice dress she’s wearing, so they creep across the forest floor, two predators stalking for prey.

The bushes rustle ahead, and Burdock halts Asterid with his hand. A pair of turkeys gobble and meander along the ridge.

Burdock wonders if he can try a trick shot and nail both birds at once–maybe that’d impress Asterid–but with his luck, he’d fumble and lose both of them.

He plays it safe, retrieving a single arrow from his quiver. Drawing his bow is as instinctual as breathing itself. While the turkeys wander aimlessly, he lies in wait, counting his breaths and his heartbeat. And then, he lets the arrow fly.

The turkey falls, deader than a rock. The other one bolts.

When he looks over at Asterid, she has her hands over her eyes. “Is it over?” she asks, peeking through her fingers.

He’d had a fantasy of showing her how to use the bow, his arms around her, their faces pressed together–but it looks like he’ll be the only one shooting this morning.

Daylight is arriving quickly, anyway. They can only spare so much more time together. Burdock brings her back to the hidey hole to stash his things, and he sends her off under the fence with the katniss and a handful of blackberries.

“Thanks, Burdock,” says Asterid before they part ways. “Can’t imagine what my folks would say if they saw us coming back from the woods together, just the two of us.” Her face gets all blushy, and Burdock just might explode.

He can’t remember any words again. They all sound wrong and foreign. “Yeah,” His cheeks feel hot, and he runs his hands through his long hair while he searches for something smooth to say. “Whatever hell they gave me, it’d be worth it. Get home safe, Asterid.”

As she walks back toward the rising sun, Burdock realizes that for the first time in weeks, he’s forgotten about the Games.

~~~

Burdock feels like chicken shit. As the Hunger Games drone on the television in the Everdeen household, guilt piles on him like a ton of rocks. While he was off frolicking in the woods with a pretty girl, his best friend was struggling to survive in a forest that is genetically designed to murder him.

As Haymitch and Maysilee fight tooth and nail for survival, District pride swells in his chest. You can do it, Haymitch. Show the Capitol not to mess with Twelve.

Burdock can barely lift his eyes whenever Haymitch is onscreen, but he forces himself to watch. He needs to witness this; it might be the last he ever sees of his friend.

I’m trying to do right by you, Haymitch. By your folks, by your girl. I hope it’s enough. 

But it’ll never be enough. He’s tired of empty stomachs and lashed bodies and little kids coming home in pine boxes.

He doesn’t realize he’s weeping until his pa places his hand on his back, rubbing little circles into his shoulders.

~~~

Burdock forgoes hunting the next day. Before dawn, he tramps across the Meadow with a bundle of katniss tubers.

“Geese’ll be too fat to walk if you keep feeding them like that.” 

Burdock thought he was being slick by going around back to the goose pen, but once the birds started honking, he knew he’d be caught. Clerk Carmine leans against the doorway.

Burdock scatters one last tuber to the geese. A big one snatches it right up, and Burdock is smart enough to get out of biting range before they start looking for more. 

“It’s what Haymitch would do, if he were here.”

Clerk Carmine lets off a big sigh. “You’re absolutely right about that.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

Burdock ascends the wooden steps to the back porch, but Clerk Carmine doesn’t move an inch. “Here,” he says, holding out a wrapped package. “More katniss and a can of blackberry jam, made fresh by my Aunt Tansy.”

Clerk Carmine accepts the package. “Thank you, son. You can pass that message along to your folks, too.”

In better times, they’d gathered together in the living room to fiddle and sing and dance. “ I’m musical from my Covey side ,” Burdock would say whenever someone complimented his voice. His best memories were from inside that home. It was the only place he could stand to be after his ma died, other than the woods.

With Lenore Dove locked up, the house feels like a skeleton.

Tam Amber appears in the door. “Burdock?” While Clerk Carmine’s face is cross, his is full of worry. “You better get home soon. It’s not safe for you to be here.”

“I know,” says Burdock. He’s heard that plenty of times since the reaping. He considers telling them about his midnight encounter with Lenore Dove, but they’d hate that he’d put both of them in danger. The least he can do is try to take care of them. “But I’ll be back with more.”

Clerk Carmine huffs. “So you will.”

~~~

The Peacekeepers aren’t patrolling yet, so as he slinks through the Seam, Burdock makes a stop at the Abernathys’ back door. Next to Maysilee, Haymitch’s home is under the tightest watch of all. Of anywhere in District 12, Burdock’s in the most danger at the Abernathys,’ but he and Blair have been checking up on them. They’ve gotta be quick, because the Peacekeepers are all too eager to break up a gathering, and it almost always ends with someone at the whipping pole. At least in that case, Asterid would come to his rescue. Crouching underneath the windows, he hides more jam and a rabbit under the steps.

Pressed against the back wall, Burdock lets out one low, cooing whistle. The back door swings open. From where he’s sitting, Burdock can see Sid’s face squished up against the screen door.

“Burdock?” Sid whispers. It takes a minute for Sid to find him in the bushes. A smile spreads across his face when he spots him, and Burdock’s heart breaks. He holds a finger to his lips, and points to the package. Sid zips his mouth shut and nods in understanding. The deal done, Burdock races home before the Peacekeepers suspect a thing.

~~~

Burdock wakes before dawn again to go check his traps. Just before he makes it to the fence, the loveliest voice in the entire universe calls his name. Butterflies flutter and bat around in Burdock’s chest.

“I saw you leaving again,” explains Asterid. “You don’t mind if I join, do you?”

Never in a million years could Burdock say no to her.

“I keep thinking about the forest,” she says, once they’ve been walking a while. “How Haymitch and Maysilee are in one too, and how different it is for them.”

Burdock shudders. The irony of the forest haunts him every time he slips under the fence, and when he picks berries, there’s a split second when he wonders if the Capitol poisoned those, too. His woods feel toothless compared to the arena. Sure, there are bears and snakes, but the Capitol’s forest is perverse and unnatural and deadly, just like everything about the Capitol. When he watches the Games in his living room, he wants to turn invisible so he can sneak into the arena with his bow to watch Haymitch’s back. He wonders if it would even make a difference.

“Sometimes I wish I would’ve given Haymitch more wilderness tips the times we went out here,” admits Burdock. It feels like a childish thing to say. There isn’t anything in the whole world–outside of maybe volunteering in his place–that would’ve saved Haymitch from the horror of the Games. “But I know the Capitol will find a way to kill him if they want to, whether or not he can track a set of footprints.”

Asterid goes quiet for a while. There’s just a slight breeze and a couple sparrows twittering, and Burdock’s content to give her some peace and listen to the forest for a moment. They’ve talked enough about their friends and the Games and how terrified they are. Not much else feels right to talk about these days, but Asterid starts back up again asking about the birds that are chirping up a storm in a big oak tree.

Burdock swipes a few blades of grass.

“Want to see why they call me Burdie?”

Asterid raises an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

The branches rustle and bend as Burdock climbs. He slides into a notch where the trunk splits and checks to make sure Asterid is watching. The grass is bitter in his lips and he takes a second to find the right angle to make it whistle, but it makes the sparrows bounce around the leaves in curiosity, tweeting and watching the strange boy in the tree. Burdock takes a blackberry from his pocket and smashes it against a branch so the birds can pick it apart. He’s good at the calls and making them jabber, but Lenore Dove is the true bird whisperer; they’ll eat right out of her palm.

A couple mockingjays begin to pick up Burdock’s whistles, and he’s feeling confident and he has Asterid’s attention, so Burdock begins to sing.

The sparrows quieten. The mockingjays join in by the chorus.

After a few verses, Burdock slides back down the tree, where Asterid waits for him with a big smile on her face. 

“Birdie Burdie,” she says, matter of fact. Burdock wants to make her smile like that forever and ever. “I’ve never seen a talent like that in my whole life.”

As they walk back home, Burdock points out a few landmarks and shows her the little divots in the mud where deer have passed through, just in case she ever needs to know how to survive out there. Maybe it’s useless, but even if it could help her a little bit, he’ll teach her everything he knows.

There’s an awkward moment before they part where Burdock isn’t sure if he should hug her or shake her hand or just turn around and bolt. But Asterid kisses his cheek and thanks him for showing her the forest, and the mark from her lips burns the side of his face all the way home until he smashes his face into his pillow.

~~~

Maysilee Donner is dead.

The screams are awful. There’s a chorus of them through the Seam, wretched and guttural, until the silence takes its place. They grieve and shake their heads and put their babies to bed, but the Seam doesn’t have a choice but to move on. They’ve got mouths to feed and coal to mine. The town folk fare worse. They’re not as accustomed to losing their own.

Peacekeepers have the town on lockdown, and they’ll rough up anyone who’s out when the sun starts to set. Burdock paces the house until the stray dog that begs on their porch for scraps starts howling and his brother begs him to stop. A thunderstorm pockmarks the earth for days, and mud runs rivers through the Seam. He wants to go out and yell with the thunder and thrash in the lightning. He’ll tear his skin off if he can’t see Asterid.

She’s in unimaginable pain. Burdock knows it because when he lost his ma, the world stopped spinning. He needs to go to her, he needs to be with her, and he’ll claw his hair out until he can.

His pa is too smart to sleep with both eyes closed. Burdock doesn’t even make it past the fireplace when a hand grabs his shoulder and whirls him around.

“You’re not going anywhere,” his dad says in the darkness.

“But–”

“No,” he pulls him into a hug. It’s too tight for Burdock to wiggle free. “I’m not losing you too, Burdie.”

When Burdock feels the wet patch on his shoulder, he knows his father is crying. The tears start pouring from him, too.

~~~

There’s a break in the storm when Haymitch is declared the winner.

“He did it, Burdock! He did it!” Sid just about leaps into his arms when Burdock shows up on their back porch the first chance it’s safe enough.

Burdock musses up the kid’s hair. He’s a brother to him as any, and Sid goes back to bumbling around his ma, who kneads a lump of dough at the table. Blair fiddles with the creaky floorboard and a hammer.

Sid’s happy as a clam, but Burdock’s terrified. So’s Blair. And no doubt Ma Abernathy as well. That axe tore through Haymitch like butter, and the Games ended days ago, but the Abernathys have no idea when he’ll return. He could be anywhere at all, locked in a cell worse than Lenore Dove’s, starving or dying or already dead. The McCoys are saying that wasn’t their daughter–they swear–would they replace Haymitch, too?

Lenore Dove’s still under lock and key. Burdock’s been scouting the Peacekeeper base, but they’ve got even more guards and dogs at the barracks now that they’re not on Games patrol. No way he’s sneaking to her window anymore. He maps dozens of plans, but they all end up with him chained to a pole or hanging from a tree.

His dad’s right. They’ve suffered too much for him to go risking his life.

But there’s one more person he can chance seeing.

The March apothecary is usually a little ray of sunshine, but maybe that’s just because Asterid’s there. Burdock likes hanging out in the storefront as long as they’ll welcome him, which is not too long since they say he holds up the customer line and distracts Asterid from her work. The Marches keep their shop neat and tidy, and jars of colorful things line the walls, and everything in them is supposed to make you feel a little better. Just smelling the air gives him a rush.

But there’s a pit in his stomach today when he pushes the door open. The chime rouses Ma March from the backroom, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Guess it runs in the family. Asterid is nowhere in sight.

“Can I help you?” she asks. She’s not angry, but she’s not excited to see him, either.

Burdock’s not stupid enough to turn up empty-handed. He unfurls a cloth full of various roots and leaves and things–mostly nasturtium, lady-slipper, and bee balm–and Ma March sorts through them. He’s been stocking them up while the town’s been on lockdown. 

He rocks on his heels. “Is Asterid here today, ma’am?”

She peers at him over her glasses. “No, not today.” Ma March doesn’t stop sorting while she talks. “She’s not up for it yet.”

As if saying his daughter’s name makes him poof out of thin air, Pa March joins his wife at the counter in an instant. Burdock gulps down the frog in his throat.

“Burdock,” he says, crossing his arms. He hates the frown that’s scrunching up his face. Burdock’s never seen Pa March look at him any other way. “Asterid needs to be alone right now. With family.”

“Yes, sir.” He’s sweating, and for once it’s not from the heat. “Just wanted to see if she’s okay, is all.”

Ma March rings up the sale. It’s a generous price, and Burdock wonders if pity has something to do with it.

“She’s not.” Pa March’s voice is stern. Burdock leaves the store in a flash. He knows when he’s overstayed his welcome.

~~~

The fire is blistering.

Burdock chokes on the smoke. His eyes sting and water. He hurls rocks through the windows to help them escape, and Blair and him try to break through the smoke and ash to reach Sid and Ma Abernathy, but the inferno lashes their hands. Neighbors bring buckets and buckets of water, but it’s no use.

Even Asterid shows up, and Burdock runs to her, ready to shield her from the flames in case she tries to run in, too. But she carries a bag that clinks when she walks, and Burdock understands she’s there for damage control. For Haymitch. 

Asterid is a healer. Always has been. Her gentle hands and quiet strength bring peace to people during their worst moments, even those who’ve been to the brink of death. Anyone who’s gone to the whipping pole knows it. Burdock remembers the day she gave a presentation to the class on wildcrafting. “ I’d heal all the pain in the world if I could, ” she’d said. “ I just wish there was a single thing out there that would fix everyone’s problems .”

“There already is,” snickered one of the boys. “It’s called moonshine.”

She looked so dismayed on the way back to her seat. Unfortunately for the boy, Burdock sat right behind him, and he earned a kick in the back of the chair just for making Asterid feel bad. That was the first day Burdock asked her if he could help with her wildcrafting.

Today, Asterid has burn cream, bandages, and things to numb the pain. She has a way of anticipating exactly what someone needs, even if they don’t know it themself. Burdock and Blair ease Haymitch’s body, drunk with sleep syrup, to the ground. They fumble over what to do with him until Cayson McCoy ushers them to his house, where his ma promises to watch over him in the night.

It’s all a blur as Burdock wanders back down the road. His brain aches with screams of terror and Haymitch’s cries and Sid shrieking for Haymitch and his ma. He can’t imagine a more gruesome, horrible death. Burdock stumbles to the ground behind his house, and the rocks skin his knees. He coughs and coughs until he loses whatever food was left in his stomach.

His brother comes and pats his back and guides him inside, where Burdock collapses onto his mattress. He can’t roll out of bed for hours.

The next time he sees Asterid again is the funeral.

She raises her eyes to him, across the fresh mounds of dirt, but it’s like she’s looking straight through him. Her eyes are glassy and made of liquid. When her folks squeeze her arm and stroke her hair and hug her, she barely reacts to their touch. It’s like Asterid’s in a bubble and there’s haze in her eyes and she can’t see out of it. Burdock wonders if she’s taken sleep syrup herself.

While Asterid is trapped in a fog, Haymitch looks like a ghost.

There are a lot of Abernathys in the ground now. Burdock cries with him while they shovel dirt over Ma Abernathy and Sid in their double casket. He cries when Haymitch yells out for Maysilee, and he cries as they bid goodbye to the friendly faces they used to pass on the street and share stories and laugh with.

The cemetery has a lot of plots now, but the burying doesn’t get any easier.

No amount of words nor apologies can fill the grave-sized holes in their community. Burdock’s hands are calloused and his arm is burned and his mind is all jumbled. He’s poor and broken and helpless.

He only has one thing to offer. He sings.

~~~

Haymitch’s house in the Victor’s Village is a palace compared to the three room home Burdock grew up in. 

Haymitch is a mess after the funeral, so Burdock and Blair put him to bed and camp out on the plush couches in the living room. They sink into the cushions, and Burdock imagines that this is what it must feel like to sleep on a cloud. He sleeps until the sun wakes him with streams of light through the windows.

Haymitch is nowhere to be found.

“I think he just needs some space,” reasons Blair. “Probably went for a walk or wanted to go to the cemetery when he can be alone.”

Blair is content to stop by again later, but Burdock is worried about him. He’d wait out on his front porch all day in case Haymitch needs him, but Burdock’s family needs food on the table and the woods are calling.

Luckily, a few animals are caught in his traps, so Burdock doesn’t have to spend much time hunting. He stores his bow and heads to the merchants to barter. He’d check on Asterid if her parents would let him, but they usher him out of the shop unless he’s selling or buying and today he has no loot and no cash.

When Burdock finally makes it back home, he knows something’s wrong because the curtains are shut tight over the windows and there are voices coming from inside the house, low and quiet.

Burdock’s knees tremble and threaten to buckle with each step up the porch stairs. He brushes his fingers against the door, but he’s not strong enough to find what’s inside. He wants to bolt back down the path and under the fence and run and run over the hills and he wants to hug Asterid and cry to her even though he doesn’t know what for. For all of it, probably. For Maysilee and Haymitch and Ma Abernathy and Sid and all the little kids who the Capitol murders every year. Whatever’s inside, he knows he can’t take it. He’s terrified, but he needs to face it. The hinges creak when he finally turns the knob. The voices hush.

Inside, a dozen dreary faces are there to greet him.

“Pa?”

The floor drops out from beneath him when he says Lenore Dove is dead.

~~~

Lenore Dove is dead.

Lenore Dove is dead, and Haymitch won’t see him. Burdock watches the friend he knew wrap himself in an armor of thorns. The grief pours out of him, thick like blood. Haymitch pricks Burdock whenever he tries to get close, but he’s not going to stop fighting for him.

Lenore Dove is dead.

When Burdock goes hunting, he looks up in the trees that Lenore Dove will never climb again. He sings to her birds, just so they know she still loves them.

The Everdeens and what’s left of the Covey gather in Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber’s living room. Burdock and his family cut their hair. He’s never worn it this short since his ma died. They sing and howl their grief and lay flowers over Lenore Dove. There’s a moment where Clerk Carmine has to stop fiddling and Burdock’s Aunt Tansy takes him into the kitchen so he can sit and breathe. The rest of the family pick up singing where he dropped off and make sure Lenore Dove knows how much they love her.

Lenore Dove is dead.

They carry her across the Meadow in her new bed of pine wood, where she’ll sleep for eternity. Burdock’s hands splinter and ache from where he holds her coffin, but it’s nothing compared to his shattered heart. They lift her body with song and deliver her to her kin who’ve crossed into the old hereafter, whose memories lie in a grove deep in the forest. They’ll wait there together until they can welcome the rest of the Covey into their arms again.

Lenore Dove is dead.

Handfuls of dirt rain down on Lenore Dove’s pine bed. Burdock’s cousin asks if the geese will wonder where she is. She drops a handful of goose feathers into her grave so the geese can say goodbye, too.

Lenore Dove is dead.

They join hands, encircling her in love. They sing her name song and promise to celebrate her memory, even if she is nevermore.

I’m sorry, Haymitch , thinks Burdock. I wish I could have done more.

~~~

The sun’s high and dry when Burdock steps into the woods a week later. Now that the Games are over and so many are dead, he’ll spend as much time in the forest as he damn pleases.

He goes to see Haymitch every day in the Victor’s Village. He hasn’t been inside since that first night after the funeral, because Haymitch snatches the curtains closed when he sees Burdock coming, and runs him off the lawn when he’s had enough of his knocking.

His dad says he needs time and Blair says he needs his girl.

Today, Burdock is frustrated as he scales the tree trunks. The only thing he wants is to listen to the birds and let them sing away his feelings. There’s barely a breeze today and it’s a little too hot, but he stretches out across a big branch anyway. For a few moments, he can be completely invisible among the treetops.

At the top of the world, Burdock lets loose. He screams until his throat aches and the birds fly away. His tears fill in the grooves in the tree bark and the heat dries them off until rivers of salt stain his cheeks and snot drips down his chin. He cries until there’s no energy left in his body to spend.

After a while he must’ve dozed off, because a huge grating noise nearly makes him fall out of the tree. The branches are all shaking around him like there’s an earthquake.

When he flips over to see what’s rattling him, he hardly believes his eyes. 

A huge buck rubs his antlers on the tree trunk. The velvet’s coming off in strips, and the buck seems none the wiser to the fact he’s chosen a hunter’s perch to relieve his itch. Instinct takes over and Burdock draws his bow quick.

The buck gives one last swipe for good measure, and just as he turns away, he lines up perfectly with Burdock’s arrow.

His brother lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, Burdie. You got a good one.”

The buck’s way too heavy for Burdock to drag all the way back through the forest himself. He’s relieved it’s still there when he returns, just in case he’d hallucinated the whole thing. Alder helps him tie it and hoist it back towards the Seam, and his arms tremble and ache once they set it down on a big boulder. They’ll skin it and do some of the butchering out in the woods just so they can get it through the fence easier.

When most of the dirty work is done, they run their hands through the stream and wipe the sweat off their arms. The deer’s in pieces now and spread across a few old flour sacks–some to sell, some to keep.

They take turns shuttling the bundles toward the Seam and Alder goes on ahead to their house while Burdock delivers a package of fresh veal for Blair and his Nana.

When Burdock finally makes it back home–not before getting wrapped up in fixing the door jamb for Nana–his brother’s leaning against the front door with a huge grin plastered on. “Your girl’s here, Burdie.”

His heart goes erratic. Burdock’s face burns as he dashes through the door, in disbelief at the girl sitting at the kitchen table with her legs crossed at the ankles, like she’s here for tea with the mayor.

“Asterid!” He’s a little too covered in dirt and deer guts to be excited about seeing her in his house. It feels too surreal, seeing her in his dusty living room looking all prim and proper. 

His pa explains about her turning up on their doorstep with a basket from the apothecary and how nice of a guest she is and Alder talks up Burdock’s hawkeye and the big buck he snagged. He shoots Burdock a big wink and doesn’t even try to hide it. Asterid gives him a little smile, and Burdock dreads knowing what exactly they talked about while he was gone.

Burdock excuses himself so he can change into a cleaner shirt, and Alder laughs at him and promises he’ll handle the deer from there.

Burdock frightens himself when he looks in the cracked bedroom mirror. His hair is sticking every which way and his cheek is smeared with dirt. Burdock rubs at his face and combs out his hair with his fingers. It’s still a little tangled when he goes back out to see Asterid, but he doesn’t want to keep her waiting.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” he asks.

She steals a sideways glance at his pa. “‘Course they do.”

Burdock understands. The Marches are oblivious. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Asterid tells him she waited for him that morning by the hole in the fence but he didn’t turn up. Burdock hates the thought of her sitting there alone with him nowhere to be found.

“I heard about Lenore Dove,” says Asterid. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” he says. There’s a lump in his throat.

“Thought I’d come check on you. My folks said you turned up at the shop a few times,” says Asterid.

They’re far enough from the house now that Burdock doesn’t have to worry about his brother watching and snickering at him through the window. Burdock kicks rocks around as he walks, his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”

“Sweet of you.”

He shrugs. “Just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

They walk in silence for a while, and Burdock worries he set her off. He remembers that glassy look in her eyes at the funeral, and he looks at her sideways to check she’s okay. But her mouth is twisted up like she’s trying to think. It’s the same face she had during their math test last year when the teacher accused him of cheating, but really he was just looking because she was so pretty with her hair twisted up and her brain working hard.

Whatever equation she’s working on, Asterid gives up with a sigh. “I don’t think I’ll be alright for a long time, Burdie. Maybe never.”

One more bend around the path and they’ll be back in town. Asterid stops just as they spy the first few houses through the treeline.

“You’re not really walking me home, are you, Burdock?”

“Nah.” He runs his hand through his hair. He’s still not used to it being so short. “Not unless you want me to.”

Burdock really hopes the answer is no.

Asterid closes her eyes. She takes a big breath, in and out. Her voice is a little shaky when she speaks next. “I don’t want to go back there. Not yet.”

“Where to?”

“Show me the woods again?”

She doesn’t have to ask twice.

Asterid’s foraging for some kind of berries that are supposed to ease an upset stomach. Burdock fishes off a rotted out pier, testing if the fish prefer cicadas over worms. He figures he already spent all his luck for bow hunting that day, and no way he’s making Asterid carry a whole deer back with him.

After a while, he’s caught and released one fish that was too small to feed so much as a cat and yanked enough muskgrass from the lakebed to plant a whole garden. He’s antsy and ready to keep moving. Plus, the sun’s about to dip beneath the trees and Asterid’s nowhere in sight.

She’s not along the lakeshore and not by the path back to the fence. Burdock’s heart starts pumping hard. People get lost in these woods–she could be a mile away and now nobody will ever hear from her again. She could be getting mauled by a black bear or dead from a snake bite or drowned in the creek.

Burdock is frantic now, running between the trees and yelling for her. The birds squawk and rustle their feathers in annoyance. Probably every creature in the whole forest has cleared out now with the ruckus he makes. He runs until the trees have had enough of his nonsense and a root catches his toe and catapults him into a bush. It takes him too long to stand up and brush all the twigs off. Burdock gulps air into his lungs.

The woods grow quiet again, and farther off, another noise pricks his ears.

It’s faint, but the sound of crying is unmistakable.

Burdock finds her huddled up against a tree not far from the lake. There’s a basket of red berries by her feet.

Her eyes are swollen and blotchy.

“Hey, Burdie,” she smiles. The look shatters him. He slumps down next to her, and Asterid rests her head on his shoulder.

Every single nerve in his body tenses. Asterid has always been untouchable, like the angels Lenore Dove used to talk about. They sound a lot like Asterid–all beautiful and good and made of light. He’s not really sure what to do with himself until he figures he should comfort her, the same as he would anyone else.

Burdock wraps his arms around her, and it’s not long before he’s crying, too. He weeps for the dead and for the living, who’ll bear this sadness for the rest of their lives. Haymitch, Clerk Carmine, Tam Amber, Merrilee, Asterid… The list of dead is long, but the survivors that carry the weight of this grief spreads across all of Twelve; across all the districts. The Games are always ruinous, but this is the worst the aftermath has ever felt. He figures the Capitol got exactly what it wanted, because he’s never felt so low, like the dirt and stones that bury the dead are burying him, too. Double the tributes, quadruple the devastation. Burdock wants to believe this is the worst it’ll ever be, and that no one in the world will feel such pain again, but he has a dark feeling he’s changed for life. No one can ever quite recover from a grief this cavernous. They hold each other until the tears stop flowing.

“Thanks, Burdie,” Asterid sniffs. It’s a blessing the fish weren’t biting, because he has a clean hanky this time.

Asterid dabs at her eyes. “What was that song you sang at the funeral?” she asks.

He’s surprised she remembers; she was in such a trance that day.

Burdock screws up his brow. He pictures Clerk Carmine’s fiddle and Lenore Dove’s tune box and shuffling his feet around their threadbare rug, spinning arm in arm with his cousins. The song’s as natural to him as archery; it’s just something that’s always been in him. He decides on the first person he remembers singing it.

“My ma taught it to me,” he says. But really, it could’ve been anyone in the Covey.

“It was beautiful,” she sniffs. She brushes away a tear with the heel of her hand. “Can you sing it again for me?”

“I’ll sing anything you want, Asterid March.”

He clears his throat. Hopefully not all the birds darted off.

Burdock sings a few notes, slow and mellow. He waits for the response, and lets the mockingjays carry the tune for him. 

You're headed for heaven,

The sweet old hereafter,

And I've got one foot in the door.

But before I can fly up,

I've loose ends to tie up,

Right here in

The old therebefore…

It always surprises him how much stronger he feels when he sings. The lyrics are like a blanket, and as he sings through the verses, he lets the warmth engulf him. Everything else fades away, and for a while, it’s just him and Asterid and the mockingjays together. 

The birds finish out the last few notes, drawing out the song long after Burdock stops singing. Asterid stares up at the trees in wonder.

“Thank you, Burdock.”

He walks her home for real this time, and runs back to the Seam before Ma and Pa March see him.

~~~

“Haymitch?” Burdock pounds on the door again. He raises his voice, in case the walls are extra thick or he’s asleep or something. “Haymitch, it’s me. We have some stuff for you.”

Asterid lingers back on the lawn, shifting her feet from side to side. “Burdock,” she says. “I think he just needs more time.”

Burdock understood for the first couple weeks. Haymitch yelled at him and pushed him away, but he knows it’s only because he hurts. Burdock has given him lots of time and space, but it's been long enough; all this isolation can’t be good for anyone, and he’s going to keep loving him regardless. And besides, Burdock misses his best friend.

He waits another moment. Would it be bad to try turning the knob? 

All of a sudden, there are noises inside like someone’s clomping down the hall with lead boots. The curtains are snatched shut and the deadbolt locks. Burdock steps back like he’s been smacked.

Asterid walks up to place the bundle by his door. “Haymitch,” her voice is soothing. “There’s more sleep syrup and some clothes out here. We’re going to head out. Come and get them when you’re ready.”

Haymitch doesn’t make another sound, but the package is gone when Burdock comes back the next day.

~~~

Asterid meets him by the fence at dawn after Burdock suggests it would be easier if she could show him exactly what she needs for the apothecary. Maybe it’s just an excuse to see her more. Maybe he’s just lonely now that one of the most important people in his life refuses to see him.

After a while of walking, they find a fallen log to sit on and Asterid pulls an old book from her bag with wildflowers on the cover. It’s full of diagrams and concoctions for medicinal plants. Burdock knows a good amount from his pa and from all the times he makes excuses to stay at the shop longer by asking her questions, but as Asterid talks him through the pages, Burdock is even more in awe of her knowledge. Now, she’s the one teaching Burdock about the forest.

“Here,” she points to a leafy green drawing with bunches of little white flowers. “These are sedative. It’s one of the main components in the sleep syrup. Have you seen them around?”

Burdock has a hunch and leads them east towards the river. Somewhere along the way, his fingers intertwine with hers. They bump shoulders as they walk, and Asterid turns to him with a skeptical look on her face.

“You saw them around this way?” she asks.

The only thing he’s been able to think about for the past five minutes is the way she’s running her thumb across the back of his hand. “Somewhere around here. I don’t know, I keep getting distracted.”

Asterid shakes her head with a little laugh. “There, that looks like bugleweed.” She cocks her head downriver.

Burdock is reluctant to break their handhold, but they gather up the sprigs and tie them into bundles. Once they’ve collected enough, Asterid pushes off the ground and pulls her hair back into a ponytail. The long locks shine in the morning sun rays, and it’s like she’s made of gold.

When she catches him staring, the edge of her mouth turns up in a grin. 

“My parents will be wondering where I am,” she says. “Walk me home?”

Burdock spends a lot of time trying to figure out how to hold her hand again until he decides he should just go for it. It’s not very smooth, but she gives his hand a squeeze and a jolt of electricity kickstarts his heart.

“You got everything you need for the shop?” His voice is shakier than he’d like it to be.

Asterid turns to him, taking his other hand, too. “Think so. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else you can get me.”

He’s never felt so intense in his life. “I’ll give you anything you want, Asterid March.”

“Anything?” she asks.

“You know it.”

“Alright.” Her voice is low. She’s so close to him now, he can feel her breath. “How about a kiss?”

Burdock gets woozy. It’s a miracle his knees don’t buckle. Despite the fact his heart might just burst out of his chest, he manages to slip his hand around her back and pull her close.

“Asterid…” he says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She glances at his lips, and then back at him, expectant. Her eyes contain the whole sky and oceans and the waves are all washing over him now.

Burdock has never tasted anything as sweet as her lips. Her cheeks are rosy when she draws back, but her arms are still wrapped around him. He kisses her again for good measure.

Asterid runs along home with a smile on her face, practically skipping through the forest.

He floats all the way to Blair’s house.

“Woah, you okay, buddy?”

Burdock didn’t give Blair much of a greeting when he opened the door, slipped right past him, and pressed his forehead into the wall next to the couch.

Burdock squishes his face into the wall again. Is anything real anymore?

“I kissed her,” he mutters.

“Huh?”

“I kissed Asterid.”

Blair bursts out laughing. He cackles and grasps his belly like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard in his life.

Burdock slides his back down the wall and buries his head in his hands.

“I can’t read this.” Blair finally finds time to breathe in between his laughs. “Are we happy? Are we upset? Did she slap you?”

“No, she asked me to.”

Blair gestures at him. “Then what’s all this about?”

Burdock groans. “I’m in love with her.”

Blair’s laughing again, and it’s loud enough to draw his Nana out of her room.

“What’s all this ruckus I’m hearing?” she asks, adjusting her glasses. “I thought I told you to make the tea.”

Blair points at Burdock, who’s still a puddle on the floor. “Burdock kissed Asterid March!”

Nana chuckles at him. “Oh, you and that town girl.” She meanders to the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Hope you didn’t act this foolish in front of her. Now how about you boys fetch more wood for the stove?”

~~~

Asterid starts letting him walk her to school. She even holds his hand while the other boys hoot and holler. Her face flushes, but there’s a perfect little smile on her lips and she squeezes Burdock’s fingers even tighter.

Asterid March, the prettiest girl in town, is holding Burdock’s hand in front of their entire class. He can’t help but feel smug about it.

He wonders what Haymitch would say if the Games never happened. He was always the quickest to tease him about Asterid, but he fears it would break Haymitch if he waltzed up bragging about his newfound love. Burdock pictures that sly look that would spread across his face, but the memory is getting hazier. When he goes to visit him in the Victor’s Village, Burdock only ever sees him scowl. He forgets how it looks when Haymitch smiles, and he can’t remember the sound of his laugh.

There’s something Haymitch said a few months ago when they were talking about Clerk Carmine, and how he didn’t approve of their love. “ When you love someone like Lenore Dove, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or what they think of you for it. She’s worth it, Burdie. She’s so, so worth it.”

He’d probably say something like that.

Their surviving classmates have all returned, except for Haymitch and Merrilee. When the bell rings, Burdock and Asterid eat lunch side by side. Burdock doesn’t have much save for some dry biscuits, but Asterid slips him some extra food, despite his protests. They’ve eaten together every day since they started going back to school, and Burdock wonders if it’s because Asterid’s best friends aren’t there to sit with her anymore.

“Merrilee won’t talk to anyone,” says Asterid when Burdock asks about her. “I go to her house but she won’t ever leave her bed, so I sit there and read to her for a while until she falls asleep or her ma says it’s time to go.”

If Asterid’s going to be his girl, he’s going to start caring for her loved ones, too. 

The Donners never find out who leaves the baskets of fruit by their back step, or why they know strawberries are Merrilee’s favorite.

~~~

A small bag of flour turns up on the Everdeens’ back doorstep.

Then another.

Burdock has his suspicions about the culprit, but he’s really not in the mood to talk to Otho Mellark or to act like he’s grateful for showing him a tiny bit of charity. Whether it’s pity or he’s just trying to get into his head so he can steal his girl, Burdock doesn’t care to see him. Never really has, to be honest. Haymitch and Blair were always confused when he brought up how Otho annoyed him–guess he didn’t pester them the same way–but it made a lot more sense once he saw how Otho doted on Asterid.

To his dismay, Otho stops him one day on his way into town.

“Not a great time, Otho,” says Burdock. He’s pretty sure the two turkeys and the squirrels and the big satchel slung over his shoulder speak for themselves, but Otho has never been the kind of person to be in the right place at the right time. He adjusts the brace on his hip just to make the turkeys jiggle for emphasis.

“Sorry.” His cheeks go red. “I just wanted to see how you’re holding up, with Lenore Dove and Haymitch and all. And to ask if you got the flour.”

Hearing their names come out of his mouth lights a fire under him. But he doesn't want to snap at him, because that’s what Haymitch would do and it makes Burdock feel awful.

“I did,” says Burdock. The next word is the hardest he’s ever had to say in his life, but maybe it’ll help move the conversation along. “Thanks.”

Burdock skates right past him.

“Wait!” Otho has a hand out like he’s going to pull him, but he draws it back. He’s all sheepish again. “I noticed Haymitch hasn’t been around lately. Haven’t seen you with him, either. I know he’s your best friend.”

Burdock’s mouth is dry. “He is.”

“If you need anything–either of you–let me know,” says Otho. “I can help.”

It rubs him the wrong way, Otho assuming they can’t help themselves, that he has to go out and force help on them instead. That a couple extra cups of flour earn him a right to his friendship, or whatever it is he wants. Maybe it’s guilt that drives him, maybe he feels some kind of kinship because they’re after the same girl, but Burdock has heard enough apologies that they all just start to sound like rain on a wood roof.

And besides, Burdock’s the one spending hours in the woods with Asterid, whereas he’s never heard Asterid so much as mention Otho.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says flatly.

~~~

Clerk Carmine is going to play his fiddle in the Hob–his first time playing in public since Lenore Dove joined the great hereafter.

Burdock asks Tam Amber about it while he fixes up a couple of Burdock’s arrow tips. “Music is the greatest joy we have,” he says somberly. “We’re going to play until we can’t play anymore.”

The Hob has been silent since the Games, outside of its usual hustle and bustle of bartering and trading. It’s been a long time since music echoed through its walls, but people are hungry for revelry. They crave the chance to forget about their troubles for a night through joy and laughter rather than with the bottle. Half the Seam pesters the Covey about when they’ll bring back their concerts.

Burdock isn’t really sure how to go about inviting Asterid to the Hob on a late night when he knows her parents will question her whereabouts, and when he knows for certain they won’t like the answer.

He has the bright idea to ask his pa, who, to Burdock’s horror, offers to be their chaperone to give Pa March some peace of mind. Luckily, his brother’s in the next room, and Alder swoops in like a hawk to claim the job for himself. He gives Burdock a wink, and he breathes in relief. At least he’ll be generous enough to grant them some space.

Pa March still isn’t thrilled about the setup, but Asterid says her folks are a little more lenient with her since the Games. They’re just grateful she has someone to spend time with, and they can see how happy he makes her. That gives Burdock a nice fuzzy feeling that carries him all the way to her front doorstep that Friday evening.

He adjusts the front of his button down after he raps on the door. His Aunt Tansy helped mend some of the moth holes in Alder’s old shirt, and while it has a few patches, and though he’s still figuring out how to style his short hair, Burdock thinks he looks pretty sharp.

Pa March opens the door, same frown as always. He glances at the bouquet of wildflowers in Burdock’s hands and reluctantly steps aside to let Asterid through. She’s beautiful as ever in a pale green dress, and Burdock shakes her hand and her pa’s hand like a gentleman. He feels a little more confident when Ma March compliments the flowers. Burdock went off deep into the forest after school to gather them–some medicinal, some just because they were pretty. Her mother gives Asterid a kiss goodbye and introduces herself to Alder, who promises they’ll be back by ten on the dot. Ma March shoots her husband a look of approval, and though he grumbles, he agrees on the time.

Asterid plucks a few blooms from the bouquet before handing off the rest to her parents for safe keeping, and as they walk off, she enlists Burdock to help tuck them into her braid.

“Primroses are my favorite,” she explains.

“Almost as pretty as you,” says Burdock. He’ll never get over the way she blushes at his compliments.

They can hear the music before they arrive at the Hob. The lights inside illuminate the surrounding area, casting an otherworldly glow over everything. Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber won’t go on until later, but a few folks from the Seam make due with some overturned pail-drums and a flute whittled from wood.

They push through the crowd and Alder drops them off at an open table, muttering something about meeting a friend across the room. Once Burdock’s brother is out of sight, they clasp hands on top of the table.

“I’ve never seen the Hob like this,” says Asterid. The overhead lights flicker in her eyes. There’s a look of wonder on her face, and Burdock is relieved that she looks pleased. He can’t picture here during the day when it’s a market, but she probably comes to trade for wildcrafting supplies or to distribute medicinals. Against the grime and peeling paint, Asterid sticks out like a sunflower in a field of dirt, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, if you think this is fun, just you wait until the dancing starts,” promises Burdock. She flashes him a smile and they scoot closer, letting the music fill their ears.

The audience erupts into applause when the drummers and flutist finish their set, but it’s nothing compared to the noise they make when Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber take the stage with their eyes shining like stars. Burdock feels a pang in his throat when they bring out Lenore Dove’s old tune box and place it next to them as gently as a newborn kitten. She can’t play, but she’s still there with them.

There are cheers from the crowd saying how much they missed them and that they’re glad they’re back, but they hush up when Clerk Carmine draws a few notes from the fiddle to find his spot. With a nod to Tam Amber, who holds his mandolin at the ready, they burst into song. Burdock taps his foot along with them. The crowd roars.

Tam Amber stops plucking his mandolin for a few bars to let Clerk Carmine take over with the fiddle. “Clerk Carmine, everyone!” he shouts, and the audience goes nuts all over again.

Everyone floods the front of the stage. Kids and parents and people with their sweethearts clap and spin, and Burdock leads Asterid by the hand to join in. She’s giddy and laughing, and Burdock spins her and shows her some steps that Tam Amber taught him. He catches his brother across the crowd, who lifts his drink as a toast. Burdock mouths back a thank you.

Clerk Carmine extinguishes his fiddling fire with a flourish, and Burdock nearly has to cover his ears for the cheers of the crowd.

Clerk Carmine is always a man of few words at his performances, but this time, Burdock sees that emotion bleeds across his face, too powerful to let him speak. The Covey takes a few minutes for everyone to settle and for them to catch their breath. Clerk Carmine clasps his hand over his heart, looking to the skies.

“Thank you all,” he says once he’s had a moment. Tam Amber swipes a tear away. “We’ve lost a lot these past months. All of us.”

It’s too painful to say her name–that much is clear. Clerk Carmine examines his bow with suffering eyes. “There’s nothing left they can take from me,” says Clerk Carmine quietly. “Nothing.”

Tam Amber bows his head. They don’t have to say her name for Lenore Dove’s spirit to burn through the room like a forest fire. She lives in all of them, and Burdock can feel her rousing his heart. It bursts like a firework when the fiddle starts again.

She was a rebel, when all it takes to be called one is to sing your heart out. Burdock knows no one as fiery and prudent as her. He misses playing tag in the woods and dancing around her living room, and the way she teased him when he stumbled over his feet. He misses his hair being long enough to braid, but he hates that the longer it gets marks how long it’s been since she died, and all the days she hasn’t had the chance to live. But he knows it would be a disservice to Lenore Dove to wallow when she’d tell him to keep fighting. To keep singing, to keep loving.

Burdock wraps his arm around Asterid’s shoulder, and she leans into his touch.

I’m not letting them take anything from me, Lenore Dove .

Alder lets them go on ahead into town so Burdock can walk Asterid back to the apothecary. She sneaks him a kiss in between the streetlights, and hurries on inside the door before her parents notice their chaperone’s missing.

The night mist makes it feel like Burdock’s walking through a dream. For all he knows, he probably is, with the way his world has turned upside down. Or rightside up, depending on how he looks at it. As he steps over slick cobblestones, he ponders how cruel it is for the world to let him fall in love now, right after his best friend lost his own love.

Somewhere up ahead, glass shatters. A roar of laughter follows, and the sound of male voices comes into focus. Burdock can see a few of the instigators tucked into an alley, and while it’s dark, he spots a familiar face or two–a couple of his classmates, merchant kids–and they’ve clearly been drinking.

They straighten and hide their bottles behind their backs when he approaches, but Burdock lets them see his face so they know he’s not a Peacekeeper looking for trouble.

“Heey, Burdock!” says the one closest to him. The butcher’s son. Burdock wouldn’t consider him a close friend, but they make conversation when he stops by the shop sometimes, and he always throws in something extra with his trades. “Whatcha doing out and about?”

“Bet he’s sneaking around with his girlfriend,” slurs another, taking a swig of rotgut right from the bottle. There’s a round of laughs. Burdock doesn’t know him well, but he doesn’t like his tone.

Burdock straightens up. “Dropping her off, actually. Making sure she got home safe.” 

There’s a chorus of drunken approval–”Good man,” and “Atta boy, Burdock,” get tossed out. 

The one with the bottle of rotgut pipes up again. “Hey, how did you end up with the hottest girl in town? I mean, do you think that’ll last?” Burdock tenses. He’s ready to get home. “Or is she gonna dump you once someone a little more worth her while comes around?”

The butcher boy bumps his arm. “Hey, knock it off.” The others are quiet.

Rotgut holds his hands out ridiculously. “I mean, isn’t anyone else thinking it? You really think Asterid March is going to leave town and live in the Seam the rest of her life?”

Burdock balls his fists. He’s not really a fighter, though; the closest he’s gotten is roughhousing with Blair or Haymitch, but that doesn’t count. He’s angry and would like to see someone give this guy a nice smack, but mostly it just hurts. It hurts that he thinks that Asterid is vain and that he thinks so lowly of his neighbors in the Seam, that Burdock might not even be worthy of the person who’s kept him sane these past few months. Burdock knows that Asterid would be giving up a lot of comfort if they end up together. He knows that a relationship like theirs comes once in a blue moon, that not even his friends believed a town girl would consider dating any of them.

“Hey, Burdock!” a familiar voice calls from behind. In any other context, Burdock would be rolling his eyes, but he’s still too stunned to react properly when Otho Mellark pulls him away from the boys in the alley. “I’ve been looking for you. Have a minute?”

The butcher’s son gives him a sad look as he’s ushered away.

Burdock blinks a few times. He’s not too sure why he’s following Otho, but he’s glad he’s not in that alley anymore.

They’re down another street when Otho whispers to him. “You okay?”

“What?” Burdock heard him fine, but he’s still dazed.

“I didn’t catch the whole thing, but they were saying some nasty things.” 

Burdock shakes his head. “How did you find me?” He has a sick feeling that Otho’s been following him all night, maybe even the whole past couple months. How else does he appear out of thin air when he least expects it?

“Bakery’s right next door. They were being rowdy, so my ma sent me to shoo the riff raff out.” 

Logically, this makes sense. Burdock realizes he’s still operating out of fear, and he’s also been blindly trailing Otho for the past few minutes. He stops walking. “Where are we going?”

“The Seam,” says Otho, turning around. “I mean, I was just going to walk you to the edge of town, I guess–but I don’t mind taking you all the way–”

“No, that’s fine.” Burdock rubs his hands over his face. “My brother’s waiting for me a couple blocks down.”

Otho nods. “Sounds good.” He shuffles awkwardly. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think Asterid’s crazy for wanting to be with you. You’ve always been nice and you treat her right, and she’s never been the type to care much where someone’s family is from.”

Burdock feels all kinds of guilt for acting so jealous and cold to him. Maybe Otho really is just being kind all the time, and he doesn’t have some ulterior motive in wanting to do it. Burdock doesn’t really feel like he’s earned being called nice, especially with the way he’s treated Otho in the past, but it puts a new perspective in his mind. He’s felt a little colder, a little meaner ever since the Hunger Games. Burdock’s seen where that mentality has brought Haymitch, how terrible it’s made Burdock feel, and how miserable Haymitch is in isolation. Burdock doesn’t want to end up like him, and he’s going to help Haymitch claw out of that deep dark hole any way he can.

“Thanks, Otho.” He means it for real this time.

~~~

Burdock’s not giving up on Haymitch. He won’t let him turn cold, not when Burdock knows he’s so bright. Haymitch spits and chases him out of the Victor’s Village, angry words like arrows thrown out of his mouth. But Burdock hears the pain behind his anger, sees the hurt in his eyes. His friend is in there. He just has to keep trying.

Asterid hasn’t made much progress with Merrilee, either. Sometimes she gets her out of bed so they can sit on the back porch and play a card game, but her headaches always make her fold early. Most of the times she knocks on the Donners’ door, they tell her Merrilee’s not taking any visitors.

On a cool afternoon, Burdock and Asterid venture out to the lake. They fish and splash in the water and joke, but the fatigue takes over as they set up their picnic on a checkered blanket. They cut rolls with butter and cheese in silence. Asterid lays back with her arms crossed over her body, her brow furrowed.

Burdock props himself on his elbow. “What’s on your mind?”

He’s certainly got a lot on his.

Asterid stares up at the clouds. “Do you think it’s all worth it?” she asks.

Burdock runs a hand down her arm, worried. “What do you mean?”

“The future, I guess.” She purses her lips. He can see the gears turning in her brain, and she turns to him now. “Do you think you could have a family in a world like this? If it can all be ripped away from us so quickly?”

They’ve never talked about their relationship like this before–if they’d ever like to have kids one day, or if they’d even get married–and certainly not in the context of “us.” In any other conversation, Burdock would be excited, but all he feels is dread.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully. He’s thought about it before, every year on reaping day, wondering why people keep having babies knowing they might be sent to be slaughtered every year. He’s thought about it even more since he’s seen how brutally the Capitol has treated his friends, and how hard they’ve worked to destroy everything they love. Burdock wants to believe that there is love in the world that’s worth living for. “I think that might be exactly what the Capitol wants,” he says. “To make us give up on everything. Our friends, our futures. But I know I don’t want to give them what they want. I want to keep dreaming, because dreaming is all I got.”

Asterid traces the back of his hand with her fingers. “I don’t want the Capitol to get what they want, either. But sometimes, I feel like they’ve already won. I’m not sure if we’re making much of a difference.” 

“Me either,” admits Burdock. He’s certainly not sure if he’s making much of a difference for Haymitch. He wishes he had an answer, but he’s had the same fear for a while now.

Asterid sidles up next to him, and they lay under the clouds, wondering what their place is in this mess of a world.

~~~

Somehow, Haymitch turns meaner.

Blair accepts that their friendship is over, but Burdock is stubborn. He and Asterid visit nearly every day, and Haymitch runs out screaming and throwing things and telling them to scram, that they’re not his friends and he never wants to see them again. 

Burdock doesn’t believe that’s true until he hits Asterid with a rock.

Burdock wants to yell at him and cry and beg him to find his old self, but if he’s careless enough to hurt the ones he loves, Burdock can’t put them in danger anymore.

The gash on her brow is nasty.

“I’m not used to being the one who needs to be fixed up,” she says. Asterid sits on the counter of the apothecary, letting Burdock tend to her. She’s had to walk him through all the steps–and thankfully the cut isn’t deep enough to need stitches–and Burdock tries his best to stay calm despite the bruise forming and despite the fact that Haymitch hurt her.

Burdock swipes the bandage on and seals it with a kiss.

“My parents will be coming back soon to close up the shop,” she warns, but neither of them move an inch.

“Then they’ll just have to get used to seeing me around here.” Burdock presses a kiss to her smile and trails more across her jaw, holding her close. He doesn’t want her to ever feel pain again, and all he wants is to make her feel better.

Asterid thumbs at the collar of his shirt. When she pushes away, he expects to see her smiling and blushing, teasingly scolding because her parents might see. Instead, his stomach turns at the pain written across her face.

“What is it?” he asks. If he’s upset her, he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself.

She’s quiet. “I don’t know if… if I can keep doing this.”

He searches her eyes frantically. Insecurity takes over, and he thinks of every interaction they’ve had in the past months, of every time Pa March has tested him, of that night when he ran into those boys in the alley… Where did he go wrong? “If it’s something I did, or… your parents don’t approve, or because I can’t provide for you like someone else could, I mean I understand why you’d prefer to be with someone else–”

“Burdie,” she says gently. “It’s not that. It never has been, for me.” Asterid is insistent, but Burdock is still scared to hear what she has to say next. Her voice trembles. “I’ve been thinking. I don’t know if I can love anyone as long as I might lose them in the reaping.”

It’s the first and only time she’s broken his heart. The thought of waiting years to be with Asterid is agony. Burdock is hurt and he wants to profess how much he needs her, that she’s one of the reasons he has the strength to go on, but he lets her continue.

“When Maysilee died, it felt like drowning.” Asterid clutches her hands to her heart. A raspy breath moves them up and down. “Merrilee can barely get out of bed, and Haymitch…” Her eyes well. “I visit them, I treat them with drugs, I try to find new plants and recipes that will make it easier for them, but it’s still not enough. I’ve given it everything I’ve got, and my everything still won’t save them. I don’t want you, or me, or anyone to end up like that.”

He embraces her now, but for once, no tears fall. Asterid’s face is tired and haggard, and Burdock knows his looks the same.

“I don’t see it that way,” says Burdock, pulling back. The last thing he wants is to spark an argument, but he needs Asterid to know how much he cares about her. “Seeing Haymitch lose his love like that… I don’t want to waste time waiting to love you until we age out of the reaping. Who knows how much time we have left? The Capitol has already stolen so much. I don’t want them to get in between us, too.”

Asterid takes his hand and squeezes it. Her eyes swim in sadness.

“Let me love you, Asterid.”

Would Haymitch have loved Lenore Dove even if he knew how their story ended? Burdock has no idea. Haymitch certainly isn’t in the state of mind for him to ask, so it’ll just have to be a mystery that plagues him forever. It’s the final piece of advice he’ll never get to ask his best friend, so Burdock is determined to learn for himself if love is worth the heartbreak.

“I…” she closes her eyes, hard. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Burdock lets her think about it.

He lets her think about it, even though he’s sick and tired of having to give people time and space when they don’t know how much of it they have left. He walks her to school, though she doesn’t hold his hand, and there’s a somber silence as they part for their seats.

Burdock eats lunch with Blair while Asterid joins a group of girls across the gravel yard. Burdock doesn’t really want to talk about it, and Blair pities him enough to share his cheese and invite him over after class, but Burdock isn’t up for rock games.

He doesn’t want his family to ask questions, so he wastes time in the forest and climbs in the trees and mopes around, skipping rocks on the lake. His pa is upset when he comes home long after dark, and the disappointment in his face makes Burdock’s heart plummet right to his stomach. His pa sits in the chair by the fireplace and asks where he’s been, but all Burdock wants to be is alone. He shrugs off his pa and goes to his room, where Alder wakes to the sound of him crying.

Alder doesn’t ask what happened. He just sits by him and rubs his back until he’s quiet, resigned. Burdock is embarrassed because he pushed off his pa, just like Haymitch pushed him away. He doesn’t want to become bitter and mean, chasing away anyone who’s ever tried to love him. He wants to keep loving because Lenore Dove would want him too, because it’s the only thing that makes life feel like it’s worth living, and because he’s seen what happens when you refuse to love again.

~~~

Two weeks later, the most beautiful girl in the world sits cross-legged by the fence, right where the same beautiful girl scared him in the dark months before. There’s a scab on her forehead where the bandage used to be.

She perks up when she sees him. “Hi, Burdock.”

He helps Asterid to her feet and lets her dust off her pants. 

“You trying to go to the forest?” he asks.

Asterid rubs her arm. “If you’ll be my guide.”

Burdock can’t resist her, even when he’s cried over her every day since Haymitch threw that rock at her head. He’s not angry–he doesn’t think it’s possible for him to get mad at her–but he’s hurt, even though he understands why she needs time for herself. And why did she turn up now? Burdock’s palms get sweaty. What if this is the end for them?

As they walk, Asterid doesn’t say much, other than answering how her parents have been. They exchange a couple pointless stories, dancing around the conversation they had two weeks before. By the time they get closer to the lake, Burdock's about ready to keel over from the anticipation.

He can’t take it anymore. “So,” he says casually. “Did you think about it? About us, I mean?”

Asterid looks down at the path in front of them. The soft dirt pads their footfalls. “I don’t want the sun to set early on us, Burdock.” she sighs. “But I certainly don’t want it to set before I get a chance to know what it’s like to love you.”

His heart is aflame. He wants to act cool about it, but he’s a lovesick puppy trying not to jump into her arms. “So? That means?”

Asterid intertwines her fingers with his. “I don’t want to spend a second without you,” she says. She squeezes her eyes closed. “But I’m afraid to fall in love with you yet. And I am, Burdie. I’m falling so, so hard.”

Asterid yelps when he launches into her arms, but she’s giggling now while he peppers her with kisses. He spins her around and whispers in her ear, “ I love you, I love you, I love you .”

When they finally release, Asterid brushes her hair back into place, and looks at him with all the wonder and love she had for the darkened lake and the stars that first morning they snuck out. Burdock has never felt so passionate about anything or anyone in his life, and he needs her to know this. He puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Asterid, I know your pa doesn’t like me much,” he says, and it gives her a chuckle. “And I don’t have much money and I could never give you a life like the one you have now. But I promise I will do whatever it takes to provide for you and love you and make you happy.”

“Burdie,” she beams. “You know I’d be happier with you, anywhere in the world, than with anyone else.”

Burdock is going to spend the rest of his life living up to his promise.

He spends long days in the forest, hunting and gathering and scrounging up goods for cash. Asterid follows too when she can spare the time, but her folks don’t like it when they’re away in the woods for hours together.

Burdock believes so strongly that she’s the love of his life. He won’t tell her that yet–not until they age out of the reaping, and maybe even later depending on when he can work up the courage–but he thinks it every time he sees that smile, waiting for him by the fence or behind the apothecary counter or in between the streetlights.

Blair still can’t believe they’re actually together, and it gives Burdock a little pep in his step. He’s going to treat his girl better than anyone’s ever treated anyone, and the doubters can pout and jeer all they want.

His life feels more incredible than it has in a long time, but as his love grows, he better understands how love can be so devastating. Burdock accepts that Haymitch has changed for life, that he’s sour for good and he’ll never go back to the friend he once was. Haymitch has spent enough time and energy trying to convince him of that. But as the months trickle by, the contempt Burdock feels toward him softens, because he knows that losing Asterid would ruin him, too.

Deep down, Burdock wishes that Haymitch will turn up one day and he’ll have a smile on his face and he’ll open his arms, saying he’s ready to be friends again. Burdock doesn’t know if he could forgive him for the way he’s hurt him, but he longs for the friend he once had. He hopes that there’s still love in him, that his friend can find himself again as he wades through the grief. Burdock knows that grief transforms a person. He’s seen it happen to his pa and Merrilee and Asterid, and even to himself. But as the weather grows cold and the leaves turn golden, the hope he has for Haymitch withers away with the foliage and turns to dust under his heel.

One day, late in the fall, Haymitch does turn up. Burdock hears him before he sees him, calling for Lenore Dove through the trees, his cries bleeding through the fog. The ache in his voice is gut wrenching.

Burdock had resolved never to see Haymitch again, because that is what Haymitch told him he wanted every time he came to visit.

Haymitch’s keening shatters the mist. Burdock may never get his friend back, but he is not beyond loving him.

When Burdock finds his old friend, crawling on his knees on the forest floor, Haymitch looks at him with a face that’s known heartbreak a thousand times over.

“If you want her, come on.”

It’s been a long time since Burdock has visited the Covey graveyard. The fog makes it harder to navigate between the trees, but as they draw near to the secluded grove, it’s like their music guides him in.

The stones of his ancestors weave throughout the mossy ground.

Hey, Lenore Dove , thinks Burdock. I brought your boy .

As much as Burdock wants Haymitch to have a final goodbye, he also knows Lenore Dove misses Haymitch right back. It’s the least he can do to let them both have some closure.

As Haymitch drags himself to Lenore Dove, Burdock leaves them, granting them a private reunion.

It’s the last time Haymitch ever accepts his help again.

~~~

“Alright, open them.”

Asterid’s eyes pop open. There’s a look of confusion on her face, and Burdock can understand why. The wooden building in front of them looks like any other house in the Seam, only there’s a broken chair on the porch and the windows are dark.

“Whose house is this?” she asks.

Burdock takes her hand. He can hardly contain his smile. “Ours, if we want it.”

Asterid shakes her head, but she’s laughing. “How… what?”

After many long years, they survived the reaping.

Burdock was the last to turn nineteen. They celebrated at the lake and dove into the waters, feeling the freshwater chill their bones and the sunshine warm their skin, feelings that so many of their peers will never have the chance to experience again.

Burdock always feels happier in the forest, but he’d never so strongly felt the euphoria of living.

Out there, in their sanctuary, Burdock finally admitted a truth he’s known for a long, long time.

“Asterid?” She turned, looking at him with more joy than he’d ever seen her wear. Her blonde hair hung in scraggly clumps from swimming, and there was dirt and sand all over her limbs and her damp clothes from laying out on the shore. Nowadays, Burdock replays the moment over and over in his brain, and it can’t get any more perfect. “You’re the love of my life.”

As soon as he turned eighteen, Burdock started in the mines. Game hunting and wildcrafting can only go so far, and Burdock is determined to prove to the Marches that he can provide for their daughter. Alder was right there next to him the first time he descended in the elevator, the day after his birthday. When he’s not in the mines, he’s hunting in the woods or bartering in town. He’s worked every day for years so that they can have a good life, saving and preparing to support her–and their family–and give them a home.

His neighbor down the street is growing old and feeble, and it’s hard for him to be on his own. His wife has passed and he has no grandkids to succeed him. He’ll move in with his daughter to live out the rest of his life, leaving a vacant house with no one to care for it. Burdock has brought him game over the years and helped him with chores, and one day Burdock asked him to name a price.

“The man who lives here is moving out in a few months,” explains Burdock. “He and his daughter said we can move in if I help hunt and gather for them over the next couple years.”

“A few months?” says Asterid. Her eyes hold a glimmer of mischief. “That’s not a lot of time to get married. We’re not even betrothed.”

It’s the greatest joy of Burdock’s life to show her his next surprise. The ring in his pocket is brass and etched with delicate wildflowers–he’d told a laughing Tam Amber that he had a special commission for him, the most important of his life–and it represents everything he dreams for their future.

~~~

Life always feels better now that he wakes up next to her every morning.

The light of late dawn warms the chilly room. Burdock has one day a week where he gets to sleep in, when he’s not off to the mines before the sun rises, and he’s going to enjoy every minute of it while he can.

Burdock rolls over to give his wife a kiss. Asterid gives him a sleepy smile and pulls the quilt around to trap him, buying as much time in his arms as he can spare.

There are pictures on the walls of their room now, and their clothes fill the chest of drawers. The house has grown with them since those first months they spent sweeping and cleaning and mending the broken furniture to turn the house into their home. Asterid’s parents even gave them some cash to fix up the place, and Burdock’s pa and Alder helped them get it just right, so that by the time they married, it was ready to welcome them into their new life.

The day they moved in, Burdock placed a vase full of chamomile on the mantel.

“For luck?” Asterid asked.

“I’m already the luckiest man in the world,” he said.

Over the years, jars of dried plants and salves and bundles of roots and bandages have collected in every corner of their home. Burdock’s bow hangs on the wall–his spare in the woods–and his mining gear lives by the back door. He’s tried cultivating parts of the forest so that certain plants can grow better, adding pages of wild foods to Asterid’s nature book, and Asterid runs an apothecary out of their home with their harvest from the woods and the little garden that brightens their yard. There’s always something simmering on the stove or a neighbor looking for some help in their kitchen; people from all over Twelve come to Asterid for aid with their troubles because they swear she’s the best healer in the district, and she visits those who are too sick to travel to their home in the Seam.

The sun is rising, and Burdock knows he needs to leave soon. The forest is calling, and he’s made a promise to provide and to love, and he will. He hates to part from her, but it’s more difficult these days for her to slip through the fence and journey deep into the woods.

Burdock slips his hand over her swollen belly, and Asterid turns so he can feel the baby better.

Asterid hums. “She kept me up all night, kicking me in the ribs.” She grimaces, adjusting her posture. “There she goes again.” Asterid moves his hand up to the right, and sure enough, he can feel a light thumping in her belly.

“Strong and feisty,” he says with a grin. “That’s my girl.”

Asterid cups her hand to his face, and he relishes the touch. She has an eyebrow raised, teasing. “My ma says it means she’ll be trouble.”

He nuzzles right up to her nose, making her giggle. “And we’ll love her fiercer than wildfire.” He reaches down to give her belly a kiss, too. “Take your time, my girl. We’re right here waiting for you.”

It’s not often that Burdock walks past the Victor’s Village.

He doesn’t realize how close he is until he looks up from tracking the deer he’s hunting, and he’s nearly at the boundary fence. He can see the rooftops peeking out between the trees up ahead, nicer than any other buildings in Twelve.

Burdock knows that he’s been awfully lucky despite his circumstances. He knows that not everyone has the privilege to love so deeply and for as long as he has. Not everyone can wake up next to the love of their life every morning and live long enough to see their children grow.

Every once in a while, he passes Haymitch in town, buying more liquor or stumbling across the town square in a stupor. Haymitch looks past him like he’s invisible, and Burdock lets him believe he is. He’ll still never know if Haymitch thinks loving Lenore Dove was worth the pain, but Burdock knows for himself that he’ll never regret the life he’s worked so hard for, no matter how much time he has with the ones he loves–the ones who give him strength to persevere in a world where pain hides around every corner.

The breeze picks up, blowing long strands of hair into Burdock’s face. He ties it back in a braid, and wonders if Haymitch ever thinks of him, too. It’s been a long, long time since they’ve spoken, but one lesson lingers from that time in his life, that love is worth all the pain in the world.

Burdock shoulders his bow and walks back toward the woods, whistling to the mockingjays who lie in wait.