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The morning of the reaping was crisp and clear, nobody but me stirring early, savouring those last moments of calm before the Peacekeepers came knocking and counting us all out of our homes.
Nobody but me and the wind.
I breathed deeply as I readied to get out of bed when a soft noise of discontent came from my side.
Rowan. My son. My baby boy. I brushed a hand across his soft hair as he yawned and looked up at me. This day last year he hadn't existed. It was like no time at all had passed.
What would his life be like, waiting, like me, each year for this day, and hoping like hell someone else would get reaped, that guilt weighing more on us year on year. How I wished for a life without the Games, for a life beyond Panem.
Rowan giggled his baby giggle as I lightly tickled his chest before reluctantly scooping him up and sliding him back into the other bed with Prim and my mother.
Prim's arm came around him, shaking slightly as she went.
Of course, she's nervous for today
I stroked her hair for good measure and slipped out of the bedroom and into my clothes, boots and Father's hunting jacket, before grabbing my game bag and heading out of the door.
***
The Seam never changed. Grey and rundown, but it was home.
Leaving the Seam and passing by the merchants district, I waved on instinct at the open bakery door, not really registering this morning who was stood in it.
Eventually and without distraction due to the unique calm of the morning, I made it to the fence, pausing as my Father had taught me too, to check if the fence was live with electricity.
Of course, it wasn't. Like the way the Seam never changed, this fence never changed, and so through it I went into the meadow, and slipped into the trees.
As I stooped to grab my bow and arrows from their hidden spot, I took a deep breath and took stock of my life.
Contemplative on reaping day. That can't be a good sign. Okay, I am Katniss Everdeen. I'm from District 12. Rowan Everdeen is my son and my son alone. I am alive for him. I am here for him. I will not be reaped. I will not die.
When I was expecting Rowan, and those rocky weeks afterwards, my mother had helped me come up with this strategy when I felt uneasy or stressed. List things I know you know to be true followed by things you wish more than anything to be true, and use it to clear your thoughts. My mother called it “grounding”. It had helped her, eventually, to come back to us after my father died.
Stock taken, I stepped lightly further into the forest, following the scent of wild garlic, hoping it would mask my scent, and crouched low behind a fallen tree near a clearing. I heard almost imperceptible footsteps far behind me, and knew Gale had reached me earlier than expected.
I drew my bow and fired 3 arrows in quick succession, taking down a pair of wild turkeys and the squirrel that came to see why they stopped squawking. Gale arrived at the clearing as I pulled my arrow from the first turkeys eye.
Gale and I could be cousins. Whereas my mother and Prim stood out with their blonde hair and pale skin in the Seam, Gale and I had the standard look, olive skin, dark hair and, I'm told, cheekbones to die for. I didn't see it in myself and I sure as hell didn't see it in Gale. But I was beginning to see it in Rowan, thanking whatever higher power there was that he was taking after me.
Gale looked at me earnestly then fell into a low bow, “Happy Hunger Games.”
He rose up with a shit eating grin on his face, waiting too eagerly for me to respond. I sheathed my arrow and curtsied low in response, “And may the odds be ever in your favour.”
Neither of us could master the Capitol inflection and accent but it was fun to try all the same. Take your kicks where you can get them, I guess.
“Need a hand with those?”
“I've got the other one. Can you get the squirrel over there?”
“Damn Catnip, 3 down before I even got here. Your speed is coming back.”
He yelped and jumped from my reach as I went to pinch his calf. Rowan was 3 months old; I'd stopped coming to the forest to hunt when I was about 6 months pregnant as my steps were scaring everything off, and I didn't return until about 4 weeks ago. Gale liked to tease me that I'd lost my hunting edge in the time I'd been away, but I couldn't be too mad at him through my gratitude; he was one of the main reasons my family had not starved during that time and therefore, one of the reasons my son was healthy enough to thrive.
Gale removed my arrow from the squirrel and placed it in the game bag with the turkeys, and we took off walking to check our snares and traps deeper in the forest.
“How many times if your name in there today?” I asked, regretting immediately bringing thought back to the reaping
“42.”
Damn the tessarae. Damn the Capitol. Damn the Hunger Games. Damn the whole system.
Gale sighed, both of us knowing the odds were in fact, not in our favour.
“Oh!” he said, reaching into his small bag, “You didn't stop at the bakery this morning - don't pull that face, they understand today of all days being in a bit of a daze - but here,” Gale handed me two things, a soft fresh bread roll the size of Prim’s balled up fist, and something that smelt sweeter with what looked like raisins, “They wanted to make sure you ate before, you know. Just in case.”
I nodded and gratefully took my breakfast, feeling guilty I hadn't stopped in on the Mellarks this morning. But they were right, my mind was on other things, namely the Reaping. And today. Being the day that it was.
We ate slowly and walked in silence to the lakeside, finishing every last crumb of our baked goods before checking the snares for rabbits and resetting them.
After collecting our half a dozen rabbits and throwing them in with the turkeys and curious squirrel, I pulled up some katniss roots and that wild garlic I'd been smelling, before we turned tail for the fence, as the morning ticked away.
***
After stopping by the Hob and making sure Greasy Sae got her rabbit (trading it for some herbs my mother needed and oil for cooking), and passing Darius his too, for looking the other way when needed and not when I needed him, I beelined for the Mellark bakery.
From the end of the street, I could see Peeta stood at the back door, leaning against the door frame, talking with Madge, who must be collecting the airy bread her father likes so much. I always thought, even from our early school days, that they'd make a good pair. But neither showed any interest in the other like that.
As I got closer, Peeta clocked my approach and waved, and after Madge turned to see who he was waving too, she joined in. I was lucky to have them both as best friends, along with Gale. Madge and I, despite our differences in upbringing, had been close since we were small; her father had always been kind and just and Madge and I had spent many days together one winter when her father slipped and tore a muscle in his ankle, which my mother diligently tended to everyday. This was before school, before my Father, before we were of Reaping age. But the friendship remained through all that.
Peeta was a different story. He'd been on the fringes of my attention since school. But this last year, he'd been the staunchiest ally outside of my family and Gale, and had been there when Rowan made his grand entrance to the world. He smiled wide as I approached, like he had no fear today.
“Good morning sunshine!” Madge was too awake and perky this morning, but I Iet it slide as I found myself pulled into her hug, which I somewhat awkwardly returned.
She held my arms and pulled herself back to look at me, fixing me with a fierce gaze, “I have something for you.”
Releasing me, she began rooting around in the small bag she was carrying. I looked at Peeta who held up his hands in the universal sign of ‘I have nothing to do with this’ before he had to drop his arms and catch the things Madge was launching out of her bag.
“Ah-hah!” She declared, holding something small, golden and shiny, which she then pressed into my hand before holding her bag open for Peeta to dump her belongings back into.
I looked down at the item she’d handed me. A pin. With a bird? I must of looked confused.
“It's a mockingjay. Capitol can't control them or contain them. It reminded me of you. It's to make your fearless today, you know?”
I pulled her back into a hug and squeezed her tight.
“Thank you. For everything.” I whispered in her ear, before letting her go.
“No problem. Right, I have to go, Dad and I have to meet that bright loud escort lady off the train and practice his speech. I will see you later.” She emphasised the will in that sentence, looked at both Peeta and I quickly and then skipped off towards the Mayor's residence.
Which left Peeta and I. I looked up at him shyly,
“Sorry I didn't stop in earlier. I…I just needed to get the trees today.”
Peeta pulled a face that said ‘no duh’ as he spoke, “Rye wasn't offended by just a wave. Now if you'd caught my father…”
I shoved him lightly in the shoulder and smiled up at him.
“Turkey or squirrel today? The rabbits are spoken for I'm afraid.”
“Hold on, I'll check - MA, TURKEY OR SQUIRREL?”
If the residents of the street weren't awake before, they were now. I looked around sheepishly, catching one neighbour curtain twitching.
I heard a distant muffled reply of ‘turkey’ and pulled the bird from my game bag.
“I've got two, if you've got anything extra to trade. First one will cost you two loaves.”
Best friends we may be, but it's a cut throat world in Panem. His ma would never want two turkeys at once, I knew that, no where to store them cold, no way of stopping them going bad.
Peeta rolled his eyes and fetched two loaves of the white bread, not the grainy brown.
“My my, feeling generous today Mellark?” I smiled at him as I teased. He handed me over the brown paper parcel of bread and snatched the turkey from me with a smile.
“How are you really doing today? It, uh, can't be an exactly pleasant day for you, for any reason.”
I sighed and shrugged, “I've got half of it tucked away at the back of my brain, ask me again later when we get through the reaping intact. How about you?”
The memories of a year ago couldn't be pleasant for him either but he never let it show.
“I'll be okay Katniss. I'm worried about you is all.”
Reaping day had always made me emotional, this year more than any previous. So I pulled Peeta into a tight hug and didn't let go until distant whistles started, signalling it was almost time to get lined up.
***
As I stood there is borrowed clothes (last years Reaping dress had been burned and nothing else suitable fit me at the moment, other than my mothers soft blue dress) with my son hanging on my front in his sling, I felt an odd sense of calm. Everything would be okay. Prim would be okay. Gale would be okay. Madge and Peeta and his brothers would be okay.
I sighed and tuned out of the Mayor's speech. While I liked the man, it was always the same drivel, Peace and prosperity for all of Panem in the time since the Dark Days every year. I glanced around slyly, Madge was a couple rows in front of me, with a bright pink bow in her blonde locks. I spied Peeta at the far end of row near the front, with his brother. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Gale at the very back of the boys; he'd almost been late trying to get his sisters dressed and out the door on time. Lastly, I leaned up on the balls of my feet and spotted Prim just in front of Madge, her little shirt duck tail hanging out again, despite my best efforts.
Rowan cooed at the movement as I sunk back to my feet and I shushed him quietly and rocked side-to-side; this was not the time for him to scream at all. Maybe it'd get the District some sympathy from the Capitol though?
So lost in my thoughts I was that I missed the change from Madge's father to the Capitol escort, Effie something, and the Dark Days film had already played.
Oh no, I thought, what a shame to have missed that.
Effie's Capitol lilt rang out, “As always, ladies first!”
She tottered on her ridiculous shoes over to the bowl of names, plucked one and made her way back to the microphone.
Not Prim. Not Madge. Not Prim. Not Madge. Not Pr-
“Katniss Everdeen!”
Rowan screamed as my vision flooded with tears.