Chapter Text
(Katniss POV)
When we arrive home we are thankfully not the focus of everyone's attention this year. Deen, a lanky but strongly muscled 16 year old with olive skin and coal dark eyes, is clamored over by the entirety of the district. Girls want to kiss him, and boys want to be him, or at least be his friend. He smiles and waves, says all the right things. Peeta must have given him a heads up before we reached District 12's train station. Because now all he's mentioning is his gratitude toward the Capitol. We are passed over, and I sigh inwardly in relief. We go home, to change and rest before the celebratory dinner. Cinna didn't accompany us back, but left instructions with my and Peeta's prep team as to what we should wear and how to style our hair and makeup. This year I get to wear a deeply cut, figure hugging dark blue dress that's such a deep color at first I think it's black. But then Flavius walks toward me with the fabric swaying in his hands as he moves, and I see the elusive Mockingjay blue glinting in the light.
"Oh," I breathe, running my fingers over the light velvety fabric. It's so beautiful, and deceptively simple and understated. I have noticed that he has been adjusting my style for a while now, to help me appear more mature. I'll be getting married in a matter of months now, so the school girl dresses and the headbands have been abandoned for increasingly more alluring styles. This one however takes the cake. The team hangs the dress near the light of the portable makeup station they brought with them. They scrutinize the colors and test out swatches of eyeshadow on the inner part of my arm. They squint over Cinna's instructions, but after a while they start to paint my face, and everyone relaxes into the routine. I half listen to their inane gossip, but really what I'm thinking about is how to sneak out of the party tonight to meet up with Haymitch and Peeta at the abandoned house. It had been a regular government assigned shack that belonged to a family from the Seam. But last summer lightning had struck it, and a fire had started. A tree had fallen on a portion as well, but there were two rooms with intact walls and ceilings that made it ideal to hide out in. It was still standing, a badly burned wreck since the townspeople couldn't put out the fire fast enough in the summer swelter. So now it was abandoned, and the family had been assigned another residence. When my make up is done, and matching midnight blue heels are secured to my feet, my team slips the dress over my head, and proceeds to curl my hair into a mass of silky looking tresses and soft waves that frame my face in a complimentary way. I feel beautiful, and desirable as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. These past few years my body has filled out more than I was aware of. But now looking at myself in the dark blue shimmering fabric that does nothing to hide my shape I notice that I have more curves than I expected. The small, skinny thing that left on the train after the Reaping has managed to eat enough to gain more than just a mere suggestion of breasts. I blush, feeling more than a little exposed in this get up.
"It's kind of tight." I tell the prep team and they just laugh at my naivete.
"Peeta's going to love it! You'll be the most ravishing thing at the celebration." Octavia gushes.
"Enjoy it while you can darling, pretty soon you'll be wearing aprons and house slippers!" Falvious jokes, alluding to my destiny as a housewife, as Peeta's trophy. At first this thought angered me. One, because I can't cook to save my own life, and so will find very little cause to wear an apron. Secondly, that they think all this, the way I look and what I wear is something contrived to please Peeta, who honestly would still moon over me even if I wore a burlap sack to our fake wedding. These clothes aren't for me, or Peeta. They're for the cameras, and the bored pampered people of the Capitol to drool over. I grit my teeth to keep myself from saying something nasty to Flavius, and then I remind myself that Peeta and Haymitch have a plan. I gulp down my anger, and focus on staying alert and flexible tonight. I'll have to play it right if I'm going to be able to get away. That means putting everybody in a relaxed and unsuspecting mood. So I smile at them, like their comments please me to no end. They fawn over me. The last thing for my prepteam to to do is outfit me in jewelry. Tonight I get to wear an impossibly thin and fluid looking diamond necklace. It drips down my collarbones, like a sparking trail of water that ends in a single diamond teardrop nestled in the hollow of my cleavage. It's the final touch and I'm transformed into a creature of midnight temptations, draped in the illusive color of the night sky and decorated with a sprinkle of stars. The room goes quiet as they stare at me. No one breathes, and even admit it's hard for me to look away from the captivating picture Cinna has painted with cloth and color. We're all startled by a quick knock, followed by the door opening to reveal Peeta in the doorway. He looks as handsome as ever, in a charcoal grey suit accented with the same elusive blue as my dress. The color brings out the dark blue notes in his eyes, and makes his blond hair seem more golden and glossy in contrast. He stands, mouth slightly open in shock staring at me. I stare at his reflection in the mirror for a beat before I turn around and cross the room towards him.
"Ready?" I ask him, extending my hand. His eyes are overly large and luminous as they take me in.
"Not at all." He says under his breath, but he takes my hand and folds it over the crook of his arm. We descend the stairs together in silence, but it's not the empty kind. It is full of unsaid things, and thoughts that echo too loud on the creaking wood. Deen waits for us at the bottom, Cinna having made him look handsome in a black and gold suit. A stencil of thin gold has been applied across his forehead in an intricate pattern to replicate the victor's crown. It makes him look powerful, and regal. His color scheme is more prominent than ours, because of course he is the victor this year and we are just mentors. Yet, for all the ornateness of his outfit I find I prefer the suit Cinna crafted for Peeta. Deen stares back, as we are coming down, and when he sees us up close he whistles soft and low.
"You two look great!" He says with a wide grin. "Sometimes I forget you're both only 2 years older!" He tells us, and for some reason this makes Peeta frown. I just tilt my head at Deen in a disbelieving gesture, but I smile to show that I find his comments humorous. Even though we are only 2 years apart, I feel more like his guardian or caretaker than his peer. The games have aged me inwardly far past my 18 years.
"We're getting married soon, so I'd say that gives us more credit." Peeta says in an almost defensive voice. I crinkle my brow in perplexity at the hostility in Peeta's tone.
Then I notice Deen hasn't turned back around. He's still staring at me. There's a blatant, almost unconcerned look on his smiling face. I glance at Peeta's face and see his jaw is flexed tightly. I roll my eyes at Peeta's consternation. Deen's a 16 year old victor who just cheated death and became an instant celebrity. Of course he's a little preoccupied with girls in dresses right now. Still, I shouldn't indulge Deen's adolescent preoccupations. I give him a little shove, and shoot him a look that says 'turn around'. He chuckles in that good natured, slightly mischievous way I've come to expect and finally looks away.
"You know if Cinna didn't want people staring at you, he shouldn't have put you in that dress." Deen says quietly with a touch of humor as he stares ahead, watching the doors again.
Peeta just huffs unhappily. I don't know what to say to that, it's true but I also think that it's part of the Capitol's plan to slowly put more focus on Peeta and I's upcoming wedding.
"What is that?" I hear Haymitch's outraged slurred words before I even realize he's standing behind us on the stairs. I was so deep in thought I hadn't heard him walk up behind us.
I turn around to look at him and he blanches at the sight of the front of my dress, which undoubtedly shows more skin than the back. He turns his head to the side to avoid looking at me directly.
Alright I'm starting to get annoyed at everyone making such a big deal over my wardrobe. There are victor's from other districts who walk around naked or practically naked in front of the cameras. Joanna Mason from District 7 comes to mind. My dress is tame by comparison. And really I'm getting tired of people criticizing Cinna's choices. I think the dress is beautiful, and I really like it.
"It's the dress Cinna made for me, and I think it's really good." I tell him, an edge in my voice challenging him to make any criticism.
"That," Haymitch says pointedly, gutting his chin in my direction, "Is worse than showing up in your underwear girl. It'll attract all the wrong kinds of attention." Haymitch says in a serious manner.
"I have no idea what he was thinking." Peeta tells Haymitch quietly. I turn his comment over in my mind.
"He's thinking people need a distraction." I whisper quietly, before I turn around. The air in the room turns a degree colder. And the conversation from last night swims unspoken between the three of us.
"Well," Haymitch says with a bemused snort, "he'll definitely get it then." He leans in to whisper in Peeta's ear sternly, "Boy, don't leave her side for a single minute." Peeta nods, and grips my hand tighter.
I find I don't like the implications of this command. What do they think will happen to me, here at a public celebration in my own district? I don't want to contemplate it, so I resolve to submit myself to Peeta's careful watch. The mayor's voice rings out over the sounds of happy chatter. He makes a short speech, and then introduces Deen, who steps out first with a grin wide enough to make the school girls shout and cheer in adoration. Then it's my and Peeta's turn, and when we step out the crowd's jubilee ratchets up a notch. Three new victors in three years. Who would have thought District 12 could do it? No one, that was the problem. It wasn't supposed to be possible. So I plaster a smile on my face and plaster myself to Peeta's side in hopes that people will soon forget about the incredulity of this feat, and forget themselves in the feasting and celebrating.
Everyone eats heartily at the rows of white tables filled with delicious fare. It's a treat for all the underfed people of our district to have another victory tour end with a feast in district 12. But I only pick at my food while we sit with Deen on the raised platform of the victor's table. Afterwards people line up to talk to us and offer congratulations. Peeta sticks to me like glue, his hand on my shoulder, around my waist, or in my hair like a neon sign declaring me 'off limits'. This year Deen is the one doing most of the shaking of hands, and chatting. Peeta, Haymitch, and I try to blend into the background as he's interviewed by the tv cameras. But towards the end of the short segment the cameras turn to focus their attention on us.
"And to the winners of the 74th Games, we only have two questions tonight! Peeta, how excited are you for your upcoming nuptials and Katniss who designed your dress?"
Peeta thankfully answers first. "We're extremely excited, we've been waiting for this for quite a while and now it feels like it will be the perfect ending to a dream come true." He turns to face me and looks into my eyes in that perfect besotted school boy routine that he's gotten down pat after all these years. "I mean look at her, doesn't she look gorgeous tonight?" His eyes hold me in place with all the gravity of one of the powerful clear tubes the Capitol used to freeze us in as we were lifted onto the platforms in our first games. I'm having trouble drawing breath while he stares at me this way. He turns back to the camera. I breathe and the spell his eyes cast on me is broken.
"Oh, I think everyone will agree she looks spectacular! So, Katniss this brings up the next question. Is this another Cinna original or did you design this outfit?" I shake my head and laugh at her question. I couldn't design a handkerchief. But the people of the Capitol don't know that. They think my victor's talent is fashion design.
"Oh, not a chance. I'm still learning from the master." I say with a laugh. "This is all Cinna, and I can only hope to one day be one one-hundredth as talented as he is." Everyone laughs, and the reporter ends the segment by saying how fortuitous it is to be a district 12 citizen tonight. The red light blinks off and I exhale in relief. I feel myself slump a little in Peeta's hold, but he just places his hand on the small of my back and leads me down the stairs towards the makeshift dance floor. The night isn't over yet, and we still have to find a way to sneak out.
I scan the crowd as Peeta and I sway to the easy melody spilling across the square from a live band of musicians. Other people dance as well, including Deen and a beautiful girl with strawberry curls that tumble down her back. She's not wearing one of Cinna's Capitol created wonders, but she looks very pretty in her green moss colored dress that matches the shade of her eyes. I smile over at them, happy for Deen. After all he's been through, he deserves some merriment in his life.
I feel rather than hear Peeta's intake of breath. I look up at him and see him studying me intently.
"What are you thinking about?" He asks.
"Oh, I was just happy to see Deen looking so cheerful. He deserves to find happiness with a girl his own age." I tell him with a mocking grin. Peeta chuckles, in a run of low notes that send a small shiver through me.
"He's a good kid, but he's just too cocky sometimes." He says quietly, his eyes still on Deen.
"Peeta, he's like a little brother. Sometimes I felt like his mother in the arena when I had to see him starving and cold, injured and afraid." I tell him seriously, hoping to take the edge off. He just offers a noncommittal sound in reply.
"You know I'm not interested in those kinds of attachments." I remind him. He rolls his eyes at me in disbelief and I start to work up a glare. But then something catches his eye over my shoulder, and he almost stops dancing. But then he seems to recover, and pulls me closer to him.
"That's a good thing actually, because I can see Gale from here. And he's not alone." Peeta mutters in my ear. I feel myself grow stiff in his arms. I don't turn around though, that would be too obvious. So I gulp down the strange desperate feeling that has started gnawing its way to my throat, and wait as Peeta turns me slowly as we dance. When I see them, I am unprepared for the flush of anger and embarrassment that floods me.
Gale is dancing with a girl with dark chestnut colored straight hair that falls like a silk curtain over her slim shoulders. She wears a white plain party dress, but she fills it wonderfully. I feel like a scrawny middle schooler when I catch a glimpse of her full hips, and long beautiful legs. She has her head resting on his strong shoulder, eyes closed in joyful satisfaction, obviously enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.
"You were saying?" Peeta murmurs to me and I resist the urge to stomp on his foot. I don't look at him, but I'm sure he is not actually enjoying the moment. His voice sounds sad, and slightly worried for me.
"It's a party." I say. "And it doesn't matter to me who he dances with." The sentence makes my mouth feel heavy, the lie weighing my tongue down.
Peeta just pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me as if to shield me from this uncomfortable situation.
"He must be really jealous, to do something like that." He says, his lips against my hair.
"What are you talking about?" I say, incredulous. If anything this is proof of how little Gale cares what I think. I knew it had to happen one day. That a young, desirable man like him would wake up and realize that he was wasting his prime years waiting for a girl who would never be free to make her own choices. I just didn't expect him to do it at the celebration feast.
"Oh, nothing." Peeta replies, his hand stroking down my back gently. The back of my dress isn't as low cut as the front, but its still low enough that I still shiver when I feel his fingers against my naked skin.
"Don't look now, but they've turned the cameras back on. I guess they're trying to get b-roll of everyone dancing." He whispers against my ear. I nod, I know what this means. We should probably kiss, and try to sneak off soon. It's become our signature move over the years. But I have noticed that all the adults in our lives have stopped seriously trying to stop us. In fact, back in the Capitol at the party before Snow called us in, Peeta and I had sat in a coat closet for 20 minutes waiting to be discovered by Effie or Haymitch. But neither had come, instead Snow's personal assistant had found us and ushered us into the presidential office.
"They're headed this way." He tells me, brushing a dark strand of hair away from my cheek.
I reach up to encircle my arms around his neck, and lean on my tiptoes to touch my lips gently to his. Peeta kisses me softly at first, but then deepens the kiss much faster than I'm used to. His lips have a hungry feel to them, and he tastes like the sugar cookies he had for dessert. I find myself pulled down into the deepness of our kisses as I try to follow him. My heart starts to beat a little too fast, and I feel my feet faltering in our dance. But Peeta just guides me effortlessly, his hands encircling my waist, brushing against my ribs. Between his kiss, and the dancing, and his hands, I feel dizzy. I gasp, pulling away breathless, resting my cheek against his.
What was that? I almost asked him. But then I remember we're surrounded by a lot of people and are probably being filmed at this moment. So I just try to steady my breathing, as he runs his hands down my back again. It does nothing but hamper my breathing efforts. He is breaking all sorts of rules right now, and I have no idea why. So I impatiently start to tug him away in the direction of the mayor's house. I want to get him a coat closet alone so I can interrogate him. He just chuckles darkly and I pick up the pace in annoyance.
When we reach the closet I shove him and he laughs instead of cowers in fear, and this makes me angrier.
"Peeta, what the hell?" I whisper-yell at him, once we're there in the dark enclosed space of the coats. I reach up to yank on the light string so I can analyze his expression. But unfortunately we have picked the one closet without a working bulb, so we are relegated to a conversation in the dark.
"Calm down Katniss. We're supposed to be in love, anxious to get to our honeymoon. Why do you think Cinna put you in that dress if he didn't want me to try and express that?" He says in gruff annoyance.
"Oh." I say lamely, but it makes so much sense when he says it. "I just would have liked a heads up Peeta. I'm not used to those kinds of kisses." I tell him seriously.
"I thought it was implied you understood what Cinna was trying to accomplish, when you said that the dress was a distraction." He tells me, seriously.
"I guess I understood that part, but I didn't consider the natural extensions of that strategy." I tell him quietly. I suddenly feel both naive and embarrassed.
"Yeah well, I was taken a little by surprise too." He says, in that tone that means he's running his hand through his hair in exasperation.
We've both become accustomed to our boundaries, over the years. We can kiss and kiss in front of the cameras for hours, and while it's always pleasant to kiss Peeta, it's not usually so intense. I feel a little off balance even now, remembering the way his lips traveled over mine in a new and almost dangerous way.
"What time is it?" I ask, trying to gage how much time we have until we need to slip out and meet Haymitch. Peeta pushes a button on his watch and it lights up the small closet in a soft blue glow that reveals he's much closer to me than I realized.
"11:00. We've got 30 minute or so till we can go." He tells me quietly. His eyes are unreadable in the blue electric light.
"Hummm." I say, wondering how we can kill half an hour before we need to go. I'm thinking since no one has come looking for us they'll just assume we snuck off to be alone, or that we left early. But I can't concentrate with the light spicy smell of his aftershave filling up my senses. It's light, and not overpowering at all. Peeta isn't one to overdo things like that. But in the darkness of the closet I find with my sight hindered, my other senses are more awake.
"We could talk about the food." He offers in a bored tone. But I know he doesn't really want to discuss it. We've been attending feasts for weeks, and I'm even tired of talking about all the delicious food.
I take a breath, "I think we should, um practice." I tell him in a quiet voice. I had been thinking of it ever since he said he had been surprised by the intensity of the earlier kisses himself. If we were going to keep up the pretence of being increasingly enthusiastic about the wedding we'd need some way to display our transition from love-struck teenagers to soon-to-be newlyweds.
"You know since we're going to be ramping things up until the wedding. That way we can get used to things, and come up with new, um rules?" I say, in an unsure voice. It's kind of going against my rule, about kissing. But I tell myself I'm following the spirit of the rule if not the letter in trying to improve my performance for the cameras.
"You want to practice kissing?" He says with a laugh. "Katniss, we've kissed so much I doubt there's that much we really need to go over. If it makes you uncomfortable I can tone it down." He says in a tired voice.
"Oh yes, that will be so believable. It's not just kissing. I mean well, that's part of it. It's also the...touching. I mean you were fantastic, believable as always, but I was so bad I almost fell over." I tell him seriously.
He says nothing. But he knows it's true. If we're going to keep selling this I have to look like I know what I'm doing, or at least look convincing enough to keep fooling everyone. He sighs, and I feel myself bristle.
"Sorry, didn't know it would feel like such a chore." I tell him petulantly. I'm about to tell him to forget it, when his hand reaches out and touches my arm in the dark.
"Oh, it's not that, believe me. It's just hard for me sometimes, to keep it all straight. Especially when the cameras aren't around. We're just friends after all." He says the last sentence with a funny cadence.
"Friends don't let each other make fools of themselves on national tv Peeta. We're 18 now. And I don't want to look like an inexperienced nitwit on camera." I tell him seriously.
"That's funny that you think people would ever think that about you." He says in a strange tone. I roll my eyes even though I know he can't see me in the dark.
"Just show me what to do okay." I say impatiently, taking a step towards him, while reaching for him in the dark. He takes a step back, almost involuntarily, but I just grasp the midnight blue lapels of his coat that match my dress so perfectly. His breath hitches, but he stops retreating.
"Okay," He says quietly, the word sounding full in the small space. I step into his space and bring my hands up to rest on his shoulders. The fabric of his coat is silky, but his broad muscles feel strong and hard under my hands.
"What about this?" I ask quietly.
"That's good to start with, but putting your arms around my neck would be better or if you really want to wow them, put your hands on my chest underneath my coat." He says his voice low conspirtal.
I've put my arms around his neck enough times, so I try the latter suggestion and slip them under his coat. The firmness that greets my fingertips is pleasant, but not unexpected. I've seen Peeta without his shirt on, and woken up enough times with my cheek pressed to his heartbeat that I already knew how strong his chest would feel. But touching him with my hands is different, I can't explain why but it is. And I find myself sweeping my hands along the planes of his muscles in a slightly fascinated way.
Peeta doesn't say a thing, he just lets me touch him. I get an idea, and lean into him, pressing my face to his neck, as I simultaneously trail a finger down his collarbone, and make small circles over his heart.
"That, for instance, is fantastic." He says in a thick voice, and I find my knees feel slightly weak again.
"Any other suggestions?" I ask, still tracing a lazy design over his chest.
He pulls me closer and wraps me in his arms again. His warm hands brush the skin of my back gently, stroking up and down. I feel the same breathlessness return, and try to acquaint myself with the new sensation. After a few minutes I find I can breath moderately well enough to pass for a girl who's been unofficially engaged ever since we came home from the arena.
Peeta's lips drop to the line of my neck, and he must feel me trembling, because he holds me securely against him as he traces the curve of my jaw first with feather light kisses until I can relax into his touch. The kisses start to linger, with more pressure and heat and I feel my breath hitch when he reaches the pulse at my neck which has become riotous. I fight the urge to push him away in embarrassment, sure that he can feel how hard my heart is pounding. I feel myself fidgeting with my hands, so I reach up to entine them in his hair. His tongue gently runs over the hollow of my neck and I feel like I've been struck by lightning. I grip his hair so hard I know it must hurt, but I can't help it. The feeling is so intense I need something to hold on to so I don't fall to the floor in a puddle of overwrought nerves. I need to kiss him. So I tip my head down quickly to catch his mouth in a kiss and it's so different from what we usually do. These kisses are not measured or safe. They are deep and wanting, and I can feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my hip while his other hand tangles in my hair. Our lips and hands and limbs entwine themselves together in the dark and I feel that secret warmth seeping into me. And there in the dark I don't run away from it, but entertain the idea shyly of just how far I'm willing to explore this new territory with Peeta. When my lips slip down to kiss along his jaw, he murmurs something that doesn't seem to have any meaning. I think it's more of a plea for me not to stop. I just push his dress jacket off his shoulders and start to undo the knot of his tie, so I can gain access to more of his neck. He's breathing roughly now, but so am I. His tie is discarded, and I pull his collar aide, maybe a little roughly in my haste. I press my lips to his neck quickly, hotly, and I feel him tense under my mouth. But I don't stop, because it must feel the same for him it did for me. A strong sweeping current of electricity that took time to get used to. But the more I kissed him, the more rigid his muscles became. I wonder if I'm doing it right when his hands come up to put some distance between us. I stop, confused, gasping for breath.
"I think that's more than enough, Katniss." He says, voice tight with some unreadable emotion.
"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right, maybe I just need more practice-" I start to say but he cuts me off.
"Actually, I think that was too much practice." He sounds like he's saying the words through gritted teeth.
"What, really?" I ask incredulously.
"Yeah, besides it's 11:40 now. We need to head out or we'll be late." He says as he checks the time. He seems suddenly tired, his tone despondent. In the faint glow of the blue light I can see his disheveled hair, his rumbled shirt. I almost reach out to smooth it down, but then stop. It'll look better like this if anyone sees us leaving. They'll assume we're leaving early to find some more privacy, instead of two victors heading off to a clandestine meeting to discuss treason.
"Okay," I tell him softly, unable to keep a hint of disappointment from my voice. He peeks over at me, a confused look on his face that's barely readable in the dark. But I just step forward to open the door. This next part we have down pat. We tumble out of the closet with wild energy, and I pull him after me, ignoring the stares of waiters and various staff. We run, hand in hand through the kitchen and out the back and away into the night. If the camera crew caught anything it'll just seem like another romantic escape executed to perfection. If any of our family and friends see, or get word they'll know it is just another well rehearsed act. Either way it gives us an excuse to leave. We make it all the way to the Seam before we let go of each other's hands. Then we walk quietly, in a more subdued manner into the poorer part of the district. When we pass a house that has a light on inside, I take Peeta's hand again and urge him to duck behind a tree. After that we try to stick to the shadows. I keep his hand in mine, leading him because I'm familiar with this part of town, having grown up here for the majority of my life. When we reach the abandoned house we find Haymitch already waiting. He turns when he hears us enter and lets out an exasperated breath he's been holding in.
"You're late," He says this to Peeta, not me. I guess because Peeta is the more punctual one out of the two of us.
"Sorry, got caught up for a bit." He says, shaking his head. Haymitch looks between Peeta and I in a skeptical way. Peeta avoids his gaze, but I feel myself squirm guiltily.
Haymitch shoots Peeta a silent look and Peeta sighs. I look back and forth between them but can't figure out what they're saying in that code they use sometimes.
"Fine, come over here so I don't have to shout at the doorway." He beckons us in. When we're about a few feet from him he reaches into his coat pocket and takes out his flask. I wrinkle my nose wondering how he can drink anymore after all the ale he had at the party. But he doesn't tip it into his mouth. Dumps the contents into his palm and I hear a small tinkling sound as something small and thin and metallic about the size of a dime tumbles out of the flask opening. It blinks green and blue in the dark.
"Alright, we're ok to talk for about an hour or so. This here is a frequency altering scrambler. The science of it is lost on me, but suffice to say that it disrupts the transmission of bugs in a nearby radius and replaces the audio being acquired with a different frequency. Now this is our one and only bug scrambler, so I will be holding onto it for the time being."
"Okay…" I nod at the little device, a smile creeping on my face.
Peeta nods, approvingly. "Let's start then." He says in his practical voice.
"We've got a plan." Haymitch says, his voice quiet despite our location.
"What is it?" I ask.
"We're going to make a run for it, before the first snowfall." He says, his eyes grave in the light of the lantern. He can't be serious.
I look over at Peeta with a questioning look in my eyes. His expression seems serious as well.
"Do you want to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere?" I hiss at them angrily. I know Peeta has no idea about the woods, or trying to live off the land, but I expected more from haymitch at least.
"Don't start getting your tiara in a twist girl. We're not going in unprepared. I've got a way to get my hands on a map." He says, looking at me in annoyance.
"A map? A map to where exactly, Haymitch? There's nowhere else to go!" My voice is slightly raised now, I can't help it. Their lunatics and I'm not going to indulge their madness.
"District 13." Peeta says quietly, looking over at me. My eyes widen in astonishment. We've moved on from plain crazy to full blown delusions. I laugh humorlessly.
"Oh, yeah Peeta, District 13. Let's move there so my sister can grow a second head while we sit around and starve!" I'm really angry now.
"This is why no one lets you make plans. You're just too...irrationale." Haymitch says to me. I can't believe him. I'm the irrational one? Are we somehow living in an alternate reality?
"The map contains directions to a secret route. There's caves, and secret places where we can make camp along the way. We just have to bring our own supplies. You'll have to help hunt, and we'll all have to be on guard. But other people have made the journey before, others have escaped Katniss. They created a system to deliver the instructions. It was really hard to get in touch with them, but when they found out it was us, they decided to help. It'll be hard, but we can do it. I know we can. With the map, with you and Gale to help keep everyone safe, we can do it." He says in a steady voice.
I stare at him.
"We won't get five miles. They'll come after us."
"We've got a plan for that too."
Oh yeah does it involve some magical invisibility device like this magical map of yours?"
He grits his teeth in frustration at me.
"No, nothing as complicated as that."
"Then what?"
"We all have to die."
"Huh?"
"We fake our deaths Katniss, it might not fool them for long but it will give us enough of a head start that they won't be able to catch us. If we stay ahead of them, if we stay hidden we can make it."
I think this over quietly.
"What about the timeline? Hasn't Snow thrown everything off with this new plan of his?"
It's Haymitch's turn to talk again.
"We're still waiting on some pieces of the map to come in, we can't rush that or it will ruin the whole operation. So you two are just going to have to smile and play nice for a little bit longer. Go to the fittings, the cake tastings, get married. But before you leave for the reception and honeymoon we're hightailing it out."
I nod, absentmindedly. The plan could work, if we play it cool, and wait.
"Actually I have a plan for the ceremony too." Peeta says. My head turns back to him in interest.
"But we're gonna need Gale. He already knows about most of this stuff. Haymitch has recruited him to help us,"
This is news to me. Does everyone know? Have I really been that distracted? I had no idea about any of this?
"But since things have changed, I'm going to need his help more than ever. But if we can pull it off, we won't have to really get married."
"I'm listening." I say, a tiny excited note in my voice as I lean in to listen more carefully.