Intrigued, I ponder the brown paper bundle placed neatly on the ground in front of the door. With an overwhelming pang of curiosity, I pick it up and receive a slight shock as my fingers adjust to the warmth radiating from whatever is inside the package. I continue unwrapping the paper while I cross the threshold into the house, scanning my surroundings for a glimpse of one or both of the blondes who should already be home. Out of my peripheral vision, I notice the younger blonde, my sister Prim, sitting on the sofa with Buttercup in her lap, sorting and packaging the different herbs that have been sitting out to dry for the past several days.

"Katniss!" squeals Prim with excitement after she notices my presence in the room. Her eyes shift quickly to the parcel in my hands. "What'd you get today?"

"I don't know, little duck. I found this outside the door. It's warm though. How 'bout we find out?"

Prim runs over to the table where I just finished tearing off the paper from the package. It's a loaf of cheese bread. Bread? I ask myself, perplexed. No, not just bread. This is specialty bread. Expensive bread. But who...?

There is only one person who would have placed this bread outside my door, and it is not the first time this person has done such a thing.

Peeta Mellark. The boy who simultaneously saved my life and gave me hope on a rainy day so many years ago with a loaf of burnt bread.

I stand in complete shock for a few minutes as I rack my brain for the potential cause of this gift. Did I do something unintentionally nice for him this week? No, we don't even talk. Ever. Maybe he thought our trade was unfair this time around and wanted to even things out between us? After all, I did shoot a couple of good-sized rabbits and squirrels this week. But the Mellarks have always been especially generous when it comes to our trades anyways. I remember Mr. Mellark sneaking an extra loaf of bread in the sack in addition to our normal trade amount, an act of charity that frustrated me deeply. Why can I never seem to balance the Mellark-Everdeen scale? Those Mellark men are always trying to out-give me, and it is becoming tiresome.

Regardless, they usually aren't this blatantly charitable. I don't understand the cause for this loaf of bread.

"Woah. Katniss, what is this for?" Prim's question along with the tantalizing scent of cheddar bread interrupts my wonderings and brings me back to the present. I lock eyes with hers and we stare at each other for a few seconds before I shrug nonchalantly. I don't want to bring up the topic of Peeta Mellark. No one knows about the incident with the bread that day outside the bakery when he saved my life, and I plan to keep it that way.

"Where's mom? We should go ahead and eat some while it's warm," I say hoping to distract myself from the frustrating thoughts fluttering across my mind. It's not working very well. Why? Why would he do this?

"She went to check on Lady. I'll go get her." With those words, Prim bounces through the back door to share the good news with our mother.

I am left alone to battle with my own thoughts once again. Why would he do this? The question keeps nagging me for an answer. I know that his giving me a fresh loaf of this bread could cause him some serious punishment if his mother ever found out. She hates me and everyone else who lives in the Seam. I flinch, remembering the fierce blows he received that day when he burned the bread. He took a beating for me, and I never thanked him. Even so, he continues to give when, in reality, it should be the other way around; I should spend the rest of my life trying to thank him for how he saved me and my family.

Finally, because I am at a loss for an answer to my question, I resolve to pay him back for his trouble. That's that. I hate owing people, and I already owe Peeta Mellark my life.

The next day, I leave the house earlier than usual. I need some extra time to hunt so that I can repay Peeta. Hopefully, he will accept my compensation for the bread, and I won't have to worry about any more of these awkward, confusing situations. Honestly, it is this kind of stuff that makes life unnecessarily complicated. Doesn't he see that?

I walk straight to the weak spot in the fence, maneuver my way under the wire, grab my bow and arrows, and find my way to check the snares for game. After shoving several dead squirrels and rabbits into my game bag and carefully resetting the snares, I head deeper into the woods to begin the day's hunt.

I put several hundred yards between myself and the fence when I begin to sense that I am not alone, that something is following me. Cautiously, I notch one of my arrows in my bow and prepare for an attack. My heart is pounding in my chest as adrenaline rushes through my body. If I am being followed by a predator, I need to make the first move before it has a chance to strike. I ready myself to spin around in a moment's notice, listening carefully for sounds of movement to direct my attention.

One...

Two...

Before I can even think the word "three," a familiar voice rings out from behind me and sends a wave of relief over me.

"Hey Catnip."

It's Gale. Good thing he spoke up before I got to three. I shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he waited only a second more to reveal his presence.

"Gale! Don't sneak up on me like that!" I reprimand as my heart almost bursts with the combined toll of both fear and relief.

"Sorry. I didn't expect to see you here yet. What are you doing out so early?"

"I could ask you the same question." I take several deep breaths to calm myself.

"I couldn't sleep. The Reaping is next week, and I usually have a hard time sleeping this time of the year." I nod in understanding hoping that he forgets that I haven't responded to his question.

He doesn't. "Your turn."

"No reason, really. I'm just hoping to get a little extra to trade in town today." I avoid eye contact, but I can already sense that Gale is suspicious.

"Is there a reason you need extra to trade? Is everything okay?" I was right. He knows something is up.

"Everyone is fine, Gale. Don't worry. I just figured I should try to get ahead while I can."

"While you can?" he asks, still confused.

I am digging myself deeper into a hole here. How can I get him to drop it?

"I only mean... I'm just taking precautions, you know...?" I can feel Gale's eyes staring at me as I struggle to make sense of my early morning excursion. "My name will be in twenty times next week, Gale. The odds are most definitely not in my favor..."

That should do it. When in doubt, talk about the Games. After all, that is the one thing people are always worried about around here... besides starving.

"Katniss... stop thinking like that." I can hear the concern in his voice.

"It's true!" I snap back, surprised at myself for the sudden tone of emotion that erupts from me. Apparently, this is a more sensitive subject than I originally thought.

"Katniss, there are plenty of other names that could be drawn. You'll be fine." I look at Gale and see that he is watching me with a look of sadness in his eyes mixed with a flicker of worry.

"I don't really want to talk about it, okay? Can we just do what we came here to do?" I huff. I really didn't expect for this conversation to be so exasperating. Scowling, I turn away from Gale to begin hunting with or without him. At this point, I could care less. Several minutes later, I spot a wild turkey, take my aim, and hit my target directly between the eyes. Perfect.

The Mellarks love turkey.

Once my game bag is packed full of herbs, berries, and kills, I turn to leave, ignoring Gale who has been following me silently since our conversation ended earlier.

"See ya later, Catnip," Gale says almost apologetically. I pretend like I didn't hear him. I've got enough to worry about without him interrogating me.

I make my way back into town to trade with the usual people in town and at the Hob. When I get to the bakery, I decide to go around the back and leave the turkey outside the door. I don't want to risk someone stealing it. I have to even things out between Peeta and me. He needs to know how I work.

With a feeling of triumph, I make my way back to the Seam with enough food to feed our little family along with some of the things I traded my meat for in town. As soon as I get to the house, I notice yet another bundle of bread sitting at the doorstep. My feeling of triumph fades and is quickly replaced with frustration.

I stomp inside and throw the bread on the table in my irritation. Luckily, no one is home. Explaining my angry reaction to free bread would spark questions I do not have the patience to answer right now. After several minutes of fuming, I decide that if he is going to play dirty, then so am I.

Peeta Mellark has just started a war.