Where am I? I wonder as I glance around the bushy cocoon that surrounds me. From the orange that ignites the darkening sky around me, I can tell that it must be around dusk. I am struggling to remember how I ended up curled up behind a random cluster of bushes. I must have fallen asleep. Small snippets of the day begin rushing through my mind. School. Woods. Meadow. Peeta.

Peeta.

He loves me.

That's how I ended up here. I remember the flicker of hope drain from those sky blue eyes as I rejected him. I remember the heart-spoken words rivaled only by those of my own father. As the memories flood back, my heart begins to weigh heavy with confusing emotions. While part of me is still shocked by Peeta's feelings for me, the other part of me wishes that I could go back in time and take the sadness from his eyes. It hurts me that I hurt Peeta. He is such a good person. He deserves to be happy. He deserves to be loved unconditionally. Even though I have spent most of my life refusing to pursue relationships that may lead to anything more than friendship, there is a tiny piece of my heart that wishes I could love him back.

But only because I can't stand the sight of a broken-hearted Peeta, I assure myself.

I realize that my mother and Prim are expecting me to be home soon, so I force myself out of my hiding spot to head home. As I stand up, I feel something roll out of my lap and land with a light thud on the crunchy leaves at my feet. I search for the source of the noise and find the bundle of bread wrapped in brown paper which Peeta handed me in the Meadow. Well, there's no sense in wasting perfectly good bread. I pick it up and walk through the Seam to my little house. When I open the door, I find my mother and Prim cleaning dishes from dinner.

"There's some left over rabbit stew on the table if you're hungry. It's probably not so warm anymore," my mother informs me with a nod to the pot sitting on the table.

"Thanks."

"How were the woods?" inquires a bright-eyed Prim.

"Great," I respond with only a slight twinge of guilt. I really did go to the woods. That just wasn't the only thing I did today after school.

I set the loaf of bread on the table, cut a small slice to go with my stew, and spoon some of the lukewarm and lumpy broth into my bowl.

"Katniss, do you and the Mellarks have some kind of arrangement with this whole fresh bread delivery?" asks my mother while eying the new loaf of bread curiously.

"Um… yeah." I don't want to say too much or provoke unwanted questions.

"Oh. Good. I've been wondering..." she deadpans.

After dinner, I go to help Prim brush out her braids. All the while, I can't keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of today's encounter with Peeta.

__________________________________

The next morning I wake up before the sun has risen, get dressed, throw on my father's hunting jacket and head out the door for a good hunt. After all this confusion, it will be nice to let loose and relax in the woods without worries about bread and meadows and Peeta Mellark.

Once I make it to the hollowed out tree containing my bow and quiver of arrows, I set off to find my and Gale's meeting place. He said he would be coming this morning with breakfast, and heaven knows I love a good picnic in the woods. As soon as I arrive, my eyes catch sight of a familiar face.

"Catnip! Fancy meeting you here..."

"Good one..." I tease sarcastically as I climb up on the rock to sit in the empty space next to Gale.

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine this morning?" he chuckles softly to himself, while laying out a few berries that he probably gathered before my arrival. I proceed to unpack some goat's cheese and a few slices of the bread that Peeta gave me yesterday in the meadow.

Peeta.

"This is some good bread, Catnip," prods Gale.

"Hmm?" I snap back to the present, realizing Gale is initiating conversation.

His eyebrows quirk upward in question. "The bread... it's top quality."

"Yeah, well, I caught some good squirrels the other day," I lie. My kills have been of the same quality as they have always been. But Gale doesn't have to know that. Besides, I'm really not in the mood for prying questions.

"Yeah?" I'm sure he suspects something, but I nod in answer to his question. End of discussion. We both finish our meager breakfast in silence. We need energy for the hunt.

"We could run away," Gale says spontaneously.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Leave Twelve. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it.  We are survivors after all," says Gale.

I don't know how to respond. The idea is so unthinkable.

"If we didn't have so many to look after, of course," he adds quickly.

Besides Prim and my mother, Gale has a mother, two little brothers, and a sister who depend on our illegal exploits in the woods. Who would hunt and trade and soothe the ache of hunger that is our seemingly constant companion nowadays? None of our siblings are old enough nor experienced enough to take on the responsibilities of a provider.  Even so, how would we live with ourselves knowing that we left them to their own meager devices to appease our selfish desire for freedom?

"I never want to get married or have kids," I say. Even as I say this, flashes of blue eyes drift across my mind. Really, I don't know what has gotten into me lately. "It's hard enough for one person to survive in this place... Why do people go and create more mouths to feed?"

"I wouldn't mind it. If I didn't live here, that is," says Gale.

"But you do," I say, irritated.

"Forget it," he snaps back.

The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could we leave the only people in this world we love and care about?  And why talk about having kids in an alternate universe, in some perfect world? We live in District 12 during the time of the Hunger Games.  There is no escaping that fact, and it's stupid to daydream about "what ifs."  It's that kind of talk that makes my heart clench with worry for Gale.  It's that kind of talk that will get a person arrested or turned into a tongue-less Avox or... dead.

Regardless, if he wants kids in the real world, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's handsome, and he will be able to provide for his own. Sometimes, the girls at school whisper about him when they think I'm not listening.  He could have any girl in District 12.

"What do you want to do?" I ask, changing the subject to something much more safe. "We can hunt, fish, or gather. Take your pick."

"Let's fish at the stream. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for dinner," he says.

With the warm weather, the predators ignore us on a day when easier, tastier prey abounds. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens and, best of all, a gallon of strawberries. I found a patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.

On the way home, we make our regular trade stops at the Hob and at various houses. We end up with a decent haul: fish, greens, strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a few coins each. By pretending to be fascinated by the floral shop next door, I skip the bakery while Gale buys some bread. The Everdeen household has more than enough bread left over from Peeta's gift in the meadow, so bread is definitely not on my list of things to buy. Not to mention, seeing Peeta at the bakery does not seem to be a very good idea given the topic of our last conversation.

Even so, the talk about kids and marriage is still whirling around in the back of my mind, and with it, swirls thoughts of a boy with bread and running away from District 12. No matter how hard I try to push it all back into oblivion, I can't.

I knew there was something special about you.

I think you are amazing and beautiful, Katniss, and I always will.

The words Peeta spoke to me in the meadow have yet to decrease in potency. Since my father passed away, I've never heard anyone—let alone a boy—say those things about me. Even though I cannot accept them fully, my heart flutters with pride to think that someone else could see that I have value apart from hunting and, well… hunting.

As we approach the place in the Seam where Gale and I typically part ways, he waves goodbye and turns toward his own home. I continue the short journey to my little house, and as I catch sight of my door, I notice that Peeta has decided not to cease his gift-giving. Annoyed and confused, I step inside and lay out our supplies and food on the table along with the fresh loaf of bread from Peeta. Once again, I am not sure what to do about this bread situation, but my thoughts are interrupted. Immediately after I close the door, Prim senses my presence and runs to my side to help store things away in their proper places.

"Mmmmm. Strawberries," Prim says with excited eyes. She's always loved the sweet taste of strawberries. Fitting, I think. Sweet fruit for a sweet girl. I can't help but smile. But it is short-lived. My mind immediately shifts to the conversation I had with Gale in the woods. My face must be revealing my internal turmoil because Prim raises her eyebrows questioningly. I brace myself for the inevitable.

"Katniss, is everything alright?"

I attempt to keep my face strong and my voice steady as I reply. "Yes." My voice cracks as I try to speak this one simple word, giving me away completely. 

"Katniss, it's okay. You can talk to me." Her hands quickly find mine in a reassuring gesture, and her eyes tell me she cares. She really wants me to confide in her. Why shouldn't I? She's my sister after all.

Before I realize what I am doing, I say, "Gale and I talked about marriage today."

"What?!" Prim asks in surprise. I'm sure it seems strange since she has watched us grow up together as friends. "Finally!" That last part catches me by surprise. Finally? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"What do you mean, 'Finally' ?" I watch as a smirk forms at her lips.

"I only mean that I've been waiting for something like this to happen," she says with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Prim!" I exclaim in shock. "There is nothing between Gale and me. You know that, right?"

"Nothing?" She asks with a mischievous look in her eye.

"Yes! I promise!" I reply. Her face falls in disappointment, apparently satisfied with the truthfulness of my response.

"Well, I don't know if Gale would say the same thing. He looks at you differently now. Something's changed." I don't really know how to respond.

Now that she mentions it, I have noticed a difference in him lately. His eyes seem to have more light in them than usual. And he smiles more. And he wants to get married.

Oh, no. Not again. Two boys. Two. And I don't love either of them back in the way that they want me to. At least, I think I don't. I've never loved a boy before, so I don't really know what it feels like. I mean, I love Gale as a friend, but I could never be married to him. Or anyone. Especially not a baker's son.

"Yeah," I say, "I guess I didn't realize it until now, but something has changed."

"What did he say?"

I lower my voice in case anyone is listening. "Only that he wanted me to run away from District 12 with him and that he wanted to get married and have a family one day."

"Oh." Prim says with a look of concern on her face. After a few moments of silence, Prim speaks up. "You know, Katniss, you don't always have to be afraid of falling in love."

"I'm not afraid," I respond defensively. "I just don't want to get married. Marriage means having kids, and having kids means the Reaping and the Games. I couldn't do that. I couldn't have kids, Prim."

"That's what I mean. You're afraid to fall in love because you don't want to get hurt or end up hurting someone you love. But, Katniss, bad things can always happen. Even if the Games didn't exist, accidents and illnesses would. People would still get hurt. You can't guarantee anyone's safety. All you can do is love them well while you have them. That could be for two days or for eighty years. You never know. But sometimes we have to trust in the good things more than the bad."

I understand what she is saying. It makes sense. Otherwise, no one would fall in love, and no one would want to start a family. Sometimes we have to take a risk for the good in this world and forget about the bad—even if it's for only a few moments or months or years. But does knowing this change anything about how I feel? 

At the same time, I am overwhelmed by the wisdom of her words. When did my sister get so mature? She understands all this love stuff better than I ever have.

"Thanks, little duck." I smile and pull her in for a hug. Although I don't know much about love, I do know that I love her. Completely.