During my time of "confinement," as I so fittingly like to call the period during which I am unable to leave my house-due to my back wounds-Peeta faithfully comes to visit as often as he can, which has been less frequently than usual, thanks to his mother. (I think Mrs. Mellark is probably wishing that I died from the whipping, but since I didn't, she has been enlisting Peeta to take on more than his fair share of work at the bakery; that way he won't have time to be with me. The only problem is that even when he doesn't have time, Peeta makes time, so as annoying as Mrs. Mellark's plan is, it isn't entirely effective. She doesn't have to know that, though.)

When he comes over, we just talk; sometimes he paints, and I watch. I love watching him paint. One day, however, I convince him to turn on the television. After the increase in security, I feel more of an urgency to understand, to find answers, and one of the questions that has been on the forefront of my thoughts is: did District 13 really survive? I find myself wondering if it could really be true. The first step to finding out lies is discovering if what Bonnie and Twill said about the District 13 footage is true.

Typically, we don't watch the television, except during mandatory viewings, because it is full of Capitol propaganda and clips from 74 years of Hunger Games, footage which no one wants to relive, but today, I am looking for something specific: a mockingjay.

It hurts to put pressure of any kind on my back, so my mother has made a make-shift pallet for me with spare pillows and blankets from around the house. Peeta sits with me on the floor in front of my family's old, outdated television while my mother and Prim busy themselves with their normal tasks; they don't know why we are watching television, but even so, they don't care to join us. I don't blame them. Neither I nor Peeta is really paying a lot of attention to what is on; instead, we are talking and waiting for key words and images such as "District 13" or the Justice Building or "Dark Days" or ruins from the bombing to jump out at us.

After a few hours of nothing, we are about to give up for the day, when, suddenly, I spot the image I've been waiting for: District 13's Justice Building.

"Peeta!" I exclaim.

"I know," he replies, eyes already locked on the screen.

We both watch as a female reporter from the Capitol stands in front of the Justice Building with an oxygen mask to assure all of Panem that the toxic vapors surrounding Thirteen create an environment that is still unlivable. At the end of the scene, right before it switches back to recaps of past Hunger Games and more propaganda, I shift my gaze to the top right corner of the screen, and there it is: a mockingjay, just like Bonnie and Twill said.

I turn my head to see what Peeta is thinking. He looks just as flabbergasted as I feel.

"So they were telling the truth about the footage," Peeta begins in a hushed tone. "Maybe they're right about the whole thing?"

"Come on, Peeta. You know that footage doesn't necessarily prove anything," I say, trying to reason with him in an equally as hushed voice.

"Yeah, I know," he says disappointedly, "but if things keep going like they are, I think we might need to have a plan in place in case we have to pull our own version of a 'Bonnie and Twill.' We won't really have much of a choice," Peeta says, referring to an escape plan. Ever since we were locked out of the woods by the newly-charged electric fence, we don't really have a safe place to talk freely, so most of the time we resort to coded conversation just in case anyone is listening in on us.

I understand what he's saying because things have gotten progressively worse since the day of my whipping. It seems like people are being punished, Captiol-style, left and right. Some people are hauled off to the Capitol and never heard of again. We all know what kind if life they will be living: the life of an Avox. Others are held in the stocks for days without food. Starvation is rampant throughout the entire district; even in town people are struggling. With Peeta's help and my tesserae, we are barely able to avoid starvation ourselves; even so, I recognize signs of malnutrition in myself, my mother, Prim, and even in Peeta. But all of these miserable conditions cannot convince me to bring my mother and Prim into the wild. Peeta knows this.

"Peeta..."

"Katniss, I know what you're going to say, but pretty soon, we won't have a choice. We could starve here. At least we can hunt if we run to the woods. Here we are trapped, completely dependent on the Capitol. One mistake and they could take us away or string us up on the gallows. Even a life of surviving in the wild is better than this. Thirteen or no Thirteen," he explains with urgency.

I sigh, "Fine, Peeta, but we have to include the Hawthornes. And this is only a precaution to be used in emergency situations. Okay?" I add firmly.

Immediately, Peeta and I begin piecing together the beginnings of an escape plan. I decide to talk to Gale as soon as we make the final decisions about how it'll happen, if it happens at all. I don't know if he would come with us, but I have to try to tell him.

By the time February fades into March and the sun begins melting the deepest layers of ice into soggy puddles of mush, I am fully healed from my Captiol-ordained punishment. Every so often, if I move a certain way, a sharp pain will shoot up my back, but I think that is the permanent nerve-damage. Nothing can be done about it. It's there to stay just like my scars.

The first time I saw Thread after my whipping, he asked me if my "boy" likes my stripes. My initial reaction was to scream and attack, much like a wild animal would do, but instead, I remained composed, shot him the most hate-filled glare I could muster up, and continued about my business as usual. Now, he only gives me cruel little smirks and tells me to watch myself. Somehow, I manage or ignore him, but I'm always careful to watch my back.

As soon as I was healed enough to walk and move around, I found myself standing in front of a mirror examining my scars: the marks left by the Capitol. Although the stripes are not as torn and bloody and disgusting as I am sure they were at first, they are still there, and they aren't leaving any time soon. Peeta assures me that I'm still beautiful, even with my marks, but I see the sadness that flashes across his eyes any time he sees them. I think he still feels guilty. I've told him a million times it's not his fault but he can't seem to accept it.

I will not let this happen again.

I think Peeta feels the same way about everything that has happened. Any time the words, 'Capitol' or 'Peacekeeper' come up in a conversation, his whole body becomes tense. He hates what they did to me. I hate it too.

There have been lasting marks left on both of us, but we promised that we would be there to catch each other when we fall. That's what love is after all: choosing to love a person even when it's hard—especially when it's hard. Those are the times when it means the most.

As for hunting, we've tried to go a couple of times for food, but the fence is electrified all the time now, and the number of Peacekeepers in our district makes sneaking around more of a challenge than ever.

The Everdeen household has been forced to rely on any plants I am able to gather in the Meadow, the grains from my tesserae, and the stale bread Peeta brings us from the bakery, when he can, for sustenance. It's barely enough.

For a while there, before all these extra security measures were enforced, I was relatively content. Peeta and Gale were beginning to get along. We even went hunting as a group a couple of times, when Gale could manage the time away. Then, when he turned eighteen and began working in the mines, I stopped seeing him during the week. From then on, we only saw each other on Sundays to hunt, but now everything has changed.

The mines are grueling work from morning until night. I don't know how he does it. At least, he has some extra money to help provide for the things that hunting used to cover. Even with the extra tesseraes his siblings have had to take out and his long shifts at the mines, the Hawthornes are still struggling, and I don't know what to do about it.

Once again, I feel trapped.

With Gale working in the mines so much, I don't have very many options to meet with him and inform him of the plan Peeta and I have come up with, so I decide to visit his house on Sunday to talk about it there. We will have to be careful though; anyone could overhear us.

Sunday comes around soon enough, so I collect my thoughts and begin the short walk down the street to the Hawthornes' house. I decide not to bring Peeta along; I don't think Gale would appreciate that very much.

The bitter cold of winter has passed away along with many layers of snow, and as the wind blows a crisp, cold breeze across my face, I find myself longing to be in the woods more than ever. I miss the smell of dirt and the closeness of the trees and the gentle quietness that comes with a good hunt. Not to mention the fact that today is Sunday and I am going to see Gale. I miss our hunting days together.

A few moments after I knock on Gale's front door, Hazelle comes to answer it. She greets me with a smile and I return the gesture. After a few minutes of catching up, she runs to fetch Gale. Soon, I find myself face-to-face with my best friend. He looks exhausted, and I can't help but feel slightly troubled at the sight of him. My memories of him have always included a Gale that is full of life and passion and adventure, but this Gale in front of me appears drained and worn. It seems that the Capitol is leaving marks on all of us in different ways. I push back the surge of hatred that pulses through my body, and focus on the task at hand. I have to tell Gale about our plan.

"Hey, Gale," I greet him warmly.

"Heya, Catnip," he says. I can tell that he is trying to make himself sound like the old Gale I knew in the woods, the one who had at least a little freedom. He doesn't want me to see that he has changed for the worse. "How's the back?"

Gale visited several times during my "confinement," mostly on Sundays when he wasn't working a shift in the mines, but occasionally he dropped in late at night. Prim told me that he came by the night of my whipping as soon as he heard about what happened, but I was unconscious, so I didn't have a chance to talk to him. Besides those few visitations, I haven't seen much of him. I miss my best friend.

"It's much better, thanks," I reply. "I need to talk to you, Gale. Do you have some time?" I ask. His eyes narrow as he notices the serious tone in my voice.

"Sure, Catnip. What's going on? Is everyone okay?"

"Don't worry. We are all okay. At least, we are as well as anyone can be these days," I say, sighing. "I just need you to know about some things. Wanna take a walk?" I emphasize key words so that he knows it is important yet sensitive information.

"Sure," he replies casually, but the intense look in his eyes tells me that he is eager to hear what I have to share with him. I hope he will agree to come with us if we have to flee.

We take a walk through the Seam and spend a few minutes updating each other on life as we make our way to the Meadow, the one place where we might have a little more privacy. When we arrive, Gale finds us both a good rock to sit on. I find myself wishing spring would hurry up and bring green back to District 12. I miss the budding wildflowers of the Meadow. I realize that there are a lot of things I've been missing lately. Some things I will experience again as time goes by, but with other things, I may not be so lucky.

"We have a plan, Gale. In case things get worse, we have a plan to get away," I blurt out as soon as I get the chance, but I still make sure to keep my voice down just in case.

"Katniss..." he sighs.

"Just wait... Before the fences were electrified, Peeta and I went hunting down by the lake— the one my father used to take me to—but we ran into two girls from Eight. They were fleeing the oppression there and headed for Thirteen—"

"Why would they do that? Thirteen was destroyed," he interrupts.

"That's what I said, but they told me they've about the rumors they've heard and that the clip of Thirteen's Justice Building is the same footage every time; the Capitol just edits over it to make it look new. Peeta and I checked and it's true. Every time there is the same mockingjay in the upper right hand corner. Why would they show the same footage if there's nothing to hide? I think something fishy is going on. I don't know if District 13 survived or not, but I think if conditions get much worse, we won't have much of an option. That's why we came up with a plan. In case anything happens," I explain.

"Okay. Let's hear it," he says, playing along.

"It's pretty generic, but it's all we have. Basically, we each have a bag packed with the essentials: a knife, some food, clothes, a blanket, matches, and all that, so we can be ready to go in a moment's notice. If we encounter trouble or are not in a place where we can talk freely, the code to activate the plan is "Bonnie and Twill"—those are the names of the girls we met in the woods. Not far from the place where we used to crawl under the fence, there is a tree branch that hangs over the electric fence, so we tied a rope to it and camouflaged it so no one will suspect anything, and we are to cross over the fence and wait for each other in the woods at our old meeting place. We have bags prepped for our families as well. If you want, you can join us," I explain.

"Okay, so what happens if we aren't all together when the plan is put into action," he asks, obviously skeptical.

"I don't know, Gale. I guess we wait to tell that person if we can, or leave a message for whoever it is to meet us, but we can't wait too long or else Peacekeepers might catch up with us."

"Well, you need to set a time limit. If we have people tracking us, they could find us in an hour or less, so I would say that we can't wait any longer than one hour, and then we will have to move on. Katniss, that means that if I'm in the mines, you'll have to send a message somehow, but if I don't show up in an hour, you have to leave me. Take my family with you, though, okay?" he says sadly.

"Gale, they won't leave you," I say.

"But you have to try to convince them. Tell them it's what I want," he pleads.

"They won't come. I already know. Besides, this is completely hypothetical. It probably won't even happen," I say, reassuring myself.

"Just try, Katniss. The whole point of a plan is making sure you are prepared for the different outcomes, so I am telling you what I want included in the plan if I am going to be a participant," he explains firmly.

"Fine, but I'm telling you, they won't listen to me. They would rather risk a life of misery in Twelve with you than a life in the woods without you. Honestly, Gale, you are probably the only person on this planet capable of convincing your family to live in the wild."

"Yeah, well, you never know until you try," he says, obviously frustrated.