May The Odds

Chapter 3

My throat tastes strange. Sweet, sour and bitter at the same time. Putting it into words... desperate.

Desperate to find something to eat again.

It feels like the universe is against me; sending Katniss away and then bringing a a storm to District 12 all in one week. The winds howl, and the leaves are frosted over. There are almost no animals out and braving the sub-zero temperatures. I can't say I blame them, since I'm not quite relishing these hunts in the forest either. But I have a promise to uphold. It's not just me that I have to take care of – the Everdeens are close to starving too. We last ate four days ago, a runt pigeon I will hold in eternal gratitude.

Food is the main issue. Food and money. I'm not used to having to depend on money, since I can hunt, but we've now become desperate to the point where I'd kill for a copper coin.

There is a sudden red flash in the trees in front of me; I almost miss it, I'm that lost in thought. Never mind. There'll be time to scold myself later, and hopefully not on an empty stomach if I play my cards right now.

Squirrels are excellent at maintaining body fat because of all the nuts they store during winter, making them one of the better sources for sustenance. I position my bow and arrow carefully, focusing on the spot where I saw a flash. Yes, the leaves are quivering.

Another glimpse.

I feel unexpected guilt as I let loose the arrow, which kills the squirrel on impact. It falls to the ground, and I run forward to grab the prize. It's fleshier than I expected, considering. If Katniss was here now she would reprimand me for losing focus in that way she has, and then we would high-five in celebration.

Katniss... but nothing good lies in that line of thought, and I do the best I can to ignore her name, which stands out to me like a stop-sign.

Prim is perched on the front steps, and greets me with her sweet buck-toothed smile – which turns into an exclamation of combined joy and surprise as I thrust the squirrel forward. She's not at all squeamish, the way I imagine children who've been raised in the luxurious Capitol can be, and takes the creature from me, oblivious to the small but spreading bloodstain on its neck. Katniss would've hit it in the eye, wasting the minimum. I still can't figure out what bothered me about killing this one in particular. It was a quick and painless death, and it's not like this was a massive deer that will rot before we can finish it

I still can't figure out what bothered me about killing this one in particular. It was a quick and painless death, and it's not like this was a massive deer that will rot before we can finish it. Maybe it's the thought of how there will be killed during the Hunger Games, and how they'll care even less than I do now.

How humans are just squirrels to the Capitol.

Mrs. Everdeen comes running out, and I flinch when I see how pale and pinched her face has become from lack of food. I realize that I'm not keeping the promise I made to Katniss. Finding a squirrel should be a far more common occurrence.

"Gale, sweetheart" I laugh, and embrace her, feeling her fragile frame against me. She's been calling me sweetheart since we met, but sometimes I wonder whether it still applies. I'm no longer the guy she thinks I am. The one person who sees me for who I am – nothing more, nothing less, is the girl I might never see again. Katniss Everdeen.

"Thank you," she whispers, and her voice echoes. "Thank you." I pull back before the hug becomes awkward, a little worried that I'm squeezing her too tight, that she might break.

"Let's see about getting a fire started." She looks at me a second too long, and then smiles.

                                                            ***

An hour has passed since we devoured the meat, and Prim and I are sitting on the porch steps again, letting it digest, when she asks me a question.

"You like Katniss, don't you?"

I stare at her, unable to suppress a chuckle. There's the honest answer, and then there's the one where I say sure, I like her, we're best friends. But Prim is wilier than a fox, and I doubt that would fool her. Maybe it would help me to avoid the topic, but do I even want that? I settle on a compromise.

"You tell her that?" Prim shakes her head.

No. I exhale, relieved."How'd you figure it out in the first place?" The air seems warmer than a moment ago, and I wonder whether I'm blushing. Olive-skinned as I am, at least there's a slim chance it's showing.

"I guessed. You don't look at her the same way you used to. You look at her like..." She stops, maybe realizing that this is perhaps the longest speech I've ever heard her make...

"Go on."

"Like you will never see her again, and have to take it all in at once."

It hits hard, her all-too accurate observation. Poor Prim, does she realize her words may well come true?

I look into almond-shaped grey eyes, and I realize, yes, she does.

She does.