stillplaying | 5th Game [action/written]

[It's been five days since asking Peeta to spend the nights in her room again. In her bed. With arms wrapped around her tight at night. Words to comfort her when she wakes screaming in the night. It hasn't kept the nightmares away. Not completely. But they've been tamer. Not nearly as gruesome. Survivable. It's like the time spent on the Victory Tour all over again. Managing the darkness together. But this time, there's no Effie to disapprove.

And if it's not enough for Peeta, he doesn't say anything. Doesn't bring up loving her again. The star-crossed lovers of District Twelve. There's no mention of the facade they lived to appease Snow or the Capitol. And no mention of their recent hijacking. But still, sometimes, late at night, she can hear Haymitch's words. Telling her that she could do a whole lot worse. She shoves them away. Ignoring the advice. Whether anyone agrees or disagrees, this is a game. They're trapped in a game. And that's no time to dwell on feelings.

Morning comes. Six days after the end of the hijacking, the most recent shift - game. Whatever you want to call it. And like most mornings, it's spent in the woods. From the crack of dawn till noon, she's out in the woods despite the rainfall. Hunting and harvesting. She comes back, showers. And notices, with a slight grin, how she's gained some weight back. Small steps. But maybe Doctor Aurelius was right. Go through the motions, keep busy.

Today, when she enters the town proper, she doesn't bother covering up with a jacket. Doesn't care if the scars on her arms and hands show. Let them stare. She makes her way to the library without an umbrella. Wanders the aisles until finding the books she's looking for. Then she sets up camp at a table. The stack of books on one end, a pile of carefully obtained leaves and berries, flowers and roots on another. And in the middle sits her family's plant book.

If something is to happen to her, she doesn't want Peeta and Rue to have to depend on the food in the stores. Someone has to record these strange plants, mark whether they're edible or poisonous. Whether they have any medicinal uses. And what better place to record the information than within her plant book?

After a while, a thought occurs to her and she pauses. Takes out the journal. And in careful, neat handwriting, poses a question:]

Does anyone have a camera I could borrow?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Why does she hunt? Why does Haymitch drink, or Peeta paint? It's as much of a survival instinct as anything she had ever done in the Games. It's a way in which she can almost be the old Katniss, the girl whose only responsibility was her sister. The girl who only smiled, only really came alive when she was in the woods.

But she can't tell the wolf that. There are very few that she can truly be that honest with.

Her other reasons are far more practical. And far less personal.] I don't want to rely on the Malnosso for food.

So you take from the forest.

[Moro isn't growling, yet, but she does start moving closer. It is definitely to show just how big she actually is.]

Why should I permit you?

[As she watches the wolf, she looks everywhere aside from the eyes. Afraid that they'll be too human. Too much like the mutts she remembers from the 74th annual Hunger Games. The dog-like mutts that had the eyes of their fellow tributes. All dead, all gone except for their eyes.

But she can't show weakness either. Can't show that fear. It's hard not to flinch, though, when the wolf comes closer. But she tries her best to remain in place, holding tight to her bow. Keeping the scowl off her face at the word "permit".]

I take only what I need to feed my house. I know I'm not the only hunter. Why do you permit them?

Why indeed. This forest is small and weak, and by all means I should drive all humans from it.

[Especially given how thin she's getting from lack of food - she very rarely takes Malnosso food herself.]

Why do you suppose I may permit certain hunters to enter my territory?

[It's not small and weak to her. It's large and thriving, providing her with enough flora and fauna that trips to the village needed only to be bi-weekly when she and rue lived in the treehouse. Fish and rodents, roots and berries, flowers, fruit, birds. So much food if you knew where to look.

But a wolf doesn't eat all that. She knows. She's seen the wild dogs back home. It's only meat, only animals. A wolf's resources are much limited. But that's not Katniss' problem.]

Because we need to eat just as much as you do.

[Moro snorts, but is still smiling.]

You have never once communed with anything in the forest.

[And even Moro isn't old enough to remember a time before humans were at least somewhat aware of the spirits in a forest and how to handle them.]

[There are no spirits in Panem. Nothing supernatural in the forests she's used to. There's especially nothing like this wolf in front of her, this wolf she still almost wants to label a muttation. Something familiar. But something that would also make this conversation far more difficult than it ought to be.

Spirits are far from the first thing she thinks of at these words. Instead, she thinks of the plants, of the animals themselves. And frowns. What is there to commune with?]

I've been teaching a girl to plant. I know the importance of replenishing what I take. You don't kill mothers or too many young or next season, there won't be any food left to hunt. I've learned well.

And so all has been for your interests. Human selfishness.

[That's not news to her. Everything she does is selfish. Everything. Her need to hunt and harvest equally so. Not just to provide her household with meat and supplies. But to selfishly survive, make it through the memories and events of her past that continue to haunt.]

I know.

I do not permit humans who do not properly respect my forests.

[Eyes narrow. She's selfish in her need to hunt, yes. The need to support her household is equally selfish. But that doesn't mean she doesn't respect the forest. They're her sanctuary.

It takes a lot of effort not to scowl. But lingering fear of mutts keeps her relatively calm.]

I respect the forests.

Do you?

[Serious grey eyes seek out the wolf's own. She shakes her head in the affirmative.]

Yes.

5th Game [action/written]

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