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Even
though
trespassing
in
the
woods
is
illegal
and
poaching
carries
the
severest
of
penalties
,
more
people
would
risk
it
if
they
had
weapons
.
But
most
are
not
bold
enough
to
venture
out
with
just
a
knife
.
My
bow
is
a
rarity
,
crafted
by
my
father
along
with
a
few
others
that
I
keep
well
hidden
in
the
woods
,
carefully
wrapped
in
waterproof
covers
.
My
father
could
have
made
good
money
selling
them
,
but
if
the
officials
found
out
he
would
have
been
publicly
executed
for
inciting
a
rebellion
.
Most
of
the
Peacekeepers
turn
a
blind
eye
to
the
few
of
us
who
hunt
because
they
're
as
hungry
for
fresh
meat
as
anybody
is
.
In
fact
,
they
're
among
our
best
customers
.
But
the
idea
that
someone
might
be
arming
the
Seam
would
never
have
been
allowed
.
In
the
fall
,
a
few
brave
souls
sneak
into
the
woods
to
harvest
apples
.
But
always
in
sight
of
the
Meadow
.
Always
close
enough
to
run
back
to
the
safety
of
District
12
if
trouble
arises
.
"
District
Twelve
.
Where
you
can
starve
to
death
in
safety
,
"
I
mutter
.
Then
I
glance
quickly
over
my
shoulder
.
Even
here
,
even
in
the
middle
of
nowhere
,
you
worry
someone
might
overhear
you
.
When
I
was
younger
,
I
scared
my
mother
to
death
,
the
things
I
would
blurt
out
about
District
12
,
about
the
people
who
rule
our
country
,
Panem
,
from
the
far-off
city
called
the
Capitol
.
Eventually
I
understood
this
would
only
lead
us
to
more
trouble
.
So
I
learned
to
hold
my
tongue
and
to
turn
my
features
into
an
indifferent
mask
so
that
no
one
could
ever
read
my
thoughts
.
Do
my
work
quietly
in
school
.
Make
only
polite
small
talk
in
the
public
market
.
Discuss
little
more
than
trades
in
the
Hob
,
which
is
the
black
market
where
I
make
most
of
my
money
.
Even
at
home
,
where
I
am
less
pleasant
,
I
avoid
discussing
tricky
topics
.
Like
the
reaping
,
or
food
shortages
,
or
the
Hunger
Games
.
Prim
might
begin
to
repeat
my
words
and
then
where
would
we
be
?
In
the
woods
waits
the
only
person
with
whom
I
can
be
myself
.
Gale
.
I
can
feel
the
muscles
in
my
face
relaxing
,
my
pace
quickening
as
I
climb
the
hills
to
our
place
,
a
rock
ledge
overlooking
a
valley
.
A
thicket
of
berry
bushes
protects
it
from
unwanted
eyes
.
The
sight
of
him
waiting
there
brings
on
a
smile
.
Gale
says
I
never
smile
except
in
the
woods
.
"
Hey
,
Catnip
,
"
says
Gale
.
My
real
name
is
Katniss
,
but
when
I
first
told
him
,
I
had
barely
whispered
it
.
So
he
thought
I
'd
said
Catnip
.
Then
when
this
crazy
lynx
started
following
me
around
the
woods
looking
for
handouts
,
it
became
his
official
nickname
for
me
.
I
finally
had
to
kill
the
lynx
because
he
scared
off
game
.
I
almost
regretted
it
because
he
was
n't
bad
company
.
But
I
got
a
decent
price
for
his
pelt
.
"
Look
what
I
shot
,
"
Gale
holds
up
a
loaf
of
bread
with
an
arrow
stuck
in
it
,
and
I
laugh
.
It
's
real
bakery
bread
,
not
the
flat
,
dense
loaves
we
make
from
our
grain
rations
.
I
take
it
in
my
hands
,
pull
out
the
arrow
,
and
hold
the
puncture
in
the
crust
to
my
nose
,
inhaling
the
fragrance
that
makes
my
mouth
flood
with
saliva
.
Fine
bread
like
this
is
for
special
occasions
.
"
Mm
,
still
warm
,
"
I
say
.
He
must
have
been
at
the
bakery
at
the
crack
of
dawn
to
trade
for
it
.
"
What
did
it
cost
you
?
"
"
Just
a
squirrel
.
Think
the
old
man
was
feeling
sentimental
this
morning
,
"
says
Gale
.
"
Even
wished
me
luck
.
"
"
Well
,
we
all
feel
a
little
closer
today
,
do
n't
we
?
"
I
say
,
not
even
bothering
to
roll
my
eyes
.
"
Prim
left
us
a
cheese
.
"
I
pull
it
out
.
