#dycefic

Maybe he was right. Maybe if she'd really tried, she could have opened up. Let what she felt show sometimes. But she hadn't, and it was all too late now, and she smoked silently while he loaded his car and left. When he was gone she finally moved over to the dresser. She emptied her pockets, phone and notepad and badge, and all the rest of it. The gun she set beside them with habitual care. Then she picked up the bottle of scotch that had been an early sign of things going wrong and grabbed her leather jacket.

She walked down the street towards the little old ball-park, her go-to place since she was a kid for thinking - or in this case, drinking and trying not to think about how much she hurt.. Maybe all the old, painful memories could take her mind off the fresh sting of the car door slamming and Peeta driving away.

Dad singing her the baseball song.

Playing Little League, the only girl on the team. Dad had fought for that. If she wanted to play, she should - and she'd been good enough that while the boys grumbled, they didn’t try to push her off the team.

Dad missing half of a game because of a fire, showing up at last smelling of smoke and burnt plastic with traces of soot on his neck, but smiling at her with so much pride on his face when she'd hit her big home run.

She sat on the bleachers and drank, staring up at the freak aurora rippling over the city with dry eyes, until the bottle was more than half empty and the usual bleak numbness had settled over old and new pain.  Peeta had begged her to see someone, the one time she'd stumblingly tried to explain that numb emptiness - a counsellor, a shrink, something. Talked about PTSD and trauma. Maybe she should have listened, but it was all too late now.

When she got home, there was noise. Annoying noise. The TV, and a too-cheery young voice. "Hi, Aunt Katniss."

"I'm not your aunt, kid." Katniss set down the bottle and her keys. Just what she needed, people. Talking. Wanting things. She sank deeper into numbness, grateful for it.

"Hey, Katniss, that you?" The voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the sizzle of something frying.

"Gale? What are you guys doing in my house?" Katniss walked - still perfectly steadily, she noted with a fleeting moment of pleasure - over to the couch and sat down. It could have been worse. At least Gale and Junior were undemanding company.

"My tv's out again. You wanna beer?"

"Yeah, sure." Beer on top of scotch. Why not? She watched Junior playing his baseball game on what was theoretically her system but which she never used. It'd been a gift. Mom? Prim? Someone who thought she should have more fun.

"Can you believe Madge still won't let me cook in the house? I melted one lousy frying pan. I'm a fireman, I can handle a stove..." Gale ambled in, with the sandwich he'd been frying and a couple of beers. She thought about objecting to the way he was making himself at home, but it was too much effort. Anyway, it wasn't as if she could change him now.

She and Gale had been friends since kindergarten, more or less. They'd lived next door to each other practically their whole lives.There'd been an awkward span in high school, after they'd tried dating and it'd crashed and burned, but once he'd gotten over the idea he was in love with her they'd been able to be friends again. She still thought Madge was a little nuts to have married him, but then Madge had never minded having to do the planning - and talking - for two. That was how she'd put up with Katniss for so long.

Junior looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Katniss, Dad's going to take me fishing this weekend. You wanna come?"

Katniss smiled a little at that. "Starting him young?" That was the other reason she and Gale had stayed so close for so long - all those camping trips with her dad or (the stab of loss never quite faded) with Gale's, after Dad was gone. The hunting, the trapping, the fishing. Learning to track. Dad and Butch's jokes about their glorious mixed heritage. Part Cherokee, part German, part a dozen other things, all Appalachian mountain mutt, that's what Dad had said. But she'd loved the woods. She didn't go back much, these days. "Not this time, Junior. But you catch me a big one."

"I was wondering if we could borrow your old gear." Gale took a bite of his sandwich. "You know, the kid-sized stuff."

"Yeah, sure. I think it's in the hall closet." Katniss gestured, and Junior ran for the closet. Of course Junior couldn't use his dad's old equipment... Gale had proved he was big and strong enough for an adult sized rod by accidentally snapping the old one in half trying to pull in what had turned out to be a submerged log. His dad had complained so much those few years, when Gale shot up to almost adult height at fourteen and couldn't seem to touch anything without breaking it.  

Gale sipped his beer and glanced at her. "So Peeta called Madge," he said quietly.

Katniss nodded silently. They knew. Good. Gale didn't say anything else, for which she was grateful, just took his sandwich and went to help Junior excavate the closet.

It wasn't until Junior's excited "WHOA!" that Katniss remembered where she'd stored Dad's old shotgun. She got up, but Gale was already taking the gun away, shaking his head at her and putting it up on the high shelf.

"You're a cop, Katniss. Aren't you supposed to store this somewhere secure?"

"I'll get around to it." Katniss tried not to think about the one she'd left on the dresser. It wasn't as if there were any kids in this house other than Gale and Junior's occasional visits.

"Sure." Gale leaned over the old FDNY chest Junior was digging in. "Oh, my god... Katniss, look at this!"

Thank God for the alcohol. Floating on half a bottle of scotch as well as her pervasive numbness, Katniss could look at the old ham radio without flinching.

"Remember how we used to beg your dad to let us talk on it?" Gale lifted out the radio, handling it gently despite the casual tone. "And he always said - "

"This is not a toy," Katniss joined in on the chorus, managing a small smile.

"Can we try it out?" Junior asked hopefully, and he looked so much like Gale when they were young, before everything was awful, that Katniss found herself smiling at him.

"Sure, what the hell."

Gale was the one to set it up, checking that everything was plugged in right, and Katniss wondered how he even knew all this. She couldn't remember half of it. She listened with half an ear to Gale explaining it to Junior, about needing a license to use it, about talking to people all over the world long before the internet. They tried to get a signal, but didn't seem to have any luck. The whistles and hisses of the static brought plenty back, though...

It was Memories Central tonight.

It was a relief when she heard a calm, amused voice and looked up to find that Madge had walked in. "Hey, Gale. Do you know what time it is?"

Gale glanced guiltily at the clock. "Uh..."

Madge shook her head, smiling slightly. "Come on, Junior. It's past your bedtime." She looked at Katniss, and the mix of affection and disappointment was all too familiar. "Hey, Katniss." Madge and Peeta had been friends for a long time. She'd be hurting for him... but she knew Katniss, and she'd warned Peeta going in, just like Katniss had warned Madge about Gale when they started to date... except that had worked out perfectly, aside from the minor hiccup of Gale sneaking off and naming their son ‘Gale Junior’ while Madge was still sleeping off the delivery.

"Hey." Katniss drank more of her almost-forgotten beer. There was nothing else she could think of to say.

"I should head back too." Gale gripped her shoulder in silent sympathy. "Later, Catnip."

"Yeah."

When the house was empty, Katniss picked up the phone and was shamefully relieved that the call wasn't answered. "This is Primrose Everdeen," the message chirped in her ear. "I'm not in right now, so please leave a message."

"Hey, Prim," Katniss said softly. "Just checking in. I'll see you and Mom tomorrow night, okay?" She swallowed hard. "But, uh, Peeta can't make it. Work, you know. Anyway, I'll see you then. Love you."

She hung up, wishing the sting in her eyes didn't blink away so easily. That she could feel something, something besides dull anger and the numb chill that always came back no matter what she did. She loved Peeta. She thought she did anyway. Had she ever managed to say it? She wasn't even sure now. Maybe Prim was the only one who could pull those words out of her.

She went over to the box she'd already pulled out of a closet. She opened the old book, like she did every year. The pictures were faded. The newspapers were yellowing. She didn't even really need to look any more. She could summon up these images with her eyes closed, in her sleep...

The 'In Memoriam' page. The photo of all the guys at Dad's firehouse, his face solemn because he felt stupid smiling in photographs. The headline 'AMAZINGS WIN GAME 2', that would have made Dad so happy and that he'd never seen. And in a little box in the bottom right hand corner of the front page 'WAREHOUSE FIRE CLAIMS FIREMAN'.

Thirty years. It'd been thirty years come the day after tomorrow. Surely it should hurt less by now. She stared blankly at the tv that Junior had left on. They were talking about sunspots or something else scientific and completely unable to hold her attention right now.

The ham radio buzzed and warbled, and then a voice came through half-buried in static "CQ15... W2...YV"  Gale must have left it switched on.

She picked up the half-empty beer again and headed over to the thing. Okay, this much she remembered, you had to hold down the thing on the microphone. "Uh, hello?"

"W2QYV here, who have I got?" The voice was still distorted by static, but it sounded friendly enough. Male, probably somewhere between twenty and forty, strong New York accent with a hint of something else behind it.

"Uh... name's Kat." She never introduced herself with Katniss. It took too long to explain, and she didn't have the energy tonight.

The voice developed a stern edge. "License to broadcast?"

License... oh, right. "I don't... I barely remember how this thing works," she admitted.

"Look, lady, you gotta have a license to broadcast. If you don't have a license, unless you got an emergency, you gotta get off the band."

Katniss smiled sourly. "Hey, buddy, my whole life's an emergency."  

The voice softened a bit. "Yeah? Where are you broadcasting from?"

"Queens, New York."

"Well, whaddya know. Bayside, born and raised." The voice sounded like the guy was smiling.

Katniss laughed a little. "Really? Man, I thought this thing was for talking around the world."

"Yeah, well, the fifteen band closes down at night, but during the day you can chew the fat with China if you want." The guy sounded friendly enough. "So how come you got a machine but don't know how to broadcast?"

She shrugged, even though he couldn't see her. "It was my dad's. Found it going through some of his stuff and wondered if it still worked, y'know? I didn't think anyone used these things any more."

"Yeah, I get it. No harm done, I guess." He sounded sympathetic, but not cloyingly or uncomfortably so. "So, Queens, you psyched for the series?"

Well, at least he wasn't the kind of guy who assumed a woman wouldn't be interested in baseball. "Nah, I don't really follow baseball anymore."

He sounded stunned. "What?"

Katniss laughed, fleeting but genuine amusement cutting through her numb despair for a moment.  "I just got tired of all the bullshit, you know?"

"What're you talking about?" Shock had melted into outrage. "Listen, a thousand years from now, when school-kids are studying about America, they're gonna learn about three things. The Constitution, rock and roll, and baseball." She could almost see him shaking his head. "How can you live in Queens and not love the Amazings?"

Katniss glanced through the door into the sitting room, where the old yellowed paper still lay on the open scrapbook, and found herself smiling. There was a bitter edge to the memories, but they didn't hurt like some of the others. "The Amazing Mets? The '69 series? Man, I will love Ron Swoboda till the day I die."

The man chuckled. "Okay, now I'm with you! He's got the heart of a lion. Mets can't win game one without him." Static rose, hissing and shrieking. "Hey, can you hear me?"

Katniss blinked. Three-quarters-drunk and exhausted she might be, but she could recite the stats for the ‘69 series, and the events of every inning in every game, when she was falling down drunk or unconscious - and had, according to Peeta. "Game one? What're you talking about? It was all over after Buford nailed Seaver's second pitch out of the park." The hissing and screeching was getting louder.

"No way, buddy... not gonna happ..." and then the static overwhelmed the voice.

The signal was gone. Katniss stared at the old radio, then shook her head, rubbing a hand over her face. "Who the hell was that?" God, she needed to sleep.

She wandered over to the couch and lay down, only half aware that she was humming 'Take Me Out To The Ballgame'.

*

"Huh." Glen shook his head. Well, whoever Queens was, he seemed to've lost her.

Ruth leaned in, and he looked up and smiled at her. "What's up?"

She smiled back, and it was still the sweetest smile he'd ever seen, tired as she was. "Come on, leave the radio alone for a while. Your daughters want you to say goodnight."

"Yeah, sure." He took one last drag on his cigarette and got up. "I'm coming."

"You don't know him, and you'll need to. He's.... unsuitable."

Madge's eyes went round. "How unsuitable?"

Katniss told her. About how she'd run away from Aunt Sarah, about Peeta finding and rescuing her, about how well he drew and how blue his eyes were. It came out in awkward half-sentences and hot blushes, but Madge seemed to understand. "Oh, my," she said when Katniss had finished. "Very unsuitable... but so romantic! And he's going to be there today?" She squeezed Katniss's arm again. "I'll have to commission a portrait or two. I really would like to have a couple of little sketches of myself - "

"To give to your admirers."

"Not all of them, only one or two. The best ones." Madge giggled. "And if I do that, we'll have to sit right there with him and you'll have time to talk. I promise to pretend not to hear a thing."

"Thank you." Katniss squeezed back. "I do like him. You'll understand when you see him."

"I will, I'm sure." Madge was never greedy in her flirting. She liked boys, and they liked her, but she would never so much as flutter her lashes at a boy another girl really liked, and Katniss knew she was as willing to be a screening friend as to use one. "Now let's hurry, I'm dying to meet this handsome artist!"

Peeta had provided himself with a stool and set himself up in one of the more romantic corners, where a park bench was half screened by a willow tree on one side and flanked by flowers on the other. He was already working on a portrait when they found him - no-one Katniss knew, but from the way the girl was clutching the boy's arm and they both kept smiling and looking down at a ring on her left hand, they were newly engaged and happy about it.

When they left, Katniss hesitated. "Maybe - "

"No maybes, come on." Madge grinned and dragged her over. Peeta looked up and smiled, and then his smile warmed into something far more personal when he saw Katniss. From her heartfelt sigh, Madge had noticed. "Hello," she said, holding out her hand to him. "I'm Madge Undersee, Katniss's best friend. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other."

Peeta took her hand and shook it politely, looking bewildered. "We will?"

"Of course. She always helps me out when I want to see a boy, so of course I'll do it for her too." Madge plumped down on the bench, arranging her skirts and posing prettily with her parasol over her shoulder. "There. I'll need at least two or three nice, flattering sketches of me. Let me know when you need me to change my pose for the next one, and there's no hurry. Talk amongst yourselves."

Katniss blushed, but she couldn't help laughing. "You know, I'm usually much more diplomatic when I help you talk to someone!"

Madge dimpled adorably at her. "I know, but I didn't want to give you a chance to turn shy and run off. All right, I'm pretending not to listen now."

Peeta looked a little embarrassed too, but he chuckled as he picked up his charcoal. "So... you told her why you were coming here?"

"I had to. Anyway, she won't tell anyone." There was a convenient tree-root quite close to Peeta's stool and Katniss sat down on it, leaning forward a little so she could see. She hadn't had a chance to watch him drawing before, and it was fascinating. He never seemed to hesitate, every line flowing into the next with hardly a pause. "Like she said, I always help her when she wants to see someone."

Peeta glanced sidelong at her. "And she helps you?" he asked tentatively.

Katniss blushed and shook her head. "This is the first time I've asked," she admitted.

"Oh." He looked down at his paper, but Katniss could see the little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She was glad he was pleased. "So... how's Primrose?"

They couldn't talk about anything private, not with Madge right there, but they found plenty to talk about anyway. About Primrose, about books - Peeta loved to read when he got the chance - about flowers and drawing and anything that came into their heads. Katniss learned that his favourite colour was orange, that he had an old copy of Treasure Island that he reread whenever he had nothing else, that he'd left Scamp with Delly for the first time today and that his favourite food was new bread warm from the oven. Katniss told him how much she liked grass-green, that her favourite books were all about travel, that she thought Prim was close to learning to roll over and that her favourite food was sweet apples... or perhaps roast chicken, she could never decide between the two.

When Peeta had done three very pretty sketches of Madge he stopped and rubbed his hand and Katniss stood up, pressing her hands to her stiff back. "We should go," she said reluctantly. "I can't just keep you talking all day when you have work to do."

"I do need to at least try for a few more," he admitted, smiling wistfully up at her. "And it wouldn't do for us to walk together here, much as I'd like to."

"That's true - there's always someone who'd tattle, and Katniss's Aunt Sarah is *so* strict." Madge stood up, smoothing her skirts down. "Thank you for the drawings, they're lovely." She dropped the coins into Peeta's hand, smiling at him. "I may need more, if you might happen to be here later in the week - I would so like one of Katniss and I together, and perhaps one each for our parents too."

Peeta grinned at her. "Thank you, Miss Undersee. I think that if, say, Friday is fine, I'll try this spot again... in the afternoon, perhaps?"

"Afternoon would be perfect." Madge took Katniss's arm again. "There... now let's go for a walk. I'm quite stiff after sitting for so long!"

"Me too." Katniss smiled at Peeta again. "I'll see you," she said softly, and as they passed him his hand came up to clasp hers just for a moment. The touch made her pulse race, fleeting as it was.

She thought again - as she had many times over the last two days - about what Mama had told her about meeting Papa. "He was standing on the corner," Mama always said, her pretty face softening with the sweetness of the memory. "I heard him before I saw him... he was singing. Such a beautiful song... I stopped to listen, even though my friends didn't want to. And when he finished, he looked at me and I looked at him and truly, I think we knew even then, before we'd said a word to each other. Sometimes you do just know."  

Katniss had always been skeptical about that, about the whole idea of Love At First Sight. Now... now she thought maybe Mama had a point. Peeta was a little like Papa, that way. Much handsomer - Papa was very ordinary-looking until he smiled - but every movement, every expression told of kindness and gentleness too. Of someone you could trust with anything.

"I like him," Madge said, once they'd rounded the willow tree and he was out of sight and hearing. "I really do! He's nice, and he's certainly talented, and he thinks you're adorable when you scowl."

Katniss blinked. "He never said that!"

"He didn't have to. You looked positively murderous when you were talking about what Mister Abernathy said about your reading habits and he was smiling at you. I've never seen a boy smile in the face of that expression before. Usually they flee, or at least look nervous." Madge grinned. "Even I get a little nervous when you look like that."

"You do not." Katniss nudged her shoulder against Madge's arm.

"I do! I worry that you're going to finally snap and murder someone and I'll have to help you hide the body." Madge shook her head sadly. "And don't tell me that that won't ruin my dress, because it will. Bloodstains, you know. And mud from burying it."

Katniss laughed. She loved Madge's often ghoulish sense of humour. "Well, then, I won't ask you to bury it. We'll drop it in the river instead."

"Well, I suppose that's a little better." Madge smiled, twirling her parasol on her shoulder. "Oh, let's go have tea at that little place with the roses on the cups." Katniss wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I know it's ridiculously frilly, but I like their shortbread. Then on the way back we can wander by and see if Peeta's still there."

Subjecting herself to The Rose Garden - shortbread or no shortbread - merely for the chance to walk past Peeta again and perhaps say hello was ridiculous and a terrible bargain. Katniss agreed without a moment's hesitation.

As usual, Madge lingered over her tea and cookies, but at last they were on their way again. Katniss was pretending very hard - to herself as well as to Madge - that she didn't care and that they were just on their way home. She wasn't sure it was working.

At first when she saw him, she thought he was drawing another portrait - but no, he was standing, his hands empty, talking to two girls whose red hair blazed against the green willow tree. Katniss vaguely recognised one, a thin fox-faced girl with her orange-red hair pinned in a tight knot. She'd seen her working in a shop somewhere - the bookshop, that was it. One of Katniss's favourites, that's why she remembered. The other girl had a tray of artificial flowers that she must have been selling. Her hair, darker red than the foxy girl's, was braided and twisted around her head like a crown, and she was smiling at Peeta as if they were close.

Katniss stopped, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. Which was ridiculous. She knew Peeta knew other girls - he'd introduced her to Delly just the other day, and Delly hadn't been the only girl living in that house, just the only one home. Maybe these were the others.

Madge stopped when she did, her hand resting on Katniss's arm gently. "I'm sure it's just..." she began, then trailed off as Peeta exclaimed in delight - the tone was clear, even if they couldn't hear the words - and hugged the braid-crowned girl, kissing her cheek affectionately.

Mama had been wrong. Sometimes you didn't just know. Sometimes you were just wrong.

Katniss turned away, striking out across the grass for another path. She moved too fast for Madge, whose dainty boots weren't meant for muddy grass. She had to run around by the path, heels tapping on stone. "Katniss, wait!"

Katniss didn't look around. She especially didn't look around when she heard Peeta's voice call her name too. She didn't look around when Madge caught up with her. She didn't look around all the way home.

*

Katniss stayed in the house the day after that, and the day after that. She practiced the piano, and finished her sampler. She did as Aunt Sarah told her without argument, and if she did it with a set face and suspiciously reddened eyes, Aunt Sarah didn't seem to notice.

It was stupid to be so hurt, she knew that. She'd only spent, what, a few hours with Peeta? They'd talked a little, he'd drawn her and drawn Prim, she'd sung and fed his puppy... what did any of that really mean? Even the kisses... the first had been a moment's impulse, because he was happy that she thought his drawings were good. She'd all but begged for the second, the memory making her squirm now. He had never even hinted that it meant more than it had been. He'd certainly never said there was no other girl he liked. So feeling so betrayed and hurt was stupid.

That didn't make it go away.

She wouldn't have gone out on the next day, either, the day that Mama and Papa would be home if nothing delayed them, but Aunt Sarah had fussed herself into a headache and ordered Katniss to take Primrose out into the garden where her squeals and cries wouldn't make the headache worse.  Prim, at least, seemed to know something was wrong. She had been tense and fractious since yesterday, though Katniss wasn't sure if it was because Mama and Papa were coming home or because Katniss herself was upset.

They'd been in the garden for less than ten minutes when Katniss heard the whisper from the garden wall. "Katniss!"

She ignored it. She was holding Prim up so she was 'walking' on the seat of the garden bench, little fat feet patting the smooth wood happily, and the innocent excitement on Prim's face helped a bit.

"Katniss, please." The edge of desperation in Peeta's voice made her eyes sting with tears. "Please don't be angry."

Katniss turned away from the wall, settling Prim in her lap.

"Katniss, come on. At least listen to me." She heard him drop onto the grass, moving closer.

"I can't imagine why you'd need me to listen to you," Katniss said coldly, not looking at him. If she did, she was afraid that she'd cry... or forgive him, because clearly those beautiful blue eyes made her into an idiot. "You don't seem to have any shortage of girls willing to listen to you."

He sighed. "I thought that was it... Katniss, I've known Annie and Finch for years. We ran away from an orphanage together."

His voice seemed to have as terrible an effect on her common sense as his eyes. Katniss swallowed the lump in her throat and ignored it. "I'm sure you don't need to explain anything to me. And if Aunt Sarah catches you in our garden, she'll think you're trying to steal something and call a constable."

"I don't care!" He was closer than she'd thought, moving into her line of sight no matter how she tried to avoid him. "Katniss, I know we haven't known each other for long, but I've never felt anything like this. I thought you felt it too."

Katniss bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She'd thought so, too. On her lap, Prim started to whimper unhappily. "I can't imagine why." She kept her voice cold, not wanting him to know how much she wanted to cry. "I think you should leave."

"But it's not what you think!" Peeta's voice was pleading. "Annie isn't... she's like a sister to me. She's engaged, Katniss, to a sailor. A good man. She had her first letter from him in weeks the other day, that's why we were happy, she'd been worrying..."

Katniss had to swallow a couple more times to keep her voice level. "That's very nice," she said remotely. He didn't say anything about the other one, she couldn't help but notice. And he had hurt her, and she was still too upset to care what his excuse was. "I'm sure I'm very happy for her."

Peeta dropped to his knees beside her, looking up at her, and the anguish in his face made her ache. Despite all her efforts, her eyes filled with tears. "Katniss, please. I think I fell in love with you the first time I heard you sing, or maybe when you told me about the kitten... I'm sorry I hurt you. Please, please let me make it up to you, do something, anything..."

Katniss opened her mouth to say... something, she wasn't sure what... but the only thing that came out was a sob. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and she hid her face against Prim's soft curls. "Just go away," she whispered. If he was telling her the truth, he hadn't done anything that should hurt her. But she'd been hurt anyway, and she had no way of knowing if it was true. That she desperately wanted it to be true only made it harder to believe. "Please."

Calloused fingers brushed her hand, then drew away. "All right," he said, and there was a break in his voice too. "If that's what you want."

She heard him move away, heard the scrape of a boot on the wall, but she didn't look up. Only when Prim started to cry, upset by Katniss's sobbing, was she able to force the tears back. She was not going to let anything upset Prim. Nothing. Not ever. Any boys who charmed her with sweet smiles and blushes and then broke her heart would get an arrow right through them.

Then she heard the growl.

A dog, an unfamiliar one, was walking around the corner of the house with a strange, shambling gait. It was big - some kind of mastiff, maybe - with its big head held low, drooling steadily. And it was growling.

Katniss knew what those signs meant. Hydrophobia, it had to be - and the dog was between her and the house. She had nowhere to run, and with Prim in her arms she couldn't climb one of the trees or onto the wall. The dog had seen them now, and when she moved behind the bench it growled louder. Panic clutched at Katniss, worse than she'd ever felt, and she screamed without meaning to. "Peeta! PEETA!"

It was stupid, he was gone, she'd sent him away... she looked around for something, anything, she could use as a weapon. Hydrophobia was fatal. She could not let the dog bite either of them... but especially not Prim. Not Prim.

There was a loose stone on the edge of one of the flowerbeds, but it was a distance away. Tools and her bow and arrows were in the shed, but that was well to her left and closer to the dog. She couldn't push Prim up into the apple tree - without any way to hold her in place, she would fall and be hurt. And it wasn't possible to pull herself up in the tree with only one hand, she'd tried before.

Katniss swallowed hard, watching the dog as it moved slowly closer. It didn't seem to be moving very fast, and she hoped that it had been sick for long enough that it was slow and weak. If it had, she might have a chance...

She was afraid to leave the cover of the bench, but the dog was so big that it wasn't much protection. It could easily go right over. She needed a weapon. So she started to inch towards the little shed, eyes fixed on the dog, her body turned sideways so that Prim was shielded. Whatever happened to her, it was not going to hurt Prim.

The dog was watching her, and when she stepped out from behind the bench it seemed to speed up. Oh, God...

"Katniss, what..." Peeta was on top of the wall, looking down, and it only took him a second to see the dog. "Hell," he swore, and then he yanked off his coat and dropped it behind the wall - Katniss heard a tiny yelp, but a little bump was safer for Scamp than a rabid dog.

The dog heard the yelp too and looked towards it, cocking its head awkwardly to look up at Peeta. "I'll try to get its attention," he said, sliding slowly off the wall and putting himself into danger. "Draw it away. As soon as it's distracted, you need to run."

"It's between us and the house." Katniss was shaking, utterly terrified, but she could still think. "I need to get to the shed. There are tools, and my bow - we could fight it off."

"Katniss, a dog that size is dangerous even if it isn't rabid, which I'm pretty sure it is." Peeta glanced over at the shed. "How sturdy is it? Will the roof hold you?"

Katniss looked. "I think so. But - "

"You need to get Prim up there. Both of you up there." Peeta shrugged off his satchel and was holding it in front of him like a shield while he moved away from Katniss and the shed, putting himself closer to the dog. "I can run and climb a lot better than you can. I'll be fine."

"It slopes too much. If I put Prim up there, she'll slide off, and I can't climb holding her!" The shed was only just large enough to hold a few garden tools and the bows and arrows Papa and Katniss used for practice, and the roof sloped steeply so snow would slide off in winter. She couldn't put Prim up there. But if she could reach it she could put Prim inside! There wasn't room for a grown person, even one as small as Katniss, without pulling everything else out. They had no time for that. But she could shove Prim in and get her bow in only a moment. "I can put Prim inside. Peeta, don't let it bite you!"

He smiled at her, and though his face was pale his smile was steady. "I won't. We'll be all right." The dog lunged at him then, growling, and Peeta jumped behind a tree. "But hurry!"

Katniss hiked up her skirts and ran. She didn't look around when she heard the dog snarl again. She didn't look around when she heard a stifled cry from Peeta, though she wanted to. She got to the shed, fumbling the latch open. Ignoring Prim's wails, she shoved the baby in on top of the hosepipe - safe enough, no edges there - and snatched at her bow. Something sliced into her arm, but she hardly noticed. Didn't matter. She had her bow. The first quiver she grabbed had only blunt arrows. She threw it behind her and grabbed the other, the one for trick shots or hunting, with the sharp points. She slammed the door on Prim and swung around to see what had happened to Peeta. If he'd been bitten...

He was running towards her, his face white, but it was his satchel that the dog was savaging. He really had used it as a shield. Even as she looked, though, the dog dropped it and turned to chase Peeta. "On the roof!" he shouted. "I'll help you up!"

Katniss had never shot a live creature in her life. It was moving so fast - he was right, they should get up on the roof and then she could shoot it. "All right!" Her hand felt wet. She looked down at it, and felt herself sway a little. That was... quite a lot of blood. The cut that hadn't hurt before suddenly burned.

Then Peeta reached the shed and swung her around to face it. He dropped to his knees, bracing himself on the wall. "On my shoulders, quick!"

No time for vapours over blood. Katniss scrambled up onto his shoulders and then the roof. The dog was only seconds away. "Peeta, come on!"

"I can't, there's not enough room!" He glanced up at her, smiling shakily. "I'll try for the wall."

He wasn't going to make it. There was no chance. He could have run for the wall before, but he'd come for her first. He'd risked one of the most horrible deaths there was to save her. Katniss shook her head and dropped to one knee, reaching for an arrow.

The first missed - her bleeding arm was weaker than usual. The dog was fifteen feet away. She was already drawing again. That arrow clipped the dog's flank, making it yelp and turn, losing momentum. Ten feet. The third arrow struck it in the ribs, punching through, and the dog went down. Katniss shot it twice in the throat to be sure, and then her hands were shaking so much that she dropped the bow. It was barely five feet from Peeta. Her own height between him and certain, horrible death. "P-Peeta?"

"I'm here. I'm okay." He pushed himself slowly away from the wall, turning to look up at her. "Katniss, you're bleeding! It didn't - "

"No, I cut myself on something." She looked at her arm, then looked away again. She couldn't help it, she always got dizzy looking at someone bleeding. And it just kept on doing it!

He held up his hands to her. "Jump. I'll catch you."

She wasn't sure she could climb down anyway, so she stepped off the roof. He did catch her, broad hands grasping her waist and lowering her very gently to the grass. "Are you okay?" he whispered, and she could feel him shaking. "I thought... God, when I looked over the wall and saw it coming towards you and Prim..." Trembling hands moved over her upper arms and her shoulders and cupped her face. "I know you hate me, but - "

"I don't hate you." Katniss was shaking as hard as he was. "I w-was just... I thought I'd just been stupid, that you didn't feel the same way I did, but you faced a rabid dog for me, you could have died... Peeta, don't ever do that again!"

He laughed shakily and leaned down to kiss her, and blood and pain or no, Katniss clung to him. How could she have been stupid enough to doubt him? She never would again.

"Annie is the best friend I have, but that's all - " he started, when his lips finally drew away from hers.

"I know." Katniss kissed him - it was the first time she'd been the one to kiss him, and she liked it. Aunt Sarah was right, she was a hussy... but she could certainly see why Madge liked being one so much, if kissing always felt like this. "It doesn't matter."

"Good." He kissed her back, then drew away as fresh wails sounded from the shed. "I'll get Prim. She must be scared half to death."

"Thank you." Katniss found herself unsteady on her feet when he let her go, and not only because of his kisses. There was blood on her arm, on her skirt, on the shed roof, on the bow... no, she wasn't just being squeamish. That was quite a lot of blood, when you put it all together. "Then... I think I'll need help getting to the house. I really don't like blood, and there's so much."

"I know. You need to get it tied up right away." Cradling the still-howling Prim in one arm, he slid the other around her waist. "All right. Back to the house. I guess I get to meet the dragon."

"Oh, dear." Katniss wasn't sure there was any amount of heroism that would endear a nasty common poor person to Aunt Sarah.

They were only halfway across the garden and Katniss was getting dizzier by the minute when the door flew open. Aunt Sarah must have been woken by the commotion - and being Aunt Sarah, had gotten fully dressed before so much as looking out the window. "Katniss! What in the world... unhand her! Unhand her, you vile, vicious - "

Katniss blinked. She was covered in blood and Prim was crying and... now that she thought about it, this did look a little bad. "Aunt Sarah," she said weakly. "It's not... it's not what..." But she made the mistake of trying to move in front of Peeta, to shield him from Aunt Sarah and the umbrella she seemed to have seized as the first weapon to hand, and the extra exertion was too much. Her head was spinning more than ever, and then the grass rose up and closed over her in a dark wave.

*

Katniss woke up slowly. What had... oh. She'd fainted. Swooned away like the heroine of a gothic novel. So that was what it was like. She'd been laid on a sofa, with cushions under her head and her feet, and when she looked her arm had been neatly bandaged. Thank goodness for that.

"And I swear, I thought my heart would stop! Stop there and then! Katniss covered in blood, and that wretched boy tearing Primrose from her arms, and - "

Katniss sat up, her brain clearing instantly. Aunt Sarah! Peeta! Battle stations!

Soft hands rested on her shoulders, and when she looked up she saw a wonderfully familiar face. "Just stay still, my darling," Mama said gently. "You've lost rather a lot of blood, and you've had a terrible shock."

Katniss burst into tears as she was cradled against a comforting shoulder. "Oh, Mama, I've never been so scared, ever... but I had to protect Prim! I had to!"

"I know, darling, and we're very proud of you." Mama hugged her tightly. "If we'd only been home a little sooner!"

Over her shoulder, Katniss could see Papa shaking his head, looking baffled. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to kidnap Primrose," he was saying earnestly to a constable in a tall helmet. "We're not wealthy people - well off enough, I suppose, but not rich. What could he have been thinking?"

Katniss froze. Then she gently pushed Mama away and sat up. "Kidnap?"

"Don't worry, miss." The constable had the slightly glazed look of someone who'd been shrieked at by Aunt Sarah for at least ten minutes, but he managed to pull himself together. "The young ruffian is in custody. You're perfectly safe now."

"Kidnap?" Katniss repeated, her voice icy. Weakness not exactly forgotten but unimportant, she wobbled to her feet. "You think Peeta was trying to kidnap Prim?"

"He had already taken her from you when I came out!" Aunt Sarah swelled with fury again. "The poor lamb was hysterical, and you had been attacked, and - "

Papa was frowning. "Peeta? Katniss, do you know the young man?"

"Yes. I do." Katniss took a deep breath. Hysterics wouldn't help. She had to stay calm. "And he wasn't trying to kidnap anyone. He saved us."

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss!" Aunt Sarah snapped. "I know what I saw, and - "

"Shut up." It felt so good to finally say it. "Shut up, you... you stupid old woman! I was there, and Peeta saved us, and if you don't believe me, Papa, Constable, I suggest you go out and look at the rabid mastiff lying behind the shed." Everyone was staring at her in stunned silence. Katniss lifted her chin. "It's dead, and none of us were bitten. Thanks to Peeta."

The constable looked confused, but Papa met Katniss's eyes for a moment and then nodded. "We'll go and look. But if you say there was a dog, Katniss, I know without looking."

When they came back in, the constable was as white as a sheet and Papa, who didn't get that pale, was a faint sickly green. "The dog is there, all right," the constable told Mama. "And stuck full of arrows, of all things. I never saw the like in all my born days."

Mama put her arms around Katniss. "I will never complain about all that target practice ever again," she said, her voice trembling. "I never thought...oh, Katniss!"

"Three very good shots - impressive, with that arm." Papa came to sit on the sofa on Katniss's other side, taking her hand gently in his. "That was your work, I know - but we found a bag that had been chewed to shreds, and that I don't think is yours. It belongs to this Peeta?"

Katniss nodded, her lip trembling again at the memory. "He tried to distract the dog - he was using the bag as a shield, so it wouldn't bite him. He wanted me to, to run to the house, but I couldn't just leave him there to..." She swallowed hard, clasping her hands together in her lap. "So I ran to the shed, and I put Prim inside - it couldn't get her there - and I got my bow. Then P-Peeta pushed me up onto the roof of the shed, but... but he said there wasn't room for him too, and there was no time for him to run away. There would have been, if he hadn't come for me first! He knew it had hydrophobia, he knew, but he tried to s-save me instead of hims-self..."

Papa nodded, patting her clasped hands. "Then I had better go and let the police know there's been a misunderstanding," he said gently. "Katniss, I want you to let Mama put you to bed and take care of you. I will go and help your friend, I promise."

Katniss nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her good hand. He wasn't asking how she'd met Peeta, or why he would want to save her, or anything - that was like him. He might ask later, in private, but he wouldn't make her talk about anything personal in front of strangers. "I will. Please hurry, Papa. Oh, and get his coat from behind the wall - there's a puppy in the pocket, and he'll be frightened all alone, and Peeta will need the coat, and - "

"I will." He kissed her forehead gently. "And I'm very proud of you, my brave girl."

*

Peeta had no idea what was going on.

Yesterday he'd been arrested and dragged away, accused of attacking Katniss and all his attempts at explaining ignored. Then almost as soon as he'd been shoved into a cell, a thin, short man with Katniss's brilliant grey eyes had marched in, demanding his release. The stranger - Mr Everdeen - had then returned Peeta to the boarding-house in a cab. When they arrived he'd handed Peeta his coat, a well-fed puppy, and his mangled but very welcome satchel, and told him to be ready for collection at eleven the next morning. Before Peeta could do more than ask if Katniss was all right (he'd said she was), the man had climbed back into the cab and left.

Delly and Annie had both cried over him. Finch didn't cry, but she'd been disapproving - why on earth would he risk his life for a girl who'd never look at him twice? Oh, she might flirt with him, but it wouldn't go anywhere. Her parents would make sure of that, even if she was fool enough to consider a street artist with hardly a penny to his name seriously.

Peeta ignored her. The way Katniss had kissed him, clung to him - shot a dog in the neck cool as you please, even hurt and bleeding, to save him! She loved him, just like he loved her. Maybe he was an idiot to imagine courting her, marrying her, seeing those beautiful eyes every day for the rest of his life, but he didn't care. She loved him.

When he got into another cab the next morning, at eleven exactly, the thrill of her kisses had had time to fade. He couldn't imagine where her father was taking him. He seemed grateful for what Peeta had done, but imagining he was so grateful that he'd let his daughter marry someone who couldn't even put a roof over her head was pure insanity and Peeta knew it. Even if they weren't only sixteen, which they were.

When he asked where they were going, Mr Everdeen inclined his head. "To see an old friend of mine. You brought your sketches, didn't you?"

Mr Everdeen had asked him to bring his sketches and drawing materials. Had he seen the drawings of Katniss? Three from life, and several more from his very clear memory of her, of the way her smile lit her face, of the way her dark hair curved over her ears, the way she cradled her baby sister as tenderly as any mother... of course he'd seen them, he must have.

When the cab stopped, Peeta was feeling queasy with nerves. When he found himself going up broad white steps and saw the sign ahead of him, he stopped dead. 'Panem School', it said in big letters. Underneath was the motto - 'Ars gratia artis'. Art is its own reward, Finch had said it meant. "I don't understand," Peeta said quietly. "I can't - "

"But I can. Come on." Mr Everdeen led the way, and Peeta followed numbly.

He stayed numb while Mr Everdeen introduced him to a sour-faced man who somehow managed to look scruffy even in a perfectly respectable suit. "Mr Abernathy is Katniss's voice teacher and an old friend. Haymitch, this is Peeta Mellark."

"Hello sir," Peeta managed, his voice cracking only slightly. Mr Abernathy just grunted and nodded.

Mr Abernathy and Mr Everdeen then took Peeta to an intimidatingly grand office where a stout, ordinary-looking man with thinning hair was going through some papers. "Plutarch," Mr Abernathy said, jerking a thumb at Peeta, "here's your eleven-thirty assessment. Remember? Favour for Everdeen?"

"This is Mr Plutarch Heavensbee," Mr Everdeen said softly. "He is the head teacher of Art, here at the Panem school. Give him your sketches."

Shaking and utterly tongue-tied, Peeta meekly handed them over. He had no idea what was going on. The Panem was one of the finest academies of the arts on this side of the country. He'd daydreamed about going, of course, but... he was a runaway of sixteen, making a scanty living selling his work for a few cents at a time. How could he even be here?

Mr Heavensbee flicked through the drawings, making non-committal thoughtful noises. When he'd finished, he gestured towards Mr Abernathy. "Draw a sketch of him."

Peeta did, trying to capture the man's rumpled air, the way his brows twitched and his hands gestured. When he was done, he handed the work over. Mr Heavensbee glanced at it, his eyebrows going up, and then nodded. "Had any previous training?"

Peeta swallowed hard. "No, sir."

"This is all self-taught?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ever used oil paints?"

"No, sir."

Heavensbee gestured to a corner, where an easel stood prepared. "Give them a try. Give me something simple - a flower, say. I want to see what kind of eye for colour you have, don't worry about technique.

Peeta nodded, surreptitiously drying his hands on his pants, and went over to the easel. He fell in love with oil paint even faster than he had with Katniss. The rich colours, the texture of it... he was absorbed, not stopping until a hand came to rest on his shoulder. "That'll do." He looked at the woefully inept painting of a cluster of primroses and nodded. "Well, your technique's lousy," he said pleasantly, "but for someone who just picked up his first brush, this is good. Very good. You were right, Everdeen, he's got real talent. If he can get that kind of likeness in charcoal on cheap paper, he can do it in oil with some practice."

Mr Everdeen nodded. Mr Abernathy seemed to have left while Peeta was wrestling with the paints. "I thought so."

"Good. Well, Peeta Mellark, you have a place at the school if you want it. No tuition fees - we have a couple of patrons who like to sponsor a starving artist now and then. Everdeen's offered to pay for your supplies and so on." Heavens nodded, seemingly pleased. "You want it?"

"Yes. I... it's all I've wanted for a long time." Peeta clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. If this was a dream, pain didn't serve to wake him. "I don't know how good I can be... but I know I can be better than I am, if I had someone to teach me. Trying to figure everything out on my own is... it's not the same."

"No, it isn't. But you've made a good start, better than most." Mr Heavensbee picked up one of the sketches, examining it thoughtfully. "It's rough, but you can make a baby look like a baby, not a small adult or a ball of dough, and many of the classical masters never managed that."

Peeta knew he was blushing, and no force of will could keep him from glancing at Mr Everdeen. He only had one baby in his collection, the one in her sister's arms. "Thank you, sir."

Mr Heavensbee nodded. "Go get your things, then. We have a dormitory for students who travel to study here - you'll get room and board, though you'll need to provide for your other needs yourself. You can move in this afternoon, and start your classes tomorrow."

Peeta blinked. "I... I have a puppy," he blurted out. "I can't abandon him."

Heavensbee waved a hand. "Pets are allowed, unless they make trouble. If it eats anyone else's pets it goes."

"He won't." Peeta swallowed hard, trying to gather his wits. "I... thank you, sir. I don't... I don't know how to thank you enough."

"It's a trade-off," Heavensbee said, still in that pleasant, businesslike way. "We train plenty of rich idiots with marginal talent who want us to cater to their artistic pretensions. Because we do, we can afford to train the real talents who can't pay, as well as the ones who can. Katniss Everdeen happens to be one of our real talents - she could walk into any opera company tomorrow if she'd work harder at languages, and she can learn by ear what she doesn't understand. Thanks to you, we still have her. That's worth something." He pulled a large watch out of his pocket. "And I have a class - Glen, I'll see you another time. Mr Mellark, welcome to the school."

Peeta gathered up his possessions and followed Mr Everdeen out again. The man led him down the steps and into a sheltered corner of the building, then looked down at him with some amusement. "You look as if you took a punch and aren't sure if you're going to go down or not."

"That's... that's how I feel," Peeta said, still clutching his torn satchel with hands he couldn't feel yet. "Only it was more like a train. I... I don't understand why you're doing this, sir. I know I helped Katniss - "

"Katniss is quite insistent that you saved both their lives," Mr Everdeen said seriously. "My girls mean a great deal to me, Mr Mellark."

"But even so... offering to pay for years of training, of..." Peeta shook his head. "You don't owe me that much, nobody would expect... I just don't understand." He looked up at the older man. "I thought you'd be telling me never to go near her again, not sending me to her school. I suppose you're going to tell me to stay away from her, but..."

Mr Everdeen laughed at that, and he looked even more like Katniss then. Like her, he had a beautiful, musical laugh that made his thin face light up. "Oh, well. Most fathers would, but I can hardly complain if Katniss shares her mother's plebeian tastes. Peeta, my father was a coal miner who could barely write his own name, and when I met Ruth I was washing dishes and singing in music halls to put myself through a couple of years of school so I'd have enough learning for a teacher. Ruth's father didn't like it any more than you thought I'd like you, but after she'd threatened to run off and dance on the stage while I sang he agreed to help me get into business so we wouldn't embarrass him." He clapped Peeta on the shoulder in a friendly way. "You're both very young, and maybe it won't come to anything - but you look to me like a man who knows his own mind. It seems to me that it would be just as well for you to have a trade in a few years, and it'll save time and trouble all around if you get started now."

Peeta stared at him and had to swallow hard a couple of times before he could talk. "I... I see, sir. Then... thank you. And you're not mistaken," he added, blushing all over again. "I mean, I didn't think I'd ever dare suggest such a thing, not to her, but..."

"I understand." Mr Everdeen's smile was reassuring. "Work hard, then... and for what it's worth, though she hasn't said anything to me, I know when my daughter's made up her mind about something. I'm fairly sure you have a chance, if you work at it enough." He shrugged. "And you heard what Plutarch said - she has a better voice even than I did, and she has the training I never could have managed. No matter what my wife's family say about respectable young ladies, I won't stop her from using that voice if that's what she wants. It seems to me that another artist might understand that and not make a fuss about how his wife should stay at home and pay attention to him."

Peeta's heart bounded. The respectable daughter of a respectable businessman might be out of his reach - but this was different. It made sense. Of course a father willing to let his daughter pursue her own art, respectable or not, would want someone for her who would understand, who'd take care of her but not get in her way. "I'd never do that," he said quietly. "I've heard her sing, sir. The birds themselves fall quiet to listen. And an artist can draw or paint anywhere she might go. She... she said once she'd like to travel. I'd like it too. Even if I didn't, she's worth anything, any work I have to do to be worthy of her."

"Good." Mr Everdeen nodded and smiled again. "That's about what I thought when I met Ruth, too. I'm sure you'll make Katniss proud. Well, I should let you go and get settled in." He straightened his hat and turned away to glance over his shoulder. "And do come to dinner on Saturday. Six o'clock. Don't be late."

"I will sir. Thank you!" Peeta watched the man go, still clutching his satchel. He'd go home, get his dog and his few possessions - what money he had he could give to Annie and Finch, now that he was going somewhere with meals provided - and then tomorrow...

Tomorrow he started work, and he'd work his fingers to the bone if he had to. He had a girl to be worthy of.

The End

Katniss had hardly even seen Prim, and every time she did the baby reached out for her as if she'd missed Katniss as much as Katniss missed her. She started sneaking in after Aunt Sarah had gone to bed and before she got up, singing the lullabies Prim liked so she'd know that Katniss was still there.

On the third day, Aunt Sarah looked her up and down and tutted. "Well, I don't know what your mother is thinking. You're sixteen years old, far too old for a liberty bodice."

Katniss froze. No. Oh, no.

Aunt Sarah smiled at her and actually patted her hand. "You are a young lady now, Katniss, and it's time your parents noticed it. Today we'll go and choose a corset for you - and order a new walking dress, too!"

"No!" When she was trapped in one of those contraptions, unable to bend or twist - forget archery, she'd hardly be able to move! "Aunt Sarah, Mama doesn't want me to wear one yet," she said desperately. "Not until I'm eighteen. She... she says that I might still be growing." And it wasn't as if Katniss, thin and meagre-bosomed, actually needed one. Mama had assured her that her figure would fill out later - as if Katniss cared - but even Mama, sweet and silly as she could be sometimes, had apparently worked out that squashing someone already thin into a corset wasn't going to help them get any wider.

Aunt Sarah snorted. "As if a corset would hinder that! No, dear, my mind is quite made up. Today, as soon as Primrose is sleeping, we will leave her with the cook for half an hour and just step out to choose a corset for you.

Katniss begged, pleaded, and protested in vain. Aunt Sarah actually dragged her physically into a cab - the old lady was stronger than she looked. All the way to the shop, she scolded Katniss about what a terrible failure she was as a young lady, a daughter, and probably a sister too. Wild, unladylike, thoughtless, jealous....

The moment the cab stopped, Katniss opened the door and ran for it. She ran until she was breathless and gasping, until she was far beyond her knowledge, until she was on muddy streets edged with run-down houses. Dogs chased her, children jeered at her, and she only stopped when her stumbling steps led her onto the edge of a puddle and she slipped in the mud, going down with a thump and a sob. She tried to get up, but she'd come down beside a tangle of boards and when she moved she found her cape was caught on something. She fumbled behind her, tears coming even faster, but she was stuck...

"Oh, you poor kid. Here, let me help you out of that." The accent might be rough and uneducated, but the voice was kind. When she turned her head the first thing she saw was brown eyes and a little black nose surrounded by grey fur. The puppy was peering out of a pocket, but the pocket's owner had leaned around behind Katniss where she couldn't see him. She felt a couple of tugs on her cape, and then he straightened up and smiled down at her. His suit and shirt might be a little ragged, but they were clean, and his smile was charming. He was handsome, too, with waving blond hair, broad shoulders and kind eyes.

The combination of the smile and the puppy decided Katniss. Surely no bestial ravisher - the greatest threat to unattended young ladies according to Aunt Sarah - would have a smile like that, and who wouldn't trust someone who'd walk around with a dear little puppy in his pocket? She took the hand he offered her and stood, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He sounded as if he actually meant it, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I'm Peeta. What's your name?"

Mama had always been very clear on Talking to Strangers, especially boys. On the other hand, it was far too late to avoid it now, and it would be unforgivably rude to just run away. "Oh. Uh... I'm Katniss. Katniss Everdeen." She looked around and bit her lip. "And I'm awfully lost."

"If you weren't, you wouldn't be here," Peeta agreed. "Can I help you find a cab?"

Katniss shook her head, eyes filling again. "I... no. No, I don't have any money and... and I don't want to go back yet."

The way he looked at her showed that he'd noticed the tears, but it wasn't a pitying look - more of an understanding one. "I see. I'll tell you what. Why don't we go and get you cleaned up? I know some girls near here who can lend you a dress and try to get some of the mud off that one."

Aunt Sarah would be aghast. Faced with a choice between meeting poor people - oh, the horror - and going back to Aunt Sarah in a muddy dress and tear-stains, Katniss preferred to keep her dignity. "Thank you. That would be wonderful." She smiled at him, and to her surprise his eyes widened and his cheeks went a little pink. She couldn't imagine why.

But when he slung a satchel she hadn't noticed before over one shoulder and offered her the other arm, she took it, and then he wasn't the only one blushing. He was so... solid, and the feel of that solidity so close to her had Katniss's heart was fluttering strangely. For some reason, today felt a lot less dreadful than it had ten minutes ago. Unconsciously, she clung to his arm a little tighter.

He took her to one of the little run-down houses and introduced her to Delly, a plump blond girl with a plain face and a sweet smile. She made horrified noises at Katniss's bedraggled appearance and hustled her upstairs. In what felt like a minute or two, Katniss had washed her face and hands, had her hair tidied, been put into a worn but respectable dress ("A bit big around, of course, but how lucky that you're as short as I am!") and been given a cup of strong tea. "Once it's dry the mud will brush right off, and I can sponge it too," Delly said of the muddy dress. "And it will dry quickly if I hang it by the fire. And I'll try to fix that tear in your cape, too." She smiled kindly at Katniss and patted her hand. "It's no trouble at all. Now, drink up your tea, and maybe you and Peeta can go for a little walk while I fix your things? I find that when I'm upset, nothing does me as much good as a nice walk in the fresh air with lots of things to distract me."

Katniss knew what Aunt Sarah and even Mama would say about her going for a walk with a boy - especially That Sort of Boy. Katniss, however, agreed completely with Delly that when one was upset, a good brisk walk helped a lot more than sitting around wallowing. And a walk with Peeta would be... nice. "That sounds like a good idea. You're being so kind, both of you."

"Oh, it's nothing, only what anyone would do." Delly patted her shoulder again, seeming to really mean it. "Now, finish up your tea and off you go."

Peeta was outside, playing with his puppy. The way he looked up eagerly when Katniss closed the door behind her made her heart flutter again. He was so handsome, and so nice. The way the little puppy frolicked around him, licking his fingers, was proof enough of that. "Miss Everdeen, are you feeling better?"

"Much - and please, if I'm going to call you Peeta, you should call me Katniss," she said boldly. Oh, hurray for tossing propriety aside for one afternoon! "Delly suggested that we should go for a walk to, ah, settle my nerves a bit while she mends my cape and brushes off my dress."

"Sounds like a good idea." He gave her that smile again and her knees weakened a little. "Come on, Scamp." The puppy jumped into his hands and Peeta went to put him back in his pocket.

Katniss held out her hands impulsively. "May I hold him?"

Peeta blinked in surprise, but nodded and handed over the little wriggling bundle. "Of course, if you like. Be careful, though, he licks."

Katniss cuddled the puppy. "Of course he does. They all do." The puppy snuggled up to her and she scratched behind his ears. "He's so sweet! Have you had him for long?"

"About a week." Katniss glanced at him and was startled. He'd seemed so kind and cheerful until now, but when he scowled and his jaw tightened he looked almost frightening. "There was a stray who had her puppies in an old warehouse not far from here. Some boys found them and... well. When I got there the mother and two of the puppies were dead. Scamp was the only one still alive."

Katniss shuddered. "You don't need to tell me any more," she said grimly. "The neighbours bought a kitten for their little girl. Her brothers decided to... play with it." Boys were cruel, sometimes. She'd found the poor little kitten body, almost pulped by kicks, when she climbed over the wall.

Peeta nodded. "I don't suppose their parents did anything," he said just as grimly. He didn't seem at all put off by her scowls the way most boys were - he even gave her a look that almost seemed approving.

Because of that, and because of Scamp, Katniss laughed and told him the rest of the story. "They might not have, but I did. I spanked them both good and hard, and told them that if they ever did such a thing to a helpless animal again I'd tie bricks around their necks and throw them in the river." That was the customary fate for unwanted pets, after all - applying it to nasty little boys who tortured pets would have a certain poetic justice, and they were young enough to take dramatic threats seriously.

Peeta laughed too, a surprisingly musical laugh. "That's about what I did - except I used a stick, what with there being three of them nearly as big as me. Did yours tell their parents?"

"Of course they did." Katniss grinned impishly. "Their mother didn't care - she really likes cats, and she knows they're more scared of me than they are of her so it's more likely to stick. But their father came around and complained to mine. Papa heard him out, promised to talk to me, and told me that next time I should call him because he can spank much harder than I can. He likes animals too."

Peeta grinned at her. "Two of mine tried. One got whaled again by his mother for tormenting God's innocent creatures, and the other one's father just laughed and told him that if three of them together couldn't take a short fellow like me then they should take their medicine without complaints."

He was short - just a shade under medium height, at least. But Katniss liked that. She was so short herself that it was nice to be able to have a conversation with a boy's face instead of his waistcoat buttons. "Good." Scamp wriggled up to lick the side of her neck, and she actually giggled. She never giggled! "Scamp, that tickles!" She tucked him into the crook of her arm, scratching behind his ears. "Yes, I know, you like giving kisses - but not there, please."

Peeta's ears had gone rather red, for some reason. "Well, at least I rescued him. He's good company." He reached over to tug on one of Scamp's floppy ears very gently, and the puppy yipped happily.

Katniss couldn't remember the last time she'd talked this easily with anyone - well, except Prim, who didn't count. She couldn't even roll over yet, let alone talk. Even Gale Hawthorn, who lived across the street and she'd known all her life, wasn't such easy company as this stranger. He had been once, when they were little, but when his father had died in an accident when Gale was fourteen he'd decided that he needed to be the Man of the House. Ever since then he was always a little too proper, a little disapproving of Katniss's hoydenish ways. Almost before she knew it, she was pouring out the story of the day.

"And I don't know why Aunt Sarah thinks I'm jealous! I'm not, not the littlest bit! Why, I spend more time taking care of Primrose than Mama does! She had a fever after Prim was born, and she could hardly get out of bed, so I did everything. I did it well, too, Mama said so."

Peeta nodded. "Maybe she didn't mean that you're jealous of Primrose, but that you're jealous over Primrose," he said slowly. "I mean, not that you're jealous of the attention she gets, but that you want to keep her to yourself and not share her."

Katniss opened her mouth to protest... but couldn't. She was possessive of her darling baby sister, and why shouldn't she be? "Well, I don't see what that has to do with her," she snapped instead. "Mama doesn't mind that I like taking care of her - she says it's good practice, for when I have my own, and that she's too tired and run down still to be up half the night with a baby. And Aunt Sarah will hardly let me in the nursery at all!"

"Maybe she's enjoying having a baby to take care of too," Peeta suggested, then grinned and pretended to quail when Katniss glared at him. "I'm sorry. Of course it's pure wicked selfishness on her part, and I won't make one more excuse for her."

Katniss laughed in spite of herself. "It's not that, exactly - but she doesn't approve of me, and she thinks she knows better than I do. She's always telling me to be more ladylike, to sit in the parlour and sew samplers or practice my music. It's so boring. Don't run, Katniss. Don't scowl like that, Katniss. A young lady does not practice archery, Katniss." She hadn't meant to blurt that out, and blushed.

Peeta looked surprised. "Archery? Really?"

She nodded. "Papa learned when he was a boy, and he taught me. He says that healthy exercise is just as important for girls as for boys, and that archery is perfectly ladylike really. I mean, it's not as if I'm hiking up my skirts and running races or climbing trees." Both of which she did every chance she got, as Papa knew very well. She knew she'd have to stop eventually, but not yet. Not just yet. "But Aunt Sarah saw me shoot an apple off a tree and had palpitations about how I was going to kill someone by accident." Katniss snorted, another unladylike habit. "Nothing will convince her that I meant to hit that apple, and that if I put an arrow through someone it's going to be because I meant to. I don't hit things I'm not aiming at."

He was smiling at her oddly, and when she trailed off he smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you - it's just interesting. You don't talk like any respectable young lady I ever heard."

"I know. Aunt Sarah says I'm a mortification to Mama and Papa." Katniss sighed. "I suppose I am - but I get so bored and so angry that I just have to scowl or say things I'm not supposed to."

He was giving her that odd look again, and then he gave her a shy smile. "Listen... could I ask an odd favour?"

Her eyebrows rose. "What kind of favour?" she asked cautiously. He might be the nicest boy she'd ever met, but if he thought she was going to let him try anything...

"Could I draw you?" he blurted out. "Just a sketch, it wouldn't take long."

She stopped walking and stared at him. "You draw?"

He did. The satchel over his shoulder was full of the accoutrements of the street artist - a block of rather cheap paper, charcoal sticks, and so on. He let her look through some of his sketches, and though Katniss was no expert - she could play the piano if she must, and she did sing well, but when it came to drawing she could barely manage a stick person - but even she could see that he was very, very good.

He posed her with Scamp on her lap, sitting on the remains of a low wall. "Just try not to move," he said, sitting on the other end of the wall and balancing the scrap of board he used to hold his paper on his knee. "I'll only be a minute."

Sitting still wasn't one of Katniss's favourite things to do, but she'd had to learn. She cradled Scamp between her hands, on his back with his little paws waving, and rocked him gently back and forth. His eyes closed, and months of habit with little Primrose had their way. Without even thinking about it, Katniss began to sing softly. "Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow..."

She had gone through the song twice, singing softly and slowly, when she glanced up at Peeta to see how things were going. His hand was moving fast, almost feverishly, and as she looked at him he looked up at her and her heart didn't flutter this time - it leaped. There was longing in that look, and a warmth that made her pulse speed up. "Don't move," he said, a strange note in his voice. "Stay just like that."

So she watched him for a minute or two, time to take in the firm line of his jaw and the soft waves of hair over his ears, the skilled movements of big, square hands and the tiny line between his brows when he concentrated. Every time he glanced up and their eyes met, her heart jumped again.

All too soon he stopped, looking down at his paper with a sigh. "It's still rough," he said apologetically. "I wish I had better tools... you should be painted, not just sketched."

Katniss shifted, only now even realising that her seat was uncomfortable. "Can I see it?"

He nodded, but he took the sleeping puppy and tucked him carefully into his pocket before slowly handing over the paper still attached to the board.

It was rough, that was true, but Katniss still caught her breath. This was nothing like the girl she saw in the mirror, her face usually sullen or impassive - somehow, in addition to making her too pretty, he'd found the serenity and contentment of singing to Prim, of cradling a sleeping puppy in her hands, and put it in her face. She'd felt like that, but she hadn't known what it did to her expression. "Oh," she said softly. "It's beautiful."

"It's all right." He took it back, handling it very carefully. "Thank you for letting me make it."

"Thank you for letting me see it." She smiled a little shyly. "Even if you did make me too pretty."

"I did not." He got up, offering her a hand. "We should get back - your Aunt Sarah will have the constables out soon."

Katniss took his hand - she didn't need help getting up, but she liked the clasp of his big calloused fingers - and rose, straightening her skirts. "I suppose so. But I don't want to," she blurted out, and then blushed. "It's just... stifling. Just sitting, and sewing, and learning just enough mathematics for household accounts, and... ugh! You know, this is the closest I've ever come to an adventure of my own, and it's over almost before it started."

He smiled, but his beautiful eyes were shadowed now. "You'd like it much less if it went on longer, believe me. The street's no place for a lady like you. Scamp and I don't mind sleeping under the stars now and then, but I don't think you'd care for it."

She blinked at him in surprise. "Don't you have a family?"

He shook his head, mouth tightening. "Not any more."

She wanted to ask, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it. So she took his arm again, which seemed to surprise him. "I suppose we should go back," she said softly. "But... I hope I'll have a chance to see you and Scamp again."

His hand covered hers on his arm for a moment. "I hope so too," he said softly. "You don't seem at all shocked that I'm just a common tramp, Katniss."

"I don't think you're a common anything." She shrugged. Aunt Sarah would be shocked, of course, even Papa and Mama would be, but she didn't care. "I dare say a man can be as good an artist on a street as in a garret," she pointed out, "and they seem to positively dote on those, according to my history books. Plenty of great artists have suffered in poverty, you know. It's quite the usual way." He was a wonderful artist, if not technically great yet.

He laughed, sounding startled. "I... hadn't thought of it that way. I'm hardly a great artist."

"Well, you can't be much older than I am," Katniss pointed out. "I don't think anyone is a great artist until they're at least ten years older than we are, and some are very old. You have lots of time. But even I can tell you're good enough to be one."

He swung her around to face him, then, looking down at her. "Do you really think that? You're not just saying it?"

Katniss met his eyes, a little puzzled. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it. Why would I?"

"To be polite?"

"Oh. No, I don't do that," Katniss admitted, then blushed. "I'm wretched at being polite. Aunt Sarah's always telling me I'm shockingly blunt."

He kissed her.

It was nothing like the kisses she'd read about in novels - he didn't snatch her up in his arms or crush her lips with his or any of those things that didn't sound terribly pleasant. Instead it was a swift, fleeting thing, his head dipping and his lips brushing over hers, his arms not clutching or even encircling her, but his hand gently clasping hers for a moment. She could have drawn away easily. - but she didn't. It was a wildflower of a kiss, a dandelion, small and fragile and as bright as the sun...

Then he jumped back, scarlet to the ears. "I... I am so sorry!" he blurted out. "I should never have taken the liberty... I just... " His eyes were over-bright, and not just because of the raging blush. "No-one has ever said anything like... about my drawing, I mean, I... I was overcome, but it's no excuse..."

Katniss was still frozen in place, trembling with the tide of unfamiliar sensations raging within her. "I think," she said, her voice rather distant in her own ears, "that Aunt Sarah must be right about me."

He shook his head, looking puzzled. "I don't understand. Why..."

"Because I am quite sure that I should have slapped you," Katniss explained reasonably, if somewhat breathlessly. "And I didn't. I didn't even want to. So she may be right about what a shameless hussy I am." In fact, what Katniss most wanted was for this boy she hardly knew to kiss her again - and for rather longer this time. Being seized in his arms was not at all an unappealing notion, either.

"I'm... glad you didn't want to, though I probably shouldn't be." Peeta swallowed hard. He was still blushing, but he was looking at her as if... well, it reminded her a lot of the way Papa looked at Mama, even after years of being married. "I should take you back to Delly. And then..." He smiled shyly. "Then perhaps, Miss Everdeen, I might walk you home."

Katniss returned the smile, feeling shy and dazzled and utterly happy. "Thank you," she said softly, taking his arm again. "I would like that."

*

When Katniss finally reached home Aunt Sarah had been absolutely livid, scolding and berating until her jaw apparently tired and she sent Katniss to her room. As soon as Katniss was sure she was asleep, she tiptoed to the nursery and told Prim all about the boy with the golden hair and beautiful eyes who had drawn her picture and thought she was pretty. Prim gurgled happily, then dozed off in her sister's arms.

The next morning, Aunt Sarah made Katniss spend a full hour and a half practicing her music at the piano, then pushed her embroidery into her hands. "I want to see this sampler finished by the time your parents get home," she said grimly. "Finished, do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Sarah," Katniss muttered. She hated sewing. But she looked around the room, always a little shadowy in the morning, and had a happy thought. "I'll go sit on the seat in the garden, like Mama does," she said, trying to sound as if she wanted to be good. "She always embroiders out in the garden on sunny mornings, where the light is best." She hesitated. "I could take Prim's basket with me," she added hopefully. "Mama says it's good for her to get some sunshine."

"Primrose is sleeping," Aunt Sarah said stiffly, but then seemed to relent a little. "Still, regular sunshine is good for babies - if you are still working hard after Primrose has had her bath, and you've made some progress, you may have her outside with you for half an hour."

That was the biggest concession she'd made since Mama and Papa left, and Katniss nodded eagerly. "Of course, Aunt Sarah! I'll go get started right away!" If embroidery was the price of time with her sister, she would stab her fingers all morning.

She had been sewing for nearly half an hour when she heard a rustle behind her, by the garden wall. She looked around, expecting to see one of the boys from next door climbing the wall again - but instead she saw Peeta, curls gleaming in the sun, smiling down at her. "Good morning. I see the dragon didn't eat you."

"Only because she can't unhinge her jaw far enough," Katniss said, but she smiled up at him. "I'm so glad to see you. I was afraid I wouldn't, not for days - I know Aunt Sarah's not going to let me out of the house again until Mama and Papa come home."

"I thought that might be it. And I definitely thought I probably shouldn't knock on the door." His smile was warm, and the way he looked down at her made her feel a little giddy. Was he thinking of kissing her yesterday? She certainly hadn't been able to get it out of her mind. "Can we talk for a minute? Is she likely to look out to check on you?"

"Oh, she probably will, just to make sure I'm still here. But..." Katniss bit her lip and looked around. She didn't want him to leave yet.

There was another bench on the other side of the garden, by the apple tree, where Mama sat when she wanted shade. "If you don't mind staying a while, you could sit in the apple tree," she suggested shyly. "There's a very comfortable branch, and she wouldn't see you up there. If... if you don't have to go right away. I know you must have other things to do."

"Footloose and fancy free. I'd like to stay, if you don't mind," he added, suddenly looking as shy as she felt. "I... wanted to see you again."

"I wanted to see you too." Katniss looked up at the house. No-one looking, not yet. "Come on, over to the apple tree - oh, and I'll go ask the cook for some milk, that will help explain why I moved if she asks."

Once Peeta was in the tree, she ran over to the kitchen door. Mrs Smith, thankfully, knew both that Aunt Sarah had very decided ideas about ladylike portions and that Katniss customarily ate about twice that much. Mama always said that, as thin as she was while eating like a bear in spring, if she ate the way some of the other girls did she'd fade away to nothing. Mrs Smith had already cut two nice, thick roast beef sandwiches 'for a midmorning snack' and willingly added an apple and a glass of milk. "After the day you had yesterday, dearie, getting lost and wandering who knows where, no wonder you're hungry!"

Katniss was hungry, but she had no intention of eating the food herself. After all Peeta had done for her, surely the least she could do was give him and Scamp a decent meal. "Are there any meat scraps, or have Aunt Sarah's awful cats eaten them all? I think that stray Mama was feeding last month has come back, and I want to give it something."

Only a few minutes later, she walked carefully back to the bench with the tray the cook had given her. "There." She smiled up at Peeta, settled on the comfortable branch she favoured and leaning against the trunk of the tree with Scamp on his lap. "I have something for you."

"You didn't have to do that," he said, a faint shadow crossing his face. "I didn't mean - "

He thought she was giving him charity, she realised, and blushed for her own thoughtlessness. "Well, I wasn't going to just sit here and eat in front of you without sharing," she said firmly, as if the thought had never entered her head. "That would be rude. And I always have something mid-morning, because Aunt Sarah thinks a young lady shouldn't need more than a slice or two of toast and a cup of weak tea in the morning, and if it wasn't for Mrs Smith slipping me extra meals I think I'd starve before Mama and Papa come home."

Peeta's face cleared. "Well, if we're sharing..."

Katniss passed up the little tin bowl of scraps for Scamp and the apple, along with one of the sandwiches. "Do you mind sharing the milk?" she asked shyly. "There's only one glass, so..."

"I don't mind. You have half, then pass it up." When she did, she thought he put his lips to the glass in the same place she had, and found herself blushing ridiculously. As if it mattered.

She didn't bother taking tiny ladylike bites of her sandwich, either, but inhaled it even faster than he did his. "I have to eat quickly so Aunt Sarah won't catch me with it," she explained, carefully hiding the plate under her work-basket so Aunt Sarah, if she looked, would only see the acceptable milk-glass.

"She really does sound like a dragon." Peeta looked down at her, little specks of light shining through the leaves to light his hair and clear blue eyes. "How long are your parents going to be away?"

"Another three or four days." Katniss sighed wistfully. "At least - Papa said he would wire if they have to stay longer, it's some sort of business thing. He took Mama because he thought a change of air would be good for her - she wasn't well for a long time after Primrose arrived." The thought of Prim reminded her to pick up her embroidery again. She'd actually forgotten Prim for a little while, she'd been so happy to talk to Peeta. Hardly anything had distracted her from Prim since she was born...

"I don't suppose I'll get to see her." Peeta sounded regretful. "I like babies - I mean, not that I've seen many. But they're sweet, when they're not crying."

"You might get to, if you stay - if I sew really hard, Aunt Sarah said I might be allowed to have Prim outside with me for half an hour." Katniss jabbed her needle into the sampler. "She's punishing me - she says I have to have this finished before Mama and Papa get home. It's for Grandmama's birthday. I have months." Stupid green leaves. They took SO LONG. "And I don't even like Grandmama! She's my mother's mother, Aunt Sarah's sister, and she's horrible. Just like Aunt Sarah. A lady doesn't this, and a lady doesn't that, and little girls should be seen and not heard. Honestly, if it wasn't for Prim I'd run away and go on the stage."

A startled yelp from Scamp suggested that Peeta had moved quite suddenly. "You wouldn't really."

"Oh, I would. Papa said he wanted to, once, but he married Mama instead and had to be respectable." Katniss finished one leaf and started on another. "He has a wonderful singing voice. I'm not as good as he is, but I am good enough to sing in a music hall or something, I'm sure."

"You are." There was an odd note in Peeta's voice. "When I heard you singing to Scamp... it was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. I've been in music halls - in real theatres, too, once or twice. Running messages, or painting scenery once. You could go to any theatrical agent and have work in a minute, if you wanted it, and not in a music hall either."

"I do." Katniss's eyes prickled. She'd wanted to escape for so long. And now she wanted it even more, because then nobody could stop her from seeing Peeta again as often as she wanted to. He wouldn't have to hide in trees just to talk to her. "To be free, to not have to behave like a lady any more, to be able to travel and have adventures... but I can't. Prim needs me. Mama's not well enough to take care of her, not all the time. Maybe... maybe when she's older, I'll be able to go."

"Maybe." Peeta's voice was soft and wistful. "I've travelled some - I'm from Virginia, originally. I left a couple of years back, and that was a trip. But it's only in cities that you can make anything as a street artist, even a dime here or there, so I guess I won't be moving on for a while."

"I'm glad," Katniss said, keeping her eyes on her sewing and hoping he didn't see how much she was blushing. "I mean... I'm not glad that you can't have adventures. But I'm glad you're here."

"So am I," he said, with that soft warm note in his voice that made her feel all melty and shivery. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."

Katniss looked up at him, and his eyes caught and held hers for a long moment. He felt it too, she realised, the giddy warmth, the odd sensation of being connected. He wanted to be with her as badly as she wanted to be with him.

For the first time since Prim was born, she almost wasn't pleased to see her sister. It was Aunt Sarah carrying her out, after all, in the large basket, and Aunt Sarah must not see Peeta. Katniss jumped up and hurried towards her, embroidery hoop still in her hand. "Prim! Hello, my darling!" She leaned down to kiss the little rosy face. "What a good girl!"

Aunt Sarah let her take the basket, taking the embroidery hoop in turn. "Much better," she said approvingly. "I was sure you could make progress if you tried. Very well, you may keep Primrose outside for half an hour, but don't let any flies land on her."

"I never do." Katniss took Prim back to the tree, setting her decorously on the grass. Only when she was sure Aunt Sarah was gone did she put down the embroidery and scoop Prim up in her arms. The baby gurgled happily, clutching at Katniss's braid and the collar of her dress with little hands. "Oh, I missed you." Katniss cuddled her happily, then looked up at the boy in the tree. "Would you like to meet her? She likes to see new people."

He slid down from the tree, setting Scamp down on the grass and moving closer. "She's beautiful," he said, and Katniss was sure he wasn't just saying it to please her. Primrose was beautiful, as small and perfect and enchanting as the flower she was named for, with huge blue eyes and little downy golden curls. An artist certainly couldn't fail to see it.

"She is." Katniss cuddled her sister happily. Sometimes she felt almost as if she were as much Prim's mother as Mama - she'd spent just as much time taking care of her. She'd always thought she didn't especially want babies herself. She'd never cared for playing house, or liked dolls much. But a real baby, that was so different. Dolls were dead things. Prim was alive and warm, smiling and crying and clutching with tiny hands, depending on Katniss for everything.

After that, Katniss had almost been able to see the point of the growing-up-and-getting-married the other girls always made such a fuss about. It was the only way of getting darling soft babies of her very own, who she never had to share with anyone.

Peeta reached out, touching Prim's curled fist with a gentle fingertip. She grabbed the finger, and Peeta blinked and smiled slowly. "Wow. Does that mean she likes me?"

"It means you put something within her reach." Katniss shifted Prim around so she could see the face so coincidentally like her own in colouring, even to the fair curls. Peeta was still smiling that sweet smile, and as soon as she saw it Prim smiled back and reached out a hand to pat his cheek. Katniss could actually see it reducing Peeta to putty. "*That* means she likes you."

"Wow." Peeta was beaming, and it lit up his face. "I like her too. She's the prettiest baby I ever saw." He glanced up into the tree, where he'd left his satchel. "Could I...?"

Katniss smiled. "Of course... but I want one to keep, this time, of Prim. I don't need pictures of me, but I do want one of her."

He scrambled up into the tree as agilely as Katniss ever had. "Of course - I'll do both. I'd better do it from up here, though. If you hold her in your arms I can see her very well from up here."

"Of course." Katniss smiled up at him. "I won't be able to stay perfectly still, though. Babies don't."

"Oh, I know that. I'll manage."

Katniss cuddled and played with Prim for a little while, but as usual after her bath and her bottle, she was soon sleepy. "I should sing to her," Katniss said, blushing again. She didn't usually sing in front of strangers - and after he'd said her voice was the most beautiful he'd ever heard, she felt ridiculously self-conscious.

"Please." Half hidden among the leaves, Peeta smiled down at her, still sketching busily. He reminded her of... not Puck, perhaps, he didn't have Puck's mischief, but one of the kindly wood-sprites in old stories, who helped lost children and teased and taunted only those who deserved it. Someone you knew wasn't real, but wanted so desperately to find...

She sang Prim to sleep with the old ballads Papa liked best, hoping that Peeta would like them too. And once or twice, when she looked up at him, his busy hand had stilled and he was looking at her with that longing that made her breath catch in her throat. He did feel it too!

It startled her when Aunt Sarah appeared, bustling towards her. "There you are... it's been at least forty minutes, Katniss, and I told you only half an hour."

Katniss heard a tiny rustle, and assumed Peeta was retreating further into the tree. "I'm sorry, Aunt Sarah," she said softly, lifting a finger to her lips. "But she was just about to drop off and I didn't want to disturb her." Which was a huge lie - Prim had been asleep for at least ten minutes, and Katniss had lost track of time completely anyway. But it was a perfectly good excuse, and there was no point in wasting it.

"Ah, I see. Well, she's asleep now, so you can both come in." Aunt Sarah did lower her voice, and drew the little blanket over Prim when Katniss laid her in the basket. "There, now... the little darling," she said dotingly. The one likeable thing about Aunt Sarah was that she genuinely adored Prim, even if she wouldn't share. "She sleeps like a little angel... there, now, I'll take her in, and you bring your embroidery. Too much sun is injurious to the complexion, you know."

Katniss had been told this, but since her skin had the same olive tint as Papa's and was already unfashionably brown, she had never seen that it applied to her. Still, this was no time to argue. "Yes, Aunt Sarah." She didn't dare dawdle, but made a show of coming in with Aunt Sarah - and as soon as they were indoors, she clapped her hand to her forehead. "Oh! I left the tray outside! I had a glass of milk - I'll run back and get it, Aunt Sarah, I won't be a moment."

As she'd suspected, Aunt Sarah made no effort to follow her back outside. When she reached the tree, Peeta was laying a sheet of paper on the tray. He looked up, and when he saw her he smiled. "I didn't think you'd get away again."

"I came back for the tray. And my picture." She didn't reach for either, though, moving closer to him. "And to know your name. The rest of it, I mean. I... If I don't see you, or if you can't come by, I can't just ask for 'Peeta'."

He was giving her that look again. "Peeta Mellark. But you shouldn't come looking for me. It might not be safe, and... and I'm fairly sure your parents won't approve of me any more than your Aunt Sarah would."

"They're not as bad as she is. And..." Katniss swallowed hard. "And I wouldn't care if they were. You want to see me again, don't you?"

"Oh, yes." He shifted closer, taking her hands in his and clasping them tightly. "More than... Do you ever walk in the park, the one two streets over?"

"Sometimes, with my friends..." Katniss shivered, and in defiance of all propriety she shifted closer still. Damn propriety. She wanted another kiss. "Why?"

"Then I'll stay there all day tomorrow, and hope." Was he breathing a little faster than before? "Katniss - " When she lifted her face to his, he trailed off. Slowly, giving her time to draw away, he bent his head to kiss her again.

The kiss was different this time, slow and gentle and sweet. Her hands were still clasped in his, and Katniss was gripping as tightly as he was, kissing him as much as he was kissing her. Last time she'd been too startled - this time she wanted him to know he didn't have to apologise.

It was over too quickly, though not as quickly as last time. Peeta stepped back, blushing furiously but smiling bashfully at her. "I... thank you," he said, then shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "That sounded stupid, but... do you know what I mean?"

"Yes." Katniss couldn't stop smiling, though she felt as bashful as he looked. "And.. thank you. And if Aunt Sarah will let me, I'll be in the park tomorrow. And if she doesn't, I will be there on Wednesday for certain."

"Then I'll see you then." Peeta turned away, and had to turn back immediately to pick up his satchel. "I nearly forgot. Uh. I hope you like the picture."

"I will." Katniss watched him go, and it took her a moment in turn to remember what she was supposed to be doing. The whole exchange had only taken a minute or two, surely, but Aunt Sarah would be waiting impatiently already.

The picture, when she examined it later, was a beautiful study of Prim asleep, her little fist tucked under her chin. She put it in a book, very carefully, with a sheet of clean paper to protect it. She would keep it forever.