#everdeen

katniss at 12 was small. after months and months of being malnourished, she was petite. fiercely protective of prim, just as rue was with all of her younger siblings. with a penchant for music and a voice that makes the mockingjays stop singing, she was more similar to rue than prim ever was. they're fighters, scrappy, they know how to survive.

The meadow becomes my place.

It isn’t the same meadow I feared as a girl, where names were pulled from bowls and lives were snuffed out like candles. It feels different now, though I don’t know if that’s because it has changed—or because I have. The fireflies help. Their light is fragile, temporary, but they keep returning year after year, no matter what happened here.

Sometimes, I sit with Peeta and trace the outlines of his drawings. He captures things I can’t say out loud: Prim’s smile, Rue’s song, Finnick’s grin. I envy him. His hands can shape memory into something that doesn’t fade. Mine can only release arrows into the sky.

I think about what we’re supposed to do now. The war is over, the Games are gone, but no one tells you how to live after. People rebuild. They trade, they laugh, they plant gardens. But what do you do when you’re no longer fighting to survive?

One morning, I see children chasing each other in the square. Their parents watch with smiles that don’t carry the same fear my mother’s once did. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to have children of my own. The thought used to terrify me. It still does. But less than before.

I hear Gale’s name whispered sometimes. He visited not long ago, his face leaner, his eyes sharper. He didn’t stay. We didn’t ask him to. Our words were short, awkward, circling around all the things we couldn’t touch. He carries his own ghosts, and I carry mine. That’s enough.

Peeta plants a patch of primroses outside our house. He doesn’t tell me, but I know why. At first, it hurts to look at them, too sharp a reminder of what I lost. But slowly, I start to see them differently. Not as a symbol of death, but as proof of something delicate surviving anyway.

Sometimes I dream of fire. Sometimes I dream of Rue, her song filling the air. Sometimes I dream of nothing at all, and that’s the best gift of all.

I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. But standing in the meadow, with Peeta beside me and the fireflies refusing to burn out, I finally let myself imagine it.

The first morning lights barely touched the village when Katniss Everdeen walked through the cobblestone streets, her red cloak billowing behind her like a river of blood. The air was cold, with a thin mist wrapping around the houses and the few villagers already venturing outside.

She felt the gazes—some furtive, others brazen—following her as she passed. It wasn’t uncommon for villagers to look at her that way; there was something in her presence that evoked both admiration and suspicion. For some, she was a living legend, the hunter who knew the forest better than anyone, who brought game when no one else could. For others, there was something sinister about the young woman who preferred the solitude of the trees over human company.

Katniss kept her eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the whispers spreading around her like the fog. She knew what they said about her— a woman living alone, wearing a cloak the color of the devil, who preferred Madge’s company, the girl in the blue cloak, rather than seeking a husband. Not that she was indifferent to the men's gazes; in fact, she had allowed herself to dream of Peeta, the lumberjack, who watched her with an admiration she pretended not to notice. But those dreams were just that: fleeting fantasies with no place in the life she led.

As she left the houses behind, she felt the village recede, swallowed by the towering forest ahead. She drew a deep breath, familiar with this environment. It was here, among the trees and bushes, that she truly felt at home. The shadows of the trees protected her, hiding her secrets and allowing her to live a life apart—a life no one else would understand.

She paused briefly at the edge of the forest, glancing back one last time. A group of women carrying laundry baskets to the river halted their chatter when they saw her, their eyes narrowing in judgment. Katniss simply lifted her chin, a slight smile touching her lips. She knew that, no matter how much they feared her, the same people judging her would come begging for her help when winter tightened and game grew scarce. So, she liked to tease them. Especially that woman—Tigris Snow. The daughter of Reverend Snow. The woman who knew her deepest, dirtiest secret.

Their hostility was old, dating back to childhood. A time when Katniss had a father, a sister, and a mother.

Her family always came to mind. It had been several years since a plague ravaged the village, taking many villagers. Her entire family had been lost in less than a few weeks, leaving Katniss an orphan, scarred by the wounds. For a long time, she wished she had gone with them, but she learned to live with the emptiness. Life in the village was extremely hard alone—hunting, chores, tending the cows, working the fields… Some men with bad intentions tried to use force to claim her land, a cow, her purity, or marriage, but Katniss Everdeen was not like other girls in the village.

Raised by her expert hunter father and a healer mother, she knew how to kill and how to heal. While the girls learned embroidery and how to care for their future husbands, Katniss was taught to defend herself with her hands and weapons, and to climb trees so tall they touched the sky. Of everything she was taught, her favorite was the bow and arrow. And she was an excellent archer.

With a final look at the village, she stepped into the forest. Each step took her deeper into the world she and Madge had created for themselves. Madge Undersee was orphaned, like her, though the difference was that Katniss had her parents and sister for fifteen years, while Madge had never known her mother’s whereabouts. She had been left in a basket of rotten potatoes, and the old drunk Haymitch Abernathy was the only one who stayed with her.

It was quite ironic, actually. Abernathy, who cursed God in every corner of the village, took her in as a baby. Meanwhile, the Christians who were always at church, doing everything in God's name, had abandoned her in the cold to die among rotten potatoes.

Neither she nor Madge were raised in the church. Because they weren’t baptized, they were called sinners, daughters of evil, Jezebel… Sometimes even witches and sorceresses. As children, those names hurt, but now, at twenty-five and twenty-two, they meant nothing.

Their friendship was born from the oppression they suffered as children. They were thrown into manure, pigsties, even wells, and beaten. Katniss still bore some scars from those fights, but she always fought back. Sejanus Plinth still carried a large scar on his lip, even now as a grown man. At least he had a reminder of what would happen if anyone laid a finger on Everdeen again.

Her breath danced in the icy air that morning, her cheeks burning from the cold, despite the ground having thawed. Spring had finally arrived, and that meant the forest was abundant.

Madge should already be waiting, she thought. She imagined her with her deep blue cape shining among the shadows, like a piece of sky lost on earth. That thought almost made her smile.

Well, there was something that Everdeen and Undersee kept hidden in the forest—a secret hanging among the trees and animals. It was something that would surely get them burned at the stake. It started as curiosity between them; what was it like to be kissed? Their lips touched without tongues, but it was possible to taste wild blackberry and apple. They did that for a long time. Until one day, an intense heat seemed to rise through their chests whenever they got too close, whenever their lips met. Katniss began to notice how her breasts were fuller beneath her corset, and Madge developed a fixation on her friend's skilled fingers. They discovered many things together, including how to find pleasure with another woman.

Katniss quickened her pace but remained silent, wandering among the trees, always alert and with her senses sharp, bow and arrow in hand. The forest seemed darker that morning, and the silence was unusual. For a brief moment, she felt she was being watched, which made her stop and look around.

The forest had always been her ally, but today, the trees seemed to whisper warnings she couldn’t decipher.

Finally, she reached a hidden clearing where sunlight streamed through the leaves in golden beams. There, leaning against a tree with a mischievous smile on her lips, was Madge Undersee, her hunting partner and confidante.

Madge wore a deep blue cape that highlighted her bright eyes and her blonde hair in loose curls over her shoulders. Unlike Katniss’s seriousness, Madge exuded contagious joy, always with a witty comment at the tip of her tongue—ready to dance to a good tune and drink a mug of beer.

"Finally! I thought you got lost on the straight path from the village to here," Madge teased, arching an eyebrow as she crossed her arms.

Katniss rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a slight smile.

“Some of us have responsibilities, Madge. I can’t just disappear before dawn like you.”

Madge laughed, a clear sound that echoed through the clearing.

“Oh, responsibilities. I suppose they’re as heavy as this quiver on your back.”

Before Katniss could retort, Madge stepped closer, reducing the distance between them. Her eyes traced Katniss’s face with a tenderness that contrasted with her playful tone. Without warning, Madge took hold of the edge of Katniss’s red cloak, sliding her fingers through the soft fabric.

“You know, red really suits you,” Madge whispered, her face now just inches from Katniss’s.

Katniss felt her heart race—a mixture of excitement and anticipation taking over her, the fire that seemed to lick her whole body. She knew what they shared was dangerous and forbidden, but the forest was her friend and would keep their secret.

Without hesitation, Katniss leaned in and pressed her lips to Madge’s in a fervent kiss. It was a familiar act, shared only among the trees and the wind. It wasn’t love, but an intense flame of desire and companionship that bound them in a way few could understand.

When they parted, Madge had a satisfied smile on her lips and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Now, we can start the day right.”

Katniss nodded, but a spark of fun shone in her gaze. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” Madge replied with a wink. “And that’s why you can’t stay away from me.”

They laughed together, the tension dissolving as they prepared for the first day of hunting after winter.

But before venturing further into the forest, Katniss cast a final glance over her shoulder. She felt the eyes on her.