Chapter 24. District 13

Peeta Mellark hated flying.

He didn't know much about hovercraft. In his mind, they were ugly, windowless beasts that shook like giant rattles suspended in the air. He wasn't looking forward to knowing more.

The first time he had boarded one, he had been on his way to an arena —the ultimate symbol of President Snow's power.

This time, he was flying in the opposite direction: straight into the rebel stronghold of District 13.

Uneasy, Peeta grabbed the straps binding him to his seat and held them tight. It was a pointless gesture, really. What protection could that piece of fabric offer if the contraption suddenly plummeted to the ground?

"Relax," a soft voice whispered in his ear, "you're going to snap the safety belt out of the wall."

Despite himself, Peeta chuckled. He still hadn't recovered from the shock of finding Cinna, Portia, and his prep team waiting for him on board the hovercraft, but he was thrilled to have them by his side.

Smiling at his stylist, he asked, "Have you flown much?"

Portia stretched her legs in front of her to get more comfortable. "Not really, but Fulvia says flying is safer than driving, so…"

Fulvia. That was Fulvia Cardew, Plutarch Heavensbee's assistant. The woman now sitting across from him -who was too busy talking to an agitated Effie to pay attention to much else.

"Do you know her well?" Peeta asked.

"I met her last year, back when Cinna and I were first assigned to District 12." Portia leaned to the side until her shoulder touched Peeta's. "You wouldn't know it from looking at her, but she's been instrumental in organizing most of what happened today.

Peeta tilted his head and studied Fulvia. Unlike Effie, she wasn't wearing a wig or garish makeup. Her pale green dress was sober and practical. But the fancy leather briefcase at her feet and the silver flowers inlaid in her plump cheeks betrayed her origin.

No one outside the Capitol would have wasted their money on something so extravagant.

"As Head Gamemaker, Plutarch was under a lot of pressure," Portia went on. "The president's advisors had him under tight surveillance for a while, but no one watched Fulvia. Using Plutarch's connections, she was free to contact all sorts of people —and even send messages between districts— under the guise of planning for the Quarter Quell."

"So… Plutarch?"

"Mm-hmm. He's been on our side from the start."

As if summoned by the mention of her boss's name, Fulvia dropped her conversation with Effie and turned towards Peeta.

Lifting one of her delicately plucked eyebrows, she said, "Plutarch had to do quite a bit of lobbying to become Head Gamemaker, you know?"

Peeta leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Why was he so interested?"

"Head Gamemakers belong to a select group of people who can travel through the country without asking for permission each time they leave. They're free to meet with district officials and victors, and often visit the local industries in search of inspiration and ideas," Fulvia explained. "Most Gamemakers never make it further than Five but, luckily for us, Seneca Crane is far more interested in ratings and fashion than he is in politics. He didn't even bat an eyelash when Plutarch said he wanted to go to Eleven to prepare for the Quell!"

With a small shake of her head, Fulvia added, "To him, the Games are nothing but entertainment for the masses. He's too vain to understand how powerful their message is and how much the districts hate them."

"And you do?" Peeta bit back.

Fulvia's green eyes turned dark. Peeta immediately regretted his remark. Before he could apologize for his tone, she said, "I know what it's like to see someone you love punished for something that's not their fault, and to lose sleep thinking you might be next." Fulvia looked away. Her Capitol lilt was almost gone when she said, "It's not the same, I know, but life in the Capitol is not all cotton candy and rainbows, either."

Leaving Fulvia to her thoughts, Peeta addressed Portia again. "How did you leave?"

"There was a party at the Training Centre last night. There's one every year, to gather all the stylists and trainers there before the tributes arrive. After the party, we were supposed to sleep in our assigned rooms. Instead, we were smuggled out of the building in one of the transports used to greet the tribute trains."

"You left the Capitol by train?"

"Yeah. A cargo train destined for District 11. When it stopped for fuel in District 5, we got off. This hovercraft was there waiting by the tracks."

A series of short beeps coming from the cockpit interrupted their conversation.

A tall, muscular man —who had introduced himself as Commander Boggs— looked back into the cabin. "Hold on, everyone, we're about to land."

A couple of minutes later, the aircraft touched ground.

Eager to disembark, Peeta unbuckled his seat belt and jumped to his feet. The rest of the passengers followed his example.

Commander Boggs reached the door in two long strides and punched a sequence of numbers onto a keypad.

The door slid open, revealing a middle-aged woman in the same gray uniform Boggs wore. "Everything OK, commander?"

Commander Boggs answered the woman's question with a curt nod and turned to his passengers. "This is Commander Jackson, she will be guiding you through our welcome protocols. Follow her instructions. I will see you all back in Command. We'll have a full briefing there in two hours." Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and walked out of the hovercraft.

Commander Jackson immediately took his place, squinting a little as she took in the ragtag group before her. "Citizens, welcome to District 13."

XXXXX

Two hours later, Peeta and his companions followed their guide into the room known as Command.

Several jaws hit the ground at the sight of the high-tech meeting/war council room complete with computerized talking walls, electronic maps showing updates of activities in various districts, and a giant rectangular table with control panels.

At the far end of the room, where a television screen aired the Capitol broadcast, Commander Boggs stood deep in conversation with a few officers.

Commander Jackson faced the group she had been escorting. A flicker of pride crossed her features as she spread her arms wide to encompass the room. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "this is Command. Please, find a seat around the table so we can start."

At the sound of Jackson's voice, the officers assembled by the screen dismantled and, quietly, made their way to the table.

Peeta pulled out the nearest chair and sat down flanked by Madge —who sat to his left, next to her mother— and Haymitch.

Once everyone had found a seat, Commander Boggs took a turn around the room introducing everyone in attendance.

Since the members of Peeta's party had been given entry-level ranks in the military during the registration process, Commander Boggs respectfully referred to them as "Soldier."

Mayor Undersee and —for some unknown reason— Fulvia Cardew were the only exceptions.

Peeta followed the introduction of each commander, captain, and major. He offered a nod and a small smile as each one was made but, between the anxiety building up in his chest, and the fact that they all wore the same dark gray uniforms, he only managed to retain a handful of names.

"Finally," Commander Boggs reached the only empty chair in the room and gestured to the woman sitting next to it. "Our leader, President Alma Coin."

As the towering commander sat down, President Coin rose to her feet.

She was about fifty, with long gray hair that fell in an unbroken sheet to her shoulders. Not a single wisp moved out of place as she scanned the new faces before her. "Welcome to District 13. We have all been waiting for this moment for a long time. We're pleased to have you here. Was the registration process successful?"

"Yes, Madam President, it was," Commander Jackson stood up. "All new arrivals filled out their entry questionnaires and went through their physical evaluations. They have been registered into our database and assigned living quarters and uniforms. They have also been instructed on how to access and follow their timetable. I believe they're all ready to start working."

"Thank you, Commander Jackson." As the commander sat down, the president turned to the former residents of District 12. "Mayor Undersee, it's a pleasure to finally meet you and your family." Her pale gray eyes landed on Madge. "You have a courageous daughter."

"Thank you, Madam President," The mayor dipped his chin, a quick blush reddened his cheeks as he added, "I believe it runs in her mother's family."

With a small hum of approval, President Coin moved on. "Miss Cardew, I believe you have news for us. Did you bring Mr. Heavensbee's proposal?"

At the sound of her name, Fulvia perked up. "Yes, Madam President, I did. Plutarch's given me precise instructions. He has considered different possible scenarios, so we'll be able to adjust our strategy depending on President Snow's reactions."

With a small, approving nod, the president sat down. Leaning back on her chair, she glanced around the table. "Now, who can tell me why we are here today?"

"We're here to overthrow the Capitol," Leevy's voice was soft but determined.

An eager chuckle ran down the line of assorted army officials.

"Yes, Soldier Thompson, we are," President Coin confirmed. "District 13 has seen some hard times, but we have been building strength and numbers for years, and we're finally ready to push back. I know we haven't had much success in the past, but things are different now. The Capitol has too many enemies. With our friends and allies in the districts, we will succeed."

"Hear, hear!" chanted the men and women of District 13, banging their closed fists on the tabletop for emphasis.

Once the hubbub subsided, the president addressed the woman on her left. "Major Wilson, what's the situation in the districts?"

The major — a petite woman with strawberry blond hair and small green eyes — pressed a few buttons on one of the table's control panels.

A map of Panem appeared on the tabletop. Peeta leaned forward to take a better look at it. Half of the districts flashed green.

"We've already heard back from a few districts," Major Wilson pointed at the flashing sections as she listed them. "The reapings in Three, Four, Six, Nine, Eleven, and Twelve were successfully interrupted. Our transports are out collecting victors and rebel sympathizers across the country. Most of them will be here before nightfall." At the push of another button, the map disappeared. "We're still waiting for updates from the remaining districts, but our major concern right now is Eight. Peacekeeper presence has been severe there lately. It's unlikely our allies managed to break free."

"Thank you, Wilson. Update us as soon as you hear from them," Looking at the Gamemaker's assistant, President Coin asked, "Miss Cardew, while we wait for the others to get here, why don't you tell us what our next step will be?"

"Well," Leaning down, Fulvia pulled a thick book out of her leather briefcase and placed it in front of her. "First, we wait for tonight's mandatory transmission. Once we know what the Capitol's narrative is," she tapped the book cover a few times, "we'll choose an angle for our propos."

President Coin narrowed her eyes. "Propos?"

"Yes! It's short for 'propaganda spots' featuring our victors. We're going to shoot them here, and broadcast them to the entire population of Panem."

At the sound of the word "victor," Peeta straightened up in his seat. But before he could ask any questions, Mayor Undersee interrupted. "I'm sorry, Miss Cardew, but how are we going to do that? The Capitol has sole control of the broadcasts."

"They do," a sly smile turned Fulvia's lips, "but we have Beetee Lattier! The victor from District 3 is already on his way. About ten years ago, he essentially redesigned the underground network that transmits all the programming. He thinks there's a reasonable chance we can use it, but we'll know more once he's here."

"So, these propos, they're the reason you brought this…" President Coin's eyes lingered on Peeta's prep team. Adriana's lavender skin turned almost purple as the president sneered, "entourage?"

To Peeta's surprise, Fulvia lifted her chin and pressed her lips together. The silver flowers in her cheeks sparkled under the harsh neon light as she tightly said, "Madam President, this is the best styling team in all of Panem. They're extremely talented, and they know exactly how to capture an audience. Do you remember Peeta's entrance into the City Circle last year?"

Like a deer in headlights, Peeta stood still, feeling all eyes on him. A round of nods and appreciative whispers made its way around the table.

"That was something, wasn't it?" Fulvia asked, bringing the conversation back to her.

"It certainly was," President Coin admitted.

"Well," A satisfied smile turned Fulvia's lips. "My entourage was responsible for it. With their help, these propos will have just the right tone."

President Coin nodded. "When will you start shooting?"

"As soon as my camera crew gets here. They're leaving the Capitol on their own, but…" For an instant, Fulvia's voice faltered, "We might have to go get them."

The president mirrored Fulvia's earlier smile. "Not a problem. Just keep Commander Boggs posted. He'll make all the necessary arrangements."

Forgetting about the Capitolites for a moment, President Coin looked straight at Peeta.

He was shocked by how pale her eyes were, almost as if all the color had been sucked out of them.

"Soldier Mellark, Soldier Abernathy," the president said, "looks like you're going to be quite busy. You're ready for the task ahead, I gather."

"Yes, Madam President, we are," the victors answered in unison.

Before President Coin could say anything more, a series of short beeps filled the room.

Mayor Wilson stood up. "Please direct your attention to the Capitol feed. Mandatory transmission is about to begin."

XXXXX

The audience gathered in Command watched in astonishment as Claudius Templesmith, and Caesar Flickerman cracked their usual jokes on screen.

One by one, the presenters showed the footage from all the districts. Escorts, government officials, victors, tributes, all stepped up to take the stage as the reaping ceremonies went on as usual.

In District 3, Beetee Lattier was chosen as tribute. With a curt nod to his district's escort, he joined his partner —a petite woman called Wiress— on the stage.

Wiress slipped her hand in his, and, together, they faced the crowd assembled before them.

With that last shot, District 3 was replaced by a close-up of Caesar Flickerman's face.

"Now, Claudius," the presenter screeched, "are you ready to see what District 4 has in store for us?"

Too upset to hold her tongue, Leevy glared at Fulvia. "I thought you said Beetee was on his way over here!"

"He is," Fulvia assured her. "The ceremony was interrupted shortly after he was reaped —same as it was in Twelve. Right, Major Wilson?"

Mayor Wilson nodded. "That's correct. All ceremonies were interrupted near the end."

"So… what? They're not going to show it?" Leevy shook her head in disbelief. "Snow's just going to act like nothing's happened?"

Fulvia shrugged. "It seems that way."

"But how can he? People watching in the districts will know it's just a lie!" In a room full of unfamiliar faces, Leevy settled on Haymitch's. "What happens now, huh? What's going to happen in a couple of days when it's time for the tribute parade? How are they going to explain that they have no tributes to show?"

Effie, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon, giggled to herself. "It's a Quarter Quell, sweetie," she said. "None of the usual rules or protocols apply. Most of the tributes are victors. People already know them. So, there's no need to host a parade or to have an interview with Caesar. I'm sure President Snow will find something else to air instead."

Faced with the news, Leevy deflated. Looking back at Fulvia, she asked, "Did your boss anticipate this?"

In an oddly tender gesture, Fulvia wrapped her arm around Leevy's shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. The delight in her voice was unmistakable. "Yes, darling, he did."

XXXXX

It was almost midnight when Peeta finally managed to slip into bed.

His pillow was too thin, the mattress too hard. The sheets were coarse and scratchy, but he was so tired that he hardly noticed.

The one thing he did miss was the cold, gentle breeze filtering through his open window.

District 13 was an incredible piece of engineering, but it was still an underground maze.

Just as the sweet tendrils of sleep were pulling him under, there was a sharp knock on his door.

Startled, Peeta jumped out of bed and rushed to answer.

Commander Boggs looked even more imposing in the dimly lit hallway. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Soldier Mellark, may I come in?"

Surprised by the gentleness in the commander's voice, Peeta simply moved to the side and let him through.

As soon as the door slid shut, the commander started talking, "I'm afraid I have some bad news. District 12 is gone."

Gone? Peeta shook his head. Stunned.

"We don't know the details yet," the commander explained, "but it seems that the Capitol sent a couple of hovercraft fitted with firebombs and dropped them over the town."

XXXXX

Once, long before the incident of the burnt loaves, one of the ovens in the bakery malfunctioned.

In a matter of seconds, the entire kitchen was filled with smoke.

Although he had been very young at the time, Peeta still remembered the thick and heavy clouds surrounding him, clinging to his clothes and slipping into his throat —instantly filling his lungs with fire and despair.

Brann pulled him out of the kitchen that day. He dragged Peeta down the steps and slapped his back a few times to get him breathing while he chanted in his ear, "In. Out. In. Out. In…"

In. Out. In. Out. In…

Peeta inhaled. District 12 was miles away. Still, every breath felt like fire going through his lungs, like embers and ash sticking to his throat.

In. Out. In. Out. In…

Peeta exhaled. As painful as it was, he preferred to fill his mind with the effort of breathing than to deal with the alternative.

District 12 is gone. District 12 is gone. District 12 is gone.

Peeta ran his hands through his hair as he desperately tried to collect his thoughts. It was no use. His body was in District 13, but his head was still in his family's kitchen, trapped in a thick cloud of smoke.

The commander's firm grip on his shoulder jerked Peeta back to the moment.

"I can't do anything right now," the commander said, his voice still soft." We are still gathering our allies from their different pick-up locations but, you have my word, as soon as our hovercraft are back, I'll send them out to look for survivors. If anyone made it out, we'll bring them here."

Survivors. A tiny flicker of hope blossomed in Peeta's chest.

He knew he was crying. He could taste the salt of his tears on his wet lips, but he still smiled at the messenger of such bad tidings and said, "Thank you."

XXXXX

The winding corridors of District 13 seemed to stretch out endlessly as Peeta rushed down to the landing pad.

Haymitch and Leevy were right behind him. Their uncoordinated footfalls distracted him, but they couldn't drown out the echo of Portia's words bouncing in his head. "They found survivors! A hovercraft is bringing them now."

By the time they reached the hangar, his heart was ready to leap out of his chest.

The soldier guarding the door raised a questioning eyebrow.

"We're here to greet the refugees," Peeta explained in one breathless gasp.

The soldier pulled a small tablet from his utility belt. "Names?"

"Peeta Mellark, Leevy Thompson, Haymitch Abernathy," Peeta answered.

After a few taps on the electronic device, the soldier stepped to the side and let them through.

Peeta and his companions stopped short at the entrance. The spacious hangar that had greeted them on their arrival to Thirteen was engulfed in a flurry of activity.

Hundreds of stunned refugees from District 12, tattered and wide-eyed, quietly followed the instructions of a handful of soldiers who methodically separated them into groups.

Keeping close to the wall, Peeta, Leevy, and Haymitch scanned the crowd for familiar faces.

Peeta leaned towards Leevy. "Found anyone?"

"Not—," With a sharp gasp, Leevy squeezed Peeta's arm and sprinted off without a word. Leaving the flabbergasted victors behind, she ran straight to the middle of the hangar.

Closing his hands into tight fists over his chest, Peeta willed himself to stay put as his eyes followed Leevy. She was about to disappear into a sea of dark-haired heads when the quick glimpse of a blond braid caught his eye.

The sight sent his heart into a frenzy. "Prim!" Peeta yelled.

The name echoed in the hangar, bouncing off beams and walls as Peeta ran, pushing his way through the dazed crowd.

At the sound of her name, Prim turned round. Her whole face lit up when she saw the victor rushing towards her. Smiling, she opened her arms out to him.

Running straight into the embrace, Peeta wrapped his arms around Prim's waist and lifted her off the ground. Laughing, he spun her in circles a few times.

Prim giggled over his shoulder. "You're here!" she squealed.

After one last twirl, Peeta gently deposited her on the floor. "Yeah, so are you!"

The first thing he saw as he pulled away was Katniss's silver eyes looking straight at him.

The earth stood still.

For one precious moment, there was no noise, no sorrow, no pain. All the anxiety of the last few days faded like a bad dream as he took her in. Messy braid. Sun-kissed cheeks. Mud-stained clothes. This was the fearless huntress he admired, the beautiful girl who filled his dreams.

A few steps away, soldiers barked out instructions about registry protocols, but Peeta didn't hear anything they said. All he registered was the sound of Katniss's sweet voice whispering his name.

"Hey, Katniss," he breathed out.

Tears glistened in Katniss's eyes as she erased the distance between them, throwing herself into his waiting arms.

With a shuddering gasp, Peeta wrapped his arms tightly around Katniss's small frame and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her neck and burying his nose in her hair.

She smelled of mud, and sweat, and pinecones, and life, and he breathed it all in, laughing because he couldn't imagine anything sweeter.

Safe in his arms, Katniss wept, holding fast, trembling like a feather in a gust of wind.

"You're safe!" he whispered -over and over- clinging to her like a lifeline as he tried to convince himself that the moment was real.

"I'm sorry," Katniss said, her cheek pressed over his heart, her voice faltering. "I'm so sorry."

Peeta pulled away just enough to search her face. "Why? What's happened? What's wrong?"

Sniffling, Katniss wiped her tear-stained cheeks. "Your family. They're all gone."

Gone.

The word was as powerful as a bullet to the chest —and just as efficient.

In one syllable, his whole family had been wiped out.

Hope, like his family, was gone.

The same old crippling darkness, thick and heavy as the smoke of firebombs, welled up inside him, filling his ribcage with pain and guilt. Exhausted, Peeta hunched forward and dropped his arms, letting them dangle limply by his side.

Prim's small hand on his back pulled him out of the fog. "I'm sorry, Peeta."

Too numb to speak, Peeta nodded.

Mrs. Everdeen stepped forward and squeezed his arm. The gesture soft, comforting. The healer's voice was filled with sadness. "Most of the people from town are gone."

"Who made it?" he heard himself ask.

"Delly and her brother, Gemma Kipling, Troy, and a few others," Prim said.

Holding on to that bit of good news, Peeta searched the crowd. "Where are they?"

"They came on the second hovercraft," Katniss pointed to the aircraft at the far side of the hangar. "Gale and his family are with them."

Before Peeta could ask any more questions, Commander Boggs's powerful voice filled the room. "Can I have your attention, please?"

Hundreds of expectant eyes turned towards the doorway where the commander stood.

With his usual stiffness, Commander Boggs moved to the side, allowing President Coin to step forward. Mayor Undersee appeared behind her.

Aided by a microphone, the president's voice carried through the nave. "Citizens of District 12, I'm President Alma Coin. Welcome to District 13."

In her direct, efficient style, President Coin quickly explained the registry process. When she was done, she handed her microphone to Mayor Undersee.

"District 12," the mayor began, "the place we once called home lies in ruins, but we remain. You are all here because you're survivors. In the face of adversity, you didn't give up."

To Peeta's surprise, an enthusiastic round of applause exploded all around him. Hoots and cheers reverberated against the bare cement walls.

He had never seen his district show this much appreciation for his uncle. But he had never seen the mayor addressing the crowds for anything that wasn't a Capitol sanctioned activity, either.

Maybe that's it, Peeta thought, In an unfamiliar setting, free from President Snow's clutches, he has finally become valued.

Mayor Undersee raised his hand, and the ruckus died down. "Now, District 13 has opened its arms to us, they're inviting us to settle and live among them. Let's show them how grateful we are for the opportunity, and what an asset we can be."

A second burst of clapping erupted but, before it could grow, the mayor handed the microphone back to Commander Boggs and followed President Coin out of the room.

XXXXX

"K-A-T-N-I-S-S," Katniss spelled out.

Commander James, a spindly officer with horn-rimmed glasses and a long nose, typed the information into a tablet. "Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Are you up to date with the National education program?"

Katniss pushed her shoulders back and stood tall. Her grades weren't as good as Prim's, but she hadn't failed a single subject. "I am."

"Additional skills?"

Katniss immediately shook her head.

"She can hunt," Peeta —who had been quietly watching the exchange— blurted out.

Katniss went still as a statue, but Commander James didn't seem to notice. Behind the glasses, his eyes twinkled with surprise. "She can?"

"Yes, with a bow and arrow. She's excellent. She hits squirrels right through the eye," Arching his eyebrows, Peeta pointed to his own eye. "And it's the same with rabbits. She can even bring down deer."

With a sharp tug on Peeta's arm, Katniss hissed, "What are you doing?"

"I' m—," The hurt in her eyes cut him short. "Katniss?"

"Why would you tell him that?" she whispered.

"Because he needs to know."

Katniss frowned.

Looking into her clouded eyes, Peeta suddenly understood. Back in Twelve, admitting to her skills would have gotten her killed. He needed to show her that things were different here.

Peeta reached for her hand and brought her closer to him. "People in Thirteen are employed according to their skills, Katniss. He can't assign you to the right activity if he doesn't know what you're capable of. I know you're not used to this, but… do you trust me?"

Still frowning, Katniss nodded.

Peeta gave her hand a little squeeze. "Don't underrate yourself."

"Is there anything else?" the commander asked.

"Yes," Katniss faced the officer once more. "I'm also good with plants. I know how to grow them, and I can recognize what's edible and what isn't."

"She also knows how to identify tons of medicinal herbs," Peeta piped in.

The commander typed quickly, eliciting a few short beeps from the gadget in his hand. When he was done, he looked up with a smile. "Soldier Everdeen, you have been registered. Your skills place you in our food supply sector."

"Food supply?" Katniss returned the smile.

Despite all the welcoming speeches, District 13 didn't seem like the kind of place where she would ever feel at home. What she had seen fo far was too dark, too cold, too sterile.

She didn't like being called soldier, and she wasn't looking forward to keeping a regimented schedule, but working with food was something she was actually good at.

Feeling a bit more hopeful about her future, Katniss decided, then and there, to give Thirteen a chance.

While her mother answered Commander James's questions, Katniss turned to Peeta. "What sector are you in?"

"Propaganda." Chuckling at Katniss's puzzled scowl, Peeta explained, "I've been helping out at the kitchens —baking bread and stuff— but I'm mostly just part of the dog and pony show."

"Occupation?" Commander James asked.

"Certified healer," said Mrs. Everdeen.

The commander pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose to peer at Mrs. Everdeen. "A healer?"

"Yes. I'm a qualified apothecary assistant, and I have an official certificate as a holistic healer." She tapped a small pouch hanging from her belt. "Would you like to see it?"

"No, ma'am, that won't be necessary. I'm just here to refer you to your sector. The doctors at the clinic will be the ones assessing your skills."

After producing a new round of beeps from his tablet, the commander moved on to Prim. "Are you up to date with the National education program?"

"I am," Prim answered.

"Additional skills?"

Following her mother and Katniss's examples, Prim said, "I'm training to be a healer."

Once again, the commander's head shot up. "You… You're training with your mother, I presume."

"She is," Mrs. Everdeen intervened. "She doesn't have a certificate yet —she's too young for that— but she's quite knowledgeable."

"She's also very good with animals," Katniss reached for one Prim's braids and gave it an affectionate tug. "She has a healing touch."

"Healing Touch," the commander muttered as his fingers danced over the screen of the device. When the tablet beeped in confirmation, he gleefully announced, "Miss Everdeen, Prim, you have been scheduled to attend the clinic. The doctors there will assign you to your respective duties."

Beaming, Prim thanked Commander James and turned to hug her mother.

"Now," the commander scrolled down some information on his tablet, "let's assign you some housing."

"Commander James?" Peeta interrupted. "Would it be possible to give them a compartment in the same area as mine?"

The commander stilled, lips pursed in concentration as he considered Peeta's request. Without even bothering to answer, he kept scrolling until he found what he was looking for.

His tablet beeped again.

"Done," he announced, looking highly satisfied with himself, "Everdeen: family of three. Soldiers: Lilian and Katniss. Minor: Primrose. Assigned to the food supply sector and to the clinic. Your evaluations and placement have been scheduled for tomorrow. You will be living in compartment 307."

Peeta smiled. Compartment 307 was three doors away from his. With a nod to the commander, he said, "Thank you."

XXXXX

Compartment 307 was a spotless little box with four white walls and no windows.

The living area was divided into two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a bathroom with hot running water set on a timer.

There was no kitchen, no pictures hanging on the walls, no shelves for ornaments or books, and no flowers. But the few essential pieces of furniture that were provided were enough to make the place livable.

While Prim and Mrs. Everdeen showered and changed into their new clothes, Katniss sat on the couch and tried to get her mind to stop spinning.

The last few days had been a roller coaster of emotions—shock, anxiety, grief, anger, and fear. Mostly fear.

From the moment when the lights went out in the Seam, she hadn't stopped running.

Her first stop had been at Gale's. Then, with her family and the Hawthornes in tow, she had run towards the Meadow and the fence. When enough people had gathered there, she had continued her escape -going deep into the woods, guiding hundreds of people to the relative safety of her father's lake.

Once again, like in those long-lost days before working the mines, Gale had stuck by her side. Every step of the way, herding people towards freedom and making sure that no one was left behind.

At the lake, he had enlisted Rory and a few others to help Prim, and Mrs. Everdeen set up a medical area for the injured.

Between the two of them, they had taught those who were able-bodied to hunt, fish, and gather enough food to keep them all going.

The whole adventure had only lasted three days, but the weight of living under constant fear —paired with the memories of watching their district burn down to nothing— had made them seem like months.

When the hovercraft unexpectedly arrived to evacuate them to District 13, Katniss -and many others— had cried.

With a tired moan, Katniss stretched her arms over her head. When her neck and spine cracked, she dropped her arms and moved to lie across the couch, propping her head on the armrest.

As she finally began to relax, her mind flew back to Peeta. She still couldn't believe he was there. Safe and sound, and just a few doors away from her.

Her heart had almost stopped when she'd heard him call out Prim's name.

A deep sadness crept up on her as she remembered the hurt in his eyes when she broke the news about his family.

He had been so strong!

He had put his sorrow aside to be there for her and the others. Helping with their registration process, answering questions, allaying their fears.

He had seemed almost happy among the people of District 12, but she knew him better than most. She could see through his façade of indifference, and she knew he was suffering.

Turning on her side, Katniss buried her face in a pillow to smother a scream.

She wanted to hold him so badly! To curl up next to him on his couch and soothe his pain away. To tell him that, even if his family was all gone, she was there for him. Now. Always.

But she couldn't. Even if they were just a few steps from each other, this was a new place with a new set of rules, and she wasn't ready to start breaking them just yet.

At least I'll get to see him tomorrow, she thought. She still didn't know whether she would see Peeta in school or not, but she knew that —since they lived in the same area— their mealtimes would always match. We'll have breakfast together.

Holding on to that piece of good news, Katniss got up from the couch.

She could already hear Prim getting ready to come out of the bathroom. So, humming a little tune under her breath, she collected her clean clothes and went to wait by the door.

A warm shower and clean clothes, then some sleep. After the week she'd had, that was exactly what Katniss needed.