Finally got started on this new little story after a long, hard struggle of turning my jumbled up thoughts into coherent words! And if you haven't read the summary, this is a historical AU during WW2 in Stalingrad, USSR. I can't help it. I'm a sucker for writing about history and war. And Everlark. I also tried to be as historically accurate as possible, but this is fanfiction so naturally there's bound to be digressions from the real events. Don't worry, it's a must to spice up the everlark romance ;) You won't mind.

Rated M for mature language, explicit scenes (later), and character death.

Summary: The city is in ruins. An enemy sniper is lying in wait, ready to fire. The building must be defended, Command ordered. And yet, Peeta 'Pavlov' Mellark still finds the time to sneak out with a poor gray-eyed huntress. And she doesn't mind providing the distraction. Historical AU, Stalingrad 1942.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own The Hunger Games. Fuck my life.

Huntress, August 23, 1942

It was a warm day in August when the bombs started falling. Prim, her mother and Katniss were spending the day out at a public garden. Prim was so eager to get Mother out of the house, looking up at her older sister with her deep blue eyes and lips pushed up in a pout, asked for permission. She didn't have the heart to say no.

Prim's contently lying on the grass, arms and legs spread out as if she were about to make a winter snow angel. Katniss watches her with an easy smile, raking her fingers through a rose bush with one hand, the other toying with the ribbon at the hip of her mother's soft blue dress.

She wished they could have more days like this.

It's been a hard three years since Mister Everdeen died, and her mother had never been the same after that. To this day, she still catches her staring out of the dusty, grimy window with a wistful face and dead eyes, knees drawn up to her chest as she sits on the sill. On those days Mrs. Everdeen is almost catatonic. It's only through her work as a healer that she comes roaring back to life, and she's had no shortage of work nowadays.

Her sister thought Katniss could use some fresh air as well.

She'll admit, she hasn't exactly been upbeat as of late, but Katniss finds no reason to be. There's a group of German army divisions that want to kill them all and take their homes only sixty kilometers away. Not to mention the fact that her best friend, Gale, went to join the nearest recruiting reserve in the defense of the capitol, Moscow, almost a year ago. She doesn't understand how her sister can continue to see the bright side in their situation.

Most of the factories have all moved East to escape any potential bombardment by the Germans—though, the tractor factory responsible for building tanks has stayed—and the precious grain and machines have been moved onto the other side of the city, across the river Volga. There isn't much work or food to go around.

"Katniss?" her sister calls. Katniss lifts her head up to see the blonde smiling and kneeling as she plucks a few dandelions out of the ground and hands them over. "Do you think we can make something out of these?"

The dark-haired woman kneeled beside her and smiled back, pretending to critically examine the flowers for her amusement. Prim tries so hard to be helpful for someone who looks so young, but appearances can be deceiving. For a 15 year old girl, she has yet to fully grow into a young woman's body.

"Hmm, I'm sure we can come up with something, little duck. Do you mind having stew for dinner?" she shakes her head emphatically. "So dandelion stew it is. I still have some meat left over and bread from our rations, it'll be our little feast," she winks.

Her sister beams with pride and excitement, child held high. It's only when she looks towards Mrs. Everdeen that her expression falls and saddens. The older blonde woman is lounging on the bench in typical ladylike fashion, silent as a stone, taking in the view of the gardens. Though the tension in her shoulders is noticeably absent from a morning without work.

"She's getting better," Prim states, her demeanor plain, but the tinge of hope in her words gives away her true thoughts.

Katniss resists the urge to rudely scoff by closing her eyes shut and breathing deeply. "Well, that's not saying much," she snaps.

"But she is, Katniss," she insists vehemently. "Mother has come a long way, and things are looking well now. She's even starting to laugh again."

Well? Things are not looking well. Her sister, always the optimist.

The brunette shakes her head dismissively, not even trying to hide the roll of her eyes. "It's not the same, Prim. It will never be the same again. I don't want to discuss this right now."

Her protests deflate quickly after that. Prim's upset, but says nothing further on the matter, going back to running her fingers through the grass and flower bushes.

Katniss thinks she forgets that Mrs. Everdeen is supposed to be better than this, that she is the one responsible for her wellbeing. The first few weeks after Father's death were the hardest. Mrs. Everdeen never left her bed, never went back to work, and the compensation the state had given them was almost out. She couldn't even force herself to pick up their rations.

Katniss had experienced her first taste of hunger and starvation that winter. They would've been fed if the state had found out about their situation, but that also meant living in the community home or the work collectives. She couldn't decide which of the two was worse a fate, but Prim didn't deserve that type of life. So she could never count on her mother to look out for them again. She had clearly forfeited that right.

"Come and let me fix your hair," Katniss tell hers, eager to change the subject and bring back her joyful self. But she never gets her chance.

The screams of sirens over the streetlamps pierce the quiet air, taking with it their fragile bubble of enjoyment as they all look up, alarmed and alert. Like the prey she hunts so often. The city goes deadly silent save for the megaphones as fear overtakes her emotions. She looks up to the skies in terror.

The air raid sirens give them a few minutes warning, but only a few minutes. They need to leave. Now.

She hurriedly stands to her feet. "Prim, get up," she says sternly. As hard as Katniss tries to keep the panic from lacing with her tone, the unbridled concern in her sister's blue eyes tells her she's failed. She notices Prim still hasn't moved. "Now!"

She complies readily, fetching their mother from the bench, who is just as alert and shaken as her eldest daughter. "We need to find a shelter, quickly," Mrs. Everdeen says. She nods, gripping her sister's hand to drag them along. Prim latches onto her mother, as if afraid to lose them both as the garden's flowery backdrop turns to the stone and concrete of the inner city.

She's searching the ground level buildings frenetically. One of them has to have a shelter. Most of the pedestrians occupying the streets don't seem too panicked or frightened by the alarms going off around them. Even the street cars and trains themselves have stopped, but no one exits from them. She's confused. They're just standing still, looking to the sky with leery, curious glances and confused expressions. And then it hits her.

They think it's a test.

It wouldn't be the first one, but the previous test was weeks ago and the Germans have never been this close to the city before. She was not willing to take that chance if the others turned out to be wrong.

She wanted to scream at them to move, to flee to safety, but she feels Prim's hand tugging her now and remembers they can't afford to stop. The family only quickens their pace. Some of the wiser residents are finally coming to their sense and abandoning the trains, searching as they are for the public shelters, but there aren't many of them.

Katniss finally spots one. A crowd is gathering outside a government building, where a concealed hatch reveals a stairwell leading belowground. A red banner with the golden sickle and hammer—the flag of the Union—attached to an iron pole flutters in the soft breeze, wiping it in every which direction the wind takes it.

The grin that takes over her face and the laughter bubbling deep in her throat as they approach closer and closer to the shelter is near hysterical. She thinks she's going to cry out of pure relief.

The civilians orderly rush to descend the staircase. It's not surprising to see them so organized; anyone who'd try to cause a riot would be shot on sight. The soldiers standing guard, brandishing their rifles with their fingers resting on the trigger, make sure of this.

They're only two blocks away when the chorus of thundering propeller engines overhead drowns out the warning sirens, turning her blood to solid ice.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

Everyone on the street freezes in fear and glances upward. The sky has turned dark with the sight of hundreds of low flying planes blocking out the sunlight. The warplanes are so close, she can see the glistening black swastika cross, the symbol of the Wehrmacht and Nazi Germany, etched into the wings and tail.

Almost simultaneously, the crackling burst of heavy gunfire snaps them from their daze; they gather what remains of their wits and race across the street.

The second they've made it to the entrance of the shelter, Katniss catches sight of a plane being shot down out of the corner of her eye, the anti-aircraft bullets clearly marked flying over their heads. But there are hundreds more still airborne. And then the bombs start falling.

The first strikes the suburbs of the city, at least a kilometer or two away from them. Fires are raging, kicking up a sickly black smoke and dust into the air. More explode just after the first. Her heart feels like it's been crushed under that half-ton bomb as she turns around to watch. Because she finally realizes where those bombs are landing—her home. The planes are targeting the Seam.

Katniss covers her ears at the earth-shattering explosions, watching the smoke rise from the other side of town. Somehow she still manages to hear the deafening boom of each drop, no matter how tightly she presses her hands to her eardrums, but she can't force herself to look away. She's certain her lower lip is trembling from anxiety. Katniss hates the way her skin prickles at the waves of each shock blast, and the tears that are freely forming in her eyes. Prim isn't even holding back her tears and whimpers.

The crowd behind them starts to panic violently, pushing others inside to make room for themselves. The pedestrians and commuters who hadn't heeded the sirens warning make a run for it, causing a chaotic stampede.

"Katniss!" a voice yells, pulling her away from the nightmarish sight of fire and smoke. Her mother is tugging her arm in the direction of the shelter; Katniss's other hand searching for a smaller one. But it comes up empty with air.

She freezes yet again, halting her mothers' movements. "Where's Prim?" she asks, searching the vicinity. She's nowhere in sight. "Where's Prim?" she repeats, the horrified frenzy evident in her tone. She's gripping her skull, because her mind is quickly descending into manic hysteria, the bombs continuing to fall ever so slightly closer. The ground rattles with each blast, mimicking a wave of earthquakes.

"Katniss, we need—"

"I need to find her!" she shouts, adamant. "Go inside and stay safe. I'll fetch Prim."

Her mother locks eyes with her, tears brimming on the edges as she shakes her head emphatically. "No, no, it's too dangerous."

She doesn't have time for this. They could all be dead in less than a minute, and she has to take advantage of whatever window of opportunity that comes her way. Katniss rests her hands on her mother's upper arms, softening her voice. "It's alright. I'll be back, but not without Prim. Trust me. You need to go before it's too late. Save us a spot, please."

The older woman reluctantly nods, looking like she's about to break and is simply being held together by a thread. "Be safe," she says, before entering the crowd pushing their way inside.

Katniss heads off immediately, calling out her sister's name. No answer. She's not even sure her calls can be heard over the bombs. She rounds the corner of the building. The seconds tick away mercilessly, each signaling the bombs about to fall closer in her direction. She does not have enough time to search the whole neighborhood and make it back to the shelter.

By sheer luck, she catches sight of a blonde head of hair in her periphery and runs towards it. Across the street, Prim is rising from a kneeling position. She calls out her name, and her sister perks up at the sound. Prim barely has time to prepare herself before Katniss launches her arms around her smaller frame and hauls them toward safety.

She's resisting. Her arms flailing and hitting her in the mid-section.

"What are you doing!?" Katniss yells.

"It's not me!" Prim retorts.

She takes a closer look this time, but doesn't stop moving. Prim is cradling something in her arms. A disgusting yellow ball of fur and whiskers with a tiny pink nose and narrow slit-like snake eyes is fighting her off. A cat. Everything is coming into remarkable clarity. Prim decided saving a vile rabid animal is a better idea than saving her own skin.

If they by some miracle managed to get through this day still breathing, Katniss was going to wrangle her sister and that cat to death herself. But she didn't have to luxury of time for that at the moment.

The hatch of the shelter was beginning to close, with them still outside.

"Wait!" she yells, Prim joining her shouts. A bomb goes off behind them. The shockwave knocks them clear off their feet, flying at least five feet forward. Bits of shrapnel hitting their backs, mostly Katniss's, but they're back up just as quickly. Her head is spinning, her vision is all a gray hazy blur and her balance is completely disoriented, but Prim leads them the last few steps to the hatch's door. A stocky, burly man in military uniform waits for them to enter before slamming the hatch closed and locking all the bolts.

Katniss thinks she's going to fall over then and there, but it's her mother's bone-crushing hug that causes them all to sink to the ground, her own arms still embracing her sister.

It only takes a few seconds before her vision is swimming in black and the sounds of bombs and gunfire from above turn into eerily loud raindrops. Her mind is finally at peace when a dark nothingness pulls her into sleep and unconsciousness as she rests her head on Prim's.

Don't forget to review, alert, or favorite and all that jazz. I also have a tumblr if any of you are interested in following me. I do send out little teasers for any chapters I'm working on, but I'm not much of a poster. The name is on my profile if you want to check it out along with another story I'm writing, which was recommended by Everlarkrecs! I'm still in shock over that.