A/N: I hope that you enjoy the continuation of this story. I can't say for certain how much more I can contribute currently, but in a time of clarity I was able to finish up this chapter. Thanks for sticking with it.

The next morning as I wash up the breakfast dishes, my mind continues to drift toward thoughts of unwed pregnant girls. I have the day off from helping Healer Everdeen and today I want nothing more than to have a relaxing bath and to go into town for some essentials. Rory, Vick, and Posy arrive just as I am drying the last dish. The door smacks open and hits the wall with a clank, as Posy rushes in.

"Arwen!" Posy squeals, running into the room and wrapping her thin little arms around my waist, "I'm so happy to see you again!"

"Hello, Posy. I'm happy to see you too," I smile good-naturedly at the boys as they enter.

"Ma told us to come check-up on you," Vick explains as he leans against the table, biting into a small apple that he just pulled from the pocket of his weathered jacket.

Hazelle must be worried about me, after the incident yesterday. I'm vaguely surprised that Gale told his mother about what we witnessed in the meadow, but if he knew of the girl, it was likely that he felt concerned for her family and wanted his mother to look in on them. I sigh and muster a smile for them as Posy climbs onto one of the wooden chairs. Rory takes the seat beside her.

"I brought a game! Do you want to play?" Posy asks me excitedly as she pulls some carved wooden pieces out of a small bag.

Gale must have whittled them for her. I remember him telling me that he enjoyed whittling. After the fourth piece is placed on the table, I realize what she's assembling. It's a chess set. My father taught me how to play when I was a young girl, about Posy's age. Our set was polished with a dark coat of stain. It had been a gift from my grandparents when father was promoted at work. My grandfather had stained it himself after a friend made it.

I sit across from Posy and examine the pieces as she sets them out. Each one is smooth. Gale would have spent hours carving and treating them with the utmost care. Again, I marvel at the intricate things he is able to build with his hands. With only a glance, his hands appear rough from work. Yet, Gale's hands seem to create beautiful delicate things. I smile as Posy pulls out the checkered board and starts lining up her pieces. Rory guides her by pointing out the correct placement, when she seems in doubt.

"Cool, right?" Rory says as watches me examine the chess set, "It took Gale ages to whittle it and collect the wood for it. It was a Christmas gift last year!"

"It's beautiful," I agree. We play a few rounds. Posy needs a lot of help remembering the rules and the permitted moves of each piece. Rory helps her, never getting frustrated with her. Vick shares in everyone's victories, praising good moves and offering sympathy for losses. They really are sweet children. I wonder for a moment, what Gale was like as a child.

I smile at them tenderly as Rory explains for the tenth time the complicated routes that the King and Queen are allowed to move and what constraints there are in each scenario. His patience amazes me, for such a young boy. After a few hours they declare that it's time to go home. I bid them farewell and decide to take my planned trip into the town.

Over the past few weeks, it has become very apparent that we need a couch of some sort. Whenever people visit or even, in our evenings when it's just the two of us – it is difficult to sit for hours in wooden chairs and find any comfort. I've been planning to visit Odair's furniture store, but the opportunity has not yet presented itself.

I donned a long skirt this morning with a long-sleeve shirt in anticipation of the chillier weather. The weather has begun to grow colder and soon autumn will be in full swing. It does get cooler in District 9, but I've never experienced the type of weather that Gale assures me will occur this winter. The breezes in my old district were warm, while comparatively District 12's are cool and biting.

As I get ready, my mind slips back to Charlotte once more and I decide to stop and check in on her as I traverse the path to town. The Everdeen-Abernathy home is only two roads out of the way. I pull on thick stockings and my leather shoes, then my sweater and a knit cap over my hair for good measure. Perhaps I need to get some gloves, I muse as I open the door to a stinging gust of wind. Certainly, I will at least need a warm coat eventually. My hands are tingling by the time I'm halfway there, so I fist them and tuck them as best I can into the pockets of my skirt.

Healer Everdeen's smile has a note of surprise as I squeeze through the gap of her door, trying not to bring the chill in with me. Charlotte is sleeping soundly, her pallor still pale and sickly against the white cotton sheets.

"I thought I gave you the day off," Healer Everdeen says quietly as she turns to the water she is boiling.

I see strips of white fabric floating within the boiling water, dressings for Charlotte's wounds. We had discovered many large gashes across the outside of her stomach as well, once the blood was being cleaned away. I sigh and look at our slumbering charge, her face looks calm, perhaps from a sleeping draught.

"How has she been today, Healer?" I ask softly as I look over the younger girl.

"Must I tell you to call me Josephine every day?" She muses as she stirs the white strips to sanitize them. We share a small smirk.

"Oh alright, Josephine – how is she?" I reply. She nods and turns her gaze to the girl as well.

"It was a rough night. Prim had to help me tend to her. There has been a lot of bleeding and I gave her a transfusion again. We mixed a salve for the wounds, which seems to be slowing the blood loss considerably. I'm worried about infection within the womb though." Josephine sighs. I'm worried about it to. That man who removed Charlotte's baby had mangled her so deeply that we couldn't readily stitch the internal lesions. It's only a matter of time, before an infection that we can't treat. She'll be dead within a week, if it happens. My stomach churns at the thought.

"Do you need anything in town?" I ask Josephine, "I'm heading to Odair's Furniture store, but I could stop by the general store or apothecary if you need."

Josephine shakes her head. "No, that's alright, we're pretty well stocked right now. What are you looking for at Odair's?" She asks as she begins to remove strips from the water.

"I still haven't found a gift for Gale and we really need a couch or an armchair, especially when guests come over." I remove the boiling pot and dump the water down the drain of her sink.

"That sounds lovely. A gift that is used for family and guests – it symbolizes devotion and care for your spouse's comfort," she smiles. I blush at her words.

"Well, I just wanted to check in on Charlotte, I better be off," I tell her awkwardly as I back toward the doorway. She nods and bids me to have a good day, smiling softly to herself as her eyes drift to the couch in her living area.

The walk to town is pleasant, despite the large gusts of wind that whip against me every so often. As I approach the square I see more people milling about wearing coats, sweaters, and vests to stave off the chill. I smile and wave at a few women as they pass. I walk through the arch into the square and onto the cobble-stones, which click under my shoes.

There's a pair of girls sitting on a bench giggling to themselves in front of Odair's. They keep glancing back at the shop window and then putting their heads together to whisper excitedly to each other. I see the red-headed man straightening up a display that is meant to represent a child's bedroom.

The door to the shop has a tinkling bell that announces my arrival. There's a thin woman behind the counter. Her hair is long, brown, and wavy. The expression on her face is serene as she fiddles with some sort of decorative figurine. The man is tall with a handsome face. His hair is a vivid red, much like my own. He turns to me with a dashing smile and immediately my eyes are drawn to his. I gasp as the emerald green orbs peer back at me.

"Aha! I was wondering if you would ever come in," the man exclaims. His voice is nearly musical in its quality, a tenor that's filled with a cadence that seems familiar. A thought begins to form in my mind, could he be related to mother, but I don't allow myself to put credence to it.

He turns toward the woman behind the counter, presumably his wife, "Annie love, come here and meet one of the new arrivals." She looks up, smiling sweetly as she places the figurine on the countertop. She seems to float as she walks towards us.

"Hello dear, you must be Arwen," she has a soft voice as she comes forward to grip my hand in way of greeting.

I clear my throat, glancing between the couple in confusion. "Hello, it's nice to meet you."

"I knew as soon as I saw you on that stage, that you had the Brooks' blood in you. You're a near spitting image of my mother. Are you Faun's daughter?" Mr. Odair asks excitedly.

My heart swells as I realize, he must be a relative of some kind and with that, the thought I hadn't let form slowly begins to flourish in my heart. He knows my mother's name and I smile at him, delighted. The odds of running across a relative and actually knowing they are one is so slim, that I've only met a few people who have.

"Yes! Wow, I'd no idea anyone from the family lived here. Who are your parents?" I ask, amazed as I begin to look closer at the details of his face. I see the shape of mother's nose and clearly the eyes are the same. My mother had one older brother, who stayed in the district and 3 sisters. The oldest of her sisters went to District 4 before my mother's own marriage. She never knew what became of her younger sisters.

"Flora, the eldest. Annie and I are both from District 4. I'm the only son, just like Uncle Arthur our mothers' brother," he explains.

I smile broadly as he leans forward and I don't care when he envelopes me in a tight hug. My heart soars with a strange joy that I didn't know you could feel for a perfect stranger. When he releases me from the embrace his wife, Annie, folds me into her arms as well. She smells of something floral and sweet.

"Come, sit down and chat with us," she says as she leads me to a nearby area with couches, settees, arm-chairs, and love-seats. She picks the most comfortable looking one and I lower myself onto the cushions, which feel simply divine, like I imagine a fluffy cloud would. I've never seen furniture this nice before.

"Tell me about the family," Finnick requests as he sits on my other side and takes my hand into his large palm. It's warm and smooth.

"I have two sisters. They're identical twins, but their similarities only go as far as their physical appearance. They're everything the opposite of each other and everything the opposite of me. More like my father, bronze-skinned with deep brown eyes. They have happy eyes. Their hair is yellow unless they step in the sun, then it's almost like fire. Brenna loves boys and has a temper like the crack of a whip. Bronwyn's carefree. She makes everything into a joke." I smirk and giggle as I think about my sisters. Finnick smiles and his eyes urge me to continue.

"I have a brother too, Tomik. He's ten years old. Whenever I look at Vick my heart hurts, because I see my brother in him." I assume that the Odair's know of the Hawthorne's and don't explain him further.

"Tomik and I were more similar than different. He's gentle and imaginative. We both look like my mother, flaming red hair and creamy skin. My father is like my sisters, a man made of bronze and gold. He's always happy, always smiling. My parents love each other more than I will ever be able to understand. And there's my Nana and Papa too. They live in the little farmhouse next door. Gale reminds me of my Papa, quiet and steady. My Nana is blunt and truthful, but she's very caring." Annie hums contentedly as she listens to my descriptions. When my heart seizes up and tears begin to well in my eyes, Finnick squeezes my hand encouragingly.

"I have four younger sisters: Amelia, Clara, Jewel, and Talia. Only Amelia has the Brooks' hair though! The rest have blond or brown. My father, Patrick has brown hair so that's probably stronger in the genes. All of us kids have the green eyes though."

I smile, "Looking into your eyes is like looking into my mother's eyes again. The nose is pretty similar too."

"My sisters are beautiful and funny young women. They all take after the humor of my father. Amelia is going to stay with my parents to help care for them. My dad was getting sick when I left." Finnick's voice takes on a sadder tone, "It's been five years since Annie and I were contracted here."

"Do you have any pictures of your family?" Annie asks me in an attempt to lighten her husband's spirits. I nod in the affirmative as I feel my own heart clenching in sadness for my sick Papa and my family so far away.

"Bring it by sometime. We would love to see their faces," Finnick gushes and Annie nods in agreement.

"Here, we've got a family portrait of the Odairs!" Annie alights and hurries to a fire-place at the side of the room. On the mantle there are several pictures and a vase of flowers. She selects a larger frame and carries it back tenderly.

Finnick beams as he takes it from her, he holds it between us and points out each member of his family with pride in his voice. A tear slides down my cheek as I set eyes on my Aunt Flora for the first time. She's beautiful and every bit the image of my mother, just as Finnick said I was. I do take after Flora as well it seems, creamy skin and flaming hair aside – it's the face that is so similar. I run my finger over her image and smile. Finnick presses his shoulder against mine and places a quick kiss on my hair.

"You really got all of the best genes," he jokes. I release a sharp laugh of denial.

"Your sisters are lovely and they look so happy," I say instead. He nods, smiling again.

Suddenly, Finnick seems to remember himself, "Oh, I'm sorry, you must be here to browse and buy something! We have plenty of time to chat since we'll see each other so often. At least I plan to. I want to soak up all the time I can getting to know you." He hands the frame back to Annie, before she makes her way across the large room to assist an older woman who has entered the shop.

He pulls me to my feet and takes me on a grand tour of the shop. There are so many beautiful displays and items. They sell decorations, picture frames, and furniture. Most of which is likely woefully out of my price range. The fingers of my left hand clutch the little money purse in my pocket, fiddling with the trim worriedly. I glance at the tag on a decorative bowl and step back hurriedly for fear of breaking it.

"So, what did you come in for?" He asks as he brings me round to the center of the room. Annie is helping the older woman browse lanterns and electric lamps.

"Well, I haven't gotten a gift for my husband yet and I thought we could get something useful. We are really in need of a couch of some sort." I glance back at the larger pieces of furniture, wondering if anything is cheap enough.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, you can never have enough seating for company," He affirms as he swings an arm around my shoulders, leading me to the section we were sitting in. He shows me six different models ranging in price, color, and size.

I pull out my meager money, as I realize I only have enough for the cheapest one. It's brown and plaid. Finnick watches me glance between the money and the couch. He shakes his head, "Don't you fret over the cost, I'm giving you the 'Family Discount'," he tells me proudly as he leads me to the couch that costs twice as much as the first. It's a soft material that has different color threads woven together. I imagine that it would match just about anything with these various tones. I begin to shake my head to deny the expensive gift he is attempting to push on me.

"Annie, Arwen is going to take the marble couch, could you ring her up? Give her our first ever 'Family Discount'," Finnick yells to his wife who is currently packaging a simple electric lamp for her customer. The woman looks at me with interest when I come to stand in line behind her.

"Mrs. Mellark, this is my cousin! Our mothers are sisters," Finnick beams proudly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders again. I blush slightly and greet her with a smile. The woman has a sort of brisk quality about her. I recognize the surname of the boy that Haymitch likes to pester Katniss about.

"Tabitha Mellark, I'm the wife of the town baker," she introduces herself with a haughty air as she loosely takes my hand to shake.

"Arwen South-….Hawthorne," I quickly correct myself. She looks unimpressed with my near slip of the tongue. She bids the Odair's farewell as she exits with her wrapped box.

"Is it winter already? Still as cold as ever, that one," Finnick shudders with a mocking tone. Annie rings me up and accepts my coins with a smile. She scrawls 'Family Discount' in the ledger next to the reduced price and I blush once more.

"We'll bring the truck around tomorrow after dinner and help you arrange the couch in your living area. We have a few deliveries to make before then, but I would love to stop at your house last and chat with you and Gale," Finnick tells me with a smile. I nod my assent eagerly.

I bid them farewell with a full heart and a smile spread so wide on my cheeks that they begin to ache when I finally make it home. My money pouch is lighter, but in the best way. I begin to fill with excitement at the prospect of Gale's expression when he sees our new piece of furniture tomorrow evening. I ponder whether I should tell him before it arrives, or let it fully be a surprise.

After a light lunch, I finally decide to relax in the bath. I place the wooden basin near the large black-bellied stove to make it easier to transfer the warmed water. I pump bucket after bucket of water at the sink, heating them on the stovetop and dumping them into the basin. When the basin is sufficiently filled I strip off my clothes and ease my sore body beneath the warm water. It feels divine and I relax my body, rolling my shoulders forward and wrapping my arms around my legs so that I can soak up the water's warmth. I sigh contentedly as I dump a pot full of the liquid over my head to soak my hair. I raise my right leg and balance it on the side of the basin so that I can begin soaping up my dirty limbs.

I am gliding the bar along my leg when someone walks through the archway into the room. I had been so busy enjoying the bath that I didn't hear Gale enter the house with his haul from hunting. He steps into the room and pauses, blinking in shock for a moment. I shriek and instantly fold myself close together under the water, trying to hide all my parts. Gale stutters for a moment, mouth agape. Then he roughly shakes his head, drops his hunting bag and nearly runs out of the house. He slams the door on the way out and I moan in embarrassment.

I look up when I hear the soft tread of Katniss. She must have been standing in the entryway. She blinks at me for a moment in confusion then seems to take in my state. Her confused expression is quickly fading into a devilish smile. She begins to laugh, leaning against the archway and holding her stomach with her free hand.

"Did you see his face?" She splutters, "That was priceless. I have never seen him surprised before…wow."

"I saw him alright. How embarrassing, I'm mortified. I'll never be able to look at him again," I moan into my hands as I press them to my heated face. Katniss snorts and shakes her head at me, obviously completely enjoying my humiliation.

I sit up in the basin and glare at her, but Katniss just laughs harder. When she finally gets a grip on herself the only thing she says is, "You two are going to have an interesting night. By the way, there is a dance tonight. I expect to see you there. Gale says he wants to teach you flat-footin'." She grins wickedly at me before she waves good-bye and laughs her way out of the house.

When Gale returns later I have to look at the ground to hide my blush as I ask him to help me empty the wash basin. We fill the bucket and a pot several times, dumping the water down the sink. Then Gale and I carry the basin outside to dump the rest of the water in the yard. Neither of us can seem to look each other in the eye.

I clear my throat as we head back into the house, "Katniss says there's a dance tonight."

Gale nods, looking relieved to talk about something completely unrelated to our earlier encounter. "Yeah, it'll be in the Hob," he says as he puts the basin away. I had tended to his game-bag earlier, placing it in the icebox until he could return for it. He pulls it out and begins to address the different things within it.

"What's the Hob?" I ask, as I sit at the table with Josephine's book, trying to learn more about various salves and creams.

"It's where the illegal black market is during the day. At night that's where rebel meetings are and sometimes dances."

"Really? The peace-keepers don't raid it?" I ask, surprised.

"All the ones we have would rather get fresh things in trade than spend exorbitant money for deliveries from the Capitol," he explains. I'm surprised that they would allow it, but the longer I'm here, the more I see that things are definitely different within Twelve.

"Have you ever been to a rebel meeting?" I ask quietly. Gale's shoulders stiffen. He's facing away from me and for a moment, I'm afraid I've said something terribly wrong. Obey your husband, do not anger or upset him with intention.

"Once…after my father died. He and Mr. Everdeen were rebel leaders…they both were killed in the mine collapse. Everyone thinks the Capitol did it on purpose to rid the district of the prominent rebels." His voice is bitter as he tells me. I'm all at once amazed and horrified.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper and he turns to look at me with a mixture of hurt and acceptance in his eyes.

"Let's eat dinner and get ready," he says instead.

I wear the same clothes, but Gale dresses in the clothing he wore to our ceremony. He offers his arm as we walk to the Hob. The night air is much chillier than the day was. I find myself pulling closer to Gale to ward off some of the breeze, "You were right, the nights are colder here in Twelve." Gale smiles down at me.

"I'll get you a winter coat soon," he tells me as he places one of his large palms over the one I have pressed into his arm. There are a lot of people entering the large looming building ahead of us. I can hear music from within, mingling with the boisterous sound of voices. The heat of the building flows out into the night through the open doors as we approach. It beckons to me like a siren of fire as I feel the mixed air against my face. People are mingling around the door, smoking and chatting. Gale nods to a few men as we pass through.

My eyes scan around the large open space before us. There are all ages of people enjoying themselves. Women chatting at make-shift tables pulled together with empty crates, men are conversing raucously in between them. Children chase each other about, laughing merrily. There are a few stalls set up serving drinks and small food items, lines already forming for a sweet treat. To the left there is a large empty patch of floor where people are dancing and a band is playing a type of music I've never heard. I recognize a banjo and a guitar; vaguely I remember that one of the instruments is called a mountain dulcimer, something my mother talked about in her stories. Perhaps the other is called a fiddle; it looks like one I once saw in a book.

My eyes are drawn to Katniss, standing beside a young man with blond curls. She's smiling widely at something he's just said. I've never seen her wear a dress and her mane of long black hair is pulled back into an intricate design. They are standing just at the edge of the dancers.

Gale follows my line of sight and laughs lightly, "Looks like Catnip and the baker boy are being chummy again." We watch as Katniss pulls the boy onto the floor. She stops him and walks a few steps further. She turns toward the blond boy, but spots us over his shoulder. Her eyes light up and she holds up a hand in way of explanation to him as she heads towards us.

"Arwen, you came! We have to teach you flat-footin! Come-on, I was just about to show Peeta how it's really done," She pulls at me eagerly, tugging my hat off and directing me to remove my sweater. Gale laughs and follows us onto the dance floor, after he tosses our things onto a nearby crate.

The blond boy smiles when Katniss returns. "This is Peeta," Katniss gushes as she pulls me up to greet him.

Peeta offers a warm smile and a firm handshake, "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you. Gale, how are things?" He turns to Gale with another firm handshake.

"Been busy, but that's expected the first year on the job," Gale explains. Peeta Mellark nods his understanding.

"Katniss was just about to show me that she's a better dancer than me….or at least that's what she seems to think," he smirks as he glances at the flushed girl beside us.

"Well Mellark, she may have a point. She's one of the best in the Seam…maybe second-best to me," Gale grins as he appraises his hunting-partner. She feigns a look of outrage at him.

"You know, I'm better than you Hawthorne, admit it!" She croons, pulling his arm to drag him back to the place she was standing before she spotted us.

Another unfamiliar song is struck up by the band and Katniss and Gale start dancing individually. I'm transfixed by the light shuffles their feet make in time with the music. It seems like such a natural rhythm to them, like they are tethered to the floor, to the very earth beneath it. Peeta is smiling beside me. He whistles as Katniss and Gale move about before us, making the pair of them grin widely. Other people have come over to watch, spreading a swath of viewers to our right and left.

Peeta leans towards me, "You see, the thing about flat-footin' is, the lighter you are on your feet, the better you are. I'm not so light on my feet. Naturally, the best hunters in the district are."

"Back in Nine, we aren't light at all. We stomp as loud as we can and make our own music with our feet and hands. We like line-dances too," I say in return.

It looks as though Katniss and Gale's feet haven't moved an inch off the ground; they are stirring with such fine little movements, tapping away at the wood-plank floor. Gale's arms are raised to his waist, bobbing up and down like a puppet on a string, a marionette almost. He doesn't look stiff though, it's almost as if he's so relaxed that his body is flowing in the rhythm fully as though he was made of it. Suddenly, Katniss raises her right foot and crosses it over her left at ankle height.

"That's called shuffling," Peeta announces as though he can hear my thoughts on it.

Katniss begins to move backward and forward as she shuffles, like she's carving a path into the floor and the earth beneath it. Her fine footwork is so nearly silent and the band is playing at such a quiet lilt, that you can just barely hear the tap of her boots. I realize that Gale has stopped dancing and is standing admiring his friends' work. Katniss starts singing along with the music and her feet. Her voice immediately draws a swell out of my heart. There wouldn't be a word lovely enough to describe the quality of it. Her voice has a deep richness that is warm and otherworldly. People are quiet behind us and the lull of those talking at the tables is dying down as they all turn toward her. She doesn't even seem to notice, so caught up in the moment that she is focusing only on her feet.

I turn to Peeta, whose eyes are glued to the beautiful creature in front of us. He whispers to me almost reverently, "When she sings, even the mockingjays stop to listen."

"I've never heard something so beautiful," I breathe back quietly. He nods, still keeping his focus on her. "I have," he says quietly, "Her father had a voice that could move a mountain, rope the moon, and bring the forest into silence." I've not thought much about Josephine's first husband, but I've gleaned how fiercely she and her daughters seemed to love him from the way they talk about him. Then, just today I learned from Gale that their fathers had both been rebels.

As the song ends, the hush of the crowd becomes more evident. Katniss' voice ends on a sad note just before she looks up at the people gathered. A deep crimson blush blooms across her cheeks as the people around us clap heartily. I beam and clap along with them. At some point Gale had stepped back alongside me, "She's amazing isn't she? Doesn't even know it." He murmurs in my ear.

"Really and truly she is," I agree.

"You gonna show me how it's done in Nine?" Gale turns back to me as Katniss busies herself getting in line for a drink, Peeta trailing after her.

"Sure, but I'd have to get a partner to dance with. Know anyone from District 9?" I look around, as though I would spot someone familiar. I had seen a person here or there when I was out in town, but never anyone I knew very well.

"I'll find you someone right quick," Gale beams, "If you know any dances from District 9 come on up here," Gale hollers merrily through the throng of rowdy people.

A few people hoot and holler when an older man raises his arm, a drink in hand, tumbling through the crowd. Gale pushes me toward the man good-naturedly. He is blond and tan, reminding me of my father. The man sets his drink on a nearby card table. He turns to me with a wide smile and takes his hat off. He presses the hat to his chest as he bows to me the way men do in 9 when they ask a woman to dance, "Howdy ma'am, do me the honor?" he drawls in a familiar tone.

A large smile breaks across my face as I curtsy to him in return, crossing my ankles and pulling my dress sides out, "I most certainly will cowboy."

The man barks a laugh as we come together. We stand flush beside each other and cross our arms in front and behind, clasping our hands tight. Thom strikes up a lively tune on his banjo that Bristel matches with his fiddle. The tune isn't that different from the songs that are played at dances in 9.

"Sounds like it'll fit the beat of the ol' Ring-Line," the man says as he appraises the song. The Ring-Line involves a lot of heel kickin' and clog stompin' as the older folk would say. It's definitely one of the most complicated line dances.

"You up for that much cloggin' cowboy?" I ask him, half-joking about his stamina. It's a dance for younger folk, but by no means is it always that way.

"Why ma'am, I sure am. I was a real spitfire at the barn dance in my day, and I ain't lost much of it neither," he smirks as he straightens up. He grips my hands tighter and lets out a rip-roaring, "Yipee-yai-yao" to get our feet in the slap-happy mood.

We both jump in place twice and start to stomping. We twirl each other like a threading needle, pulling through and around dizzyingly. Our arms push and pull and slide along as our feet find a rhythm. He wasn't kidding when he said he was a real spitfire. His footwork is so fast, that I can barely keep time. My heart soars with excitement at the familiar steps. I find myself shouting out, a happy coyote howl.

My partner answers back with a loud caterwaul, releasing my hands and slapping his arms down to clap out a rhythm. It's a challenge for me to show him my footwork. I clap my hands in time and catch a quick glance of Gale over the man's shoulder. He has a smirk on his face and his eyes are shining.

I close my own eyes and feel my breath coming hard and fast. My cheeks ache with a smile I haven't felt in ages. I listen to the rhythm of the music and start my feet into a clip-clapping, side-tapping, skip jumping tempo. I set a real heavy pulse twisting my ankles to get the quickest rhythm. My partner howls and falls down on his knees. He starts slapping on his legs, goading me on. I twirl around him, beating away at the wooden floor. I see the fire of our old district fields in his eyes as I kick my knees up high, gripping my dress in both hands. I offer one giant right kick over his head and swing back around the other direction slapping the floor hard as I bring my left leg up over him. My partner bends down slapping the wood with his palms as I twirl away and staccato beat my way to a stop.

I grasp my sides, breathing heavy, but smiling. The man jumps up and makes a dramatic bow. I curtsy and nod my head for him to take his solo turn. He skips up and kicks his heals before his feet attack the floor. They race a steady heavy rhythm that click-clack-clicks beneath him. My smile grows and I slap my hands together in a counter-beat. My partner twists and turns around me in a slow circle, his feet moving a mile a minute. I hitch my dress up around me legs and start dancing to the counter-beat, swirling the fabric back and forth on my thighs as I merrily tap along. I start to realize that everyone around us is clapping along and hollering heartily.

Eventually my partner and I get back into the Ring-Line formation and finish out the steps to the dance. When the song has ended we both jump straight up twice, causing a loud stomp-stomp to resound. We clutch each other with one arm and our sides with the other arm. It takes me a moment to realize that I am laughing loudly, tears welling up in my eyes. People are clapping noisily around us.

My partner releases me and snatches up his hat. He bows before me; hat pressed against his chest once more, takes my hand and kisses it with a wide smile. "Mighty fine dancin' ma'am, it was a pleasure," he says as he straightens back up and places his hat on his head. He picks his drink back up and takes a hearty sip.

"No, the pleasure was all mine. Thank you kindly, sir," I say honestly as I try to catch my breath.

Gale approaches us, his face full of mirth. He looks more handsome than ever and if I wasn't already at a loss of breath I think I certainly would be after seeing him in this state. Good thing my face is already flushed too, I note. Gale slaps a hand on my partner's back and shakes his empty hand roughly. The man's drink sloshes around.

"You old dog, I didn't know you had that in you!" Gale laughs along with the man. I wonder if he works with Gale at the mine, or if they just know each other through some other means. Hunting perhaps?

"You met my wife officially yet?" Gale asks as he presses a warm palm into my back, pulling me forward. The heat feels divine, though I'm probably drenching him in sweat.

"The name's Boggs McGuff," the man introduces himself, reaching his hand toward me. I give his hand an enthusiastic shake, "Arwen Southerland-Hawthorne." I inform him with another bright smile, tacking my new name onto my old in hopes that he maybe knew my family. A look of recognition flashes in the man's eyes and he slams his drink down on the table.

"You Landon Southerland's girl?" I nod happily as he inquires about my father.

"Well, I'll be damned. Look at you, I bet you made your Daddy and grand-folks real proud." I certainly hope I did, I find myself thinking.

I shake my head and laugh, "Daddy and Mama got three more kids to be proud of. I just happened to be the first."

"And a fine looking first you are, you must take after your mama. I bet she's as radiant as the sun. How's your old man these days?" I blush at his compliment, but quickly focus on his question.

"Busy, but he has good work. The mill was runnin' nearly non-stop when I left. My Mama keeps him peaceful though, keeps him in line. It's Papa that has been gettin' troubled. Out of work for a while now and he can't stand it! If you know anything about him, you know my Nana is about ready to skin him alive and leave him for the coyotes," I quickly rattle off a good-natured report on my family.

Gale presses his palm more firmly into my back and I find myself turning my smile toward him. Our eyes meet briefly, but then Boggs draws my attention again, laughing like he knows just what I mean about my grand-parents.

"You know much of the McGuff's?" he asks, his eyes turning solemn and lonesome.

I try to concentrate on the name and see if it rings any bells. A cheerful freckle faced kid in Tomik's group at school comes to mind. He wasn't necessarily my brother's friend, but they were definitely friendly acquaintances.

"I don't know any elders, but there is a boy at school my brother's age. Jaxon McGuff, he must be about ten or so," I say, squinting my eyes, as I try to bring the kid fully to mind. Boggs' face melts into a soft smile. He takes a sip from his drink and nods.

"Must be my younger brother's boy, he stayed behind like your Daddy did," he explains. For Boggs this must be an exciting thing to hear about. News of your family is worth more than anything to a contracted person. If I were Boggs and someone brought word of my kin, I would be ecstatic.

"What's he like, this kid?" Boggs asks, taking another long swig and draining the rest of the drink. He takes a seat at the table and I feel Gale guiding me to the open chair across from the man. I smile and think about the little boy for a moment.

"Cheerful. Always joking and smiling. Tons of freckles," I say happily. Boggs laughs and nods again like he understands something about those traits.

"He has always been nice to my brother, even when other kids weren't." Boggs seems happy about that. His eyes urge me to continue, but there isn't much more I know about the boy. I think hard for a moment and suddenly remember that he has a little sister.

"Oh! He has a little sister too, maybe around five. I saw them walking home together once. She really looked up to him. I could tell, because that's the way Tomik looks at me sometimes. Like I could make wheat turn to spun gold." Boggs laughs and I wonder if that was the relationship he had with his little brother too. He would have been a bit older than him it sounds like.

Boggs looks off toward the crowd of people dancing, watching them as he responds, "Pity that I'll never meet them." It's almost a whisper and very near should be, because it's almost treasonous.

I just reach across and press my palm over his fist on the tabletop. It's really all I can do to comfort a stranger whose only connection with me is the place we both left behind.

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. - Love, Fortunefaded