Day 1 : Shriveled Leaves
Title: Shriveled Leaves
Author: missyblackslash
Prompt #:1. LEAF
Prompt table: L
Fandom: Hunger Games
Rating: G
Character/Pairing: Katniss/Peeta, Gale, Prim
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Word count: 725
Disclamer: I do not own Hunger Games or any of its characters and no profit is gained from the writing of this fic.
Summary: Katniss reflects on how her vision of the world changed after the games.
shriveled leaves
Autumn was once my favorite time of year. The leaves changing, painting the landscape in bright colors, turning our otherwise dull district into a tapestry of gold, crimson, and brown. The hard stare of the summer sun would finally lighten, shifting its focus to another while a cool fall breeze kisses your cheek.
Gale and I would make bets to see who could bring in the most game on an autumn day, counting on the sleepy eyed rabbits and wobbly legged deer walking off the summer fog and not yet spry on their feet. Some days Gale would trap a dozen or more rabbits, all those young kits out to stretch their new legs. I'd easily shoot just as many squirrel and then we'd head to the Hob to trade for new clothes for Prim and his brothers. We'd haggle for material, quibbling over a yard here and a square there in order to lengthen sleeves and cover worn, peek-a-boo knees.
Prim loved her garden and would get so excited over her small harvest of beans, sprouts, and herbs. It did make our meager meals more flavorful, warming us better than any day in the August sunshine. We'd laugh and tell stories around the dining table, canning and drying any food we could to prepare for the long winter months ahead. Mother was even more like her old self, humming softly as she prepared her medicines. She worked right beside us and we would often see a small lift to the corners of her thin, pink lips. You had to look from the corner of your eye, catch it at a glance, because if she caught you staring straight on, she'd flinch like a spooked animal, losing her tiny smile to her normal, stoic features.
Prim loved the longer nights as well. She would sit up counting stars and then beg me to tell her stories about the constellations. The few I could remember from school had long lost their meaning, but I could never say no to her sweet, hopeful face and so I'd do my best to draw out tales about the winged horse and the archer.
That all seems so long ago now.
I step out on the porch of my new home on victory lane. I may be proud but I'm not a fool. I accepted my place as champion and took the spoils of war even when the cost seemed too high a price to bear. I wince as the autumn breeze now sends a chill deep down to my bones. Peeta is soon right beside me. He's never far. He tries to sooth my jagged nerves but his touch does little to warm me, the pain of what was lost is still too fresh, even though Prim's laughter seems like a faint echo in my mind. I no longer find pleasure in the beautiful splashes of color that surround me. Peeta helps me to work around the jagged edges of my sorrow. He makes me get out of bed each morning, makes sure I wash and eat. He seems convinced that continual motion is proof of life. I'm grateful even if I don't tell him so because I think if he were to stop prodding, I might sit still and let the moss grow up my limbs, fall asleep dormant and never awaken.
It's somewhat ironic, isn't it? The girl on fire no longer sees beauty in the world on fire. Now all I see are the shriveled leaves, a sad reminder of what used to be.
Peeta pulls me from my dour thoughts and back inside for some breakfast.
“I love you, Katniss.” he tells me, as he tucks me under his arm. “One day soon you'll be able to see past the pain, when the colors are more muted and the sting less sharp. We'll get married and maybe even have our own kids. I'll bake bread and teach them to paint. I'll make you happy, Katniss. I promise you.”
I lean my face into his broad chest, inhaling deeply and nodding. I close my eyes and allow myself a small glimpse of his dream, green leaves and fresh flowers, springtime and new beginnings.
“I believe you, Peeta.” I whisper into his shirt as he pulls me to a chair, the smells of baked bread filling the small kitchen with hope.
Author: missyblackslash
Prompt #:1. LEAF
Prompt table: L
Fandom: Hunger Games
Rating: G
Character/Pairing: Katniss/Peeta, Gale, Prim
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Word count: 725
Disclamer: I do not own Hunger Games or any of its characters and no profit is gained from the writing of this fic.
Summary: Katniss reflects on how her vision of the world changed after the games.
shriveled leaves
Autumn was once my favorite time of year. The leaves changing, painting the landscape in bright colors, turning our otherwise dull district into a tapestry of gold, crimson, and brown. The hard stare of the summer sun would finally lighten, shifting its focus to another while a cool fall breeze kisses your cheek.
Gale and I would make bets to see who could bring in the most game on an autumn day, counting on the sleepy eyed rabbits and wobbly legged deer walking off the summer fog and not yet spry on their feet. Some days Gale would trap a dozen or more rabbits, all those young kits out to stretch their new legs. I'd easily shoot just as many squirrel and then we'd head to the Hob to trade for new clothes for Prim and his brothers. We'd haggle for material, quibbling over a yard here and a square there in order to lengthen sleeves and cover worn, peek-a-boo knees.
Prim loved her garden and would get so excited over her small harvest of beans, sprouts, and herbs. It did make our meager meals more flavorful, warming us better than any day in the August sunshine. We'd laugh and tell stories around the dining table, canning and drying any food we could to prepare for the long winter months ahead. Mother was even more like her old self, humming softly as she prepared her medicines. She worked right beside us and we would often see a small lift to the corners of her thin, pink lips. You had to look from the corner of your eye, catch it at a glance, because if she caught you staring straight on, she'd flinch like a spooked animal, losing her tiny smile to her normal, stoic features.
Prim loved the longer nights as well. She would sit up counting stars and then beg me to tell her stories about the constellations. The few I could remember from school had long lost their meaning, but I could never say no to her sweet, hopeful face and so I'd do my best to draw out tales about the winged horse and the archer.
That all seems so long ago now.
I step out on the porch of my new home on victory lane. I may be proud but I'm not a fool. I accepted my place as champion and took the spoils of war even when the cost seemed too high a price to bear. I wince as the autumn breeze now sends a chill deep down to my bones. Peeta is soon right beside me. He's never far. He tries to sooth my jagged nerves but his touch does little to warm me, the pain of what was lost is still too fresh, even though Prim's laughter seems like a faint echo in my mind. I no longer find pleasure in the beautiful splashes of color that surround me. Peeta helps me to work around the jagged edges of my sorrow. He makes me get out of bed each morning, makes sure I wash and eat. He seems convinced that continual motion is proof of life. I'm grateful even if I don't tell him so because I think if he were to stop prodding, I might sit still and let the moss grow up my limbs, fall asleep dormant and never awaken.
It's somewhat ironic, isn't it? The girl on fire no longer sees beauty in the world on fire. Now all I see are the shriveled leaves, a sad reminder of what used to be.
Peeta pulls me from my dour thoughts and back inside for some breakfast.
“I love you, Katniss.” he tells me, as he tucks me under his arm. “One day soon you'll be able to see past the pain, when the colors are more muted and the sting less sharp. We'll get married and maybe even have our own kids. I'll bake bread and teach them to paint. I'll make you happy, Katniss. I promise you.”
I lean my face into his broad chest, inhaling deeply and nodding. I close my eyes and allow myself a small glimpse of his dream, green leaves and fresh flowers, springtime and new beginnings.
“I believe you, Peeta.” I whisper into his shirt as he pulls me to a chair, the smells of baked bread filling the small kitchen with hope.