Chapter 86

Katniss"I was thinking about making pasta for dinner tonight," Peeta says. I limp into the kitchen, biting my cheek to keep from wincing.

"I'm not hungry," I mumble. Peeta shuts the oven that was open just a few inches. I can tell he's angry. I ignore his stare and sit on a wooden stool by the center counter.

"Why are you mad at me, Katniss?" Peeta asks. I pretend to be interested in my hands.

"I'm not mad at you," I say, my voice quiet. I can hear Peeta's overdramatic sigh from the other side of the room. "I know you are. Was it something I did? Did I say something to you?"

"No!" I say, finally meeting his eyes. He gives me a look that says then what? "I'm fine." I focus my gaze on my hands in my lap again. Out of the corner of my eye I see him shake his head. He throws a dishtowel at the wall and I flinch slightly. Peeta is not violent. He doesn't get like this. It's just another way the Capitol took him from me. The destroyed some of my Peeta; my boy with the bread. I feel a pang of sudden sadness as he storms up the stairs and slams a door. I should have known nothing ever lasts. Not for me, anyways.

***I dream of the mutts ripping me to shreds. They're eyes and fur still look like they did in the arena. I spot the Rue mutt first. She has her fangs barred, slowly coming towards me, getting ready to pounce. A wolf that looks particularly like Thresh howls and races towards me. He's about one foot away from me before I wake up. I can still hear their barks and smell they're disgusting, hot breath.

I roll over onto my side on the couch and try not to shut my eyes again. I decided it would be better to sleep on the couch tonight. I didn't want to walk up the states and I really didn't want to face Peeta.

But right now I'm beginning to regret my choice. These nightmares still haunt me and I haven't learned to calm myself. Only Peeta can do that for me. I push myself up to stand. The sun has fully disappeared now. A full moon rests in it's place. I put my fingers against the cool glass and watch the night sky. I hear a faint wolf howl and step back immediately. Wolf mutts. I push that idea out of my head though. There's no way they're here. I doubt the mutts even exist anymore. The thought calms me slightly but I still feel on edge. They got the fog here five years ago. Who says they can't bring the mutts too?

I slip on a rug behind me but catch myself with a plush chair. I think about yelling for Peeta. Now I wish he was here with me. I don't care about earlier anymore. I was being selfish. Another howl somewhere. What if they're inside the gates of District 12? What if they've already found their first victim? Even if the wolves aren't mutts, they're still dangerous.

Before I can stop myself I yell for Peeta. Moments later, he's running down the steps so fast I'm afraid he might fall. "Nightmare?" he asks when he sees me sitting on the couch. I shake my head no.

"Yes," I say, suddenly deciding to start there. "It was the mutts in the Games; the dog mutts." Peeta sits next to me and I feel safer when his arms wrap around my waist. "I heard a howl outside."

"Katniss, I'm sure it was in the woods. And it's not the mutts. It's impossible."

"But what if it wasn't in the woods? It didn't sound that far away."

"We're safe here, okay?" he asks. I press my cheek into his chest and I feel happier when I catch his scent. He smells like food; like bread. I'm surprised and thankful he doesn't talk about how I was acting earlier. "Are you hungry? You didn't eat today." I hadn't realized it until now. I nod and he stands to go into the kitchen. It still feels awkward talking to him now. I can tell he feels it too. His eyes don't quite meet mine when we talk to each other. Mostly he'll stare at the ground. I'm greatful that he's not mad anymore. For a while I thought'd he'd get a flashback. And I'm not sure either of us could handle that right now. 

Just a few minutes later Peeta comes back into the living room with a tray of bread and a stew that I recognize as yesterday's leftovers. Usually Peeta takes the food we don't eat to the hungry in the Seam but he stopped going a while ago. I take a warm slice of bread in my hands. "You should eat too," I say. He doesn't respond but I tilt his chin up so he's looking right at me. I study his eyes. They're a light, pale blue but they're crystal clear. They have flecks of dark blue and gray, like my eyes, in them. I don't remember deciding it but before I know it, his lips are on mine. I feel the hunger inside of me, like I did in the Quarter Quell. This kiss feels brand new and beautiful. I entwine my fingers behind his neck and run my fingers through his hair. His arms are protectively wrapped around my waist. I pray that this moment will never end. Even though I saw him just a few hours ago, I didn't realize how much I really missed Peeta until now. 

When the kiss ends I silently chew my bread and occasionally feed Peeta a bit of stew or a chunk of bread. I completely forget about the wolves. The howls stopped eventually and I convinced myself they really did come from the woods. "I'm sorry," I mumble. Peeta nods and stares at his hands, obviously avoiding the topic. Peeta and I never fight. We never have until now. I wonder if my mother and father faught. If they did, they hid it. They never argued in front of Prim and I. Suddenly I remember one night I heard my father come home late from the mines. I snuck out of my room, careful not to wake Prim next to me. I couldn't hear them, but I could tell my mother was angry. I didn't know why then, but I know now. I've felt that fear of possibly losing someone. In the games, when Peeta and I split up to hunt and the cannon went off, I was so terrified I was angry. I remember yelling at Peeta about the berries. My mother yelled at my father. She had no idea why he wasn't coming home. Accidents weren't rare in the mines. Of course we would have felt a big explosion, like the one that did eventually kill my father, but small ones happen. We never know when they do either. After yelling quietly at my father that night, my mother began to cry. I tiptoed back to my room when she did. It was the first time I saw her cry like that. The second would be when a miner came to our house to deliver the news that her husband had been killed. 

"What are you thinking about?" Peeta asks, snapping me from my thoughts. I tell him it was nothing and take a bite of bread. Peeta and I fall asleep not long after that on the couch, in each other's arms.