Chapter Text
It was my 17th birthday, and life had dealt me an absolutely dismal hand.
My mother walked out on us a few weeks short of my 16th birthday, but by then we were too big and strong to control any more by the throbbing of fists, or the stinging of open palms on our flesh, we had learned that our wills didn’t have mold to the shape she gave us through knuckles and verbal battery.
She screamed to the heavens above her, as she walked out the door, that nothing on the land she was denied a loving family with a doting husband and submissive sons AND daughters, would stand the time and survive. And that was that.
Then, father’s heart stopped working one day, leaving my siblings and I alone suddenly. My brother Graham was old enough to take over ownership of the bakery and my brother Bran and mine’s custody. It was a lot for an 19 year old boy who just lost both parents, but he did as everything he could to keep things afloat, until the accident.
One of our ovens wasn’t cleaned properly. There was a large residue of lard that came in direct contact with the flames, and the fire just spread higher and higher. Bran and Graham took their aprons off and started beating the flames, but the cloth just got saturated with the now melted fat, and tongs of for just followed them whichever way the aprons flew.
Remembering the many warnings my father had gave us, I pour as much baking soda as I could pick up on my bare hands on the inferno, but it wasn’t enough.
Other people came and saw that my tactic was working the best and they simply picked up the container of baking soda from the ground and dumped on the ovens.
The damage was incalculable. But the worst part was my brothers injuries. They both sustained scorching burns to their arms, legs, torsos… for a time I thought I’d even lose Graham, since he got them the worse.
That when the whispers started to spring from everywhere. The curse of the Mellark bakery was soon all the town could speak off.
Since I was the only one left unharmed, I took to baking dawn to dusk in the only oven we had left out five, just so we could still make coins, and when the baking was done, I’d nurse my brothers back to health as best as I could. But ingredients where running low, the quality of the bread was suffering too, one boy couldn’t possibly maintain all the work of 4 men, and still go home to tend sick siblings.
My sales were already hurting, and the building of the bakery simply shifted and fell on account of the fires damaging some beams. The odds weren’t in my favor.
More than enough people walked straight up to me, and proclaimed me cursed, and although, I had never been one to put stock in superstitions like the rest of my town, I started to believe their spiel once things didn’t improved, but seemed to get worse.
I was so down in spirit, that I started procuring fixes I had heard of from popular old wives tales. I tried any tradition, recipe, and rituals recommended to me as long as it promised to turn my fortune around, then came the lucky charms and amulets people swore by.
Then it escalated to more obscure remedies.
The crazier, more fantastic and unusual the suggestion was to better my situation, the more determined I became to try it. It wasn’t until I poured a whole basin full of urine and waste from my neck down, because the stench would repel bad spirits and curses, that I realized all of the cures were pointless, empty attempts at something that was probably never going to help.
But, there was something else. Someone else I had yet to try. Yet, the thought of it, scared me to core.
“Call her,” my middle brother whispered tremulously as I changed the bandages on his mangled arm. “What else can go wrong?”
He was right.
We didn’t have much else to lose; we were pretty much broke on our asses, with no prospects of improvement, or discernible solution.
A cold chill ran down my spine.
I nodded. It was time to call on her. She was probably our last hope.
The day started chilly, but the sky was clear and a young sun was slowly climbing higher as promise of a bright day ahead; always a good sign!
headed to the market, hoping to be in and out of there in no time with the information I needed. However, my mission proved to be harder than I thought, and ‘no-time’ became many hours of nothing but grunted warnings of “get out of here and never ask those questions again,” or the equally unnerving hissed pleads of “Not so loud! Are you an idiot or something?”.
Everybody knew of her, but not many people were inclined to talk about it, not even the ones that openly frequented her.
Witch, they called her. Sorceress, enchantress, seer.
There also were the less flattering names some of the women gave her: sinner, loose, temptress.
Truth was, everyone refused to even say her name too loud, for fear she’ll mistake it for a summon and came knocking on their door. I guess I should’ve started with that and saved myself the trouble of trudging around town all day.
“Katniss, Lady of the Woods,” I whispered dragging out the last syllable of her name with reverence.
When nothing happened, I smiled ruefully to myself. Then again, something told me it would take more than just saying her name aloud to bring her into town.
In a last ditch effort, I ventured into The Hob, an old, dilapidated warehouse, that had been abandoned for years, until illegal brewers started selling bootlegged liquor, and soon other banned goods were added to list of merchandise bartered for in secret, creating a very profitable black market of sorts.
The Hob's arranged in two aisles stacked with little stands bearing all kinds of wild artifacts for sale. I’ve been there on multiple occasions before, when I foolishly thought I could help myself out of my issues with cheap amulets. If I was going to find any useful intel on how to bring the Lady from the Woods here, the Hob was the place for it, and for the right price, I was right.
Too bad I had no coins or goods to trade for secrets. Nobody wanted stale and hardened bread.
I thought my day had been a waste. I was starving, and my feet were killing me from going from stall to stall trying to finagle, or even bribe information from the stubborn people of my town, so I started for the exit of the warehouse, dejected and downtrodden.
But a little old lady waved me down holding a ladle in one hand, and her free hand on her hip.
“Come boy! Have a hot bowl of my nutritious squirrel stew! It’ll put some pep back in your step, m’dear.”
I sighed and turned to acknowledge the lady and politely decline her offer.
“Thank you much, ma’am. But truth be told, although your stew does smell delicious from where I’m standing, I don’t have much to trade for it at the moment.”
The lady cackled merrily, “Did I asked for a trade, boy?”
She stared at me with amused, sharp, gray eyes for a second, while I tried to decipher if her question had been rhetoric or not.
“I don’t need any payment from you, boy, but you look like you need a bite of something substantial to fill them hollow cheeks with some color.”
She had a point. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten something fresh, but I wasn’t about to let on about that fact.
I feebly tried refusing once more, before taking a seat on a wobbly stool at her stand, the whole time making a show at how reluctant I was about it, but once she sat the piping hot stew in front of me, I surprise even myself by how fast I cleaned the bowl.
The old lady laughed merrily, ladling another serving into my dried bowl. This time all I could muster was a genuinely grateful nod of acceptance, while wondering if she’d be offended if I took the rest of the stew home for my brothers.
She seemed to have be reading my mind, or maybe it just was that my worries were that evident.
“Let me make you a deal boy,” she started, her piercing eyes scanning my face.
I gulped my spoonful of stew painfully, I knew the food wasn’t gonna come free. I knew some retribution was to be paid at some point, I was just surprised the collection came so fast.
I looked up at her almost fearful, but her smile was so kind and her eyes though soul searching, where warm and understanding, I just nodded.
“I’m gonna tell you all you need to do to call Katniss to you,” She said, studying me.
My eyes widened for a moment. I looked around us, making sure we hadn’t been overheard.
“How did you know?” I asked a little startled.
She chuckled. “Boy, everyone knows about the Mellark’s curse. Everyone in the Hob has made a shiny penny out of you selling you trinkets that wouldn’t have work even on a common cold.
“There’s a betting pool going around at your expense, boy.” says the old woman gauging my reaction. “People been waiting for the moment you finally break down and call for her.”
“Why?” I ask confused, hurt and offended.
The lady simply shaked her head sadly. “You’ve endured so much, for longer than anyone should.
“That said, not everyone has your patience and strength, and that’s a good thing, kid. So here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna help you call Katniss to help you, but I’m gonna warn you, there’s a price for her visit, and you must pay up front if you want her to help you.”
“And what would you want in return?” I asked suspiciously.
The old woman’s eyes twinkled then, “Ah, old Sae doesn’t want much, my pet. Just a steady supply of bread when your fortune turns.”
“How much bread? How long?” This supposing the odds get in my favor at all.
There was something in old Sae’s eyes besides the sly twinkle that characterized Hob vendors: hopeful expectation.
“My bargain, if you chose to strike it, is to provide me and my granddaughter of fresh, hearty bread, until my grandchild can support herself. I’m all she’s got, and I’m getting up in age. You’d do me a great favor, and all it’d cost you is the restoration of your good luck.”
“What if I default?” I asked with apprehension.
“Oh, that doesn’t worry me one bit. Katniss will see to that. She will know how to hold you accountable.” She smiles toothily, full of confidence. “What say you, boy? Do we have a deal?”
Dispelling a stuttering breath, I extended my hand and contract was sealed as soon as she took my palm in hers.
“Are you sure about this, Peeta?” Asked my brother from the askew frame of back door of what was left standing from our old bakery.
I looked at him, rubbing the spot on his arm where his injury bothered him the most.
I nodded, “We have no choice Bran. It’ll be alright. Our luck will turn around, I can feel it in my bones!”
“What if she asks for something we can’t give her?” Bran asks limping just out of the door.
“You let me worry about it. Father always said I was the best barter!” I told him, faking a cocky smirk, while fighting off the urge to run for the hills I felt rising inside.
My brother simply gave me a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile, “I hope you’re successful, little brother. Forgive me and Graham for not being more help?”
I looked at him fondly. “Thank you Bran. You both do enough as it is. We will figure this all out.!”
My brother finally slinked inside the crumbling building that used to be our family’s livelihood, and I readied myself for follow the instructions old Sae jutted down for me earlier that afternoon.
I took a deep breath, and opened the bag full of critter innards I need as part of the ritual. It was a good thing I convinced Sae trade the guts for a set of wooden spoons that still looked pretty new, otherwise I don’t think I would have had the means to acquire such an odd ingredient. I placed the disgusting bits as nicely as I could in a teacup on its saucer. I added a few catnip leaves, per Sae’s suggestion, as garnish.
I didn’t quite understand it, but the woman has summoned The Witch many a times, she’s well verse in the requirements.
I checked my notes again, ran down the list of gifts and arranged my meager offerings.
I placed the gifts of flowers in a tin watering can that survived the fire that destroyed my home. The only flowers in bloom were the often overlooked dandelions, I collected both yellow and white seeded heads, everything else was still dead, or just beginning to bud.
Then, last, the gift of food, old woman Sae insisted I had to give the best food I had in my possession, the best thing I had, the only thing I had left in my entire bakery, was a loaf of hearty raisins and nuts bread, that was just a tag burnt on one end.
That, I placed in clean cloth and held against my chest for safe keeping.
I was supposed to placed all my offerings at the foot of a tree, and chant a prayer while holding the prize I thought was the most worthy.
There was only one tree in the plot of land the bakery stood on. An old, scraggly Apple tree, too weak and pathetic to even bear fruits. But that’s where I went.
I laid a wool blanket at the foot of the apple tree, then as carefully as I could, I placed my tree gifts on the blanket and then took a last look at the ruins of the bakery, lamenting everything I had lots, all the suffering my brothers and I had to faced until this point, and I knew it was time to end this streak of awful luck.
I was ready!
I knelt on the hard, frozen ground in front of the tree and the offerings, held my burnt loaf of bread aloft to the skies, and took a deep, deep breath, and let the words old lady Sae couched me to recite by heart, flow out of my mouth as if this was the sweetest love letter I’ve ever sent out.
“Root in the water, tip of the arrow, bearer of fire, air under mockingjay wings, I summon thee, Lady of the Woods, Kat—“
“Burnt bread, why what a peculiar gift!” A voice as soft as silk spoke over my shoulder, causing me to freeze in an incomprehensible panic.
Every hair in my body stood on point; my breath caught on my throat right along with a shriek that couldn’t get past my thumping heart as it tried to escape my body out of my mouth.
When a warm puff of air that smell faintly of mint collided with the shell of my ear, I turned slowly towards it, too see who was it interrupting my ritual.
But lo the shiniest gray eyes I’ve ever met peered right back me, brimming with curiosity and mirth.
My eyes widened in surprise. The girl stood back a moment like a confounded gekko, and then smirked the most mischievous smile I’ve ever seen.
“Right!” she chuckled rolling her eyes ruefully, “I’m supposed to introduce myself!” in the blink of an eye, her nose was a hair's breadth from mine, and she whispered lowly, “I’m Katniss.”
When my eyes only widened, she breathed out an eerie,
“Boo!”
I wish I could say my response to her antics was manly and brave, but the truth is that I shrieked as high pitched as a little girl, and fell on my ass in my haste to retreat from her.
Katniss skipped around me giggling merrily, “Peeta, stand up!” She called from above me, covering her laughter with one hand, while lowering her other in front of me, to help me up.
I was petrified in the ground, sprawled legged and scraped palms.
She was the oddest thing I’ve ever seen: she was short in stature, about 6 inches shorter than me, her long dark hair hanged down her back in a loose braid that swayed gracefully every time she moved. Her skin was a creamy olive color, not unlike people from the Seam side of my village, and her eyes were a shifting gray, that somehow looked like tongues of fire dancing in the depths of her irises.
Her attire was also peculiar. She wore a long gossamer black skirt, with sturdy dark trousers underneath, a fitted leather vest over green wide collar, loose sleeve blouse. Lester lace up boots as high as her shins completed her ensemble. I had never seen anyone dressed quite like her, but I guess what really caught my eye, was her youth.
She didn’t look a day inlet than me, and I wonder how she managed such a feat. Were the entrails she demanded what kept her so fresh faced?
I finally took her hand.
Her laughter quieted when I finally found my footing. She smirked, while her slate gray eyes danced in amusement between my own that after the initial shock of the encounter, were riveted to her surprisingly beautiful face.
“Alright, enough monkeying around! Tell me Peeta Mellark, are you going to explain your gift of burnt bread, or should I go ahead, be offended by it, and curse you for your audacity and lack of respect right here and now?” She pursed her pink, full lips, in a mock scowl.
Instead of answering her question, I blurted our one of my own, “You know my name?”
She rolled her eyes again, this time less amused.
“Of course I know your name. How would I come to the right seeker if I didn’t know who they were?” She finally laughed. “I’m sorry for startling you. I couldn’t resist.” She offers.
“Now back to the bread? Isn’t this the fare your mother served to her pigs?”
Her face is hard to read, she could be either smiling or grimacing, I’m not sure.
“Well?” She posed expectantly
“I-no! That’s not- I swear, this isn’t what it looks like! The loaf isn’t burnt… I mean, it is, but just the crust! The inside is completely unharmed, I promise, Miss Everdeen… mistress! Mistress Everdeen” I tripped on my own words, impressed I was even able to emit sounds out of my mouth all
The whole time, Katniss just studied my face arching one eyebrow, as if truly waiting for an explanation. I realized I had to get myself under control, calm down and give her a coherent clarification about the situation.
I closed my eyes real tight, forced my lungs to work slowly, and pleaded with my heart to slow down as well. When I thought I was sufficiently under control, I tried in vain to maintain eye contact with her.
“This is the last fresh loaf of bread in my house.” I started, “everything else is gone. I knew I had to offer you something special, so I brought this loaf, because it was the last thing my siblings and I have left to eat.”
“And you give it to me freely?” She asked lightly. “Please do not fib. I can tell if you do.” She more pleaded than warned.
Embarrassed, I bowed my head to the ground. It took a second, but I finally responded.
“The bread is a sacrifice. Not much for myself, but for my brothers. I would give away anything for them.” I sighed, “I give you this offering freely, to save the ones I love.”
She leaned close to me, and lifted my eyes to her with touch of her cool fingers under my chin. “The gift is accepted. I will grant you one wish for the bread. Ask and by nightfall you’ll have your answer.”
“I want my brothers to be healed,”
“As you wish. Come to the edge of the wood to bring home a tincture they have to bathe in.”
“And what of my favor, the one I truly want you to hear of?” I asked equal parts agitated, scared and relieved.
“Oh? There’s more?” There was and edge of humor in her question, and her eyes quickly glanced at the dilapidated bakery beside us. “I’m just teasing. I know what it is you want, Peeta Mellark, youngest son of the baker.
“Come to my home in the morning. Bring your gift of flowers, if none dies overnight, then I’ll grant you a real audience.”
“What about the entrails?” I asked desperately. “How would I know where you live? I’ve never been to the woods?”
She huffed impatiently, tapping her foot to the ground. “If the entrails” She scrunched up her nose in disgust, “are a pleasing tribute, then my guide will come fetch you and lead you on the right path.”
She picked up the teacup and saucer, and gave them a revolted glance. She placed it in a small pouch she produced from inside her skirt, and tucked in the strings into a loop of her vest.
“Don’t be late!” She announced, walking away from him.
“You didn’t say what time?” I called after her.
“What would be the fun in that? I have to keep you in your toes!” She laughed over her shoulders, and I was transfixed by the sound.
She turn around the corner, and I just had to see where was she headed, so I picked my head on the side of the wall.
She skipped to a halt, and placed her fists on her hips.
“What are you doing?” She chastised a hydrangea bush on my neighbor's sidewalk. “Are you stalking me?”
A furry orange ball shot from under the low branches, and into the pouch she had put the guts in the teacup in, just now it was as big as a knapsack.
She gasped.
“What?” She asked in aggravation. “How dare you imply that?”
A beat passed and she shook from head to toe with an indignant growl.
“You insolent, little, vermin! I did not do such a thing! I’ll have you know, boys are well below my concern, even handsome ones! Now shut up and eat your tripes!”
A hard tap of her foot on the stone sidewalk, and she disappeared from my sight.
I blinked confusedly. I came out of my hiding spot, I lurked in a circle around the place I last seen her, but she had vanished leaving no traces behind.
My old childhood friend, Delly Cartwright was staring from her shop across the street. She rushed to me and asked fearfully.
“Was that… Katniss?” She whispered the name covering her mouth with both hands.
“Yeah,” I responded stupidly.
“She just…”
“Vanished!”
“Did you call her?” Delly asked.
I nodded. “I have to come collect a remedy for Bran and Graham, and tomorrow I must venture into the woods for the next part of my trail.”
“Do be careful. I have never heard of a person to venture into her realm, and come back unharmed.”
Truth be told… I’ve never heard of a person venture into her realm, period. But that’s what she commanded, and that’s what I was doing.