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This is the first harvest festival since the war ended. The new town square was finished last week. Though most of the shops and buildings surrounding the square are still under construction. Makeshift tables that have been set up for the occasion lay flat and even on the new gray cobblestone. Logs, benches, and bales of hay have been repurposed as chairs. Bright, colorful banners and wreaths decorate the light posts.
Everyone pitched in what they could. The tables were filled with apple cider, tea, stew, rice, roots, greens, nuts, and cornbread. Peeta baked several dozen pumpkin streusel muffins. Many residents from other Districts brought their own traditional dishes, fish, meat pies, and fried bread were plentiful. My favorite new dish I tried was barbecue beef ribs from District 10. Spirits for the adults were also freely flowing.
After everyone finished eating, there were games like ring toss and sack racing for the children to compete in for prizes. A couple of the older kids hosted a race with the piglets they’re raising.
Peeta even participated in the apple bobbing. Old Clark Carmine played a few songs on the fiddle. Although the fiddle is the only source of music, it didn’t stop people from dancing. Delly took it upon herself to teach the newcomers the steps to our songs. I added to my list of good deeds I have going in my head. So when Peeta extended his hand to me, I took it instantly. We danced until I was out of breath and smiling like a fool.
The sun set hours ago, and we’re now sitting on a bale of hay next to a large bonfire on the edge of the square near the meadow. What started as a loud and rushed day has turned into a quiet and comforting night. Most people have gone home, a few of us remain around the fire.
Delly and her brother, Putnam, Thom, Peeta, and I sit in a half circle on one side of the fire. Sage and Rosemary, a pair of sisters from 11, sit on the other side. Haymitch sits on the far end. A group of young kids sit near Haymitch. They whisper among themselves and turn their heads to the meadow. From where I’m sitting, the kids look like little birds perched at Haymitch’s feet.
I hold my icy fingers to the flames, attempting to warm up. The cream colored wool sweater I’m wearing isn’t enough to fight off the cold. Thankfully, Peeta’s next to me, and despite his hair still being slightly damp, he radiates heat like a furnace. His blue eyes are transfixed on the flames in front of him. I quickly abandon the flames and stick my hands into Peeta’s coat.
“Ah, cold hands!” Peeta exclaims.
“I know, warm them up for me,” I whine. I rub my hands up and down his torso in fast swipes.
“Come here,” Peeta cups my hands into his, brings them close to his mouth, and exhales a warm puff of air over them. I feel the warmth travel from my fingers to the rest of my body. My muscles relax, and I focus on the euphoric sensation of Peeta’s lips on my fingertips.
“You’re smiling,” Peeta says softly.
“It’s been a good day,” I say.
Peeta smiles too. My days have been more bad than good lately. I started to take the pills last month, and they’ve just made me feel worse. I’m fatigued, and I cry almost every day. Dr. Aurelius insists it takes time to figure out what combination of pills works. I would have given up on the pills entirely, but Peeta promises it’ll get better.
I wasn’t sure about coming to the festival, but Peeta thought it would be fun. I couldn’t say no. The truth is, there’s very little I could deny him.
“Is that better?” Peeta asks.
He guides my hands away from his face. I pout slightly, but I take the opportunity to intertwine my fingers with his.
“A little,” I answer.
Peeta looks around the fire before he leans into my ear and whispers, “Tell you what. We head home, and I can get you all warmed up.”
I feel blood rush to my face at his implication. But I’m distracted by Delly’s laughter. I turn my head toward the sound and catch Delly gently shoving Thom with her shoulder.
“Stop it! It isn’t true!” Delly says through giggles.
“No, it is,” Thom insists, “My Papaw swore by it until the day he died.”
“What are you talking about, Thom?” Peeta asks.
Delly turns her attention to Peeta and says, “It’s nothing. Thom is just trying to scare me.”
“Not scare. Warn!” Thom interjects.
“He’s trying to trick us into believing a hairy man lives in the woods,” Putnam says with a laugh.
“His name is Bigfoot,” Thom clarifies.
“Bigfoot? Isn’t that just an old story parents used to tell to keep kids out of the woods?” I ask.
“No, no, it’s true. My Papaw told me the story from when he was young. Alright,” Thom claps his hands together, “It was the middle of summer, and Papaw crossed the fence with a couple of his buddies to take a dip in the river. After a couple of hours of swimming, they saw it. A big, tall, hairy man on the ridge overlooking the valley. He was at least eight feet tall, covered in long brown and black hair, and was standing on two legs.”
Chatter around the bonfire quiets down as everyone listens to Thom’s story.
“Papaw and his friends were frozen right there in the water. They don’t know what to do. They had no weapons or any way to defend themselves. They watched as the man made a guttural howl and slowly retreated into the trees and out of sight.”
“Then what did they do?” Delly asks.
“They got the hell out of there! Papaw ran straight out of the water and didn’t stop until he got home. He didn’t even grab his clothes.” Thom’s laughing.
“What do you think, Katniss? Is there a Bigfoot?” Peeta asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard the stories, but I’ve never seen it.” I answer.
“All I’m saying is since the fence came down, we outta be careful walking around at night,” Thom puts his hands up in defense.
“I don’t know about any Bigfoot, but there’s a witch up in those mountains,” Haymitch says in a low voice.
He points a finger toward the mountains to the east of District 12. The half-empty bottle in his hand tells me he’s not as drunk as he normally is.
“What witch?” Putnam asks.
“The Cumberland Witch.”
Cumberland Witch… The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. It’s probably another old district story to keep kids inside the fence.
“It’s an old story. Older than me. Older than District 12. Older than Panem. I heard it a long time ago.” Haymitch's voice is steady, which only makes me more uneasy.
“She lives in a cave deep in those mountains. You don’t want to find it, because if you do, you’ll wish you hadn’t, but by then it’ll be too late.”
The children by Haymitch’s feet turn to face him and settle in to hear the story.
“These mountains used to be called Appalachia. District 12 sits in the middle of what used to be called the Cumberland. You see, kids… these mountains are old. They hold a lot of history and secrets…. A long time ago, in an old town not too far from here, a husband and wife struggled to start a family. After plenty of heartbreak, a baby girl was finally born. She was an easy baby and a golden child. She did what she was told, did well in school, went to church,” Haymitch pauses to take a swing of his bottle.
Wait, I do know this story. It’s the same one my father used to tell me when I was a child. It used to scare me so bad that I crawled into my parents' bed. As I got older and started going to the woods with my father, he’d always warn me never to stay in the woods after dark. When I asked why, he said the Witch who lives in the woods would find me. As I got older, I rationalized the real reasons I should never be in the woods at night, but I could never shake the story of the Cumberland Witch.
“Legend has it, on the night of the Girl’s 18th birthday, the Devil paid her a visit. Told her he could grant wishes, and she could have whatever her heart desired. She signed her name in his book. From that night on, life in the family home became a nightmare. Banging on the walls and ceilings at all hours of the night. Whispers out of thin air. Items would fly across the room. Anyone who entered the house would feel sick and vomit. The mother would be poked by invisible needles. They said the Girl started doing all sorts of odd things. She stopped eating, spoke in strange languages, ate insects, and stuck her hands in fires, but would never burn.”
I grip Peeta’s arm tightly and rest my chin on his shoulder. Peeta takes my hand in his and squeezes gently.
“Her parents didn’t know what to do. Their sweet daughter turned into something they didn’t recognize. Then the Girl started to have visions of the future. She would predict when a mining explosion would happen or when a storm would hit with one hundred percent accuracy. One of her last predictions was that a neighbor’s newborn would die, and when the baby died that same week… There wasn’t much her parents could do to stop the mob from dragging the Girl out of the house. The Girl was being accused of practicing witchcraft and selling her soul to the Devil. Everyone had already decided she was guilty, so they took her into the woods and drowned her in the lake.”
I feel the energy around the fire shift. A gust of wind sweeps across the meadow, and it catches some embers from the fire. The glow settles over the group, engulfing us in a warm light.
“After her death, things were quiet for a few days. Reports of sightings of the Girl around town started coming in. Except she wasn’t a girl anymore. She had become an angry, vengeful spirit. Only at night. Only in the woods. Then the people who were a part of the mob that killed her started to drop dead. Suicides, accidents, illness… one by one, each person who was there died. Then kids started to go missing. Adults too. Anyone who went looking for her in those woods… They never came back. You don’t want the Cumberland Witch to catch you.”
CRAW!!
A loud screech coming from the woods startles us all. A couple of the kids let out a yelp. Rosemary gasps loudly and grabs a hold of her sister. Even Thom looks shaken. We all look around for the source of the sound. My eyes scan the trees on the far end of the Square. No witch in sight.
Haymitch lets out a loud howl, which quickly turns into coughing.
“Don’t worry, kids. No one’s seen the Witch in a long time… That was probably some bird.”
The group of kids quickly rose to their feet and took off towards the rows of new housing. Their laughter and screams about the Cumberland Witch fill the streets. I watch them as they disappear around the corners when Peeta nudges me gently.
“Have you ever seen the Cumberland Witch, Katniss?” He asks.
“No,” I say with a slight shake of my head, “My dad told me the story when I was little, but I don’t make it a habit to stay in the woods past dark.”
“Because of the Witch?”
“It’s not practical.”
Peeta’s eyes dart around the square and the trees.
“You didn’t get scared by Haymitch’s story, did you?” I ask innocently.
“What? Of course not,” Peeta forces a chuckle, “What to head home now?”
I nod in agreement. We stand and say our goodnights to the small group that remains around the fire. Putnam seems ready to leave, but Delly is making eyes at Thom again, so he might have to wait a bit longer. I loop my arm through Peeta’s.
“We’re heading home, Haymitch. You coming?” I ask.
“Sure, it’s getting cold out here,” Haymitch struggles to his feet.
We take the walk home a bit slower on account of Haymitch. His slow, staggered steps behind us tell me he hasn’t fallen over yet.
We’re leaving the square, moving away from the lights and voices and into the lonely path towards Victor’s Village. Red and orange leaves crunch under my foot. The wind is picking up, and the rustling of the trees grows louder. More houses are going to be put up in this direction. I can see the foundations have been set in rows on either side of the path. It’ll be nice to have closer neighbors, or at least Peeta thinks so.
“The festival was fun,” I say.
“It was, wasn’t it? What was your favorite part?”
“The food was amazing. The piglet race was adorable. My favorite part, though, was when you decided to dunk your whole head in that barrel.”
“I was trying to catch an apple!”
“It was for the kids.”
“The apple bobbing was for individuals 8 and up. I’m “up”, Katniss.”
“Yes, I know. But Peeta, if you wanted an apple, I could just get one from the woods.”
“I wanted to earn it. I didn’t realize it was impossible to catch one with your mouth.”
I can’t help but laugh, “What about you?”
“I guess just seeing everyone celebrating and being happy together,” Peeta answers.
We are about halfway home when Peeta adds, “I’m thinking of telling Thom yes.”
I can’t help but smile. Thom approached Peeta about the bakery the same week he came back to District 12. He let Peeta know it would be months before any construction would begin, but if he was interested, the bakery could be his. Earlier this month, on a bread delivery, Thom mentioned that the District 12 Reconstruction Committee needed the finalized blueprints to approve construction. I didn’t expect Peeta to hesitate. He’s practically running his own bakery out of the house.
“You made up your mind?” I gently tug on his arm and draw him closer.
“I’ve been thinking as hard as it might be… if a bakery is going to open in 12… I want it to be mine.”
“I think that’s a great idea. An official Mellark Bakery. Everyone loved your pumpkin streusel muffins today.”
“It’s a good feeling. Feeding people.”
I nod in agreement. I start to fantasize about cheese buns, pastries, and cakes when movement in the woods catches my eye. I scan the trees to our left, where I thought I saw a figure. Best-case scenario, it’s a deer getting too close to town. Worst-case scenario, it's a wild dog looking for something to eat. My ears are alert as they try to pick up any sound. There aren’t any streetlamps this far from town. The only light comes from the full moon above us. The darkness creates a void, and it’s difficult to see anything. I pause for a moment, but nothing happens. The movement stopped, and complete silence followed.
“What is it?” Peeta asks. He follows my eye line towards the trees.
“Nothing. I thought I saw something.” Whatever it was, it decided to move on. I try to shake the uneasy feeling. I turn around, “Still doing good, Haymitch?”
Haymitch’s head is tilted back slightly as he looks up at the night sky. He seems transfixed on the stars, as if they tell stories he can read.
“Better than you, sweetheart,” He says when he finally looks back at me.
We finish our walk in silence. As we enter the village and stop outside the house, Haymitch asks, “I didn’t scare you kids, did I?”
“With your story?” Peeta answers, “Of course, not.”
“I figured two Victors of The Hunger Games could handle a little scary story. I didn’t know you would be such babies and jump at every sound.”
“The only baby here is you,” I bite back.
“Oh, you wound me, sweetheart,” Haymitch teases, “Night kids. Try to keep it down tonight.”
“Haymitch!” I hiss.
Haymitch just laughs and stumbles back a bit.
“He doesn’t look too good. I’ll get him inside. How about you head upstairs, and I’ll meet you.” Peeta says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit.” He gives me a quick peek at the lips before he turns around and catches up with Haymitch.
I watch as Haymitch briefly protests, but ultimately he relents and allows Peeta to walk him to his door. Suddenly, flashes of another time of Peeta helping Haymitch get to bed flood my mind. My heart aches for the boy with bread. So much has changed, but Peeta is still Peeta. And he’s mine.
The cold chill runs through my body, and I remember I’m still outside. I climb the steps up to the house, open the door, and step inside quickly. My boots fall to the floor with a thud as I kick them off. I shed my sweater and toss it over the coach.
We stayed at the Harvest Festival longer than intended. My fingertips still feel icy, so I head into the kitchen to make tea.
I'm waiting for the water to boil when I spot a batch of chocolate brownies on the kitchen island. Peeta originally planned to make brownies for the festival, but then pivoted when he realized muffins would be easier to pass around.
It would be a shame to waste these. I carefully remove the glass lid of the display case and grab a large corner piece.
“Oh!” The rich chocolate fills my mouth. It’s soft and chewy on the inside and perfectly crunchy on the outside. I’m delighted when I discover it’s filled with walnuts. I devour the piece and grab a second one.
“I thought you would be upstairs.”
Peeta’s voice makes me jump.
"You scared me! I almost dropped my brownie.” I exclaim.
Peeta walks across the kitchen until he’s standing next to me by the counter. Peeta scoops me up into his arms and places a kiss on my forehead as an apology.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t expect the lights to be on. I thought someone broke in.”
“I’m making tea,” I explain. Right then, the kettle whistles. Peeta puts me down. I turn the stove off and pour hot water into two prepared mugs.
“And eating my dessert,” Peeta smirks.
“It’d be a shame to waste it.”
Peeta grabs a piece and settles on one of the stools. I take a seat on the stool next to him. Peeta’s mouth is full when his face stills in thought and his brows slightly furrow.
“What is it?”
Peeta swallows, "Good thing I went with the muffins. I don’t know how I feel about these brownies.”
“I don’t know what you're talking about. They’re fantastic,” I finish my piece.
“The texture is too cakey.”
Peeta takes another bite before putting the piece down. His face remains still as he reworks the recipe in his head. I’ve come to learn this face over the last few months.
Peeta likes to bake from memory, and sometimes he has to pause to remember the recipe in the correct order. He claims it’s a good mental exercise.
“I think they taste delicious, but I’m sure they’ll be even better next year,” I reassure him.
“I could be in the new bakery by next year,” Peeta says quietly.
“Aren’t you excited?” I ask.
“I am. I’m just nervous,” Peeta sighs, “I’m nervous I won’t be able to do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I always had help. I don’t know if I could run a whole bakery by myself.” Peeta’s eyes drop to his mug.
Of course, Mellark Bakery was always a family business. Peeta’s family is gone. He’s all that’s left. But he’s not alone. He has me. I lean forward, catch his hand in mine, and squeeze gently.
“You won’t be doing it alone.”
Peeta looks back up at me with a questioning look.
“I’ll help with the bakery,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Katniss… you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want to take time away from hunting.”
“I want to help Peeta. It’s a family business. It should stay in the family. Don’t worry, I’ll still have plenty of time to hunt.”
Peeta grabs my wrist with one hand and gently tugs me forward until I’m practically straddling him. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my chest.
“Thank you, Katniss,” He says softly.
I brush blond hair out of the way and place a kiss on his forehead.
Peeta tilts his head up, and I kiss his mouth. Instantly, I crave more. His lips feel warm and soft against mine. Smoke from the bonfire and apple cinnamon linger on his skin. I want to drown in it.
My hands grip his shoulders as the kiss deepens. His tongue gently brushes against my lips, and I open my mouth eagerly to let him in. I press my body closer until my legs close around his thigh. His hand travels up my back and into my hair, while the other stays firmly on my hip.
TAP! TAP! TAP!
The sudden noise breaks us apart. We both turn our attention to the back door. It sounded like it came from right outside. I try to peek out the window, but I only see our reflections staring back at us.
“What was that?” Peeta asks.
“I don’t know. It soun-“
TAP! TAP! TAP!
I jump so hard I almost miss it.
“Oh! It’s just the wind. It’s blowing a tree branch into the window. Look,” I say in relief.
We wait.
TAP! TAP! TAP!
The large oak tree in my backyard makes an appearance at the window.
“Oh! Ha! That really got me,” Peeta says and places his hand over his heart.
Me too, but I’d never admit it out loud. Instead, I suggest we take our tea upstairs. Peeta agrees, so we grab our mugs and head to our bedroom.
Later, we’re settled in bed. Despite the cold October air, Peeta insisted on keeping the window open. I protested, and we compromised on only leaving it open a crack. Thought that wasn’t enough to keep the bone-chilling wind out. Tucked deep beneath the thick duvet, I curl up next to Peeta. I press my face into the crook of his neck, and I intertwine my legs with his. I ignore his pleas about “cold feet.”
The house is silent, and the moonlight illuminates the bedroom with a soft light. Peeta’s body heat feels delicious on my skin. I’m on the verge of sleep, but his scent invades my senses. He smells like cinnamon, caramel, and simply Peeta. I can’t help myself. I place a light kiss on his neck. Peeta hums in pleasure. His hand reaches for my waist, and he pulls me in closer.
“Katniss,” Peeta moans as his lips find mine in the dark.
CRASH!
Peeta and I both jump at the loud sound. I sit up and try to peer out the bedroom door. I only find the dark and empty hallway. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.
“What was that?” Peeta asks, bewildered.
“I don't know. It- it sounded like it came from the other side of the house,” I say.
I try to make sense of the sound. No one else besides Haymitch lives in the Village. We are too far from the rest of town for street noise. There shouldn’t be anyone else here. Could Haymitch be playing a prank on us? I doubt it, according to Peeta, he’s passed out on his couch.
GRRRR!
Peeta turns on the lamp on his side of the bed. The light casts a shadow over the room and turns the dark hallway into a black void.
“Maybe it’s an animal outside,” Peeta offers.
“No,” I shake my head, “that sounded like it came from inside the house. Up against a wall.”
Peeta is already sitting over the edge of the bed, attaching his prosthetic when I scramble to my feet. I try to imagine what could be in the house making that noise. An animal, a person, a witch. Whatever it is, it can’t stay here.
“Where’s your bow?” Peeta stands and grabs his cane.
“Downstairs,” I reply.
THUD! THUD!
I jump and rush to Peeta’s side. I grip his arm, and we slowly step out into the hall. My hand palms the wall until I find the light switch and flip it on.
THUD!
The door at the end of the hallway rattles in the frame. Peeta lifts the cane above his head.
“It’s going to be okay. Whatever it is, we’ve survived worse,” Peeta reassures me.
“Not if it’s the Cumberland Witch,” I say.
“Don’t tell me you believe Haymitch’s story,” Peeta teases.
“I didn’t at first, but weird things kept happening all night,” I explain, “The noises from the woods. The weird shadow in the trees. The tapping on the window. Now there’s something in your studio.”
We slowly make our way to the door from which the noise has been coming from. Peeta takes a breath before reaching for the knob and turning it.
“MEOOOOOW”
Buttercups leaps out the door and runs past our feet and down the stairs.
“That little shit!” I yell.
“Oh no, he knocked over my canvases,” Peeta rushes into the room to assess the damage. I turn the light on and get a good look at the carnage Buttercup left in his path. Canvases are knocked over. Brushes and tubes of paint were scattered on the floor. I look around and notice the window is wide open.
“If he was locked in here, why didn’t he just leave the way he came in?”
“He was probably cold and couldn’t find another way in,” Peeta sighs, “I was airing out some of my oils.”
“Are any of them ruined?” I ask and rub his back gently.
“No, but he made a mess of things. I’m just glad he didn’t get into the paint. Those could get him sick,” Peeta answers.
“No cats allowed in the studio, again. Got it,” I say, “Come on, let's go to bed.”
Peeta slowly stands and wraps an arm around me, and we head back to our bedroom.
“At least it wasn’t the Cumberland Witch,” Peeta teases.
I shut him up with a kiss.