“I’m dead.” Biatch whispers under her breath as tha realization dawns on her muthafuckin ass. Katniss stops her explanation of goin ta hunt n' quirks her head up in concern. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Foxface?”
“…Yo Ass aiiight over there?” Peeta asks n' tha hand he places on her thin shoulder up in a gesture of comfort makes her wanna run, cry like a hoe and both cuz itz just not fair.
But her ass won’t cry, she be at least strong enough fo' dat shit. “I’m fine. Just hungry. We‘ll scavenge while yo ass hunt aiiight, biatch? I saw some berries on tha way here.” Biatch smilez tha dopest dat her ass can but it aint nuthin but strained n' from look of confusion dat she’s receivin Katniss knows she’s not bein straight-up honest.
Following Peeta silently, I see him pick up the berries.
"Peeta," I say in a hushed voice. He jumps back. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Those berries, they're nightlock. You'd be dead before they reached your throat" Peeta still has the look of shock on his face.
"Wh-" He stutters, looking confused.
"Be smart Peeta, win for me. I love her, too." I grab them out of his hands, and bring the poison to my lips. "I love you both." I die somber, because the last thing I hear is Katniss's voice, not shouting for me. For Peeta, the one she truly loves.
Note: Another Peenissface fic. Prequel/companion to 'The End' Un-beta'd. I only write sad things now.
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You could be happy, I won't know. But you weren't happy the day I let you go, You could be happy, I hope you are. You made me happier than I'd been by far
-Snow Patrol 'You could be happy'
The redhead lets this moment sink in, the three of them together linked against all odds.
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The moment that Clove’s canon fires Foxface knows that the dynamics of the game have shifted yet again. It leave a sickly sweet honey taste in her mouth. Peeta and Katniss are the only pair left.
And that means there is no ways she can win.
A part of her, the purely survival driven part of her, held out hope that as long as there was another team to rival the star-crossed pair from distinct 12 she might survive. She wouldn’t put it past either Cato or Clove to try and take each other out to have the glory all for themselves. That left the slight chance that they’d off each other, letting her to swoop in and claim the victors title.
There was a chance of her winning once, but its gone now, and Foxface was too smart to think that the game makers would allow three people to win.
There was no hope for her.
“I’m dead.” She whispers under her breath as the realization dawns on her. Katniss stops her explanation of going to hunt and quirks her head in concern. “Foxface?”
“…You okay over there?” Peeta asks and the hand he places on her thin shoulder in a gesture of comfort makes her want to run, cry or both because its just not fair.
But she won’t cry, she is at least strong enough for that. “I’m fine. Just hungry. We‘ll scavenge while you hunt okay? I saw some berries on the way here.” She smiles the best that she can but it is strained and from look of confusion that she’s receiving Katniss knows she’s not being completely honest.
She was too perceptive, but that was one of the things that Foxface likes, loves even, most about her.
Peeta breaks the silence by taking both girls hands “Be careful, everyone. Come back safe,” Katniss holds her other hand out for Foxface to take and their fingers intertwine like magnets drawn together.
The redhead lets this moment sink in, the three of them together linked against all odds. A plan is forming in her brilliant head, a wonderful horrible plan, but she puts it aside for a minute to take in this feeling. It’s warm and heavy and so very real that it stings tears into corners of her eyes.
She hasn’t cried since the reaping and she won’t start now.
“Go on. Cato isn‘t going to wait very long and we need to eat. Peeta and I will be fine Katnip. I’ll keep him safe while you’re gone. I Promise.” Then, literally and figuratively, Foxface lets them both go.
Note: Another Peenissface fic written while my roommates were being obnoxiously loud. I guess this could be a sequel/companion to 'The End' Un-beta'd
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I found a fox in the woods, she was cold and hungry. I gave her all that I could and I was sure that she loved me and we were thick as thieves. -O+S 'The Fox'
My daughter finds a fox kit in the woods and brings it home.
It’s small and frail, most likely the runt of it’s family. I wonder if it’s mother meant to let it fend for itself of if it wandered too far and couldn’t find it’s way back.
She clutches at it’s sleek red-brown fur with tiny hands, full of hope and trust. The kit leans into her blindly seeking the warmth and protection from something larger and stronger than itself.
The sight hurts more than I thought it would.
She wants to keep it, I know she does. She’s always bringing home animals though I keep telling her not too. She knows by now not to ask me so she goes to her father instead.
Peeta takes one look at the creature and a second at his daughter and know what he's thinking just as sure as I am that he'll say yes.
That night we lie in bed staring at each other, both knowing what needs to be said, what has been haunting us all day. It’s still raw and hard to put into words.
“Do you think of her often?” I’m the first to speak for once surprising even myself. We're skirting around something painful.
Peeta’s face is beginning to show clear signs of aging, matching the internal aging we both shared from the war. In this moment it’s clearer than ever. His features wilt when he answers “Everyday.”
“The fox that she found- I don't think-”
“Let her keep her. She loves her. You of all people can appreciate that." We're more than skirting around something, someone, we never talk about.This is paramount to having a full blown discussion about it. Even after all the blood, all the tears, some things are still too painful to say out loud.
Foxface is one of those things.
I miss her as much, if not more than Peeta does. I roll off on my side and we don't talk about it anymore.
In the morning we wake up to the sound of our daughters tears.
The kit, so tiny and frail, hasn’t made it though the night. Peeta buries her, the kit was a girl, of course it was, in the woods while try and make this okay somehow.
My daughter curls into my lap and cries heavy, heart-wrenching tears into my chest. I hold her close. “Sometimes foxes just aren't strong enough. They’re clever but that’s not always enough. It’s not your fault, you did everything you could to save her. You did all that you could.”
I don’t know if I’m consoling her or me, but when Peeta returns both of us are crying.
