Chapter One

                                    

                                          
The first thing which let Peeta know something was wrong was the cold feeling which reached his fingertips. The space beside him on the bed was freezing, and the covers were flipped back slightly, showing the path Katniss took as she left the room. It was normal for her to awake early on a morning, and to stumble downstairs for something to eat, before snuggling back into the covers again. But she wasn’t there.
                          
Hunting was his first reason. Although she didn’t have much reason to hunt anymore she still went out on the occasional visits, and so with this reassurance in his head Peeta shook sleep from his body and leapt out of bed. He trotted down the stairs, smiling as sunlight burst through the large windows. He walked in his cloud of happiness until he noticed something to his right.
                          
Katniss’ hunting jacket,
                          
She never visited the woods without it, and the second he saw the leather garment he knew she wasn’t there. Quickly he began to trek around the house, sniffing around the place like a dog. All the bedrooms were empty, and the bathroom held no trace of her. The dining room was the same as it had been the night before and the living room gave no clues to her location. Afterwards, he entered the kitchen and was stopped in his tracks by the sight before him.
                          
A cheese bun lay neglected on the floor, half eaten and with a slight indentation which suggested the clenching of fingers over it. He picked it up uneasily, his eyes narrowing suspiciously over the good he had baked just the night before. Immediately he felt stickiness over his finger which was never normally there, and he lowered his nose to sniff it.
                          
Immediately images of his time in the cave with Katniss, images contorted with the doings of the Capitol. He began to scream, a terrible screech, chucking the bun as far away as possible from him. It hit the wall opposite with a satisfying splat, and he began to cling to the cabinets as if releasing his grip would be the release of his sanity. Slowly, he began to close his eyes, counting to ten and remembering the sweet memories he had of Katniss. The ones of their kisses and awakening to the scent of the woods in her hair, holding her hand and dancing beneath the moonlight. Eventually, he became calm, but couldn’t work up the courage to near the cheese bun. But at least now he knew:
                          
Something terrible had happened to Katniss.
                          
Sleep syrup. It was sweet to the tongue, but to the mind it was an off button. Who on earth had placed that on the buns? There could only be one answer. Before he had time to ponder on the thoughts anymore, he stormed from the house in his boxers, his tousled blonde hair shaking in the wind.
                          
-
                          
Haymitch was unconscious when a loud rapping roused him. A groan escaped his lips as he felt the punishment for last night’s pleasures: a pounding headache attacked his skull, and he felt uneasiness in his stomach. Last night’s supper would soon be making an appearance, but first he managed to drag himself off the floor. Groggily, he stumbled to the door, which was emitting a pounding that sent a pulse of pain through his head with every beat. He rubbed his bare chest before opening the door, releasing an extremely alarmed Peeta into his home.
                          
-
                          
Peeta burst in with a sudden haste, almost bashing into the man in front of him. Haymitch. The first person he’d thought to tell. Before he could receive any complaints about the time, he grabbed the surprisingly strong arm of his hung-over friend and began to drag him into his living room. The room was a pigsty, to say the least. Used food containers and empty bottles were scattered carelessly over the posh carpet and the mixture of decay and body odour created a scent which brought tears to Peeta’s eyes. Through all the years he had known Haymitch, he still had no idea how he could live like this.
                          
“Haymitch,” the worry in Peeta’s head was highlighted in his voice, which was much louder than it usually was, echoing in the sparsely decorated room, “Haymitch, listen to me!” But the man wasn’t listening, he was still groaning and moaning in his drunken world, so without a thought on manners Peeta grabbed the closest liquid to him – a bottle of wine which lay untouched amongst the empty bodies of its siblings – and tipped the contents over his head.
                          
At first, he stood there in absolute shock, but then his fists began to shake with a barely held rage. “You better have a god damn good reason for doing that,” he spat with all the venom he could muster, “Because that bottle of wine cost be a damned small fortune!” His voice rose slightly, booming against the walls.
                          
“It’s Katniss,” Haymitch was immediately forced into silence, his attention now brought from his anger to the issue at hand. Although he would never admit it, Haymitch had grown to love Katniss like a daughter and Peeta like a son, and if they were ever in danger he felt a slight sinking feeling in his heart. They’d already been through enough, and he wanted them to have the happiest lives possible. “I think she’s in trouble.”
                          
And with that the two men began to do everything in their power to find the girl they both loved.