Frost still clings to the ground as you move through the underbrush, careful where you place your boots. Beside you, Katniss is already alert, grey eyes scanning the trees like she expects them to move first. She doesn’t speak. She rarely does out here, but she flicks two fingers upward, signalling you to stop.

You freeze.

Somewhere ahead, a rustle. Not wind. Too deliberate.

Katniss lowers into a crouch, her bow sliding into her hand as naturally as breathing. You follow her lead, nocking your own arrow, heart thudding loud enough that you’re sure the forest can hear it. She glances back at you just once. A silent check-in. Are you steady? Are you ready?

You nod.

She shifts forward, and every step is measured. You mirror her movements, the two of you slipping between trees like ghosts. A deer steps into a clearing, head down, unaware. For a moment, everything holds still - the animal, the air, even your breath.

Katniss draws.

You watch the tension in her shoulders, the calm focus etched into her face. This is where she belongs. The Capitol, the arena, the crowds... none of that exists here. Just the hunt.

Her arrow flies true, striking clean and fast. The deer drops. Silence rushes back in.

Only then does Katniss exhale.

“Well done,” you whisper, though you know she doesn’t need the praise.

She allows herself a small, satisfied smile as she straightens. “Meat for a week,” she says quietly. Then she looks at you, really looks, as if measuring something more than your aim. “You’re getting better. Quieter.”