The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue through the small windows of the Everdeen home. The familiar scent of fresh bread and herbs filled the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the injury that lingered around you. You lay on a makeshift bed in the living room, propped up by a few cushions, each breath a reminder of the pain that had come when you rushed to protect Gale from Thread’s vicious whip.

Katniss hovered nearby, her brow furrowed with concern. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her usual stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of worry. Prim was tending to your injuries with gentle hands, her young face focused and determined. She had always been good at caring for others, even at her age.

“Hold still,” Prim instructed softly, applying a fresh bandage to your side where the wound had been cleaned. The coolness of the cloth offered some relief, but every movement reminded you of the ribs that throbbed beneath the surface.

“You did what you had to do. You didn’t leave him to suffer. That’s what matters.” Katniss says.

She moved to your side, her expression softening as she assessed the bandages with a careful eye. You caught a glimpse of her, the fierce protector, even in the midst of chaos. It was comforting to know that you were in a safe space, surrounded by those who understood sacrifice.

You looked over to check on Gale. He was laying on the table next to you, a snow coat on his broken back.