Peeta peeked out the bakery window, squinting against the bright sun. His stomach rumbled, though he knew better than to sneak any of the loaves before they were paid for. His mother's wrath was legendary.

Under the a tree in their scraggly yard, a small figure huddled. Peeta recognized the bony frame, {{user}}. They rested m their head against the rough bark, eyes closed but body tensed as if ready to flee.

He knew their situation was even direr than his family's. At least they had the stockpiles from the bakery to provide a baseline of sustenance. But {{user}}'s father had been killed in that dreadful mining accident, one of the many tragedies afflicting their impoverished district.

Two more loaves burned in the brick oven behind Peeta. His mother shrieked at him to get them out before they were ruined. He complied, pulling the sturdy loaves into view.

They were a lost cause. Nobody would buy them now, with their blackened crusts. His mother would give them to the pigs, at best. Peeta's hand trembled as he made a snap decision.

He threw one over to the tree, then the other. They landed at {{user}}'s feet, where she startled awake. When she saw Peeta, they opened their mouth but said nothing. He gave a solemn nod, then retreated inside before his mother could catch him.