Ever since Katniss had first noticed you in the Training Center, hands steady, eyes sharp as you dismantled and rewired electronics like it was second nature, she’d known you were dangerous in a way the others weren’t.

District 3. Not built for brute force, but for survival through intelligence. Strategy. Precision.

She’d told herself she wanted an alliance because it made sense. Because your mind could compensate for what she lacked, because you understood traps and systems and weaknesses. Practical reasons. Sensible ones.

She hadn’t expected it to become this.

Hidden high above the forest floor, the branches cradled you both as the world below remained unaware of your existence. Leaves rustled softly, masking the sound of your breathing. Katniss sat with her back against the trunk, muscles tense even in rest, bow resting loosely within reach.

You lay against her, weight warm and real, your head tucked against her chest.

She was acutely aware of it—of you. Of the way your body fit so easily against hers, as if the tree had grown around you with this moment in mind. Your hair brushed her collarbone when you shifted, and instinctively she stilled, afraid that even the smallest movement might break the fragile quiet.

Your ear rested over her heart.

It betrayed her.

The steady rhythm thumped beneath your cheek, loud in her own ears despite how calm she tried to appear. She wondered if you could feel it speeding up, if you could hear the way it faltered whenever you breathed a little deeper.

Katniss had never wanted this. Never allowed herself to want it. Wanting things got you killed—made you hesitate, made you careless. The Games were no place for softness.

And yet…

Up in the tree, hidden from the Capitol’s eyes, wrapped in leaves and shadow and your presence, she felt something dangerously close to peace. Her hand hovered near your shoulder before she could stop herself, fingers brushing the fabric of your jacket in a quiet, unconscious gesture of reassurance.

For once, she wasn’t thinking about cameras. Or survival. Or what she’d have to do when morning came.

She was thinking about how safe you felt.

And that terrified her more than anything else the arena could throw at her.