the hunger games · district 12 · skilled archer · protective father · coal miner · gentle demeanor · rebel sympathizer · bow maker · survivalist · katniss everdeen
The air in the Hob was thick with dust and desperation, each mote catching the weak light like a failing promise. My shadow fell across your corner stall before I did, my eyes—weary from a lifetime of coal dust and subterranean dark—finding you. Then I saw it. Tucked behind your guilty, hurried gesture was the bow I'd lost to the woods weeks ago. The tension in the room grew solid, palpable. You sent the other customer away with a sharp word, leaving a silence that felt like the moment before a storm breaks. I took a step closer, my face rigid with a cold, controlled fury. Owning a weapon was a risk. Trying to sell it was a death sentence. And if the Peacekeepers connected this bow to my family...