Always: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 146

Katniss

The golden trees sway peacefully in the cool autumn breeze. We sit silently by the lake my father used to bring me to, something that has become sort of a family tradition with my own husband and children. Willow wades giggling in the shallow water with Peeta, who playfully splashes her with water. It's been three years since she was born, and it seems as though with every second, she has grown more and more inseparably close to her father. Although I do admit I see more of my own qualities in her than Peeta, it's all the more reason as to why she's so attached to him. Just like I still do, she craves the sense of immaculate kindness, selflessness, and love that can only originate from Peeta himself. 

Rye sits on my lap, his chubby toddler arms wrapped around my neck, his head resting on my shoulder. My baby boy is almost two years old, and he's already showing drastic similarities to Peeta. He's quiet with everyone, but he's always polite and he despises seeing people hurt. He always wants to help, whether it be baking with Peeta or simply comforting me in bed on the days when I feel as though I can't function. There have been countless mornings in which he's hoisted himself up onto my bed, with a little assistance from Peeta, and buried his little body into the side of mine. Often times he doesn't say much, I don't expect him to be able to understand or form real words of comfort, but simply falling asleep in my arms is enough comfort to make me feel instantly better. 

It doesn't take anything more than eyes to see that while Willow is particularly devoted to Peeta, Rye is attached to me. He rarely leaves my side and each morning, afternoon, and night he never fails to tell me how much he loves me. He reminds me so deeply of Peeta, and I adore him endlessly for it. 

Once I'm sure Rye has fallen asleep in my arms, I lay him gingerly down on top of a woven blanket on the sand. Peeta raises Willow above his head and she shrieks with glee as he spins her around. My heart begins to swell gaiety and I can't help but laugh while watching them. Peeta carries Willow back to shore and she immediately falls into my arms, ready to tell me all about the lake as if I hadn't been watching her the entire time. I watch her in fascination, taking in every one of her words. 

When she's finished, she roams back over to the shoreline, fiddling with her two dark braids, searching for the Katniss roots I told her not long ago that I was named after. "I wish I could just stay here forever," I whisper, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, trying so desperately to savor this exact moment for as long as possible. 

"Well, I can't promise you forever. But what if we just stayed for the rest of the day? I'll head back, pick up some food from the bakery. We can make a picnic out of it," Peeta says, a truly genuine grin spread across his face. 

"That sounds wonderful," I sigh, twisting my hair up into a knot at the back of my head. "But I'll go, you should stay here with the kids."

"Are you sure?" he asks. I shift closer to him and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, studying his ocean eyes that somehow look even more radiant in the sunlight. 

"I'm sure," I say, slipping my leather sandals back on my feet. "I'll be back soon, don't have too much fun without me." 

"No promises," Peeta laughs, taking my position beside Rye. I scoff and turn my back on him, and amble through the trees and up a makeshift path that's since been created due to the years of trudging to the lake from the meadow. 

It doesn't take long to reach the Meadow, and as it's a beautiful day I don't mind the tranquil time through the woods by myself. It's been a while since I've hunted. I like to go most mornings before Peeta leaves for the bakery, but sometimes I can't bring myself to touch my bow and arrows, let alone hunt. Instead, I use gathering different berries and roots to take my mind off of all of the bad my bow has ever done. On those days, I try so hard to forget all of the faces of the people I've killed with my arrows, with my fire. But as desperately I try to forget them, they never really leave. They're always there, taunting me, reminding me of the deadly person I once was. I know they'll never leave me, not truly.