I roll over in the bed, and instead of finding a warm body, I find a cold, empty space. I sit up, and scan the room. Also empty. I swing my legs out of the bed and drag myself to the door. I drudge down the hall, down the steps, and into the lounge. Nothing. Instead of being welcomed by the smell of fresh bread, cookies, or some other freshly baked treat, all I can smell is the strong smell of the rosemary that hangs in my game cupboard, to get rid of the pungent smell of rotting flesh that still lingers from a few weeks ago when a squirrel went bad. I continue to prowl through the house. Finally, I notice signs of life coming from down the hall. I poke my head round the door, and see a blonde head bent in concentration over a canvas. I watch him for a moment, carefully observing all the delicate movements of his paint brush that create a detailed part of his intricate painting with every stroke. I allow a small smile to appear on my face as I see his painting. It's a bright painting of five mockingjays, with a girl with a dark braid in the middle. Me. I slowly walk up behind him, and wrap my arms around his neck. He jumps at first, then relaxes after realising it's me.
"Hey." He says, turning to look at me.
"Hi. How come you're down here?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"How long you been down here?"
Judging by how far along the painting he his; he's been down here a while.
"Since about three."
I huff, and release him from my grasp.
"Why didn't you wake me?" I ask, disapproval clear in my voice.
"You looked peaceful, and I could see you weren't having a nightmare. So I left you. You needed to catch up on sleep. Those nightmares wake you up nearly every night!"
"They wake you up every night too!"
"I don't have a problem with that. I fall asleep pretty much straight after comforting you, but you have the memory of the dream to haunt you. Don't think I can't see those bags forming under your eyes. You look ill your so tired. Please, try and get some more sleep." He says. As usual, he only worries about me, never himself.
"You don't think I try? These nightmares have been terrorising me for nearly four years!" I scream.
"Nearly every night after those games, I've woken up screaming, and not being able to get back to sleep. And then, on the train, you were there. You heard my screams, and you came to me. That night on the train was the first night I went back to sleep after a nightmare. Because of you." I say, noticing the break in my voice.
I look down, and see his blue eyes filled with love, worry and concern.
"Then he took you from me. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I lost the will to live! The best comfort I had was Prim. She would comfort me if she heard me thrashing about. But she wasn't you, and now she's not even here!"
Images of my little sister flood my memory. I feel tears falling down my face at a rapid pace. Before I can fall, I feel a pair of strong arms encircle me.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Typical. Always apologising for things that aren't his fault. I turn around in his arms to face him, and look up into his eyes. We stay there for a little while before I gain the courage to get up on my tippy toes, and gently kiss him. I break away, and see him look disappointed that I ended the kiss.
"I'm gonna get dressed, then go hunting. Ok?" I ask him.
He nods his head, and follows me out of the room.
"I'll even see if there's some wild turkeys. I'll try and shoot one for you." I start making my way up the stairs. "And you can make me cheese buns."
I carry on up the stairs. I rummage through the closet, and pull out a pair of brown trousers, a grey tank top, and finally my hunting boots. I get dressed, and slip on my boots.
"I have an order today, so I'll have to make you cheese buns later. Is that ok?"
"Yeah. That's ok." I answer truthfully. He loves baking. It's one of the only things he finds peace in. I hunt, and he paints and bakes. It takes our mind of things. If I don't get out of the house, I tend to get stressed and antsy. And if he doesn't get out for a few days, he's more likely to have a flashback. I stroll into the kitchen, and kiss him gently on the cheek.
"See you later."
"See ya."
I give him one more kiss, then grab my father's hunting jacket. I race out the door, and welcome the cool breeze that envelopes me. I run out of victors village, through town, and out to the Meadow. When I reach the fence, I still pause for a moment, checking for the slight hum of the electric current that use to pass through it; even though I know it hasn't held a single volt since the rebellion, almost two years ago. I duck under the fence, and dash through the woods to my hollow tree that contains my bow and quiver of arrows. I nock an arrow into place and hold my bow down at my side. After quietly treading through the woods, I catch sight of a squirrel. I draw the string up to my face, find my target, and let loose. I hit the squirrel right in the eye. After shooting some more game, I collect the animals that were unfortunate enough to walk in to my traps. I even manage to shoot a wild turkey. When I feel my game bag has a substantial amount of meat, I start to head home. This time when I open the door, I am greeted by the smell of a baked treat. Cookies. I follow my nose into the kitchen, where I see the cookies on the counter. I reach to grab one; but my hand gets batted aside.
"Hey!" I protest.
"Nu huh. They're hot. Don't touch them." He scolds.
I roll my eyes but obey him anyway.
"Plus they're that order I told you about. But I made three extra for you. But not yet."
I nod. Instead I take a handful of the blackberries that I collected yesterday, and march into the lounge. I can almost feel his eyes watching me. I slump down on the sofa as I sort through my game bag. Three squirrels, two rabbits, three birds, and one large handful of nuts and berries. I grab the nuts and berries and head back into the kitchen.
"I found these for you."
He briefly looks up from his work. He sets aside the dough that was previously being needing, washes his hands, then comes over to look at my small gift.
"Oh, thanks! These are great. I can make fruit and nut loaf. Thanks." He says enthusiastically.
I can't help a small smile from creeping onto my face. I love how much effort he puts into his work. I leave the kitchen, and go out into the hall. I grab my quiver and count the arrows inside.
"One, two, three... Eight, nine. Mmhm."
One of my arrows is missing.
"I left one of my arrows in the woods. I'm going to get it. Ok?"
"Ok!" I hear shouted back from the kitchen. I quickly head out. I find my arrow wedge in a tree where I missed one of the grouse that I later shot. After, I decide to sit for a little bit. This is one of the only two places I feel safe. The other is Peeta's arms.