Chapter Text
1: 8 months after the rebellion
The light summer breeze whispers across the grass just starting to grow back in the meadow, over the mass grave where many people – including my own family – are buried. People I once knew, or perhaps knew of , either from Katniss, Gale or Prim. Prim . I close my eyes, pain lacing my every thought. Just the thought of Primrose Everdeen hurts, because she didn't deserve the ending she got. What she deserved – I laugh to myself. What Prim deserved was the best life there would be to lead. She could have become a doctor, met a man, gotten married, and had her own family, her own children. What Prim deserved was all that any of us deserved. A quiet life away from the cameras. Because although she was not a tribute, her sister was, and in becoming so, exposed her entire family to the opinions of those in the Capitol.
I open my eyes once more, lean against the rock behind me. The meadow blossoms to life, slowly but surely, and already flowers are starting to poke their way through the grass around the tree-line. Dandelions, tulips, daffodils, bluebells. Even primroses. A small smile graces my face as the sun shines down from the heavens, illuminating the flowers in a heavenly glow.
I stand, using the rock as a support in the absence of my temporary cane as I adjust to having a brand new prosthetic leg – because, out of all the times my body decided to change, it would be now, when I am rehabilitating myself. I suddenly got taller. Maybe it was because I didn't – I don't – have to continuously look over my shoulder in fear of seeing a Capitol camera, doctor or mutt trailing behind me.
I wander around the edge of the meadow, sticking to the shadows at the entrance to the forest, gripping whatever may serve as a support whenever I can. I am still uneasy and wobbly on this new leg, a fact that is proven when I hear a twig crack behind me and I turn around so fast I fall over.
Katniss.
She stands there, not looking at me – not even giving any hint as to knowing that I'm there – and instead looks over the meadow. This is one of the first times I've seen her outside her house since I came back to Twelve, nearly five months ago, and it makes a pleasant change to seeing her sit, almost catatonic, in that chair in the kitchen. But it's better than seeing her drunk, like Haymitch is all the time.
Something in the distance enraptures her, and I turn my head in the direction she looks, only to be completely blown away by the sight that meets my eyes. The sun is setting – indicating that I've been out here a lot longer than I expected – but it looks so beautiful that I just want to stay there, and watch it set completely. I slowly get back to my feet, and move to stand beside Katniss. At first she tenses, but as soon as I rub comforting circles across her shoulder blades she relaxes. Her bow and quiver of arrows hang loosely at her side.
“Sunset orange.” I almost don't hear her words, the whisper of a voice she talks in is so quiet, but I smile and nod. She turns to face me, a smile lighting up her face as I've never seen it light up before. It's a small smile – barely even noticeable – but her lips turn up just so, that it's hard to find fault in the motion. This is not fake, not for me nor any cameras, and it makes me happy that she is finally coming out of that shell-shocked state she's been stuck in for the past few months, since I really began to take an active part in bringing her back. She is becoming the Katniss Everdeen I fell in love with once more. Always finding beauty in the small things, always standing up for what's right.
“And there she is, the girl on fire!” The thought comes to my head, unbidden, and it makes me smile more broadly. There is more than one way to interpret that line. The Capitol audiences saw it as a chance to revel in Katniss's beauty. Now I see it as a testament to her intelligence, and her memory.
“Sunset orange…” I say quietly. “It's my favourite colour. Real or not real?”
And she replies with, “Real.”