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"All right, now you hold that piece in your hand…"
"Like this?"
"Just like that."
Waves brushed the shore of the cove, moving with the steady breath of the ocean, in and out, calm today. Finnick stood knee deep in the water beside his and Annie's second son, Locke, both of them holding casting nets. Bait fish were darting around nearby in an unsuspecting school, little dark shadows below the ripples of the water as the sun began to set, casting pinks and oranges across the sky.
Out beyond them, in the ocean proper, a small figure sat on a surfboard, waiting for a perfect wave on a too-calm day. Occasionally Finnick would look up to make sure the young surfer was fine before turning his attention back to Locke.
"Okay, now you're going to just sort of throw it and let go with one hand—" Finnick aimed at the school of bait and let the casting net flying. It spun out into a wide circle and caught the edge of the bait fish, and he hurriedly hauled it back in. Stepping out of the water, he backed up onto the shore and loosened the net, dropping the bait fish onto the sand. Quickly, he grabbed the fish up and dropped them into a bucket of sea water that had been set aside for such a purpose.
Nearby, a small girl sat on her knees in an equally small pool, her summer dress half soaked. Her hair, long and curly and brown yet sun-kissed like her mother's, was wild and stiff with salt. She dripped wet sand through her nimble tiny fingers on a tall dream-like sculpture that was part of a city of similar castles.
"Very nice, Maggie," Finnick said, giving his youngest a quick grin. She glanced up at him with those deep stormy blue eyes of hers, quiet and gentle, and smiled back in a way that made his heart melt.
Behind him, something splashed into the water. Locke had let his casting net fly, and it crashed into the school of fish in a messy bundle. Grumbling, he pulled it back in, almost getting the ropes and cords all tangled up. Finnick crossed his arms, watching. Once he had the net pulled back in, Locke inspected it, looking for fish.
"It's empty," Maggie said simply, not looking up from her castle-building. Finnick covered his mouth, not wanting Locke to see his smile.
Green eyes sharpened into a glare. "You're not even looking, featherhead."
"Hey, don't call your sister names," Finnick said, putting his hands on his hips. "How about you try again, and this time, don't throw everything all at once. You have to let it fan out." He had never felt like he was a good teacher when it came to casting a net, and he wasn't feeling too confident at the moment. Connor had been a natural at it, but Locke…well, he would get it with practice. Locke was incredibly stubborn and hardworking; anything that didn't come to him easily he saw as a challenge, and with determination, he often surpassed his brother's skills when he had a mind to do so.
Locke huffed and started rearranging the net. "Show me again."
"Is there something you want to add—"
"Please," Locke said, rolling his eyes.
Finnick went through the motions again, methodically and carefully, not rushing through any part of it. He waited until the school of bait fish was close and then spun his net out again. Locke sent his own net swirling out as Finnick pulled his in, and Finnick smiled.
"Better, but you need to wait," he said, hauling in the net as he stepped back onto the sand and then loosening it. Plop, plip, the fish went into the bucket.
Locke pulled in his net, empty again. "But they were right there."
"Yeah, but I scared them away," Finnick said. "You go ahead and I'll watch this time."
Grumbling, Locke resituated his net, gathering it in and readying it, becoming faster each time he did it.
A pair of tiny hands wrapped around Finnick's as Maggie tugged him toward her makeshift tidepool. Or attempted to. "Wanna see my castle? It's got tea."
"Really? That's amazing," Finnick said, reaching down and lifting the wild-haired girl into his arms. "Let me watch your brother for a minute and then you can saw me the whole castle, okay?"
Maggie wrapped her arms around his neck. "A mermaid lives there."
"So what, you live there?" he teased.
She gave him a solemn look. "Not a mermaid, Daddy, I'm a girl."
"Oh, sorry," he said, looking from her to Connor out at sea. Still there, still okay. He turned his attention briefly to Locke. "Weren't you a mermaid last week?"
"Maybe. But most, most of the time, I'm a girl."
"You'll have to let me know next time you're a mermaid."
"Okay." She gently bumped her forehead against his shoulder and then picked at a spot on his t-shirt.
"Dad, are you watching?" Locke asked, looking back over his shoulder.
"Trying to look three places at once is hard, but I'm doing my best," he said, giving him a thumbs up as he readjusted his hold on Maggie. A thumbs up. He was starting to reach Peak Dad, or that's what Peeta had told him the last time he had seen the younger man.
Locke nodded, seemingly satisfied by the answer. He stood still in the water, his green eyes watching the surface with an intensity that Finnick recognized as part of himself.
He waited and waited. Eventually Maggie grew bored and started to squirm until Finnick set her down. She started to head toward the water, but he gently nudged her back to her little tidepool. He knew that she might splash in after her brother and scare the baitfish.
Out in the waves, Connor was still bobbing, even more patient than his brother. It wasn't a great day for waves, but his determination was admirable.
The cast net spun through the air, fanning out in a large oval, almost perfect. It splashed down into the water, and this time when Locke hauled it in and then loosened it onto the sand, at least ten fish fell out.
"Nice, very nice," Finnick said, reaching over to ruffle Locke's hair as his son started to gather up the fish and toss them in the bucket.
Locke gave him one his bright, rare grins. "I'll get more next time."
While Connor was charming and outgoing and Maggie was kind and creative, Locke was driven and serious. He watched the world differently than Finnick and Annie's other two children, and sometimes he was an enigma to Finnick. He always wanted people to treat him like an adult, which Katniss always seemed the best at out of all the adults. Of course, she basically treated all of the kids like tiny strange adults…
Maggie wandered over from her tidepool again and leaned over the bucket, her fingers wrapped around the rim. "What're we doing with them?"
"We'll let these go," Finnick said, "They're just for practice."
Locke crossed his arms over his chest. "Or we could go fishing."
"The sun's setting," Finnick said. Reaching over, he poked Locke in the shoulder. "You'll need more practice anyways, though that last throw was excellent."
Locke looked somewhere between pleased and grumpy as he gathered up his net and headed back into the surf to try again. The boy did love fishing, after all.
"Can I keep one?" Maggie asked, still peering down at the fish with those big blue eyes of hers.
"I think they'll be happier if they're together back in the ocean." Finnick sat down beside the bucket, sinking into the sun-warmed sand. Maggie sat down beside him and leaned against his arm.
Out in the water, it seemed that Connor had finally found a wave he liked. He climbed up onto the board as the wave grew, catching his balance as it surged forward toward the shore. Athletic and sure of himself, Connor rode the wave in style until he goofily jumped off into the wave as it came closer to the shore.
He popped to the surface and let out a whoop of joy, water flying into the sky as he ran out of the ocean, grabbing his board on the wave. Laughing, he kicked a bit of water toward Locke, who instantly splashed water back, the baitfish forgotten for the moment.
As the sun slipped lower in the sky, Finnick let out a sigh of contentment. Next week, he would be flying to Haven, the new, slowly growing capitol city of Panem, to discuss foreign relations with the countries beyond theirs. He would be gone for almost two weeks, and he hadn't told the kids yet.
For now, he would just enjoy these lazy days. There was always time to worry about the future, like maybe when he actually got in the air.