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I watched her burst into flames right before by eyes.
The girl on fire, destined to be burned alive. Only she didn’t die, at least not then. She died exactly a week later.
I remember the day very clearly, even in my mutt riddled brain she always shone brighter than all those contorted memories.
It all happened very fast, she stood there in the centre of city hall just as we did for that first time 24 years ago at the tribute parade. She stood, 5 five feet across our very good president Snow, poised to let her single arrow fly. When the arrow found itself buried in our grey-haired president’s heart, she let up a final, sad smile in my direction before swallowing the violet pill.
That’s Nightlock Peeta, you’d be dead in a minute.
“Come on, Iris. We’ll be late if you don’t hurry up,” I yell across the bedroom.
“Coming daddy,” Iris chirps
My little girl pops her head into the room and quirks her eyes up to say she’s ready. I take her tiny hand and leave the house, the breeze winds through my hair. Spring’s in the air one could say, I watch the sky streak bright colours of orange and red across the horizon.
“What are you doing,” she giggles looking up at me with her head in my lap.
“Practicing Knots,” I say with a mock serious tone.
“Really? What have you practiced till now?” She quirks her eyebrows.
“Oh just the hitch and the square knot,”I laugh out, knowing all too well that she’s aware of my ruse to play with her hair.
Still, she doesn’t say anything, instead buries her nose deeper into my lap.
I watch her fall asleep within minutes and breath out a sigh of contentment.
I watch the jelly like color of the sun, melt into it’s surrounding and paint stripes of yellow, red and pink across the sky.
“I didn't think you'd want to miss it,” I say slowly rousing her up.
“Thanks,” she smiles at me, all sugar and honey.
“Daddy? What’s wrong?” A sweet voice asks.
“Sorry honey, just thinking.”
“We’re here, daddy.
“That we are.”
I take in the meadow and finally lay my eyes upon her headstone.
“Daddy, I saw something. Be back in a minute.”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
A minute later her golden hair comes into view, she sways with the cool breeze, her hands holding tightly onto something.
“Here daddy, I brought these for her.”
I look into her blue eyes and will my eyes not to well into tears.
I slowly clutch the stems of the white dandelions and ever so slowly place them over her resting place.
The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.
“I miss you, Katniss,” I whisper, feeling Iris’s small hand in mine, grounding me to the present.
“Daddy, will she be happy now?” Iris asks softly, eyes wide with innocence.
I nod, choking back the lump in my throat. “Yes, sweetheart. She’ll be very happy.”
We stand there in silence, the wind rustling through the leaves, carrying with it a sense of quiet. A baby canary dances through the sky, singing a folly tune before landing on Iris' shoulder, The sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the meadow. I can almost feel Katniss’s presence beside us, her spirit woven into the very fabric of the air.
“Come on, Iris. Let’s go home,” I say, squeezing her hand gently.