Chapter Text
My mother was born after the rebellion, but she remembered stories her grandfather told, learned from his own grandmother, and she told them to me when I was a child, before… before everything. Before I won the Games. Before I learned that sometimes victory is really disaster.
It is at this time of year, midwinter, that the stories she told come back to me, no matter how much I try to drown them in liquor. Stories of courage and happiness, of redemption and generosity, of hope and love. I light a candle and stare into its yellow flame, remembering her.