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It’s Katniss’ day out with Willow, she wanted to join her on her hunting outing, and Peeta insisted they have special mother daughter time together. Katniss loves bringing her out to the woods, it reminds her of all that time spent out here with her own father.
She shows Willow all the plants to gather for eating back home (even though they don’t need to, old habits die hard), where to find mushrooms and how to tell the good ones apart from the bad, how to shoot a rabbit or duck from 20 yards away (she watches her mother in awe every time), how to spot a tracker jacker nest (as sparse as they are nowadays since they finally started killing and destroying hives), and teaches her about the mockingjays.
Willow loves mockingjays, she loves how they’ll repeat any song sung to them, even a little tune that her four year old brain can muster up. It’s made Katniss like them even more, seeing them through her eyes. She knows Rue’s four note run by heart, it’s their own special way of greeting the birds in the morning. But singing is her favorite way of “talking” to them, as she’d put it. Singing had been tainted for Katniss ever since her father passed, the thought of even doing it made her nearly gag, but her daughter loves hearing her sing. “You have a pretty voice, mommy.” she’ll always say.
Katniss’ father taught her many lullabies the Covey sang, songs far less morbid than The Hanging Tree. “Which one do you wanna hear?” She asks Willow, sitting up on her shoulders as they walk down to the meadow for lunch.
The four year old hums thoughtfully, cycling through all her favorites. “Ooh ooh, mommy!”
“Yeah?”
“Sing the birdy song!”
“Your most favorite one,” Katniss smiles, this one she sang to Willow ever since she was born, a lullaby that never got out of her head.
She clears her throat and sings,
“Little bird, little bird, fly through my window
Little bird, little bird, fly through my window
Little bird, little bird, fly through my window
Fine molasses candy
Through my window
My sugar lump
Fly through my window
My sugar lump
Fine molasses candy”
The mockingjays pick up the tune, and carry it around the forest. Katniss twists her head to see Willow, a wide grin on her face. “What birds do you know?”
“A chickadee!”
“What do they say?”
“They say their names,” Willow chirps up at her, “ chi chi chi chi chi.” She joins Katniss singing along.
“Chickadee, Chickadee, fly through my window
Chickadee, Chickadee, fly through my window
Chickadee, Chickadee, fly through my window
Fine molasses candy
Through my window
My sugar lump
Fly through my window
My sugar lump
Fine molasses candy”
They reach the meadow, it’s weird not having to duck under a fence anymore, she almost instinctively does it when they’re near where it was. The land was scarred by it, but over the past 15 years, it’s grown much more, covering the ugly patches.
Katniss heaves Willow off her shoulders and lays out a blanket. “You know, your grandpa taught me that song.”
“Hay Hay!” Her special name for Haymitch, who they’ve considered her grandpa since she was born. Hay Hay and FeeFee, the two people in the world who spoil her most.
“No, not Hay Hay, but he knew your grandpa, they were friends. My dad, he passed a long time ago.”
“He’s in heaven?” She asks in a small voice.
Talking like this is how her and Peeta got through the grief book, talking about their friends and family they’ve lost as if they’re just in another room. Her dad always told her that they’d see each other in the next life, and Katniss wholeheartedly believed him, at least she hopes he’s right. “Yeah, he’s there with your Auntie Prim, Uncle Cinna, and Auntie Rue.” She lays back on the blanket, and brings Willow into her arms, they both look up at the little fluffy clouds slowly making their way across the sky. “Auntie Rue loved the mockingjays, she taught me their song. I always think of her being in the trees, singing with us.”
“Did she like singing?”
“Yes, very much so. She told me how she always sang with her siblings back home. And I—“ she chokes up, imagining Rue in the arena, laying in the bed of flowers, “I taught her the Valley Song.”
There’s a moment of quiet, Willow considers the story, Katniss hasn’t really talked to her about Rue before. She’s talked about Cinna plenty of times, showed her the wedding dresses he designed for her (the fake one for the cameras and the secret real one she wore on her real wedding day), but she could never talk about Rue that much, it was too painful. “She became a bird,” Willow says with such certainty, “so she can sing with them.”
It’s as if years of grief and pain are lifted off of Katniss’ shoulders in one second. This little girl from District 11, who Willow never could’ve known, summed up so perfectly by her. The little bird in the trees who could practically fly through the branches, who sang in the trees with the other birds and brought delight to everyone around her, a girl surrounded by flowers, that was Rue. Not a gruesome horrible death, not a mutt, not a symbol, but a bird. She’s free, she has been free for years, and only now did Katniss recognize that.
A mockingjay lands on a fallen log near them, and Katniss’ heart feels so full. She needs to complete the song, to have Rue sing with them. “Willow, what’s another bird you know?”
“Mmm, a mockingjay!”
“What does a mockingjay say?”
She repeats that four note tune, and it mingles with the lullaby, it’s as if Rue is there singing with them. A tune that, for so long, was associated with death and rebellion and abuse by the Capitol, it now feels joyful.
Katniss sways with her daughter as she finishes the song. Again, Willow joins in her singing, and the mockingjay too. All three of them joined together by this one silly little song.
“Mockingjay, Mockingjay, fly through my window
Mockingjay, Mockingjay, fly through my window
Mockingjay, Mockingjay, fly through my window
Fine molasses candy
Through my window
My sugar lump
Fly through my window
My sugar lump
Fine molasses candy”
Katniss looks at the mockingjay, still sitting on the log, and for one brief moment, she can almost see Rue, her arms outstretched like little wings. She says in a choked up voice, “Nice singing with you, Rue.”
The bird flies into the trees to spread the song between the others, and Katniss can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of closure hearing it. Her ally, her friend is safe in the trees, happy and flying around with all the other birds.
“You have such a pretty voice, mommy.”
She looks down at Willow, who looks right back at her. How lucky this girl is, how thoughtful she is, how loved she is, Katniss can’t get over it.
“Thank you, sweetheart. So do you.” She kisses the top of Willow’s head, and buries her nose in the lavender smelling dark curls , “I love you, so much.”
“I love you too.”
“How about we get into this lunch, you can get some dandelions, and then we can head over to the bakery to see daddy, how’s that?”
Willow gasps, “Can we get cookies?!”
Katniss jostles her, making her laugh, “Of course, I don’t think daddy’ll let you leave without something sweet.” She adds, “But, lunch first.”
Not since the war ended has Katniss felt so at peace, she can feel everyone she’s lost around her, as if they’re on the blanket with her and Willow. Her entire family, living and passed on surrounding her in a bubble of love, comfort, and security. Her own little bird continues singing and laughing and talking as they eat, it’s a perfect moment, scored by their song bouncing around the trees between the mockingjays.
Her father and Rue would be proud, she finally found the joy in singing.