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Chapter Text

Rye is "teething". That's what my Mama calls it. All he does is scream and cry! It's so loud. I just want to sleep! He cries on and off all night. Mama said I used to be this way when I was a baby but I don't believe her. Daddy said it's not nice to lie but they are lying to me, I was never like that. I just know it. I lost a tooth last month and I didn't cry. I got money! Rye is just doing it for attention I bet. He always does. Sometimes Mama will sit down to play dolls with me and then Rye starts to cry so she has to go check on him. It takes a while for her to come back sometimes. She says she trusts me to sit and play with my dolls and be a good girl while she feeds Rye. I don't understand what she means. I never see her making snacks for him? She must make special secret snacks just for him.

Mama and Daddy got mad at me this morning for telling Rye to "shut up". They said that's not "a nice thing to say". Well, I learned it from my Papa and he's the nicest man to me, ever! He lets me play with his birdies in the yard and always sneaks me extra candy. I told them I was going to run away and they just laughed. I'll show them! If they ever look away from stupid Rye for more than two seconds. I thought having a brother would be fun, that's what they told me when Mama's tummy looked like she ate too many cookies. Daddy owns a place that makes cookies and tasty foods so that must be where he came from. I asked if we could sell him since Mama "baked a brother cookie" and they didn't like that.

Rye is crying again. He never stops! It's loud and my ears hurt. I made up a special new dance I want to show Mama but she's too busy with that stupid baby. He is NOT my brother anymore, he is just an attention hog! Daddy is at work where there's lots of cookies. I wish I went to work. Maybe one of the grown ups would want to see my special dance.

"Mama!" I call.

She doesn't reply, I only hear Rye's dumb screams.

"MAMA!!!!" I shout.

"What, Willow?" She heard me that time! Here comes Mama, ready to see my dance!

"Come see my dance!" But before I can show her my new dance, Mama tells me "we're not supposed to scream in this house." She's frustrated, I can tell. I bet she wouldn't get frustrated with Rye.

"Willow Mellark, please do not scream in the house unless you're in pain or need help," she reminds me. She looks grumpy. I would be too if I were Rye's mother. It's bad enough I'm his sister.

"But Rye is screaming!" I remind her. "He never stops!"

"Rye's teeth are growing in and it really hurts him. That's why he's crying so much. He can't communicate he's in pain so Daddy and I have to do our best to make sure he's comfortable," she says. "He was almost asleep but you woke him up, so please play quietly so he can nap. Okay, honey?"

"No, not okay!" I stomp my feet. "I wanna show you a dance!"

"Willow, please go to your room. We'll discuss this later." Mama is mad now! Well, as mad as Mama gets but I don't like when Mama is mad. I stomp to my room but leave the door open. Mama goes back to the baby's room to try and put Rye down for his nap. Those are for babies. I don't nap anymore. I'm four!

I don't think Mama and Daddy love me anymore. They only love Rye and his dumb crying. He's no fun. He doesn't do any tricks. He can't talk, just make weird noises. He spits up his food. He eats mushy things. I can do dances, I love to talk, I don't make weird noises and I can eat like a grown up.

I know what to do! Daddy is still at work. Mama is in the other room. I can leave! They can live on their own with Rye and I'll start a new life somewhere else. I can live in the woods. There's food there, that's where Mama gets lots of ours from. I've gone to the woods with her, I'll figure it out. Mama and Daddy say I'm a smart cookie too!

My pretty pink bag my grandma sent me is sitting on the floor by my bed. I use it when I want to carry my dolls to my play times with my friends. I'll use it to pack what I need for my new home. My stuffed goose Nora Dove goes in the bag. I sleep with her every night and I know she'd miss me if I left. My pajamas from last night are on the floor, Mama didn't tell me to pick them up. That's how I know she doesn't care about me anymore, she always notices stuff like that. Or at least she does when Daddy doesn't tidy up. They'll go in my bag too. I don't know how to wash them but it won't matter anymore. Mama only cares about Rye being dirty now.

He is still screaming! Still! I grab a cookie off the tray Daddy didn't seem to put away before he left. No one will care, they must be for Rye when his dumb teeth come in. It's a bit early I think, but Daddy always likes to celebrate.

Rye's mouth is so loud I get out the door without being noticed. Off I go! I look back at my old home once more before I start walking in what I think is the direction of the woods. Or is it the other way? Now I'm not sure but I can't ask Mama for directions.

"Where do you think you're headin'?" asks my Papa. Oh no! He must've been outside!

"The woods," I say in my most grown up voice. Yeah, he'll believe me!

Papa looks like he's trying not to laugh. "Oh yeah? And what do you think you're doing going alone? Where's your Mama and brother?"

"It's not funny!" I shout. "Mama doesn't care about me anymore. She only likes Rye and his stupid screams. I'm moving to the woods. There's food there, and I've packed a bag."

Papa looks back at my house for a second. I'm scared he'll tell Mama and then I'll be in even more trouble than I was when I said Rye should shut up. But instead, he sticks his hand out to hold and offers to show me the way! I knew my Papa was the greatest for a reason! Maybe he even has some candy to give me.

"So, you're running away?" he asks as we begin to walk away from the house. I wonder if Mama has even noticed I'm gone yet. Probably not. Daddy will find out later when he comes home but he'll get over it. He's always happy anyway.

"Moving out," I correct him. Running away is for babies. Moving out is what grown ups do. Mama says the reason my grandma lives by the ocean is because she "moved out" and she's just as much of a grown up as Papa. "My stuff is in this bag."

Papa takes my pretty pink bag and holds it. I think he's peeking inside. Maybe he's putting candy in it too. "Not much in here, Willow. You sure you don't want to head back home to grab a few more things?"

"No, Papa. I have Nora Dove and my pajamas and a cookie. I don't need anything else! If I live in the woods, I won't have to brush my hair or my teeth or any of the other things I hate doing but Mama and Daddy always tell me I have to," I proudly say.

"Well, if you're sure," Papa says. He looks a bit funny but he does make silly faces sometimes.

Papa continues to lead us in what I assume is the right direction. He must know where to go! He's lived here a long time. One of the first things I'll do when I get to the woods will be learn the directions if I ever choose to visit him. But he can also visit me! Maybe Mama and Daddy too, if they ever get away from stinky Rye. He will not be welcome in my new home. I tell Papa all the things I plan to do now that I won't have Mama and Daddy telling me what to do and Rye getting in the way. We're at the Meadow now, which means the woods is closer too. I'll miss having picnics here with my family except Rye. Daddy always carries a really big picnic basket with Mama's cheese buns, some cookies, fruit and whatever else he feels like bringing. We even have a big blanket to sit on. Well, there will be more room on it now that I won't be there. More room for dumb dumb Rye who is also slowly starting to crawl.

"Willow," interrupts Papa. "Are you sure your parents won't miss you?" He already asked me this! He better not take me back home.

"Yes, Papa! You'll come visit me though, right? Since you know where I'm going?" Maybe Papa can even bring some of his birdies to see me too!

"Sure, I'll come visit you. But I think your Mama and Daddy will miss you. You know Sweetheart, they waited an awfully long time to meet you. Your parents wanted to give you and your brother the best life ever." I wrinkle my nose at the mention of him. "Especially your Mama. She loves you a whole lot, you know that?"

I feel kind of bad hearing that but I have to keep going. I don't want anyone to think I'm a little kid if I go back home.

Papa continues to talk about all the reasons why Mama and Daddy will miss me if I decide to live in the woods. We reach the edge of the Meadow where the trees start. My legs are hurting. Daddy usually carries me on his shoulders by the time we make it this far.

Papa kneels down as if he's the same height as me. He says I'm tall for my age but I'm not tall like Papa or Daddy. Mama says she's short but she's still taller than me.

"I gave you all the reasons why your Mama and Daddy will miss you, but Rye will miss you too," says Papa.

"He's just a baby. Babies don't miss," I tell Papa.

Papa tries not to laugh. "But when Rye grows up, he will. He'll have a Mama, a Daddy, a Papa, and a Grandma. Notice anything missing?"

I have to think for a second. Wait, yes. Yes! I do! "A me! A sister!" I shout!

"Yes, Willow! Rye will be missing a Willow!" Papa pats me on the head. "Now, what do you say? Do you still want to live here in the woods or do you want to go back home where your family is?"

"Home! We have to go home!" I urgently shout at Papa. "Before Rye forgets about me! …but can you carry me like Daddy? I'm tired now."

Papa carries me back towards my home much faster than I could have ever walked. It still feels like a long time, but eventually we start to approach the area where our houses are located. I can faintly hear Papa's geese honking in the distance. They're probably hungry. I'm hungry too. Maybe a single cookie wasn't enough food to live off of.

It's starting to get dark out. I didn't even think about the fact that I hate the dark. If I slept in the woods, where would I put my nightlight? Mama and Daddy haven't shown me how to make a fire yet, they say I'm too young. We're not back to the house yet but I can hear a voice yelling. It's not Rye's screaming for once. It sounds like Daddy!

Papa hears it too, I think, because he speeds up. Daddy must be yelling loud enough if Papa can hear it since he's always asking "what?" after everything. I don't think he cleans his ears enough, at least that's what Mama tells me when she gives me a bath.

The man's voice grows closer. I can make out what he's saying. He's yelling my name. It is Daddy! Papa begins to shout for Daddy. "Peeta?" he yells. That's Daddy's name! "PEETA?" he yells again, louder this time. I cover my ears.

"Haymitch?" the voice calls back. That's Papa! The voice is much closer now and I think there's a man walking towards us but it's hard to see.

"Peeta, I have her!" Papa yells. The shadow picks up speed and runs towards Papa and I. It's Daddy! Suddenly he's right in front of me and Papa puts me in Daddy's arms before I can even say anything. Daddy looks really upset and scared just like I do when it thunders at night. He hugs me harder than he's ever hugged before and that says a lot because Daddy always hugs me close. He hugs Mama a lot too. He also kisses her a lot, which is gross. Rye is too little to hug but Daddy likes holding him. Maybe being held wasn't enough to stop his crying.

"You scared us, Willow," Daddy says into my hair. I think he's sniffling too. I've seen Daddy cry before, but not that often. The last time I remember was when he took me to meet Rye for the first time after Mama had him. She had to go to the hospital and I was very scared for her, it's a big, scary place. He then holds me in front of his face and tells me to never take off like that again. I hate it when Daddy's upset with me, so I begin to cry. He hugs me tight again and says Mama is waiting for me at home. If Daddy is this upset now, Mama will be even more. She cries sometimes but sometimes she says it's out of happiness, which is also what Daddy said when he cried seeing me with Rye the first time. I don't understand how crying can be from being happy, but she says it's a grown up thing. Maybe I'm not so grown up after all.

Papa follows us back home. I don't hear Rye crying for once. As soon as the door opens, Mama comes running towards us. She has the phone in her hand and her eyes are red and puffy. She looks very sad and scared and that makes me sad. I made her sad. She squishes me between her and Daddy as she hugs us both. Her cries are very loud and wet; it makes me cry more than I was when Daddy hugged me. Even Papa looks upset and he's not the one I ran away from.

Eventually, Mama pulls back from our big hug and lifts me into her own arms. She does the same thing Daddy did: cry in my hair. I hear Daddy and Papa talking but I'm too distracted by Mama's crying to notice what they're saying. Maybe my parents do love me.

Mama carries me into the kitchen and sits me at the table. She serves me a bowl of stew. "I'm starving!" I say through my tears. Mama laughs and ruffles my hair like she usually does. She tells me I have her appetite and have since I was a baby. She lets me eat before she says anything. Papa and Daddy join us at the table too.

But then I finish eating and I know Mama is about to start talking.

"Willow. WHY did you run away? Do you know how scared we were? I went to check on you in your room and you were gone. I searched the whole house, and the yard and you were gone. You cannot take off like that EVER again." Mama is usually very gentle but can be fearful when she's really really scared and mad. This is one of those times. In fact, this may be the scariest I've ever seen her.

"Katniss, let her explain," says Daddy. That's Mama's name. "Haymitch had her. Although I hope I never again get a phone call at work saying one of my children has gone missing." He reaches across the table to squeeze her arm. "Let's go sit on the couch while the baby's still asleep and talk there." Papa follows us. I'm sure he's still here because Mama will have questions for him. She always does. Papa is funny because apparently he is not Mama or Daddy's father but has known them long enough and been like a family member to them. That's how he became my grandpa when I was born but I only call him Papa. Daddy cuddles both Mama and I while Papa sits in the rocking chair which is where Mama and Daddy sometimes feed the baby.

I begin to cry again as I do my best to explain why I wanted to run away. How Rye's screaming hurts my ears. How I feel like no one loves me anymore because all the attention goes to Rye. Mama begins crying again when I say this and Daddy just looks sad. They both tell me they love me so much and I will always be their first baby, even though I insist I'm four and an older sister. Mama tells me over and over again she's sorry for ever making me feel this way, she never ever wanted me to feel like I don't matter to her. Papa tells me to show off what I packed for my home in the woods, so I do. Mama tells me I'm a silly goose, just like Nora Dove. Daddy says I wouldn't have any more cookies if I lived in the woods, so it was a good thing I came home. And the geese in the woods aren't like Papa's geese. They don't have names or recognize me when he helps me feed them.

The little screen Mama and Daddy use to check on Rye lights up. He's starting to wake up. I do not understand how he sleeps the way he does. He wakes up at the most random times to cry about something. Daddy says I actually cried more than he did as a baby, the last few days were just because of his teething pain, but that can't be true. Daddy scoots off the couch to go get Rye before he gets too upset. Mama continues to hold me and sings her special Deep in the Meadow song to me. She says it's where she picked out my name. Daddy reappears with Rye in his arms, who seemingly is not crying anymore. His tooth also poked through, so he shouldn't be as fussy as he has been.

When Daddy goes to sit back down on the couch (Papa fell asleep in the rocking chair), Rye seems to reach his arms out towards me. Mama tries to take him thinking she's who he wants, but he keeps looking at me and wiggling his arms.

"Seems like your brother really wants to be held by his big sister," says Daddy. "Are you up for that? You can pass him back if he gets upset."

"I'll allow it…" I grumble. I may have calmed down but I'm still not sure I trust Rye yet. Daddy places Rye in my arms. I've only held him a few times since he was born. He seems to really like Mama the most right now, which is silly. I love both of my parents equally.

Mama makes sure I have Rye propped up the right away. He's heavier since the last time I held him. We seem to be having a staring contest right now, the kind I like to have with Papa except he always tries to cheat. Rye continues to look at me, when he suddenly grins and lets out a funny little giggle just for me.

"I guess he's alright," I mumble.

And he is.

Chapter Text

Teething. Our little boy, Rye, is experiencing his first teething session. We've been dealing with it for a few days now. This isn't our first time going through the motions of it, our daughter Willow went through it a few years ago. She's four now, and reminds us of it every day. With Willow, she was already a bit of a sensitive baby, but she was our first so we were prone to fretting over every little thing. Rye, in comparison, is a much more laid back baby than his sister was. We knew we were approaching teething time and were hoping he might not be as bothered given his disposition, but we were mistaken. Even though we knew and expected this would happen soon, it's heartbreaking to watch your child cry in pain. Peeta and I have done what we can to try and soothe the pain but until his teeth start popping through his gums, we just have to wait it out and do our best to provide comfort. I could cry every time he does, but I try my best to hold it together. It hasn't stopped me from breaking down in Peeta's arms after the kids are asleep, and we should be too.

In some ways, it's easier taking care of a newborn now, but it's also harder sometimes too. We learned so much from Willow's early years. But alongside our baby, we're also trying to parent a four-year-old, one who has acquired the stubborn traits of both her parents. Peeta and I are doing our best to juggle both kids but I think Willow is still struggling with having a baby around. This morning, she told her brother to "shut up," which we did not appreciate. I asked her where she learned to say that, as Peeta and I do our best to not speak that way in front of our little sponge. Especially given his upbringing. Of course, it came from her grandfather who has never filtered his words.

After explaining to Willow why she shouldn't be telling Rye to shut up, especially over something he can't control, she stormed off to her room. I gave her a few minutes to cool down before coming in and trying to hear her out. She wouldn't say much, but I got the sense she was feeling a little put out by her brother's uptick in crying and needing Mama more than usual. Willow has transitioned out of needing afternoon naps. We now try to spend that time playing together if Rye's asleep. Johanna sent her a beautiful handcrafted dollhouse for her birthday and it's her favourite thing to play with right now. She loves dolls and loves to make up stories about them in their house. Sometimes I sit and watch when she's very particular about the scene she's creating, other times I participate and we act things out together, coming up with scenarios to show her Daddy when he comes home from the bakery.

I manage to get Rye down for a nap just before our regular playtime starts. This perks Willow up. Just as we're getting situated in her room to begin, he wakes up again, crying loudly, possibly the loudest he's ever cried. I tell Willow to wait patiently for me to come back. I trust her to do so. Rye's probably hungry. The teething has thrown off his appetite this week. I get situated in the nursery to feed him, soothe him, whatever he needs. I just hate seeing him so miserable. Peeta does his best too, but Rye is very much in the stage where only Mama will do.

We're just about done nursing when I hear Willow calling for me across the hall. "Mama?" she calls. Rye can be a bit fussy when his feeding is interrupted, so I plan to wait until he's done to check in on her, if I can.

When I don't respond, she yells again. "MAMA!!!!!" she screams at the top of her lungs. I scramble to her room, doing my best to keep Rye in place as I check in on her.

"Yes, Willow? Are you alright?" I ask.

"Come see my dance!" Dancing is Willow's other favourite thing, besides her dolls. Oh, and candy. I repeatedly have to tell Haymitch to cut down on the candy he feeds her when she spends an afternoon with him. He claims he can't hear me and that his hearing is going. I don't buy it for a second, and he knows he can get it fixed if it's that bad. She gets enough sweets from Peeta as is.

"Willow Mellark, please do not scream in the house unless you're in pain or need help," I remind her. I think I came off too harsh in reminding her, but screaming is the last thing she needs to be doing. The reminder came too late though, Rye detaches and begins his own round of screaming. I hope those teeth comes in soon. He was almost asleep as his feeding was wrapping up.

"Rye is screaming!" she argues. "He NEVER stops screaming!"

I once again remind her, as gently as possible, that Rye's teeth are coming in and it's hurting him. That he can't talk, crying is his only way he can communicate so we have to figure what the problem is until he's old enough to start speaking. That she used to cry when her teeth were coming in. All of this goes over her head when she begins stomping her feet and demands I watch her dance.

"Willow, please go to your room. We'll discuss this later." I hate it when I have to be firm with her like this. Some would say I wasn't that firm to begin with, but I never want to seem like Peeta's mother. I know she was far, far worse in the way she treated her boys, but one of my biggest fears is having my children fear me the way Peeta feared her. He never deserved any of the things the witch did to him. He's so gentle with our children.

I need to try and get Rye calmed down again. Willow also needs her own cool down period. Again. I really wish Peeta was home but I hate calling him unless it's urgent. As it is, he should be home in a couple of hours anyway. I can hold on until then, I always do.

I take Rye back to his room to try and calm him down. Willow is right, he is loud today. I rock him, I sing to him, I try to feed him again, I check his diaper. Nothing seems to be doing the trick. This goes on for a while until finally, finally, I can see his eyes starting to droop again. A few minutes later, he's asleep. I kiss his forehead, place him in his crib and sneak out of the room.

I go across the hall to Willow's room, ready to once again talk to her. Sometimes I'm able to figure out what's upsetting her through our play time. Only when I get to Willow's room, she's not there.

"Strange," I think to myself. I check the bathroom, no sign of her. I check my bedroom and closet, not there either. Our closet is her favourite hiding spot when we play hide-and-seek, even though we always know she's there. "Like mother, like daughter,” I bitterly think to myself.

Starting to feel a bit nervous, I check every nook and cranny upstairs before I make my way down. I'm not too worried yet, just confused. When Willow is sent to her room, she's usually good about staying there until we tell her to come out or go talk to her. We usually give her a light snack this time of day, so she's probably in the kitchen, waiting for me to cut up her apples and cheese, which is her favourite right now.

Only she's not there either. A tray of cookies has been left on top of the oven. With Rye's teething being such a driving force in our days this week, Peeta and I have let some mess build up around the house. There's one missing, but I can't remember if I had one earlier or not. It's possible, I'm never one to say no to Peeta's cookies.

I can feel my heart starting to race as I check the living room, kitchen cupboard, downstairs bathroom, pantry, and Peeta's paint studio. Nothing. No Willow. "Willow?" I call. Nothing. I run outside to check the backyard. She isn't there either and doesn't appear to have been at all. Her swing set isn't moving so I know she wasn't just on it. Wherever my daughter is, it is not in this house.

"WILLOW?" I yell, louder. I hear my voice echo but no replies come. I run around to the front of the house, no sign of her there either.

She's… gone.

Haymitch's lights across the yard are off. I briefly wonder if he's taken her somewhere, but even he wouldn't take my kids anywhere without letting me know first. Right?

I head back inside and into the kitchen. The building wave of panic hits all at once and I crumble to the floor, weeping and curling myself into a ball, as if I am back in District 13. I even practice the grounding technique I worked on with Aurelius.

"My name is Katniss Mellark. I'm thirty-seven years old. I am married to Peeta. He's my best friend. We've been married for almost twenty years. We have two children, Willow and Rye. Willow is missing…"

I need to call Peeta.

I grab the phone, thankfully it was on top of the kitchen table. I dial the bakery's number, practicing what I'm going to say to Peeta. How I can word that our child has gone missing without making him think I am a complete failure as a mother? All my old fears, the ones I worked so hard to manage and overcome, are coming back to me.

"Mellark's Bakery, Peeta speaking," he cheerfully answers. There's a good chance he hasn't looked at the caller ID. He's always this cheerful when he picks up the phone. Every bit of preparation I tried to make goes out the window at the sound of his voice, and I begin sobbing once again.

"Katniss? Hello? Are you okay, honey?" Only I would call a bakery sobbing hysterically.

"I can't find Willow. I think she's missing," I manage to say through a flood of snot and tears.

"Wh-what? WHAT?" I hear him yelling through the phone. I don't answer, I just continue to cry and make terrible noises. I should be out looking for my daughter instead of standing here sounding like a mess.

When I don't say anything else, I hear him say he's coming home immediately. He sounds panicked and scared. He clearly ran home as fast as he can, because I find myself wrapped in his warm, safe arms much sooner than usual. He lets me cry for a few more minutes before he tries to ask me what happened and guides me to the couch. I'm so worried we're letting time get away from us, precious time that should be spent trying to find Willow, but he says we need to come up with an action plan.

I'm able to slow down my sobs enough so I can explain the day to Peeta. Rye will probably be awake soon, so he suggests I stay home with him and keep the phone close, in case anyone calls to say they've found Willow. Peeta will go out and search for her. Haymitch's lights were still off when Peeta came home. I can only hope he somehow has my little girl, at least she'd be safe, even if I have no idea where she is.

"How are you so calm right now?" I whisper to Peeta. He looks scared, I can see it in his eyes — but he says "because I have to be."

I could notify the Peacekeepers that my daughter is missing, but I really don't want to. I'm sure they would help. The Peacekeepers we have now are nothing like the ones we've had in the past, such as the ones that were here in the long winter between our Victory Tour and the Quarter Quell. Their uniforms are night and day to what they used to wear. They're a lot more integrated with the community now, a lot more like how Darius was. I even trade with some of them. But, I don't know what ties they could still have with the Capitol. The Capitol is much, much different than it used to be, no longer the horrible place it was for so long. But the last thing I want is to have news that Katniss Everdeen, Katniss Mellark, a star-crossed lover, the Mockingjay herself, isn't responsible enough to take care of her own children.

I collect Rye from his crib and begin crying once again, this time over how the crib was originally Willow's. Peeta holds me and the baby close to his chest and whispers soothing things to me, how he's going to find our little girl, how all kids take off on their parents, how Willow is smart and will surely know what to do. I've taken her to the woods many, many times, even younger than Rye is now and she was strapped to my chest, or Peeta's, if he came too. But I've never hunted in front of her, because she's only four. I have done my best to explain to her what to do if she ever thinks she's lost or gets separated from me.

Peeta sets out to look for Willow. I hover in the kitchen, Rye is now awake and seemingly less upset than he has been. He seems hungry once again, so I nestle into the rocking chair and begin feeding him. It becomes evident pretty quickly that his teeth has finally poked through. We'll have more rounds of this once more teeth come in, but I'm relieved he's gotten through this round.

Once Rye is fed, my mind begins to spiral again. What if Peeta doesn't find Willow by sundown? She'll be cold. She hates the dark and has a night light. I work through some breathing techniques and remind myself that Peeta has literally won the Hunger Games, been in an arena twice, been tortured, worked through it to find his way back home and in my heart, and has had almost twenty years of extensive woodland knowledge thrown his way from our trips through the woods to the lake. He'll find her. He has to.

To further distract myself, I begin prepping supper. Eating feels wrong right now, not when my poor daughter is probably starving. She didn't even get her snack. I have no appetite thinking about this. The thought that my own child is likely crying from hunger sickens me actually, and there is a good chance she is — she loves to eat. She will make it known that she's upset if she can't eat when she thinks it's time. Realistically, Willow and Rye should never have to face the hunger I had to when my father died. But should such a circumstance like that ever arise again, it's a no-brainer, my kids would be fed long before I would ever take a bite.

I don't even realize I've started crying again until I finish chopping up carrots for the stew. Rye is behind me, bouncing in the jumping swing my mother sent me recently. He loves it. I am happy he's doing so much better, such an improvement of a few hours ago. I think he's noticing his sister isn't there. His head is turning around and he has a confused frown on his face. Willow's struggled from time to time with adjusting to having a baby around, but she does like to make him laugh and giggle. I stop to take another moment to breathe through these thoughts and kiss my son's head.

After several instances of stopping to regroup my thoughts, cuddle my baby boy, and cry salty tears, I manage to finish making stew. The phone hasn't rang once. I look across the lawn. Still no lights on at Haymitch's house, and it will be getting dark soon. He has to be out with Willow, at least, that's what I plead to myself. Haymitch goes out far more often than he did when Peeta and I first met him, but he's still never out late. I try to take a few bites of the stew but it tastes and feels like glue in my mouth. Again, I berate myself for eating when my daughter may be going without.

I get Rye ready for bed. I put him in the blue and green pajamas Willow picked out not too long ago when I took her into town to look for baby clothes. He's just moved up in size, so we had spent a couple hours picking out some new things, just me and her. I sing him to sleep and once again place him in his crib. I take the baby monitor and slip it into my pocket.

I stand in the entryway of Willow's room to see if anything seems off. I didn't do much digging earlier, as soon as I realized she was gone, I went into full panic mode. Her stuffed goose, the one she named Nora Dove after Haymitch told her a story about "Nora Dove" travelling the world, isn't on her bed. Neither are her pajamas, the ones I am constantly reminding her to not leave on the floor. Her father does the same thing and Willow is easily influenced by Peeta, and not always for the best sometimes. I seem to remember the pink sparkly purse my mother sent Willow to carry her dolls in being left on the floor, and it's also not here. Willow ran away.

I return downstairs and collapse into an armchair. Sobs begin wracking my body once again, now finally facing the fact that something I did must've upset my daughter enough for her to leave. Willow is just a few months shy of sharing the age gap I had with Prim. I could never, and would never, imagine running away from Prim. Not at any age. I won't even allow myself to get into a tangent about all the ways I still feel I failed her, even as twenty years have passed since I lost her.

I've come to terms with my mother's debilitating depression, after having gone through it myself, and especially after becoming a mother. When I finally came to realizing I wanted children with Peeta, one of the first things I'd said was I never, ever wanted my kids to suffer the way I did. I continue to cry in my chair, sobs about how I'm no better than my mother or Peeta's mother. I have a good relationship with my mother now, we've both gone to therapy and have been treated properly for our struggles. She's done her best to make up for what I lost from her growing up. But at this moment, I might as well be staring off into the void as she did.

My face hurts from crying so much. Peeta still hasn't called, but it sounds like he's not far from here. I can hear someone stomping around outside. He's yelling for Willow. It's almost dark now, and my poor baby still isn't home, safe and sound. I should be out there looking for her. I shouldn't have sent her to her room. I could keep going on all the ways I've surely failed my family, but then it sounds like two sets of feet are coming up our front steps. I spring out of my chair, phone in hand and sprint to the kitchen, where I stand and watch the front door open.

Peeta steps inside, his face a mixture of distraught and relieved. In his arms is Willow. She turns her head to look at me as I race to meet them. The sight of my daughter in her father's safe, warm arms sets off a new round of tears. Willow's face is wet with her own tears. I've never seen her look so sad and scared in the four years I've known and loved her. I've wiped her tears away on many occasions, but never because of something I may have done. I latch on to her and Peeta, sobbing into my baby's hair. I didn't even see Haymitch come in with Peeta, but I guess he knows I have words for him. I scoop Willow into my arms, cry and clutch her to me some more, before taking her to the kitchen to get her supper. I have a lot of questions for her, and I know it's going to hurt to hear her answers. Peeta and Haymitch come sit with us at the table. Rye is still sleeping, according to the monitor. I'm grateful, because this is really a time where the focus needs to be on Willow.

Willow finishes eating. I watch her for a moment to see if she's going to say anything first. When she continues to stare into her empty bowl, I know it's my turn to talk.

"Willow. WHY did you run away? Do you know how scared we were? I went to check on you in your room and you were gone. I searched the whole house, and the yard and you were gone. You cannot take off like that EVER again." Once again, I hate that I feel like I'm coming across as angry but she ran away. Peeta softly tells me to let Willow explain as he reaches out to squeeze my arm. I nod my head. Peeta speaks up again for just a moment, saying he never again wants to get a phone call at work saying his daughter is missing. I don't blame him. This was one of the worst days of my life.

Peeta suggests we take this conversation to the couch, so we do. I pick up my little girl and carry her, then situate myself on the couch, Peeta cuddling me while I cuddle Willow. Peeta loves sitting here with his family wrapped in his arms. It's something he dreamed of for so long. Rye's still asleep, otherwise he'd be snuggled with us just as tightly.

I start to cry as Willow begins to tearfully tell me why she chose to run away. I feel like a monster. My unfortunate suspicions were right. All the focus I'd put on Rye this week made Willow feel like she was an afterthought, something I never ever wanted my children to feel. Rye's crying, louder and more pained than his usual cries, were wearing her down.

"I love you, Willow. So much," I cry, kissing her head. "I'm so sorry I made you feel this way. No matter what, you are my first baby. You will always be my baby. Never forget that, Willow. You are so loved." Peeta agrees, reaffirming his love for our daughter. How much he loves being her Daddy.

I almost forget Haymitch is still sitting in the rocking chair until he speaks up, requesting Willow to show off what she packed in her bag. Nora Dove. Her night light. The pajamas she "forgets" to pick up. The singular missing cookie from the tray that I apparently didn't eat. Some candy Haymitch threw in for her. Peeta laughs and reminds Willow that his bakery, as well as our kitchen, are where the cookies come from. Not the woods. The wild geese aren't Willow's friends like her Papa's are. There are no places in the woods to plug in a nightlight. All in all, Willow seems to understand that she's better off at home, with her toys, her warm bed, her cookies, and her family who love her so very much.

The baby monitor lights up. Rye's awake. I hesitate for a moment. I know he'll need me, but I also worry it will set back Willow again. Peeta, always knowing what I'm thinking, scoots out from behind me to go check on our boy. I take the opportunity to sing Deep in the Meadow to Willow and stroke her hair.

Peeta returns with Rye in his arms. Willow looks surprised to see him not crying. I tell her his teeth finally popped out and he should be feeling much better now. Of course, there will be more teeth to come in but we're over the first part. His arms reach out and signal he wants to be held. When I try to take him from Peeta, he doesn't seem to budge. In fact, it seems like his sister is who he wants. Willow hasn't held Rye that much. She did when she first met him after his birth, and a handful of times after, but she never seemed too keen to and we didn't want to be forceful of it either. Peeta asks if she's okay with it — she says she'll "allow it". He positions Rye in his sister's arms. They stare at each other, until Rye giggles. Willow smiles back, grumbling something along the lines of "I guess he's alright." I know our work here isn't done and things won't magically be resolved, but I feel a bit of stress evaporating.

Willow continues to hold him until she yawns and Peeta takes her upstairs to get her ready for bed. I'll join once I feed the baby. I motion for Haymitch to switch spots with me so I can feed Rye in the rocking chair. It was for me, after all, not him.

Haymitch and I have our own stare down until he breaks.

"So… I'm guessing you've got questions for me," he starts. I most certainly do, and he knows it. However, no matter how much I think he should've at least told me he was taking Willow out, he should've told me… or found a way to let me know he thwarted her from fully running away on her own.

"Haymitch. Today was, without a doubt, one of the scariest and worst days of my life, and I've had a lot of those," I emphasize. Like it or not, he's seen most of my worst moments firsthand. "Do you understand how terrified I was? My daughter was missing for several hours. And while yes, she was with you, and I'm appreciative you kept her safe and reasoned with her, but she's still only four years old! She needs her family, her home. I know you were just trying to help and I'm so glad you were there to step in, I really am. But I just wish you had come in to tell me you were going to take Willow for a few hours. Maybe that's what I should have done myself…" I stop talking as my thoughts start to creep back in.

Haymitch interrupts me before I can get any further. "You can't think like that, Katniss. I agree, looking back I should have spoken to you. Arguably, I kidnapped my grandkid today," he laughs, but stops when I don't join in. "I just wanted to help. She was outside sniffling with a bag full of nonsense. She also worded it as moving out."

Rye finishes eating. I take a moment to burp him and readjust my shirt before Haymitch continues. "Look, I was two-and-a-half years older than Willow when Sid came along. I was so excited to be a big brother," he pauses, no doubt thinking about the little boy he lost far too young. "So sometimes I forget Willow wasn't quite four when Rye came along. Maybe I never clued in that she didn't feel the same way as I did. As you did. And I don't care what you teach your kids, there is no way they'll ever need the survival skills you have. She thought she would find more cookies in the woods," Haymitch laughs. I crack, letting out a small chuckle. Willow has only ever known what it's like to have baked treats and Papa's candy at her beck and call. Rye will soon learn that too, once he starts eating real foods.

Rye has already fallen back to sleep. I take a deep breath. I'm exhausted. I want to go to bed. I want to kiss my daughter goodnight and catch the tale end of whatever silly story Peeta is inevitably telling her. I want to fall asleep in his arms, on his chest, as I have for almost twenty years. I want to wake up tomorrow with a fresh start and move on from today. But I do need to thank Haymitch.

"Haymitch. I do want to thank you. For everything. I saw the lights off at your house and all day, I just hoped she was somewhere safe. She was with you, so as terrible as today has been, I really do want to thank you for keeping her safe. There are so many worse things that could've happened. I will say thanks on behalf of Peeta too. I know he will agree, we should've been told. But you kept our little girl safe and I think you've made a difference working with her today," I say. Tears fill my eyes again but for once, they don't spill over.

He gets up, ready to head back home. "No problem, Sweetheart. I'll swing by tomorrow if you want or need me to." He pats my shoulder and starts heading towards the door. I follow. We make a little more small talk before he departs. I watch him walk across the lawn and back to his house, hearing the geese honk as he steps into his yard. I always watch to make sure he gets home safely, even if it's just a few steps. It's no different than I did with Peeta during the blizzard, so many years ago. I just want my loved ones to be safe and sound.

I shut the lights off downstairs and head up to meet Peeta and Willow. Normally, Peeta and I cuddle on the couch for a bit after the kids have been put to sleep but the weight of the day has taken its toll on me and I'd rather be in bed. Peeta must've known I'd be up a bit later because tonight's story has been extended a lot longer than usual. I quickly place Rye into his crib for the last time today and make my way back to Willow's room. She's laughing as Peeta makes funny voices and gestures with his hands.

"Mama!" she excitedly shouts when she sees me come in. "Come sit with me and Daddy!"

"I would love to," I say, "but Daddy's a bed hog. Can you scooch over a bit?" She happily obliges, and I crawl in bed next to her. I wrap an arm around her and play with her hair while Peeta finishes his story. It's hard to not blame myself for everything, but Willow starts getting sleepy within a couple moments of my arrival. I think she was holding out for her Mama.

Peeta's story finishes up just as Willow's eyes shut. She mumbles "I love you, Mama and Daddy" before sleep fully takes her. I make sure she's tucked in with Nora Dove in her arms, before we take our turns kissing her on the forehead, return our I love yous, then exit her room.

Peeta and I quickly get ready for bed ourselves. We're both too tired to say much about today, but we're on the same page: we're thankful for Haymitch, wish he had a bit of foresight to notify us, and promise to not beat ourselves up too hard. We love our children with all our hearts. We're doing our best, and sometimes that means making mistakes.

Just before we succumb to our exhaustion, he whispers "you love our family. Real or not real?"

I don't hesitate to say "real."