This is my first Hunger Games fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it! I've spent, like, a week, trying to come up with ideas for fanfictions, and I said, "Hey! Let's just do this!"
Btw, this takes place around twenty years after Mockingjay, when Katniss's children are old-ish. Like, five years old, and thirteen years old. I do NOT own Hunger Games, Catching Fire, or Mockingjay. Suzanne Collins does. I wish I did, though! :)
ENJOY!

It was Willow's thirteenth birthday. Peeta had baked her a lovely cake, and I'd bought her hand-crafted bow. I was laying in bed, and Peeta was holding me, just like he had when we were in the arena for the first time. "Our little girl's already a teenager," he whispers. "I know," I say. Our eyes meet. "I love you," I whisper. Peeta's lips linger on top of mine teasingly for a while, and he pulls me closer to him. His hands have just barely made their way up my shirt when the door creeks open. We jump off of each other and see our brunette daughter standing in the door way. "Were you guys just..."

"No!" Peeta and I yell in unison. Willow laughs. "Right..." she rolls her eyes playfully. "Anyway, mom? I was wondering if we could go hunting with that bow you got me," she says. I turn to Peeta, and he gives me a nod. "Yeah, okay. Just, not right now. Like, maybe in a few hours," I say. Willow smirks. "Yeah, 'cause you have more important things to do," she winks, and runs out of the room.
I laugh and try to get out of the bed, but Peeta pulls my arm and I fall onto my back. He straddles me and says deeply, "We do have more important things to do."

About an hour later, I walk out of Peeta's and my bedroom. I head into my daughter's room, and find Willow looking through a book on her bed. She looks up and smirks. "Why's your shirt on backwards?" she laughed. My face turns red. "I, um..." I walked out of the room, took off my shirt, and put back on normally. I walk back into Willow's room and sigh. "Got your bow?" I ask. She snatches the bow off her desk and holds it up. "Alright. We can go now," I say. Willow is excited to go hunting for the first time, but I'm worried about leaving Peeta alone at the house.
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" I ask my husband, toying with his shirt collar. My son, Rye, tugs at Peeta's pant leg and whines. "No, I need to keep an eye on Rye," he insists. I nod. "Why don't you take him outside with your easels, and you can draw something?" I offer. Peeta looks down at Rye and asks, "Son, do you want to draw something outside with me?" Rye jumps up and down and giggles. "Alright then." Peeta brushes my hair away from eyes and gently kisses my forehead. "Be safe," he whispers. "I will," I promise.

Me and Willow run into the woods like young fawns. We leap over fallen trees and splash through the rivers. "This is so much fun!" Willow shouts as she hops over a log. I put my finger to my lips and stop running. I hear a SNAP in the distance. "Come," I motion to Willow, and grab onto a low branch on a tree. I swing myself up onto the branch, and Willow copies me. We sit next to each other in the tree, with our arrows ready to fire. Suddenly, Willow let's her arrow fly, and it lodges itself right into Marvel's throat. I see a long bloody river drip down his neck as he tumbles to the ground, not too far away from Rue, who's bleeding to death on the ground. I let out a piercing scream that startles Willow, and nearly makes her topple out of the tree. I keep screaming bloody murder until Willow grabs a hold of my hand and says, "Mom, you're not in the games."

When I open my eyes, I don't see Marvel. I don't see Rue. I see a small rabbit beside a lake, with an arrow sticking out of its belly. I force a smile. "G-good job," I say. Willow frowns. Last year, I explained to her everything about the games, because Peeta and I had both started screaming uncontrollably in the middle of the night once. Now, when I go crazy on her, she's always there to calm me down. I wrap my arm around my beautiful daughter, and sigh. "I'm sorry," I apologize. "Don't be. It's not your fault you were reaped," my daughter says.
I'm about to get out of the tree to pick up the rabbit, when I suddenly hear a familiar voice.

"KATNISS!"

My blood turns to ice, realizing its Peeta's voice. "PEETA!" I scream. "Mom?" Willow tugs at my shirt, just like Rye had done to Peeta. "Stay behind me," I tell her, jumping to the ground. Willow has just barely made it to the ground when I sprint towards the sound of my husband's voice. "PEETA!" I screech.

"KATNISS!"

I can hear the fear in his voice. The pain in his voice... I recognize it too well from the arena. Willow stumbles behind me and falls into a puddle. I help her up, and she looks into my eyes. Tears build up in hers. "Sweetie," I take her hand and run. "Mom, what's going on?" she cries. I don't know, so I don't answer. Finally, I see Peeta at the edge of the woods. I let go of Willow's hand and run into his arms. He holds me close enough that I can feel his trembling. "Papa, what's wrong?!" Willow demands, obviously done with waiting for answers. Peeta doesn't glance at her. Instead, he keeps his eyes focused on mine. "Rye is missing," he says.

It's enough to set me off. "What?!" I shout. "We were just painting those flowers over there and-" Peeta's voice falters. "He saw a butterfly and chased after it. He was just too... too fast, and he disappeared into the forest," he finishes. I fall out of his arms, crumpling to my knees. "No, no..." I cry. "He can't be out there alone. Peeta, we- we need to find him."

Peeta nods, but doesn't say anything. Clearly, he's in shock, just like me. I'm not sure how Willow is feeling, though. I look up at her slowly, and her eyes slowly meet mine. A shiny tear streams down her cheek. Suddenly, she takes off.

She sprints across the wet grass and into the woods. "Rye!" she screams. "Willow! Get back here!" I demand. She stops running, but stays where she is. "Rye!"

She turns back to me and narrows her eyes. "We need to find him!" she cries. "We need to find my baby brother."

Later that night, we sit by the fireplace with cups of warm milk, praying to see a pair of little grey eyes in the window. With Peeta's arm around me, like it is right now, I usually feel safe and happy. But not tonight. I feel cold, painful stabs of pain in my heart each time I think of my little boy. Willow finishes her cup of milk and walks to the kitchen, where she drops her cup in the sink. "I'm going to bed," she states, and trudges into her room.

I rest my head on Peeta's shoulder and look into the fireplace, where the orange flames lick the firewood. "We're going to find him, Katniss," Peeta whispers. I bite my lip to keep back my tears. "I was so scared to ever love anything again... worried that my loved ones could be taken away from me..." I start to say.

"Like Prim and your father," Peeta adds. I shut my eyes. "And when I finally let my guard down- when I was finally happy- my son goes missing," I say. Peeta holds me close enough to him so that I can feel his heavy heartbeat. "Katniss, I know you're shooken up by this- I am, too. But I think Willow is more scared than either of us," he tells me. I twist a lock of his golden hair in my trembling fingers. His blue eyes are enough to calm me down. "I love you," I whisper. "I love you, too," he says. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss, and I fall onto my back as Peeta slowly unbuttons my shirt...