It was a dream. She was aware even as it was happening that it wasn't real.
She was walking alone in District 12. A wave of panic crashed over her, flooding her with images of her father with his bow. A parachute. Her mother walking away, her face hidden by a dense fog. Gale, too, was far away and hidden, too far to hear her calling to him. A mutt circling. And Prim was running, running, running.
She drifted in despair, anxiety, rejection, and guilt. Snippets of conversation filled her head. Her mother's voice telling her of the hospital in District 4. Finnick's screams. Her father, the memory of his song just an image, the sound of his voice hidden from her, strangely forgotten.
But as these images and entities swirled around her, she felt only alone and afraid.
Her shoulders began to shake, and her lungs gasped for breath as the despair rose in her, filling her body like groundwater fills a well, rising, rising, suffocating her.
And then she noticed him. She found herself sitting in a chair, and a small child crouched at her feet. His curly blonde hair and grey eyes peeked up over her knees. He startled her, but she felt only mild surprise, and the drowning feeling slowly ebbed. Though she didn't know him, she felt an instant kinship for him.
He stood and grabbed hold of her arm to hoist himself into her lap. Instinctively, she guided him until he was sitting comfortably curled up into her chest.
She could feel her heartbeat starting to slow, the anxiety seeping away. His curls tickled her nose, and his body warmed her.
She wanted to ask who he was, but something in the back of her mind stilled her tongue. She knew without knowing. She couldn't find the words explain his presence, but something told her she knew this child.
She shifted him in her lap so she could see him again more clearly. His chubby cheeks and pink skin contrasted sharply with the serious look in the grey-almost-silver color of his eyes. The look reflected her own.
"You have come for me?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
The boy nodded, and a golden curl fell on his forehead. She reached up to brush it away, a gesture so familiar to her though she couldn't think of ever having done it before.
And then she noticed it. Clutched in his hand was a brown arrow, similar to the ones she could make herself but smaller.
"Is that for me?" she asked.
The smile he gave her was so joyful, so full of peace, that she couldn't help the tears that slid down her face. He moved so that he was sitting up on his knees in her lap, facing her. They looked at each other eye-to-eye now, and she reached out to pull him into an embrace.
She felt the sharp point of the arrow pierce her chest before she realized what he'd done. It poked right through her skin with ease, burrowing deep, half-way down the shaft.
She looked down in confusion. She was not expecting this moment. She could feel pain though no blood escaped the wound. She looked back up at the child, and in the blink of his eye, her life revolved in front of her like a carousel showing scenes of great passion, great joy, great sorrow – all awaiting her.
Her fear returned, and she began trembling. She was not sure what would come next, but the child simply settled back into his position in her lap, curled up into her, keeping her warm and steady. Her arms encircled his small body as she rocked him back and forth, coming to terms with all she would gain and lose.
Her eyes fell again on the end of the arrow sticking out next to his rounded cheek. She gradually drifted again, her mind lulled by her own rocking.
The warmth grew, and she realized her body had never been so warm, so relaxed, so safe.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring into bright blue ones. A golden curl had fallen over his forehead. She pulled back a bit, realizing that the warmth was his, that she had wrapped herself around him completely in her sleep. A rush of relief filled her as she recognized that this was the first night since returning to District 12 that she had slept through until morning.
His warmth. His calm. His arms encircling her.
She reached up to brush away the tendril, and then, for the first time in more than a year, she kissed him.