To dance is to be free…
Her arms slowly travelled up to the sky and each finger tried to find the quickest path to the sun, to see which could get the closest to its warmth and light. Her hips swayed from side to side to the beat in her head. Her face, still scarred, lifted up towards the light. Her eyes were closed. She just needed to know it was there, to feel the heat, to know that she wasn't in danger. She twisted and turned her palms attempting to catch the rare feeling that had taken over her. The grass, still damp from the morning dew, was cool beneath her feet and there was a slight breeze. It was perfect.
He watched her, fascinated as always, because there was still something that was missing although she had fixed him more than anyone could have hoped for. His brush flicked on the canvas occasionally dipping in the cool water or the summer sweet colours he had known to choose. The nightmares still came often enough for him to think that she would never be free to feel free again. When they came, at the witching black of night, they howled like a thousand mutts. Her voice transformed to hoarse screams of jabberjays. Her limbs thrashed out, covering all areas, and her tears flooded. They were true terrors. His were much the same but he was not as vocal, in fact she would attempt to argue that his were worse because he was still not one hundred percent sure if they were real or not. He dismissed that instantly and just held her as close as he could. The contact of their bodies was like a drug to them both; it soothed and calmed, loved and caressed. To hold her in such away would have been enough to satisfy him even though he now knew the delight of her kisses which she so often craved. He tried to recall if he had ever seen her dance before; he had not.
She heard him approach, such a life as she had lead meant she heard everything, but she let him have the satisfaction of believing he had sort of surprised her as he cautiously slid his strong arms around her waist. He moved in sync with her, making them one person. She didn't need to open her eyes because as long as he was there behind her, nothing could touch her. She felt his cheek against hers, soft and caring. To dance with him was to be free…
"Katniss Everdeen, I love you. Real or not real?"
"Real. Peeta Mellark, I love you. Real or not real?"
"Real, because you're a rubbish liar!"
Katniss swooped round in faux shock and the couple tumbled to the ground. She pushed up so she trapped Peeta between her arms.
"Like I would want to lie about it"
And before he could reply, she kissed him.