She is happy because he doesn't have to go to work today. Ever since the accident four years ago, she hates watching him leave for the mines each morning. She had waited for hours into that night, staring at the elevator doors as they opened and closed and opened and closed. He stumbled out on the last car. He took in a deep gulp of fresh, frigid air as she let out her fear in a cloud of hot breath. Today, though, he will not go near that door.

As she passes his and her mother's closed door, she can't help the smile that tickles the edges of her mouth. Her whole family is present and accounted for this morning. She had left her younger sister just moments ago after singing her back to sleep. Her sister's big blue eyes had been bright and wild from her nightmare as she pleaded, "Sing to me?" She had gently pushed her sister's small frame back against the mattress and smiled.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow," she sings under her breath as she closes the front door quietly behind her. "A bed of grass, a soft green pillow." She glances around in the dim light that precedes the rising sun. "Lay down your head, and close you sleepy eyes." The world is silent and unmoving, like Prim had been when she had finally fallen back into rest. "And when again they open, the sun will rise."

There has not been a single person or even a set of prying eyes during her entire walk, but she looks around again out of habit when she reaches the fence. As she does, she leans close to the wires to make sure the electricity has not been turned on for some reason. Once satisfied that she is alone and the fence is off, she slips through to the other side.

"Here it's safe, here it's warm." The long grass and summer wildflowers brush along the ankles of her boots before she disappears into the forest. "Here the daisies guard you from every harm." She extracts her bow and arrows from a hollow log before continuing along the familiar path. "Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true." There is a break in the trees ahead and she can start to make out the shape of her best friend sitting on the rock ledge that overlooks the valley.

"Hey, Catnip," he calls to her in his deep voice without turning around.

"Hey, Gale," she says as her eyebrows draw together.

There is half a grin on his face as he turns his head. "I heard you coming."

"Bullsh-"

"Okay, I didn't hear you. All the birds went quiet and I figured your dad wouldn't be coming out here today, so it must have been you."

She nods as she settles down beside him.

"How come I've never heard you sing?" Gale asks as he hands her half of a loaf of bread.

The bread is still warm when it touches her hands. She hides her smile in its soft insides as she presses it to her nose. It's real bakery bread-the kind of bread they only get for special occasions. Even with her dad working in the mines, her mother's occasional healing work, and the spoils from hunting, buying things from town is still a luxury. Their "wealth," compared to the meager existence of most of the people from their part of the district, only means that she has not had to sign up for government tesserae. This situation is unusual for people around her, including Gale. His father did not return on that fateful day at the mines. When she and her father met him in the woods soon after the accident, Gale's, his mother's, and his three younger siblings' fates became intricately tied to theirs. It took time, but she slowly knocked down his walls and her father carefully worked his way through enough of Gale's pride to let them help him. Gale only agreed when her father made the partnership seem equally mutually beneficial.

"How much did you have to pay for this?" she asks.

"Only a squirrel. I think the old man was feeling sentimental. He even wished me good luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" she muses as she picks at the crust.

"Katniss?"

Katniss looks up and remembers that he asked her a question. "Oh," she starts as she pulls cheese from her sister's goat out of her bag. "I don't really sing to anyone except Prim and that's only when she has nightmares."

It isn't a lie. She doesn't talk a lot to begin with, so she doesn't know why Gale would expect her to sing. Her father is the charismatic one. He smiles and he sings. When he sings, not only do people stop to listen, and the birds, but the entire world does, too. When he sings, she smiles.

"Your dad sings all the time," he points out through a mouthful of cheese, bread, and basil.

"Yeah, and he scares all the game away when he does."

Gale tosses his head back as he laughs. "Sometimes I don't know how you two are related. He's so much nicer than you are."

He doesn't stop laughing even when she kicks his boot with the heel of her own. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he says as he lifts himself from the ground to pull some berries off of a nearby bush. He clears his throat as he faces her and lifts his head in what she supposes is a prim and proper manner. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds..."

He tosses a berry towards her and she leans to catch it in her mouth. She bites down and, as the delicious juice rolls across her tongue, says, "...be ever in your favor."

The smile that appears on his face spreads to her cheeks, as well, if only for a moment. He plops down beside her again and they look out across the valley. The tops of the green trees stretch far past the horizon. They sway with the wind in a slow, romantic dance in the sunlight. Everywhere Katniss looks, there are mountains that don't reach high enough to break the tree line. They are old. In school, they don't say how old, but they're old mountains. They've seen so much-too much. They were there before Panem, before the Dark Days, before whatever was there before that. They've been here so long that the weight of everything is pushing them back into the ground. Maybe it's so there won't be any more reminders of what used to be. Then everyone can pretend the past never happened.

"We could do it, you know."

Katniss looks over at Gale, waiting for him to continue.

"Go. Leave," he says, nodding out towards nothing in particular. "Leave the district and live in the woods. We could make it."

"We could," she says quietly, thinking about Prim and then about Gale's siblings, Rory, Vick, and little Posy. "Maybe we could if we didn't have so many kids."

He shrugs before falling silent.

After another moment, Katniss says, "I never want to have kids."

"I might. If I didn't live here."

"But you do."

"I know," he replies. The muscles in his cheek bulge as he grinds his teeth. "I don't need you to remind me."

She looks at him for a second before turning back to the valley. He wouldn't have a problem finding a wife if he wanted kids. He's tall and good-looking. She sees how all the girls look at him at school. She also sees the looks they give her as she stays glued to his side. She's glad they notice her, even if it is because they're tired of her always keeping Gale occupied. Good hunting partners are hard to come by. Her father is, of course, the best, but anything can happen. Gale knows that too well, which is one of the reasons it took him so long to befriend her. Now that he has, she sticks by him and him by her. They'll make it together.

When they finish their meal, they decide to go fishing and foraging for something nice for dinner. If everyone makes it back for dinner, there is definitely reason to celebrate.