I feel the warm tickle of the seawater just barely touching the tips of my toes, I squirm a little as it catches me off guard but I soon embrace the tingly feeling. I prop myself up on my hands, I watch them sink into the damp sand a little and then promptly look at my surroundings. I recognize the beach I'm on but there seems to be a different feel to it, a more lighthearted feel. A small white bird with a pink tinge lands right beside me, I roll and sit up and it takes a spot on my lap. "Hello little duck," I greet it although it's clearly not a duck. It's Prim, my sister who was killed during the rebellion, whom I so dearly loved, so much so that I took her place when she was reaped for the 74th hunger games. It's very apparent that I'm dreaming but it's not the usual nightmares that I have of the dead dragging me down to the bottom of the sea. "I've missed you," I tell her, "life's been so different without you." Prim chirps 4 times, as if to reply I miss you too. I start to lose grip of the dream and fade back to reality as the sun crowns over the tree line and illuminates my room. I close my eyes trying to fall back sleep trying to spend more time with my departed sister but it's just no use.
I smell cinnamon in the air as I wash my face and brush my teeth. Peeta. I check my children's bedrooms to find them both fast asleep then stroll back into my room and look outside the window to the hustle and bustle of District 12. I see the blooming primroses that Peeta planted for me in memory of Prim, pretty and innocent, just as Prim was. Prim… I remember now. Today is Prim's birthday. I continue on with my daily routine and head downstairs and see Peeta pulling out the cake from the oven. "For Prim," he smiles, noticing my depressed look. I walk over and give him a kiss and thank him. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd remember her birthday," I explain as I walk over to the closet where I keep my bow and my father's hunting jacket. I spend most of my mornings hunting; I see it as my own personal form of mediation. "I know how much Prim meant to you, besides she was my friend too you know," he winks at me. My spirits soar, he seems to know exactly what to say to me to cheer me up, no matter how much of a slump I'm going through. I blow him a kiss as I step out the door; he makes a catching gesture with his hand and puts it to his heart and smiles.
As I walk through the district, I'm greeted with the usual salutations from the survivors of the destruction of 12. The mangled piece of metal that used to be the gallows is long gone from the city circle. I remember the memory that accompanies the memory of the gallows but I quickly dismiss it and keep moving towards the weak point in the fence by my old house. That's long gone too. The fence remains unchanged; it's still mostly quiet and unelectrified, just like how it was before. I cross the fence and make my way towards the rock where Gale and I always rendezvoused when we went hunting. I still do this every morning, I'm not sure if it's out of habit or because I miss Gale. Probably both. I don't miss Gale as a lover, I miss Gale as a friend, a friend who I always had no fear of confiding in but I guess that's long gone too. I sit down at the rock and rest my bow against it and take a moment to just soak in the wonderful forest air. I rest my upper body with my hands behind my back and tilt my head back, eyes closed and get lost in the bliss. The forest is still my most favorite place in the world, it's the only place I smile according to Gale. It's true.
Gale… where are you?
"Catnip!"
Startled, I quickly snap out of my daydream, turn, and reach for my bow. My fingers grab nothing but air and I soon realize who's sitting beside me, holding my bow in his hand. It's Gale of course. He appears just as silently as before, as if he materializes before thin air. "I knew I'd find you out here," he explains with confidence. A whole slew of emotions start coming over me, I'm happy to see him but I'm also overcome with fear of how I'm going to confront him about the bombs that had lured my beloved sister to the doomed children of Capitol only to have her blown to smithereens, and how he's never even bothered to call or visit me since. My anger finally erupts and I start flailing my arms at him, I land three blows until he grabs my hands, pulls me into his arms and let's me sob in silence. "I'm so sorry," he admits guiltily and returns into silence. I can see in his eyes that the truth about how Prim died from the bombs he designed has been eating away at his conscience. "It's not your fault," I say, finally breaking the silence, trying to comfort him because it's obvious I'm not the only one affected by Prim's death. "If I had known that Prim would be a victim of m-" I place my finger onto his lips, acknowledging that he would have never designed the bombs if he knew that Prim would be a victim and that I would suffer so much because of it.
The silence finally breaks when he says, "I've got something…" He pulls his bag out from behind the rock and starts pulling out what looks to be a large blue cloth. I immediately recognize what it is; it's the dress Prim wore on the reaping day. Sorrow floods my whole body as the memories of Prim play through my head, my eyes start to water but I swallow hard and try my hardest not to cry. Another long silence ensues. "This is for you," He continues, pulling out a majestic greenish yellow bow from behind the rock. It's absolutely beautiful. I've read about the material it's made of before, kevlaron I think it's called. He hands me the bow and the first thing I notice is how light the bow is, it's much lighter than the bow that I acquired in 13 but it's also noticeably more rigid. "It's the last weapon that will ever be made in Panem," he notifies me, proud that there will be no more fighting, at long last, peace. "Why am I being given this for?" I ask, pretending as if I don't want it, trying to mask my excitement for having such an amazing bow. "It's the least the nation can do for the mockingjay that had lead them to freedom and peace, I've been trying to convince the president to stop the manufacturing of weapons ever since Prim…" "If I could just turn back time and not have made those bombs…" he replies, not even taking a moment to think of an answer, I know he means this from his heart. "I've missed you," he confesses, not in the way that one misses a lover but in the way that one misses a best friend. "Yeah, I've missed you too," I smile, trying to make it as clear as possible that I miss him in the same way he misses me, in the best friend kind of way. I've long since dismissed what feelings I thought I had for Gale. "You hungry?" I ask him as I pull one of the cheese buns that Peeta makes for me every morning from my game bag. He nods, I hand him one and we set off into the forest to hunt, just like old times, before the rebellion, before the quarter quell, before the 74th hunger games and before Prim was reaped, before everything.