A/N: New fanfic. :) It's about the Hunger Games. Well, what happens after the Hunger Games, actually! The story is told from Willow's point-of-view, who is Katniss and Peeta's daughter. I began writing this ages ago and forgot about it, but I just found it on my computer and figured I would post the first chapter and see how you all like it. If you do, I'll continue it. I'm really busy with "Don't Let Me Go" and school and cheerleading right now, though. Therefore, chapters will be posted slowly, I'd say. :) I can NOT wait for Catching Fire to come out! It looks brilliant. The Hunger Games is by far my favorite trilogy. I also love The Warrior Cats. Anyways, I digress. :) If you enjoy it, please leave a review! It's greatly appreciated. :D
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games, nor am I an editor, etc. I am in no way associated with Suzanne Collins. Cover image belongs to and was made by me.
I sit on the couch, twirling my brown hair in my fingers. I look across the room to Rye, sitting in the floor by the fireplace, reading some kind of picture book. My father, Peeta, is in a recliner asleep. My mother Katniss went to sleep early because she wasn't feeling well.
I get up to go to the kitchen counter where the book is. I like to look through it when I am bored like this. So many pictures of people's faces, stories behind them. My favorites are the ones my father drew. Sometimes I will look at it with him, and he will explain the story behind he person. I am definitely a 'daddy's girl', mom gets on my nerves a lot. She's overly protective, especially over Rye.
As I'm flipping through the pages, I catch Rye watching me. "What are you looking at, Willow? The book?"
I nod my head, and quietly close the cover. I hop off the couch, and realize it's getting pretty late. I neatly set the book on the kitchen table and cross the room to help Rye up. "It's time for bed, Rye."
He frowns in disgust. "I'm not tired." he complains. I roll my eyes. "Please, Rye?"
He crosses his arms and turns up his nose. "No."
Rye is definitely stubborn. He got that from my mother, I guess. I'm pretty laid back most of the time. I try to set a good example for Rye since I'm his older sister. I'm 12, and he's 7. He has always looked up to me, and I love him with all my heart.
I groan and go to wake up my father. Rye sits down in the floor.
I have to be careful waking him up, because sometimes he is having a silent nightmare. Right now must be one of those times, because when I shake him into reality, his eyes dilate for about 10 seconds, then go back to normal, and he looks at me in confusion. Then he recognizes me.
"Hey Willow," he yawns, "what's wrong?"
"I can't get Rye to go get ready to go to sleep." I explain.
"Oh," he murmurs in understanding. His eyes settle on his son, and he says "Rye, it's time for bed, buddy."
Rye looks up at him. "Fine." he huffs.
As my father is putting Rye to sleep, I go to my own room and change into some night clothes. I have a guinea pig who is looking at me through the bars of his cage. His name is Oink, I thought it was suitable. He's pretty cute.
As I'm climbing into bed and about to turn off my lamp, my mother comes to my door, obviously drowsy. We must have woken her up. "Going to sleep?" she asks, and I nod. She comes and plants a kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight, Willow," she murmurs, then she silently leaves my room.
I turn off my lamp and nuzzle into the covers, listening to Oink squeak. The moon is full tonight, and the light comes through my window and softly illuminates my room. Mom's birthday is coming up this week, and I need to start deciding what Rye and I will do for her. But I am too tired to think about it right now, and I slowly fall into a dark sleep.
I wake up Rye early, so that we can go out and find our mother a birthday present. She's out hunting, so she won't know where we went. Our father is downstairs, decorating a cake which serves as another project. He decorates cakes for money on normal occasions, this one was for a so-called "wealthy" woman who lived in the more populated area of District 12, not too far from where we lived in Victors' Village.
I knew that my family and old Haymitch, another victor from the dreaded Hunger Games that took place before my brother and I were born, were the wealthiest people in District 12. My father has always been in a family where money was not a problem, but my mother grew up in the Seam, and is still really proper in the way she uses her money, and she never lets a thing go to waste.
The cake my father is working on now is pink, purple, and blue, and it reads "Finally 16!". I assume it is for the woman's daughter, Tessy, who is turning 16 this week, and she's a particular brat. Though I'm 4 years younger than her, I would also say I'm a few levels above her in my maturity, too.
"That's pretty, dad." I comment as Rye and I are about to walk out the door. "Thanks, Willow." he says to me with a smile, "Where you guys going?"
"We're going out to look for something for mom's birthday. Any suggestions?" I ask. He looks thoughtful as he stares out the kitchen window. "I think maybe you should get her something from the heart, not expensive. I was going to pick her a jar-full of daises and make her some cheese bread and lamb stew."
I tip my head to the side. "Daises and cheese bread?"
He smiles, memories crossing his face. I've heard the stories of my father being corrupted by tracker jacker venom in the Capitol during the wars, but Rye doesn't know yet. I know that he has lost plenty of good memories of my mother, and a lot of things bring back some sort of horrible visions where his pupils begin to dilate and he breathes heavy in shock. My mother has always tried to shelter me from this, but it's a pretty frequent thing, and now I've just tried to shelter Rye from it. He hasn't questioned my father's sanity yet.
"Daises are one of your mom's favorite flowers." He explains to me, "They are a sign of hope to her. And cheese bread is her favorite snack, she loved it when we were teenagers and I would make them. Lamb stew is her favorite meal from the Capitol."
"That's really sweet. I think she'd like that." I told him. He nods and says, "That's what I did on our one year anniversary. She loved it."
"You mean... You didn't get her like, roses or something?" I ask in confusion.
He shakes his head quickly. "Oh, no." He says, "She doesn't like roses."
I'm kind of perplexed as to why she 'doesn't like roses', but I don't question it, because dad gets back to work on the cake. Rye has been silent this whole time, and he holds the door for me as we walk out.
"So, Rye," I say, "What should we get mother?"
He grins. "A bow." is what he suggests.
I smile, because this is what he suggests every year, for as long as I remember. He knows our mother adores bows and hunting, and we actually got her one a few years ago. She did like it, a lot, but she still hunts with her father's bow most of the time.
"Mom has a lot of bows, Rye." I explain for about the millionth time, "We need to get her something from the heart is what dad said. But what could he mean by that?"
By now we were in the town square, which was rebuilt before Rye and I were born, and is currently hopping with people. I go and sit on the edge of a big fountain feature right in the middle of the square, and run my fingers over the smooth marble structure. Rye hops of beside me and shakes the hair out of his face. This is when I realize he is in desperate need of a haircut, and I figure I might as well go ahead and get him one while we're here.
The barber greets us cheerfully, and Rye climbs into the chair to get his blonde curls trimmed. As I'm sitting in a chair, waiting for him to finish, I realize that a great present for mom would be some new primrose bushes. When her and my father first moved back to District 12 after the war, my father planted my mother some primrose bushes in honor of my aunt Prim who was killed in the war. The bushes have long wilted and no more buds sprout in the spring, it's a really depressing sight. I'm not sure how the bushes have managed to go unattended but I guess that sometimes things are just forgotten about.
As we're leaving the barber shop after I've paid for Rye's new haircut, I explain my idea to him. "That's awesome, Willow. I think she'd really like that. But where would we get primrose bushes?"
My little brother certainly has a point. We have a florist in the town square though, where my father would be getting mom's daises. That was the only place I knew of to get some primroses. But after a trip to the store, it turns out the florist has never carried primroses.
Rye and I are suddenly discouraged as we're walking home. "Is there anywhere else to get those flowers, sis?" Rye asks me. I shrug. "The only other place I know of is the woods, and I don't think we're allowed in there."
"We can get father to go in with us, can't we?" He points out, and I shake my head. "I don't think dad has ever been into the woods, Rye. That's sort of mom's thing."
But that night I decide that Rye and I will go into the forest by ourselves, and we won't go in too far. If we can't find any primrose bushes, we will have to come up with a new plan. But until then, I was determined to find some. I would protect Rye with my life outside of the fence, for sure.
And so, the following morning, Rye and I get up to go before my mother and father are awake.
A/N: Please review, favorite, and follow! Tell me what you think. :)