Once when Peeta Mellark was five, a thunderstorm lit up the night sky in a grand display. The small boy cowered underneath his blankets and watched as white fire cut pathways through the darkness and thunder resounded in a giant's voice. The tree outside thrashed and whipped in the freshening wind. It bumped repeatedly against the window and the writhing limbs made mad patterns dance in the lurid light each time a new fork split the clouds. Peeta could no longer bear the agony and called out for his father.

Pryce Mellark heard the terrified keening of his youngest and came hurrying down the hallway. He paused in the open door and took in the scene before him. Peeta had his face buried in the pillow and his tiny shoulders shook with the force of his crying. The man smiled sympathetically and crossed the room to kneel beside the bed. His hand smoothed back the sweat dampened curls and he murmured quietly until the boy raised his head. "Hush now," he scolded gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's only clouds bumping together, buddy. It's just noise. They can't hurt you."

The round blue eyes stared back disbelieving and Pryce chuckled. Clearly, convincing him wasn't going to be an easy task. Peeta whispered a few words but they were lost in the cacophony of the storm outside. He bent closer and questioned, "What was that, son? Daddy didn't hear you."

Peeta scooted closer to his father. "The monsters are here. They hide until the light scares them then they run around my room. I'm afraid that they'll get me. I don't want to go with them." He pointed to the wall where shadows wriggled and squirmed each time a wavering flash shown through the window. "Can you stay with me?" The little boy pleaded. "They can't get me if you're here."

Pryce shook his head resignedly. "That's a shadow that the tree makes on your wall. There are no monsters." He tucked the quilt about the small form and met the wide-eyed gaze that peered tentatively up at him. "Go back to sleep, son. Everything will be fine in the morning." He stood up and walked quietly to the door when another question made him pause and then smile.

"Will you tell me a story?" the little voice begged. "I'll go to sleep right after. I promise."

Pryce grinned to himself and then relented. He took a seat at the foot of the bed and blew out a breath. "All right, Peeta. One story and then you go to sleep. Deal?" The boy nodded quickly and settled back into his pillows, drawing his blankets up to his chin. His eyes were fixed firmly on his father's face and he listened attentively as the man cleared his throat. "Okay. This is the story of someone who lived right here in District Twelve. A long time ago, things were very different. A mean King who lived in a faraway city ruled over everyone and everything. All the people were very poor and very sad because they didn't have enough food or a good house to live in. The mean King took all that was fine and beautiful and kept it in his city where only he could enjoy it. A young man who lived right here in District Twelve was sad because he and his wife had just had a new baby. She was the most beautiful in all the land. The man was afraid that the mean King would come and take her to his Palace. He didn't want that to happen so he thought long and hard about how to keep her safe.

The man waited until his baby girl got older. She was strong and smart and could do many things. She was still the prettiest girl in the whole world. She could sing so wonderfully that the birds would grow quiet just to listen to her song. When the girl turned five, her father decided that it was time to put his plan into action. They gathered up food, clothes, and blankets and when it got dark, made their way into the woods. They walked for hours and hours. A strong storm rolled through as they walked but it didn't stop the girl. She was determined to help her daddy just as she always had. The thunder boomed and the lightning flickered across the sky just like tonight. The little girl had never seen anything like it. She wanted to cry and hide until the storm went away but she couldn't. Her father needed her and the little girl was determined not to quit. They walked all night and eventually the storm blew itself out. The little girl's daddy was very proud of her. He kissed her and told her that she was the bravest and most beautiful daughter in the world. It made her so happy.

When it got light enough to see, the girl was amazed at their surroundings. Before them was a lake that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was surrounded by flowers and every tree seemed alive with all the birds in the woods. She listened in awe as their songs filled up the air. She ran to the edge of the water and started to sing with them. One by one, the birds fell silent. Her father stood quietly until she finished and then swept her up into a tight hug. He thanked her for the beautiful song. He picked a white blossom that grew close to the water and tucked it into her hair. "A katniss for my Katniss in return for her lovely song," he told her. "You were very brave."

"I wasn't scared, Daddy," she confided. "I know that the noise and lights live in the sky. As long as I'm down here, they won't bother me." Her father smiled and ruffled the dark hair that framed her small face. "Can we stay here forever?" She asked hopefully. Her eyes gleamed like silver in the bright morning light.

"Yes, Katniss," he told her. "This is a special place where you can be happy always. We'll stay here forever and ever." The baker paused for breath and looked down at the enthralled expression on his son's face. "The mean King looked everywhere but never found that enchanted lake. They stayed there forever and the little girl sang to the birds after every storm."

Peeta peered eagerly up at his father, "Are they still there, Papa?" The baker nodded and Peeta smiled blindingly. "If I'm brave like her, will I get to see the enchanted lake and sing with the birds?"

Unwilling to undo all the progress that the story had made, Pryce said, "You must be very brave and not let the storm scare you. It's just noise and lights that live in the sky. As long as you stay down here, it can't hurt you."

Peeta beamed and solemnly vowed, "I will, Daddy. I promise. He snuggled deeper into his blankets and hugged his pillow. "If Katniss can be brave, so can I." He closed his eyes and was asleep in moments. The baker dropped a kiss into the tufts of blonde hair barely visible and quietly left the room.

The next morning, he was surprised to feel a tugging on his apron as he lifted the heavy trays of bread into the oven. Looking down, he met Peeta's earnest gaze. "What is it, Peeta?" He questioned. The little boy held up a wrinkled, faded picture and the surprised man blinked at the image. "Where did you get that?"

"It was in the old picture book. She was the prettiest one. Is that her? Is that Katniss?" Peeta asked hopefully.

Pryce examined the picture and felt a lump in his throat that hadn't been there in years. The likeness of the smiling toddler and her blonde adoring mother made his heart race. The dark hair and silvery eyes had clearly come from her father. Her face was the spitting image of the woman who watched her so tenderly in the background. He felt tears gather and blinked rapidly before they could fall. "Yes, Peeta. That is her." He handed the photo back to the boy and admonished, "You shouldn't be in the picture book. Your mother wouldn't like it."

Peeta smiled slightly and cradled the picture protectively in his small hands. "I'll take care of her. She can stay in my room. I won't touch the book again. I promise." He gazed at the grinning little girl with devoted eyes. "She won't let nothing bother me. "

Pryce was at a loss for what to do. His wife would surely be livid if she saw the picture. He was almost ready to extricate it from the tiny fingers when something stopped him. Maybe it was the pleading in his son's blue eyes. Maybe it was the twinge that he felt when thinking of what might have been had things worked out differently. "Okay, Peeta. You can keep it. Just remember that this is our secret. Don't let anything happen to her." The answering smile lit up the boy's face like a lamp had been turned on inside of him.

"I promise I'll keep her safe. Nothing will happen to her." He declared confidently. Pryce watched as the small figure made his way into the house and shook his head before turning back to the lump on dough on the counter. That boy, he thought fondly. Little did he know that his son would keep his word. The picture stayed safely in his possession for the next eleven years.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A final twist of the brush feathered paint precisely where he wanted it. Peeta stood back and admired the finished portrait as he dropped his brush into the jar of cleaning solution sitting on the nearby desk. His gaze flicked to a faded photograph and his head tilted as he looked from one to the other, checking his work. Finally satisfied, he grinned to himself and began cleaning up his supplies. His mother tolerated his art only because he kept it confined to his bedroom and never left a mess. He placed a protective sheet over the canvas and cleaned the remainder of the paint from his palette. He tucked his sketch pads into a box and slid them underneath his bed. Taking up the ragged picture in gentle hands, he smiled at the image and tucked it reverently into a protective cover and then slipped it into his desk drawer where he kept his charcoals and colored pencils.

Sure that all would pass even his mother's most determined efforts, Peeta exited the room and made his way downstairs to the bakery. He was actually ten minutes early for his scheduled shift. His father smiled a greeting and Peeta flicked an acknowledging wave before pulling one of the aprons hanging by the door over his head. His father nodded to the prep table and Peeta took his place beside Seth as they worked the dough for the evening rush. Peeta carefully shaped and molded the loaves and placed them on the tray. Once full, he diligently moved it to the rack of products ready to be placed in the oven. Seth wrinkled his nose and shook his head as Peeta came back to the table and tossed another ball of dough into the layer of flour in front of him. "Why are you such a suck up?" Seth grunted. "Early for a shift and voluntarily cleaning up afterward. What are you trying to do?"

Peeta shot his brother a pitying glance. "If you weren't so lazy, you'd know that I'm not doing anything special. It makes the time go by faster and keeps Mom off my case. That, idiot, is all I'm worried about."

Seth huffed in annoyance. "There are a million things that I'd rather be doing and a whole list of people I'd rather be spending time with. I look at your ugly face enough." Peeta snorted and rolled his eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me. You know there is a party tonight. By the time we get out of here, it will be too late and I'd be too tired to enjoy myself." Seth pounded the dough in frustration only ceasing at the admonishing look their father sent their way. "I don't know why I'm telling you anything anyway. You never go anywhere or do anything, Peeta. Why are you so set on being a social pariah? You are popular at school and have loads of friends. You could have any girl you wanted. You don't make any attempts at a life outside of this bakery and those sketch books of yours. What gives?"

Peeta shrugged and kept his attention on the repetitive motion of his hands. He carefully folded and kneaded the dough as the pastries took shape under his skilled fingers. He glanced up at his brother's disgruntled expression and sighed. "Look, Seth. I know that you're disappointed in me. I'm sorry. I just have no interest in hanging out and going to those things. The girls who go to those parties don't interest me. I know what I want. I just haven't found it yet."

It was now Seth's turn to make a disparaging noise. "You aren't going to find her between the pages of that sketch pad or hidden under a sheet in your room. Live a little, Peeta. You're only young once." Peeta smirked and shook his head. Seth would never change. His brother was as predictable as the sunrise.

"What's her name?" Peeta whispered softly so that their father couldn't hear. Seth flinched, giving away his true reason for the surly behavior that Peeta was currently enjoying. "I knew it. You have a date. That's why you are so upset. Who is she?"

Seth shrugged and returned softly, "The grocer's daughter, Tansy. I'm supposed to meet her in the square and walk to the party together. It took me a month to get her to agree to go out with me. All of that effort for nothing. There's no way that we'll be done in time. She'll never speak to me again." His disappointed sigh was heartfelt. Peeta couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Go ahead and go. I'll cover for you." He offered. Seth's hopeful blue gaze darted up to meet his. "I'll finish this batch and get the prep work done for the morning shift. You can pay me back by returning the favor tomorrow." Seth nodded gratefully and almost strangled himself as he hurriedly pulled the apron off. Peeta laughed softly and glanced at their father who was watching with them with interest. He nodded and shrugged slightly. Pryce Mellark gave an eye roll of his own. After the excited Seth had rushed out of the kitchen, Pryce took his now absent middle sons position the table and began to quickly form the loaves and muffins as needed. He watched as Peeta expertly mimicked his motions and the two shared a grin. Their hands began moving in unison and the piles before them grew. Peeta coiled the last ribbon into a complicated knot and tossed it onto the greased and flowered tray. A half-second later, his father's last pastry landed with a thud. Peeta smiled as his father clasped his shoulder. "What did you expect? You taught me well. Either that or you're losing your touch. I prefer to give you the benefit of the doubt."

Pryce laughed, "Flattery will always win you points but I'm slowing down. I'm not afraid to admit it." Peeta shook his head and Pryce grinned in response. "Thanks anyway, son. I don't need an ego boost. You surpassed me a long time ago. You should follow your brother's advice for a change. Be young. Go have fun and enjoy yourself. You deserve it."

Peeta shrugged noncommittally. "I do enjoy myself, Dad. I don't care about all of that stuff. You know that." Pryce's expression turned serious. Peeta saw it and blew out a breath. "I haven't found what I'm looking for yet. Give me time."

Pryce shook his head sadly. "You're waiting on something that might never happen, Peeta. Don't waste your life on a maybe. Stories don't always have happy endings. Sometimes, you have to take what you can get and make the best of it." He avoided his son's questioning eyes as he cleared away the dough remnants and piles of flour. "I just want you to happy. It's all I've ever wanted for you."

"I am happy. I just don't want to rush into anything." Peeta grabbed a rag from the sink and began wiping down the counter. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." He turned away and crossed to the closet to retrieve the broom and dust pan. His father's next words stopped him cold.

"Why do you draw the same thing over and over?" Pryce asked. "Ever since the first time you picked up a pencil, you have drawn the same girl. The older you get, the older she gets. What is the fascination, Peeta? It's been eleven years." Peeta froze and his wide-eyed gaze locked with his father's inquisitive one. "I didn't go snooping through your things if that's what you're thinking. I have looked at your paintings over the years out of curiosity. Your mother wouldn't bother them. You know that she isn't interested. I have to admit that I was. You have a talent that I don't understand. It's always the same girl. The little girl from the picture that you found at age five. I'm just curious as to why you keep recreating her time and time again."

"She's the closest thing that I have to a security blanket. I've always felt better having that picture nearby." Peeta said slowly. "I know that you think it's silly but I stopped worrying about that a long time ago. She makes me feel safe. I can be myself with her. I don't have any secrets from her. I hope to find that kind of closeness with a real person one day. But right now, I'm content with how things are. Does that make sense?" Pryce nodded slowly and Peeta sighed in relief. "I'll finish up down here, Dad. You can go back out front. I'll head up as soon as I'm done."

Watching his father retreat back to the front of the bakery, Peeta quickly swept the floor and put away the extra trays. He set the dough in the fridge for the next morning and wiped the tables down once again. Satisfied that all was as it should be, Peeta climbed the stairs to his room and stood looking at the painting he had finished this morning. He carefully removed the protective sheet and looked closely at the girl he had rendered in such painstaking detail.

The only true photo that he had of her was as a small child. The two braids, the bright smile, the silvery gaze staring into the camera open and unafraid. He had applied to his artistic eye and creative license to keep her chronologically the same age as him. The painting before him depicted a young girl who was on the cusp of womanhood. Her face had slimmed down and become more defined. The two braids had morphed into one long coil that hung carelessly over her shoulder. Her form was slender and boyish. Her clothing was ambiguous but well suited to the woodlands in which she was always depicted. The one unchanging feature was the silver steady gaze.

Peeta smiled involuntarily as he met that stare. She was indomitable. She was the epitome of everything good and pure in the world. She was everything that he wanted in a girlfriend. She was a figment of his imagination and he was clueless as to how to get over her. Love flooded through him as his fingers traced her jawline. There was nobody like her in the world, which meant there was nobody for him. He loved desperately and faithfully. And he loved the girl with the braid. The girl who could charm the birds into silence and quell the storm in the sky.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next morning found him following a twisting meandering path into the woods. Peeta went out there occasionally to sketch and enjoy the solitude. He had found a secluded meadow that was carpeted in wildflowers. He liked to sit on a rocky outcropping that looked out over emerald green hills and valleys. He often found himself on the banks of the trickling stream that wound its way back and forth amid the trees. At certain points, the canopy thinned and sunlight rippled on the still surface of the water. Those sketches were the ones that he allowed the curious to see. The others like the painting from this morning; those were private.

Today, he followed the usual path to his ledge. He stopped there to consider his options. He turned outward and regarded the cluster of mountains in the distance. He looked down and noticed a worn track that was barely discernible from this distance. He picked out a couple of visual cues and dropped over the side of the outcropping. He eventually reached his goal and gasped as his eyes marked an old trail that he hadn't noticed before now. Peeta decided impulsively to see where it led. He could always double back if the going got too rough.

He kept a steady pace and was soon surrounded by the verdant green of virgin woodlands. To his knowledge, nobody from the district had ever been out this far. Even his friend, Gale Hawthorne who regularly hunted in these woods tended to stay in familiar territory. The valley below was usually fog-shrouded and forlorn. Peeta had to step carefully and watch where he placed his feet as the trail became more hazardous. It was washed out in spots, making the footing unsure. Peeta lifted his gaze and regarded the surrounding woods in awe. He had seldom if ever seen anything so beautiful. The abrupt ending of the path took him by surprise.

The lake opened up unexpectedly. It stretched away to the horizon. He paused and felt his jaw drop as he regarded the peaceful vista. The water lapped gently at the shore. Reeds and low lying shrubs edged out into the water. There were a few lily pads floating on the surface and a number of small insects skated backward and forth. Pale, cream colored blossoms dotted the greenery. Peeta recognized them even though he had never actually laid eyes on them. "Katniss," he breathed out. He turned slowly in a complete circle, taking everything in. It was beautiful. He spotted a cluster of willows a short walk around the lake and decided that it would make the ideal spot to sketch and have his lunch. He ducked back into the trees and followed the shoreline until he entered the willow copse. The slender branches fell gracefully downward and dipped their tips into the water. He found a convenient log and took a seat, letting his eyes wander.

He flipped to an empty page in his sketch book and took out a charcoal pencil. His gaze found an oddly shaped tree surrounded by low hanging shrubs and colorful blooms. His hand began to move almost unconsciously. He noted various details and felt his hand shift to add shading and form to the picture. He slipped into a trancelike state as his hand moved without thought. He lost himself in the motions and almost jumped into the lake when an echoing splash broke his reverie.

He leaped to his feet and looked around hastily. Maybe it was a deer or a limb that had given way and fallen into the water? Peeta made a quick visual sweep of his surroundings. At first, he saw nothing. He shook his head in disgust and bent to lower himself back onto the log. Another splash pulled his attention toward the opposite end of the lake. He caught a glimpse of movement amid the trees and leaped to his feet, eyes tracking for any sign of danger. What he saw froze his breath and made his heart beat trebly faster than before. Shocked silvery eyes bore into startled blue. Her gasp was audible due to the amplifying effects of water even though they were separated by a fair distance.

She wheeled and ran pell-mell into the tree line. Her single braid waving jerkily was the last thing he saw before she disappeared amongst the trees. He sank to his knees, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. She had been standing right in front of him as real as the ground beneath his feet. He didn't know whether to laugh or collapse in shock. He flipped his sketch pad to a picture that mirrored the painting he had finished the day before. The fiery, brave girl stared up at him from the page with the same intense gray eyes that had widened as soon as she noticed his presence. "Katniss," he breathed out again. The smile that curved his lips came unbidden. It just was. He could scarcely believe it but the truth had been staring him in the face less than five minutes ago. What he had been waiting for his whole life was real. Now, he just had to find her.

End Part 1