A gentle breeze eases its way towards us, making the newborn dandelions sway in the dense, green grass. I take care not to step on any of them, as they have always represented life itself to me. I walk over to the Meadow, my hand intertwined with Peeta's who trails reluctantly behind me. Spring has just begun, so the forest ahead promises fresh game.
"Are you sure about this?" Peeta asks.
"Well, are you sure about this?" I repeat over my shoulder to him. We pass over the perimeter where the fence that served the purpose of trapping us inside used to be, and we run down - being careful not to wake the dead that are buried beneath us - to the threshold of the forest.
District 12 has received much needed renovations ever since the revolution; the land was scarred from the bombings that wiped out most of the buildings and killed 75% of our former population. The Panem Republic - established by the new President Paylor - has allowed us to vote for the District Renewal last year after the revolution succeeded, which is the process of modernizing and repairing all the Districts that faced the damages from rebellion. The Senate, consisting of Plutarch Heavensbee and other loyal representatives, passed this for our greater benefit. Capitol engineers, including Beetee and volunteers from District 3, have been issued to all the Districts for industrialization and repair. District 12 looks as good as new after a whole year of work, and so does all the other Districts. The engineers kept the precise personality of each District intact, but added the Capitol luxury with brute force. Poverty is now foreign to us. Environmental-friendly factories have been built nationwide on the outskirts of each District; supplying them with food, supplies, and other necessities. Here in 12, the Meadow and forest were untouched for my benefit, as I often go here for solitude. Luxury items fill every house now; ranging from HD televisions to advanced showers. Peacekeepers still roam the Districts, but they now resemble reassurance rather than danger. All I am hoping for is that we don't all turn into Capitol freaks. But I must favor the Capitol citizens now, they are our friends. They mean no harm anymore. I convinced myself this with difficulty, but I got it through my brain that this is peace, and it's beautiful.
All the dead bodies are buried here from the bombing, though. My neck prickles whenever I think about it while in the dense forest. I still have nightmares from time to time, but they now dwindle with my new sense of serenity. I push any thought of flaws in life now, as life with Peeta is all I need forever. He is my dandelion in the spring, just like the ones that flourish in the meadow at this dawn of Spring.
"Well," Peeta says. "I've never really held a bow before in my life, except while in the training centers back in the Capitol. I couldn't shoot one to save my life."
I stop and turn around, making my braid fling across my shoulder. My eyes linger on the hunting gear that seems so out of place on Peeta's body. He agreed to let me teach him how to hunt, since he has recently been teaching me how to paint. His brown-leather sleeveless tunic and black buckled pants look quite dashing on him, I have to say. His quiver of arrows is slung comfortably on his shoulder, with his basic bow resting in his left hand. I wear my father's hunting jacket and the bow that I have used for all these years; they both miraculously survived the revolution. My embellished Mockingjay bow is in storage in my house in the Victor's Village. They kept the Village during the Renewal to send a message, that most of the victors of the Hunger Games survived the revolution and now are living in peace. Haymitch remains with us, and we visit with him frequently. He has become our family. So has all the other victors we trust. Johanna, Annie, Beetee, and Enobaria. It took time to get along with Enobaria, but we are now on a clean slate. Her teeth will always scare me, though.
"Just trust me, Peeta," I say with a light laugh. Nowadays, I can laugh freely. It amazes me sometimes. "I've been doing this for years, so you don't have to worry about a thing. You'll be an expert in no time." The light shines through the trees, casting green light that contrasts with Peeta's bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. "Maybe even good as me."
"I bet," he says with a big smile. I instinctively try to search for any hesitance in the gesture, but I find nothing. The hesitance that results from the tracker jacker venom has been gradually fading away everyday, but he still tenses up once in a while. I understand that he will never be the same as he was in the arena with me, but I don't care. He's much better than I hoped for him to be after we rescued him from Snow. The boy with the bread that I have known ever since I was twelve has come back to me.
I reach forward behind his neck and pull his face to mine, making our lips connect into a warm kiss. Behind those lips is a battle in his mind, I'm sure of it. But I can't afford to think like that anymore. I have Peeta Mellark. He is mine. I am his. He is safe. He is alive. We are happy. We are at peace. He's my dandelion in the spring.
When I feel the muscles in his arms slightly tense up, I kiss him deeper, caressing the dense muscles of his back while he pulls me closer to him, enveloping me in his warmth.