In honor of Katniss' (*cough* and my *cough*) birthday, I wrote up this little thing. Hope ya like it!
Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, Finnick wouldn't have died. 'Nuff said.
To say the very least, Katniss was not in a good mood.
She had been out hunting for over six hours, and all she had to show for it was one meager pigeon. It was as if all the animals of the woods had banded together to hide on her, purely for the satisfaction of watching her grow more and more frustrated.
At last Katniss decided to call it a day. She trudged bitterly towards her house, up the front steps, and through the front door.
"I'm back!" she bellowed, depositing her gear in what was once an umbrella stand. But only the returning echoes of her own voice made any answer.
"Hello?" Katniss called out. This time, she could faintly make out some hushed whispering coming from the kitchen.
She followed the voices and eventually discovered their sources. There were three people, their backs turned away from Katniss, who appeared to be hurriedly finishing up some project that was obscured from her vision.
The sight of these people whom Katniss cared so much for erupted a fear not unfamiliar to her. The fear that someday they would be taken from her.
Father teaching me how to hunt.
As she always does when her paranoia resurfaces, Katniss began her game of naming every act of kindness ever done to her.
Mother letting me wear her precious blue dress and braiding my hair so beautifully.
None of the figures having realized her presence, she decided to take this rare moment to study her family more closely.
Madge giving me her mockingjay pin.
On the far left was a skinny nine-year-old girl, her long black hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She seemed to be struggling with some unknown challenge.
Cinna claiming that he would bet on me winning the Games.
The tall man with sandy hair standing beside her encircled an arm around the girl's small shoulders as he helped her with whatever she was working on.
Rue tending to my tracker jacker stings.
And finally, to the right was a little four-year old, the blond man in miniature, practically falling off the stool he was perched on as he made "helpful" suggestions to his sister.
Haymitch saving our lives- in both Hunger Games.
Suddenly the onlooker of the trio noticed the date on the calender. May 8th. Only Katniss could forget her own birthday.
Finnick giving me the rope to distract me when Peeta was captured.
Katniss finally decided to reveal herself. "Are you plotting to take the house down or something?"
Boggs placing the Holo under my control.
All three wheeled around upon hearing her voice, each loving smile directed only to Katniss.
My daughter picking flowers for me.
"Happy birthday, Katniss," her husband greets warmly.
My son racing down the stairs to hug me the moment he wakes up every morning.
Then, in perfect timing, her two children each toss something into the air simultaneously.
Gale flinging a berry into the air for me to catch, to lighten my mood at the reapings.
Almost out of instinct, Katniss nimbly catches both items. She looks down to find two slightly burned loaves in her arms, making the final act of kindness that she always finishes her game with immediately come to mind.
And the boy with the bread.