It was twenty years.

When Peeta convinced me that we should get a child, I blatantly refused- why would I want a child to be responsible of and be confined to when I was supposed to be out and working? But that all made up for it when I held them in my arms.

We named her Rue. As a tribute, per se, for the tribute; and she lived up to her name. She was everything that I had ever hoped for- kind, passionate, and such a living reminder of the girl I wanted to do so much for. We named her Rue so that we could pay back for all the things she had done to help us.

Peeta wanted a boy, so we got one- this time, it was less painful, and we named him Finnick in memory of him. It stirred up bad memories of the past, yes, but it made me feel at peace with the man who consoled me along with Gale, Peeta, Haymitch, and the others.

Rue went great with Annie; she was like a second grandmother to the two. While I was out hunting Annie and her now twenty year old son, Alec, took care of them when they were younger. They still go to her house now, to have a nice long chat with a cup of tea. What I and Peeta both found funny was the fact that Rue didn't like sugar in her tea, much like her father.

Finnick loved hunting. He would tag along with me ever since he found out how to hold a bow, and practiced with me when he had the chance. Rue? Rue was much like her father- kind, gentle, good with paints and writing while her brother was much on the rougher side. Even though she was two years older, Finnick sometimes acted like the elder and protected her from a lot of people that threatened her.

Sometimes, memories would consume me in my sleep. It would only be that when I sang to my daughter they would chase them away. I always sang her Deep in the Meadow.

Call me unfair; but Finnick was always my child. We were so alike it was scary; both our attitudes, our accuracy with bows, and defiance of control to whoever or whatever tried to do us.

Rue was more of her father's- quiet, gentle, but you were wrong if you thought she was someone that you could push around. Even if Finnick was the brash and feisty child, she wasn't afraid to take a jab at someone she thought was making fun of her. In a way, they were Peeta's and my perfect combo.

There was a time when Finnick asked me how I knew how to hunt. It was before he learned about the Hunger Games at school, so he wouldn't know how I was the Mockingjay. At the time, I smiled and ruffled his hair as I said, "Some other time." And I'd been avoiding the topic ever since.

Rue was a smart girl; if she heard about the so-called 'legend' of the Mockingjay she never brought it up. It was incredible how patient that girl was- if it were me or Finnick, we would have asked straightaway about the legend.

It was only twenty years since the rebellion, fifteen years since Rue came into this world and thirteen for Finnick.

Who, speaking of, just shoots a wild turkey straight through the eye.

I run down the hill to see my boy laughing and pointing to the dead bird. "Mom, I got it! I got it, look!" he said excitedly. Of course he's happy, the only time he's ever killed anything is when I pierced it first. "Yes, you did! I'm so proud of you," I say as I get ready for a steamrolling hug.

Sure enough, it comes, and with great impact.

We both hit the leaves laughing as Finnick wraps his arms around me. "Mom, can you check if it's good enough to eat? I'll skin it, sell it, whatever I need to do," he says, eyes bright. I chuckle as I rub his head. "How about we check that bird before thinking ahead."

He caught a nice one- barely any blood to clean off, nice and fat, and the arrow comes clean through the glassy eye and sticks out from one end to another. Just to make sure, I hand him a knife. "If you would."

Now, most people wouldn't even dream about giving a thirteen-year-old boy a polished, sharp hunting knife, but I'm also the mother who let him carry a bow and arrow since he was nine. "Right through the breast- there!" I shout as he makes a clean cut, officially rendering it dead.

I take his hand as he carefully drops the turkey into a bag. "Shall we go to the Hob, then?"

"Indeed we shall."

When we reach the newly built Hob from twenty years ago, people call out to me, like usual. "Katniss, got any meat for me?" calls one of my best customers. "No, but I'll have one soon," I call back, smiling.

We reach Greasy Sae, who's smiling. "Ah, there we are. A nice, fat turkey," she cackles as soon as she spots the bag in my son's hand. "Katniss, you really are a special woman."

"It wasn't her that got it," says Finnick, chin up and eyes defiant. "I shot it. It was my kill, not Mom's."

Greasy Sae whistles as she slips a few coins into the back of my hand, winking. "Oho, is that so? Well then, I guess I'll have to barter for it just the same if it's a Mellark trading with me."

Finnick's eyes travel around her counter until she waves a fresh bag of carrots in front of his face. "Looking for these, now?"

Carrots are Rue's favorite; she especially loves the stew that Peeta sometimes make. Finnick makes it his number-one priority to get her carrots whenever he could. But since carrots are expensive, a rare trade like this just might bring up his self-esteem for hunting.

"I'll take it," he says almost immediately as he reaches for the carrots. Greasy Sae pulls back as she clucks, "Ah, ah, ah. Carrots are valuable, just one turkey won't do. What else do you have, boy?"

"I have nothing but this plump turkey, which I'll gladly trade to someone else for a better price," he shoots right back. I whistle under my breath as Greasy Sae throws back her head and laughs. "Now this is a man! Tell you what, I'll throw in a few katniss roots if you'll make me that trade."

Finnick's eyes brighten. "For real?"

"Yes. Now hand over that turkey, boy. I'll make sure to deliver, I promise," she smirks. For such an old lady, she sure is a tough one. "Deal!"

Finnick and Greasy Sae trade and give each other an approving nod as I pocket the coins. I mouth a 'thank you' before leaving, with Finnick happily walking towards our house.

In many ways, he is like me. Same gray eyes, but his fair skin and mess of blonde hair belongs to Peeta. I like to think that his adventurous spirit comes from me, but the truth is I've never been like that. To be able to live so freely… I wish that I knew what that felt like.

Finnick and I reach our house in that special street, where I can spot Rue tending to the roaring fire with Peeta rolling out dough for bread, I assume. I have to run to keep up with Finnick as he slams open the door and shouts, "We're home!"

Rue turns around with a smile, "Yes, you are. How was hunting?"

Finnick smiles proudly as he boasts, "I caught a turkey! Right through the eye!"

Rue snorts, "No way. I bet mom pierced it first, like she always does."

I shake my head as I laugh. Siblings are siblings, after all- how could we be as so lucky as to not have them disagree with things?

Peeta chuckles as I drop the coins from my pocket into the jar. "So did he really catch it by himself?" he mumbles as he hugs me. I smile as I say, "He sure did. You should have seen him bartering with Greasy Sae."

"With that old hag? Geez, I wonder what he got out of her."

Finnick turns around and huffs, "I can hear you, ya know."

"Sorry, sorry," we laugh as he turns back to his smirking sister. "I'm regretting what I got you," he says to her, glaring. Rue's eyes grow wide as she says, "You got me something? What is it?"

"Ha! I'm not telling you."

"Then I'll just have to… take it from you!" cackles Rue as she pounces on her brother, who skillfully dodges away from her until they're playing a round of ring around the rosie around the couch.

"Stop it, you two, you're gonna break something," calls Peeta as he sifts the flour. "I'm the calm one," says Rue indignantly.

"At least I'm not a cold-blooded freak!" shoots Finnick right back, but before things get ugly I step in. "Hey, stop. A bit of teasing here and there is fine, but that is no way to treat your fellow, whoever it is," I say, taking Finnick's bag. "Rue, Finnick got you carrots and katniss roots. You should be thankful, all right?"

Rue hangs her head. "Sorry, Mother."

Ah. There it is. Whenever Rue or Finnick gets in trouble, no matter how serious, they always pull off that "Yes, mother" or "Sorry, mother" that melts my heart no matter what. They know it doesn't work with Peeta though, so when it's me that's breaking up the fights they know just where my chinks of armor is.

"Good. Peeta, can you get the kettle going?" I call as he does just that. I smile. "Good boy."

"I'm not a boy or a dog," he grumbles as Finnick and Rue roar with laughter. "She called you a good boy!" wheezes Finnick. Rue giggles, "Daddy, you're funny."

Peeta dusts his hands off as he has a slow smile going. I back up just as he says, "So I'm a good boy, huh?"

I've lived with him long enough to know what's about to happen.

Shrieks echo through the hallways as I make a mad dash for our bedroom, which I lock just as Peeta slams into it. His laughter can be heard through the wood. "Come on, open up!" he says. I imagine both our kids stark-white and throwing flour everywhere in the kitchen. "I'd prefer if I keep myself clean," I call back. My eyes search in the room for something to do until the boys and Rue cleans up the kitchen.

Then I spot the pictures.

I always kept a small stand where a small reminder of the Hunger Games is shown; a picture of my ally Rue in a bed of flowers and a beautiful wreath on her head, a small figurine of a trident right next to her. My two best allies, right after Peeta.

Then, the pearl that Peeta gave me before being tortured by the Capitol. One of Johanna's earrings. A piece of Beetee's coil that he gave me as a wedding gift. And then finally, the biggest memento of all.

My Mockingjay suit.

It's still functional; it seems that Cinna really did think of everything when he made this for me. Even though he was dead, every time I look at it I wish the best for him, wherever he is. He made it so that it fits me, no matter what age or size I am.

A disturbing image passes through my mind to see myself as a old hag, putting this on and leading the districts. I shudder.

When I finally open the door, the kitchen is spot-clean and the soup bubbling with a scent that brings saliva foaming at my mouth. I have to remind myself that it's not just Peeta and me anymore, where I could just hug and kiss him and he wouldn't mind the slightest.

Rue comes from behind to hug me, which I then hug back. "I never asked you what you did today, sweetie," I say, smiling. Maybe I'm laying it a bit thick. But her, with her identical brown hair and sky-blue eyes with the many freckles sprinkled across her skin, reminded me so much of how Prim would be if she was alive.

How was it possible not to love her?

Even though she's fifteen now, in my eyes she is a living version of Prim. Lovable, handy with herbs and things, same sparkling blue eyes that could reach even a murderer's heart.

"Dad and I went to sell some of our things in the bakery. I think we made a good deal," she says happily. Peeta winks, "A boy came to see her."

I whistle as I say, "Did he, now? Who was it? Bet it was Erik."

"Mom!"

So as we seat at the table, chatting and laughing away, I can't help but think that even though all the bloodshed and deaths brought me and Peeta so much pain, this was worth it.

"Katniss. Katniss, wake up."

Peeta's voice stirs me into the world of awakening, as I yawn and rub my eyes from the doses of sleep. "What is it?"

No nightmares. That was a good sign.

Peeta's face hardens as he says, "Your mother's here."