Hello readers! I haven't written a fanfic for a while and this is my first time ever trying out a hunger games one! This might be a hard-hitting topic for some but I don't think it has been done before so I wanted to try something new.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger games. All rights are belonging to Suzanne Collins. Now that is the only time I will write the disclaimer just so you know now!

Reviews with both encouragement and feedback are very welcoming. And I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

In the meadow filled with dandelions, I sing to her. She clings to my stomach and I clutch her tightly against me. My sweet baby. The sun shines down on our bodies and we contrast nicely against the grass. My olive tone skin next to her light brown complexion.

Her hair is long and curly. I refuse to cut it even though my mother is always warning me that she may get lice because of it. But her hair is very much a piece of her that makes her unique to all the other girls. In our district though she is already different because she isn't the same colour as the rest of us. Which is why I hide her away.

There was a dark period in my life after my father died. When I had turned thirteen I had fled away into the forest for a week, leaving behind Prim and my mother with a bunch of berries and a few squirrels that I had managed to collect beforehand. It was stupid of me to leave behind my fragile, little sister with a woman that was too much in mourning to look after her but there was nothing I could do; I had to get away.

I don't remember much about what happened that night. All I remember is the pain in my inner legs and 9 months of solitude and throwing up before she was born. My sweet baby. I didn't care what colour she was when I saw her but I knew that the plan to disguise her as my mother's child was useless because of it.

When the trains had arrived to district 12 to deliver grains and a few barrels of apples from 11, I had snuck her on it and bundled her into the arms of Clara. Clara was my best and only friend at that time and she was only 16 but was already working hard to make a living for herself. As she was from 11, I only saw her for brief moments every week when the trains arrived. She had dark chocolate skin and I knew that people would believe that the baby was her child. She didn't have any family as she was orphaned when she young so she took her in without asking too many questions. I have never loved her more than at that time.

I named her Brianna. Because she is strong. She has to be to have a mother like me. I knew that the capitol would never risk a child being born from two different district parents no matter what the consequences were that she was conceived. Snow probably knows but he still wouldn't want it to get out in case anyone starts getting ideas.

"Mama," she says "I'm tired."

I smile down at her, stroking her hair softly. At first I was scared that she wouldn't recognise me as her mother. We look nothing alike and I was only able to spend little amounts of time with her until she had to leave again. After the first hunger games I was frightened they would take her away from me especially after the defiance Peeta and I showed with the berries. A spark of rebellion as it was seen in Snow's eyes. Convince me.

But if I hid her away well enough, he left us alone. I reckon part of it is to do with the fact Clara looks after her. When he had come to talk to me, she was there playing with Bria and even though she is young enough to be his daughter, he saw her long locks and fiery spirit and liked what he saw.

Bria sings me out of my memories and I stand, picking her up. "How about we go home?" I suggest to her and she nods, wrapping her small arms around my neck. I'm always careful to take her out at times that I know no one will be there, like now knowing Peeta would be down at the bakery, Gale would be at the mines and Haymitch would be knocked out on his dining room floor.

Prim and my Mother are there when we get back, both busy making breakfast. They smile at us as we come in. "Morning Katniss!" Prim says, enthusiastically. "And hello Riri." She says and Bria moves slightly in my arms at Prim's voice. I put her down and she runs over to Prim.

"Good walk?" My Mother asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Its a really nice day today."

"It is." She agrees. "Not many times we get to see the sun out here in District 12." She pauses, taking time to look at the bags under my eyes and the wispy, tired smile on my face. "You should go lie down. Prim will watch Bria for a while, I'm sure."

I know that arguing is pointless and I could really use the sleep so I nod before making my way upstairs.

My body hits the cold bed with a sigh. My bedroom is not a happy place but a place that I come to scream at nightmares every night. Also a place that I come to think about Peeta every night.

Peeta. The boy with the bread. The boy who wanted the kisses in the arena to be real because he did love me. I think they were real because my body felt truly on fire when we kissed and when he held me. But I know I'm not cut out for a commitment like that. I have Bria to worry about and while Peeta could actually maybe have a future and even have a family, I know that I couldn't give him anything that he wanted. Peeta. The boy who lives only a street away in a massive house by himself.

I sometimes consider telling him about Bria, knowing that he wouldn't tell anyone else. He would be good with her too because he loves children and Bria would love him because he is hard to hate. He is just so nice. Even when I rejected him quite coldly, he still didn't get angry at me. Not in the way Gale got angry at me when I had dodged his kiss in the forest and turned down his love declaration, still in shock. I would never tell Gale about Bria.

It takes a while but I finally manage to fall asleep, and I am only awoken when I feel Bria jump into my bed. I wrap my arms around her, smiling.

"Mama. Do I have a daddy?" She asks.

My smile falters. "Yes you have a daddy."

"Where is he? Some of the kids that I see in the village have daddy's. Their daddy's swing them on their shoulders and tickle them. Why is my daddy not here to do that?"

My daughter is only just turning three years old and I thought I had at least another 4 years until she started asking questions like that. I didn't know what to tell her. "Your daddy...your daddy..." I trail off slightly, swallowing. "I can swing you up on my shoulders." I finally say. "And tickle you." A s I say this, I poke her stomach softly provoking a giggle out of her. "You don't need a daddy to do that."

She twirls her fingers in my hair. "Okay, Mama." She finally says before settling against my chest. "I love you." She mutters before slowly falling asleep. My heart swells with love for her.

She is in my dreams tonight. Normally its the same dream about her getting picked for the reapings, which I have accepted is almost heartbreakingly bound to happen but in this dream we sing together in a meadow filled with dandelions.