Disclaimer: The Hunger Games are not mine :(

"Daddy?" Lyric asks Peeta, pushing her hair out of her eyes impatiently. "Who do you love more? Me or Hunter or Mommy?" Her little brother looks up from the toy truck he is playing with, at the sound of his name. He bobs his little blonde head and smiles.

Peeta looks down at his daughter, eyes clouded in thought. "I love Mommy more."

Lyric sits up, looks close to tears. "But Daddy! Why do you love her more?"

"I loved her first."

Lyric tosses the curls from her eyes and leans forward on her dresser, widening her eyes and staring intently at her reflection. Dark brown curls, wide blue eyes, a dusting of pale freckles. She shakes her head to free her hair and pulls on her favorite yellow sundress.

Her best friend is meeting her in town in twenty minutes, and Lyric still has to cook dinner for her little brother. Her parents are in the woods somewhere, they left before dawn and haven't been back all day. She has spent half her childhood wondering what they do all day in the trees that border the Meadow, far past the edge of town. She has inherited her mother's hatred for being told what to do, and shaking off the threat of rules, she followed them once.

They lay in the sunshine and they pick flowers in the Meadow. Katniss walks with her head on Peeta's shoulder, but they don't cry like they used to. She hunts after a while, pulling a wooden bow over her shoulder. They'll sing with the Mockingjays and dance in the streams and they will talk. Oh, they talk. They talk of nightmares and worlds she will never know, of people that made them who they were, of lives they have taken, and those they have saved.

Today, they left with a game bag and Katniss's bow, slung over Peeta's shoulder. He is carrying it, but he wont use it. Lyric has never seen her father hurt a fly, but she can see his strength in the muscle of his arms and his back when he takes off his shirt to swim in the lake.

Peeta had kissed her on the top of her head and Katniss told her to take care of her little brother. Lyric understands this, she knows of Katniss and her little sister who died in the big War. She knows how Katniss spent her life saving her. Lyric knows of the guilt, the pain, the tears. The part that Lyric regrets, however, is the fact that she learned it from her Aunt Johanna. And she has learned most of her parents past from the history books at school. Lyric is undeniably curious, and she researched the Games that her mother screams about late at night, trapped inside her own head and nightmares.

Lyric hates thinking about her mother scared, so she grabs a pair of tall brown boots and slips them on. She runs down the stairs of their house, jumping off the sixth step to land loudly on the hard wood floor, and walks into the kitchen to find her brother.

Hunter is sitting in the sunshine on the front steps, sketchbook in hands. He's got a charcoal pencil and his hood of his sweatshirt over his bright blonde hair, and he's staring intently at the geese in Haymitch's front yard. The drawing in his hand already looks beautiful, and Lyric can see he's only half finished.

"Hunter." She says from behind him. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I don't care." Hunter answers, quietly. His calm voice tells her she did not succeed in surprising him. "Do we have bread?"

"Yeah." Lyric answers, as she walks back into the kitchen to search for dinner for him. She searches the cupboards and has bread, cheese, and apples set on the table for him. She ruffles his hair on the way by, tells him dinner's on the table. "I'm meeting Senna in the Square. Don't leave the house." Lyric adds quickly, skipping down the steps and heading up the path that leads towards the town that is quickly growing into a city. She calls behind her, a habit gained from her parents, who never leave the house without telling their children: "I love you."

He calls something back, but his voice is chased away by the wind. When she turns back to look at him, he is drawing again, his hands making wide swooping lines on the paper. His long golden hair falls into his eyes, his slender frame looks small on the steps of the large house.

She grins, though she cannot see him, because they take care of each other, this brother and her.

I have some ideas for this, but I'm not sure if this is good, or if I should continue. Do you like Peeta's and Katniss's children's names? Please let me know what you think? Thanks for reading.