The brush gently glides over the rough expanse of canvas, tracing curves and lines of bright hues and subtle colors. My fingers twitch slightly as I watch him, my only wonder being how he can stay so steady, and so focused, for such a long period of time. I wonder if it has to do with the incredible patience he's shown me, ever since we escaped the arena. Or if the patience itself is a product of this particular skill.

I find myself leaning forward, almost entranced by how easily his large hand moves with the painting. Not even a quiver in his muscles.


A loud slap of dough against the hard surface of a counter startles me from my thoughts. I glance up to see half of a pale, dirty face, the other portion covered by long, swinging curls. His eyes aren't in my view, and I wonder if he can even see his own work. He must, though, as the set of his jaw is strong, nearly determined. He knows what he's doing.

He always knows what he's doing.


I curl up deeper into the warmth of his large, somewhat muscular body. The wind is blowing far more than usual tonight, but I don't mind. I can feel his heavy breath at the crown of my head, and can't help but smile - if only slightly.

Embraced by the heat he emits, sleep comes easily to me that night.


The Avox is kind in bringing us our drinks. I can't help but cringe only slightly at the strong aroma that hits my nostrils, and I do not say anything in refusal as two large sugar cubes are dropped into my glass. But just out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta's large hands cup his own glass as he smiles politely and waves off the girl, just before she has the chance to sweeten his own tea.

Somehow, it's not very surprising to me that Peeta does not want his drink manipulated.


I watch him lean down as we pause our trek through the forest, sweat glistening on the back of his neck. It's warm, and sticky, and I know we must find shelter for the night, before anybody finds us. Johanna and Finnick are already at least ten feet ahead, and I don't want to think of how fast we'll have to move in the heat to return to them. But I stop anyways, not really sure what it is the blonde I've come to be so protective over is doing. At first glance, it would've made an easy assumption to believe he was just resting. But I hear his grunting, and see his arm muscles moving, and I can't help but furrow my brows in confusion.

Several moments later, when I can just barely spot Johanna and Finnick on the hill above us, Peeta stands up, and we are once again with the others. But when I glance down, I notice the shoes that had been placed on his feet look different from my own. It's a barely-noticeable difference, and I'm not too sure why it is I'm so distracted by it, but I realize fairly quickly that while mine have been knotted only once, Peeta's are looped twice.