Spring, it truly is the best season to go out in the woods. Not too cold, not too hot, just right and at this time of the morning it's even better. I lean against a tree trunk and let the cool breeze go through my hair. My thoughts which were of little importance are interrupted when I hear footsteps coming my way. I listen closely, knowing immediately who's around here somewhere. I close my eyes and can't help but smile.

"Hi Baby." The footsteps stop, and I only hear shuffling for a couple seconds or so. Finally, I turn around and notice my baby boy approaching me with shock written all over his face.

"How in the world could you hear me coming?! I couldn't even hear myself!" He throws me an apple and climbs up an old oak tree, setting himself on a branch.

"Is that how you greet your Mother now? Throw me an apple and sit on branch 10 feet away from me?" I put both hands on my hips, and try to act as stern as I can, but I can't help but smile at the young man in front of me.

"If you would of played along and let me scare you like you used to do when I was younger, maybe I would of greeted you in a friendlier way." He takes a bite out of his apple and stares at me with his dark grey eyes that resemble so much my own and my fathers.

"Dad has been looking for you since the sun rose. Which was precisely at five o'six. He's worried ya' know? So is Willow."

"That's why you're up so early." He smiles, but quickly becomes serious. I sit on a nearby rock and look away from the man whom I call my Baby.

My Baby, who now officially knows of my past. He was the only person in our family totally free of mind, In other words, he was the only one still hidden from the truth when it came to the Hunger Games.

He now knows that his Mummy and Daddy were part of a horrible game, which forced us to kill for our own survival. He knows that his Mummy was part of a war, which still forced her to kill innocent people. He knows of what my nightmares consist, and why Peeta, his Daddy, has to have a tight hold on a chair at times.

It killed me inside telling him about the games and how his Aunts Annie and Johanna were part of them, how his Aunt Prim was killed. How he was being stripped away from his innocence.

I felt the same pain with Willow, but she's so understanding, like Peeta, that I didn't worry as much. I didn't worry in the sense that she wouldn't blame us for what happened and she didn't.

I shut my eyes closed, feeling tears wanting to breakthrough. I cover my mouth with my hands and try to push back a scream that could wake all of Panem. But all my attempts fail drastically.

"Mum… Mum, listen." But I can't. I'm a mockingjay to everyone, except to my Son.

He kneels down in front of me and gently grabs one of my hands, putting it on his cold cheek, leaving his hand on top of mine.

I open my eyes and notice that his blinking back tears of his own. He musters up a smile, which stays for a second or so before it turns upside down once more.

"I'm sorry for calling you a murderer yesterday, it was wrong and I knew it." His voice trembles. Both of the cold air and emotions boiling inside of him, which he's trying so hard to not spill out. "I-… I don't know what else to say Mum… I never meant to hurt you as much as I did."

I run my free hand over his bare arm, gently kissing his cold forehead.

"I know." Is all I say. Because, that's all there is to say. I wipe away my tears and calm myself.

"You're freezing. Let's go home." I start getting up and walk away when I notice his not following. He sits there, on the ground, unmoving.

"I want to stay. A little longer. Please, Mum?" He still trembles, but I walk over to him, sit by his side and gather him in my arms, trying to keep him as warm as possible. I rest my chin on his head of blonde wavy hair and feel him relax in my arms.

We sit quietly for minutes, maybe hours, before he speaks up.

"I don't think any less of you, Mum." He pauses and fidgets around with his fingers, as if it was the most interesting thing on earth. He mumbles, he fidgets, he glances at me with his big grey and places his head back under my chin.

"What are you thinking about? Or who?" He asks, in a calm and soothing manner, that I have to check if I'm very well talking to my baby and not Peeta.

"My sister."

"How come?"

A hint of a smile finds its way upon my lips, and I just hold my baby closer to me and kiss the top of his head, dreading the moment when I'll have to let him go.

"I used to hold her this exact way, when she would wake up from a nightmare." Memories flood my mind with images of myself holding prim, but I push them back not wanting to feel any more pain than I am at the moment.

He takes a deep breath and slowly pry's himself away from my embrace. I know what's coming, as much as his Father and sister are good with words, and as much as he's like me when it comes to expressing himself, He'll try none the less to say something heartwarming.

He passes a hand through his hair, a nervous tick he got from Peeta and I. "Mum, what I said yesterday was rash, it was nonsense. It's just I can't get my head around the fact of you killing people. Human-beings. I do understand why you have had to do so and I thank you for making Panem a safer place."

"I love you, Baby." I reply softly, while he helps me get up.

"Love you too, Mum." He whispers back and then raises his voice a bit. "Now, I think I'm talking for both you and I when I say I've been cheesy enough for today. Whatcha' say Mockingjay?"

I smile up at him and put my arm around his waist. "I think you're talking for yourself." I wink at him and kiss his cheek. God… He'll need to start shaving soon.

"Great…" He reply's sarcastically, rolling his eyes.