Amanda was twelve when her daemon changed shape for the last time.
It was a month before the Reaping ceremony, and they'd been helping their mother gather plants from their garden.
Something they could never quite put their finger on, looking back, had made them look up.
A boy was standing across the street, watching them.
His daemon was in the form of an owl-faced cat, her head tilted to the side as their eyes met.
Abner hopped onto her shoulder, changing from a mole into a vibrant purple and white starling in less than a second.
And that was the last time he ever changed form.
The boy across the street sent her a one-handed wave, and then disappeared behind a family crowding down the road.
In her head, even now, she could still picture him. The details hadn't faded with time, though so many other things had. His eyes were hollow with the light of shadows, and even with the distance between them, his eyes held power, as though he drew strength from the earth itself to paint them the color of rust.
His clothes were dark, like thunderclouds, and shadows draped themselves over him as though they were a cloak.
After he left, they stood there for a moment longer, blinking in the sunlight shining down in their eyes.
The urge to run after him—to grab his arm and make him stop so they could talk to him—had almost overcome them, but their mother called them inside before they could act on it.
They remembered hesitating, and their sister coming out to fetch them before their supper got cold.
So many things had changed since that day.
Feeling the cold chill of the air like a weight in their lungs with every breath they took, and the wind brushing against their skin like paintbrushes over an empty canvas, her daemon flickered through the air above and infront of her as she drew in the strength to call out against the winter's air, her breath turning to fog against her lips, "Katniss?"
So many things had changed since that day.
Gareth had died, and the feeling of smooth fur subtly changing to feathers beneath her fingers still felt as real as the first time she'd reached out to touch Catheldra's side. She could feel them against her hands, even now, as the harsh winter air bit at her fingers and sent numbness crawling along her skin.
She longed for the cold, for the deep blue shadows cast against the snow, even as her feet trod a path through the downy, virgin white. "Katniss?"
So many things had changed. She'd grown old, slowly, softly, and she managed to survive Reaping after Reaping until she was too old to be culled.
She'd become a mother. And the moment she held her daughter in her arms, she knew her luck wouldn't hold out.
Because so many things had changed since that day.
But they hadn't changed enough.
They were still trapped, all of them, within a cage too vast to imagine. The Capitol thought they were free. They thought they were the final power in the universe. They felt the noose closing in on the world, and they thought they'd managed to escape it by climbing over the backs of everyone else.
They were wrong.
The sharp clarity of the air pressed against her face, burning her with its stinging cold, biting at her cheeks and ears until blood crept like fire beneath her skin.
She almost laughed, as Abner alighted once more on her shoulder. Even now, her body continued to fight. As though keeping her alive was the most important thing in the world.
"Katniss?" One last call, her numb toes and fingers told her, one last chance. Her legs burned white with cold, and the chill of the air tried to stop her words in her throat.
So many things had changed.
Her luck had given out. It was no longer her life on the line in the annual Reapings. It was only her heart. Nothing more.
Primrose's name had been called, and the pain had come like nails dragged along her spine. Freezing cold and blazing with heat at the same time. Even before she knew what was happening, her mind was trapping her away from the pitying eyes turned toward her, the weight of sweat and scented candle wax in the air, the sunlight beating down on her skin and hair.
Because she had to stay alive, no matter what the cost, and there was nothing she could do about it.
As hard as she tried, she still didn't understand completely. The clarity lost itself to dreams and half-truths hidden beyond words too painful to bear.
But one thing she knew. One word she knew with every single shred of her being.
Trapped.
Her daughter sensed it too, now. Though in a different way. She watched Katniss. She saw the way the shadows leapt and changed before her eyes. The way the red of the bricks and the blank face of the concrete caged her in and sent her back to the arena.
It was inevitable. She'd known that from the very beginning. From the moment her child was handed to her, she knew.
One could only outlast the Reapings for so long.
But it still hurt.
The fireplace had gone out. Prim had been asleep, and Katniss had been forced to relight it herself. A spark had landed on her hand.
And she and Sereven had run. In stumbling steps and gasping breaths, they'd fled into the cold beyond the sheltering walls of their home.
Another laugh, and this time she wasn't able to hold it back. Quiet and sad, it brushed past her lips into the emptiness of the air, mocking the reflection of the snow with its darkness.
She knew where her daughter was hiding. She could feel her grey-eyed gaze burning into her like a physical weight.
There was a reason Sereven had settled as a crane with blood red wings.
She knew where he daughter was hiding, but she still had to look. Because Katniss didn't trust her. Would never trust her again. And she had to show her that, despite everything she thought, she cared about her.
There was a reason her mind refused to focus too closely on the images that had been splashed across the screens every day in the town center for the mandatory Witnessing.
The pain would be too much to bear, and her body wouldn't allow her to succumb to it. The details were hidden from her, blurred into uncertainties and lies.
The boy from the games stepped out into the snow from the shadow of his porch, his shoes crunching against the ice, his daemon clinging to his neck with feet and hands, her tail waving softly through the air behind him.
He paused when he saw her, and for a moment, their eyes met. The monkey on his shoulders turned her face away under Abner's unblinking stare.
After a few moments, the boy nodded, and smiled, his face so soft despite everything he'd gone through that for a second, she wanted nothing more than to tell him.
Because something so innocent deserved to know the truth. Something so kindhearted didn't deserve to have the world betray them.
She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it at the last moment, and just shook her head, her mouth curving into a smile of her own.
"Good luck." She said softly.
He knew her daughter just as well as she did. Maybe even more. He wasn't lucky enough to have the memories of the Games dulled and blurred. He remembered every detail of what had happened.
He would find his daughter, and his innocence would help convince her, just for a moment, that the world truly was a good place.
She knew she shouldn't let her get her hopes up. Not when the shadows were so far away. But no one else deserved the knowledge she knew deep in her heart. She wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.
No, her daughter would remain ignorant, and so would the rest of their small world.
Peeta smiled again, and nodded. "Thank you." He said.
His gaze lifted into the sky, and the steel-grey burn of her daughter's gaze fixed upon him instead.
He would bring Katniss inside. She wasn't meant for the cold or the sky, no matter how much she wished it were so. Not yet. Not for a long while.
So many things had changed since her daemon had settled.
But not enough.
She knew the day would come, eventually. Everything had an ending. Even the snow and it's deep shadows she loved so much would burn away in the heat of the sun.
So she closed her eyes, and let the cold sweep through her, and counted the seconds until the new beginning.