That night, he dreams of chalk and pigs.

He's on his hands and knees, paving stones pressing through his trousers, but he doesn't care. There's another girl besides him and their both laughing. Chalk dust cakes his small hands as he scribbles animals onto the floor. It's so easy for him and he loves it, the carefree strokes and the light color on the dark stones. He stands up after what seems like years of doodling and wipes his hands on his clothes. There is no mother to beat him for it and he is glad. He looks down at his pictures, pleased, and turns to his companion to see what she thinks. But then he sees that she isn't who he thought she was. She's the mutt, the one who they call Katniss Everdeen, and she's snarling at him. He backs away, horrified, still a little boy who plays with chalk and frosting, and it begins to rain. He glances at the paving stones, just in time to see his drawings washed away like tears. Then the mutt dives at him and he screams.

He's still yelling when he bolts up in bed, but there is no one there to hear him.