Hey everyone. Sorry about the wait for the update, I was on vacation away from my computer. I also started on a new story just because I was bored and I wouldn't mind if you guys took a look at the first chapter :)

*Katniss's POV*

"Come on, Katniss," Peeta begs. "I know you can't really like being out here. And I can't stay out. The sun is killing me."

Killing him. Ha. Doesn't he know how I had to force myself to come out here, to see these things? It's killing me, too, and I can only wish my problems were as minor as sunburn.

The blazing sun beats down on our backs, plastering Peeta's hair to his forehead with perspiration. I've hardly broken a sweat.

"Go back, then," I tell him, waving my head it the direction of the fence. I shouldn't have taken him out here anyway. He was never one for extreme nature. But now he won't leave.

I keep walking, Peeta's distinct heavy, stomping foot steps still trailing behind me.

My eyes sweep over it, and I will myself not to think about it, think about him, what we used to do here, one of the only places I was ever happy.

Peeta's footsteps cease and I turn around, hoping against hope he hasn't done what I think he's done.

But there he is, sitting on it, head tipped back, chugging water from a canteen. He doesn't know what this rock, this seemingly ordinary rock means. He doesn't know he's sitting on our rock.

This rock, the rock that has seen so many laughs, so many heated conversations about the Capitol, so many animals skins, injuries, and so many smiles. I go weak at the knees.

"Peeta," I say as calmly as I can, "if you're going to stop, please, please do in anywhere but here!" My voice has risen an entire octive by now.

"Why?" Peeta asks, wiping his face on the back of his hand and raking a hand through his wavy, sweaty hair blonde hair.

"Please!" I almost shriek. I am not sure why I am bothering. I should take off, flee the pain. But I don't. Because I'm sure that if he weren't here, it would just be too much. So I stay put.

Peeta hauls himself up off the rock. "Alright." One thing I love about him is that he doesn't question things.

I set off brisquely through the forest, Peeta stamping out a steady rhythm while trying to keep up with me.

When we reach the canopy of trees by him lake he breaks the silence that has been hanging over us like fog. "Hey," he pants. "I'm sorry if I did something to upset you back there." His eyes are so sincere, teeming with concern. But there's also a subtle hint of something else. Questioning curiosity. He won't ask for fear of upsetting me more, but his eyes can't lie.

"It wasn't you," I sigh. "It's just... That rock."

He frowns and looks at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am. "The rock?"

"It was me and Gale's old hunting rendevous point," I manage to choke out. My head aches, and I don't feel like talking around the lump forming in my thoat. I blink back the tears burning in my eyes.

My thoughts drift to other things that are gone. My sister. My home, my real home. Madge. My father, not that I don't think of him all the time. My thoughts, always spiriling downwards, bringing me to my knees and leaving me writhing on the ground.

Peeta's face mirrors my pain. His arms are around me in a seond. But I don't cry. His presence steels me, makes me stronger.

I bury my face in his should. He smells of bread and sweet things. And paint. The scent used to make me wrinkle my nose, but now I find the bitter aroma to be a comforting reminder of Peeta's existence.

He rocks me back and forth, the way he used to when I had nightmares on the train car before our Games.

I pull away, and he strokes my cheek. His previously pale face is now a bright red.

"Peeta." I stifle a giggle. "You're sunburned!"

He touches his face and winces. Then he swoops in and kisses me for the first time in a month. He tastes like mint, and his lips are soft and gentle. Too gentle. I lean forward and deepen the kiss, exploding with a feeling that can only be defined as one thing: Unconditional love. And in this moment, I know there is nothing Peeta can do to make me stop loving him. Nothing in the world. And I know he felt the same from day one.

"It doesn't matter," he whispers as he, much to my disapproval, pulls away.

"You know, we can make new memories here. If you want to," he adds quickly.

I shake my head. "You were right. I hate it out here. Maybe I'll come back in a few months."

"Good." He starts kissing my neck, and I wriggle away.

"Stop," I say, a little forcefully. He's moving way too fast. But Peeta doesn't seem to notice. He scoops me up and I squeal.

"Put me down!" I prostest, but good naturedly. After a playful brawl, I jump out of arms and take off, flying by the rock and forgetting that Peeta, is obviously giving me chase, is not as light on his feet as I am.

"Oof!" Peeta crashes to the ground.

I stop, expecting him to pick himself up and continue running. But he doesn't.

Blood cold with fear, I hurry back to where he landed. By the rock, of course.

"I can't move my wrist." He tells me. He is sitting, rubbing his lower left arm. "But I'm alright. Just needed to catch my breath.

"Let me see." He holds up his wrist, which is swelling rapidly. Damn it. It has to be broken, but I am not my mother. I have no idea how to handle a broken bone besides what I remember from when my mother would heal the broken fingers of coal miners, which were common, and the time I broke my heel. This is different.

"Ok," I say as calmly as I can. "Just stay here and-"

Peeta is already in his feet. "I'm fine," he insists again.

"Peeta, your wrist is broken, probably in several places," I tell him exsasperatedly. "You took a hard fall."

He waves away my concerns. The circumstances have completely flip-flopped. Just a minute ago, he was worried about me.

"I'm fine!"

I sigh. "If you say so." I shrug.

Peeta ends up caving and I take him to the just barely fuctioning hospital. They say he broke three bones in his wrist and sprained his elbow. He also has several cuts and bruises.

Perhaps races aren't as good fun as they seem.

But that was a long time ago, the first time I returned to the woods since the destruction of District 12, and Peeta's arm has long since healed.

Now we're back again.

Peeta rubs a hand over my belly, even though I'm not showing yet. I'm pregnant again. Even though I insisted it would never happen again. I've given in.

Kambrea, my child, my blisfully ignorant child who doesn't know that she is playing over a mass grave by the lake, latches onto Peeta's leg.

"Daddy!" She cries. I still can't believe she can speak. When she first did, I nearly cried. Our now two-year-old has grown before our very eyes. "I see a rabbit!"

Peeta nods, seemingly preoccupied.

After Kambrea has run off to play, he asks, "What do you want to name the baby?"

I am some what taken aback by this question. We didn't choose a name for Kambrea until she was BORN.

"We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl yet," I say.

Peeta just shrugs, unperturbed. "We can choose a boy and a girl name."

I lean my head on his shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, maybe Kaliope for a girl."

"Kaliope," I repeat. "That's pretty. What about for a boy?"

Peeta has a sly smile on his face. "Peeta Junior?"

I roll my eyes. "Seriously."

"You can choose."

I realize this is his way of saying, I can't think of anything. I voice this.

"No," he insists. "I have plenty of names. But I think you should choose."

"Why?" My names are likely to be disastrous.

"I have a feeling this one is going to be a boy." He plants a hand on my stomach.

"If you're so sure, why even choose a girl name?"

He grins. "Just in case."

I think for awhile, but nothing seems to strike me. However, it does perplex me that I never wanted this to happen, never wanted any children. I suppose I was scared. Scared to lose them to a cruel world with the Hunger Games. Scared to carry them, a prospect that still makes my skin crawl. But it's so worth it to have them in your arms.

"Go in the water," says Kambrea, grabbing my hand.

I take her out a few steps when the perfect name hits me. I smile to myself. Like wading in a shallow, cool lake. Wade.

When we get home, after I put Kambrea to bed, I announce the name to Peeta and Haymitch, who happens to be wandering aimlessly around our house.

"Like you needed another one," he grumbles. Now that cute Little Guy has been replaced with Terrible Two, Haymitch has had nothing but grief.

"This isn't about how many kids we have," I snap. "Do you like the name or not?"

"And if it's a girl?" Haymitch says evasively.

"It's not," Peeta cuts in, "going to be a girl."

"Alright, Mister Psychic. The name is fine." He opens the door, letting the warm spring air seep into the room.

I figure "fine" is the equivalent of "very good" from Haymitch, so I'm pleased.

As I settle into bed next to Peeta, I am at peace with myself. I have found the perfect name.

Oh, Katniss and Peeta. Must you always get into race-related trouble? Anyway, I hope you like this chapter.

*I am not starting another chapter until I get reviews* This lets me know people are actually reading this story and want me to continue it. I was thinking everyone was getting uninterested when I only got like 2 reviews last time, but I decided to continue anyway. *Please Note This*

Thanks and have a great summer!