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Disclaimer: Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins, not muah…

Once again, we all stand anxiously before the Justice Building to find out which two children from District Twelve will be fighting to the death in the Hunger Games arena. As Effie Trinket approaches the Reaping bowls, I grab Peeta's hand to steady me. My legs feel wobbly and numb, and I'm not sure how much longer they will bear my weight. I keep swallowing back bile and tears and screams because what is happening is my worst nightmare, everything I always told myself I would protect myself from, but I chose Peeta.

It's going to be okay, I think to myself. I begin to focus on my breathing, and I make a list of all the good things in the world.

The odds are in our favor.

The odds are in our favor.

The odds are in our favor.

"Ladies first!" Effie exclaims enthusiastically. She reaches into the bowl and pulls out a slip of paper, smiling as always. "Meadow Mellark!" she calls out.

I am struck immobile. Shocked. I can't speak. I can't move. I can't even breathe as I watch the little girl with the long, curly black hair and sky blue eyes walk up to the stage. My little girl. The child that I held in my womb only eight short years ago. Meadow. My very own. A piece of me. The product of mine and Peeta's love. The one I have watched grow and walk and paint and bake and smile. The little one I strapped to my back and took hunting. The one I cradled in my arms in the late hours of the night. Of all the names in that bowl, she is the one they chose.

The next thing I know, I am bent over, releasing the most desperate, blood-curdling scream from the depths of my being. Tears. Tears and pain and numbness and cold are all I feel. My throat stings from the force of the grief pouring forth from my vocal chords...

"Katniss! KATNISS! It's okay! I'm here!" I hear a familiar voice drawing me back, pulling me away from the pain and the numbness. Suddenly, I feel very aware of myself, of my body and my surroundings. A blanket lies beneath me. I'm in the Meadow. Peeta lies beside me, cradling me. We're okay.

It was only a dream, I tell myself, but the grief is still too close, too real. I pull my knees up to my chest, bury my face in them, and begin weeping. Peeta doesn't try to ask me what happened. He knows it's too fresh. He simply curls up behind me, wrapping my body with his, protecting me and comforting me.

"It's okay, love. Everything is okay. I'm here. I love you," he whispers softly into my ear as I weep and grieve and mourn the future that I fear. After that, he is silent. He lets me cry until there are no tears left to release.

Usually, being with Peeta helps control the nightmares, and since we haven't been sleeping at all lately, we started taking naps together in the Meadow when we have time. Today was different though. Before we went to sleep, we talked about our future together. It was obviously too much for me. Although I have chosen Peeta, the thought of having children and raising them in Twelve destroys me. I fall to pieces at the thought. And now more than ever, I hate the control that the Capitol has over every part of my life, even something as special as my future family.

I don't know how long I cry in Peeta's arms, but when I come to, I realize I've been staring at the same patch of grass for a long time. The only sounds I hear are those of the wind in the trees and his steady breaths in my ear. My heart aches. I so want to be able to give him everything, but I don't think I'll be able to live with this fear forever. I cannot simply stand by and watch the Capitol destroy the family I've yet to have.

At last, it seems Peeta has deemed it safe to test the waters and speak up, "Katniss, I love you—no matter what. You know that right?" He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at me; his hand caresses my face as he speaks. I nod, still staring at the same patch grass. "Katniss?" He gently turns my face so we make eye contact. As I look into his sky blue eyes, I almost lose it all over again, so I pull my face from his hand and look away once more.

"I can't do this Peeta," I say, almost breaking.

"What Katniss? What can't you do?" he asks.

"I can't do this. Us. Our future. Together. In Twelve. I don't think I'll survive if anything happens," I say, as I bury my face in my hands, afraid of his reaction.

"I don't understand. What happened? Let me in. Let me help. Please?" he pleads.

"I dreamt that we had a little girl. She had blue eyes like yours and curly hair like you do, but her hair was black just like mine. I could remember things about her life growing up. Peeta, it was so real," I explain.

"That's wonderful, Katniss. A little girl!" His voice is excited and full of wonder.

I turn to look at him, "Her name was chosen on Reaping Day." I watch as his bright expression deflates immediately. "She was selected as District Twelve's tribute at the age of eight. We watched our own daughter walk toward her death, and there was nothing we could do about it. I've never felt so much pain, so trapped and useless," I say with tears running down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says as his own eyes become glossy with tears. He pulls me into himself and runs his fingers comfortingly through my hair. "We won't let that happen. I promise," he says firmly, protectively. A few minutes pass by, and he speaks up again, "Can you tell me more about her, our daughter? It's okay if you can't," he blushes. "I'm just a little curious."

I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm at the prospect of our future children. "It's okay, Peeta, but this doesn't make it real," I say refusing to believe that my dream has any realistic meaning. "Her name was Meadow Mellark."

He smiles the sweetest smile. One day, if we get out of this mess, Peeta is going to make the most wonderful father. "Meadow Mellark... It has a nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

I laugh. "Well, I mean, I did dream it, so obviously it's been hidden in there somewhere..."

"You've been holding out on me, Ms. Everdeen! You already have the names of our children planned out!?" He asks, incredulous.

"Not really, seeing as I've been terrified of having children ever since I can remember. It's just a name I've always appreciated," I explain.

"Oh," he says, obviously disappointed.

"I'm sorry Peeta. I just can't think about that right now, okay? It doesn't mean it'll never happen. I don't know what the future holds, but I'm just not ready to talk about that actually happening yet," I explain. I wish I could dream about the future with Peeta; I just can't. Not yet. Not here where children are forced to fight to the death in the Hunger Games.

Over the next few weeks, Peeta and I have somehow managed to convince key individuals in our families to escape the claws of the Capitol by fleeing into the wild. In Peeta's family, he has convinced Mr. Mellark and in mine, my Little Duck. Both of these individuals are now helping to focus the attack on the more challenging members of the family which are, in both of our cases, our mothers. Regardless, we have some time to sort it all out before the Reaping happens and all the ruckus with these extra Peacekeepers dies down. Just in case, we both have several supply bags stashed away; each bag contains enough gear to keep two people alive for up to four days. That is, if we are careful.

Both of us still struggle with sleeping, but we find time to spend together and nap in the Meadow. Every day, we are learning more and more about each other and how to read each other's moods and expressions. Every day with Peeta is an adventure. If I didn't have him, I'm pretty sure I would go crazy due to lack of sleep, lack of social interaction with people my own age, and lack of hunting. Oh, yes. The electrified fence has become a major source of frustration, especially since Peeta was learning so much! To compensate, sometimes we practice our aim by throwing rocks at random objects, and I have managed to teach Peeta how to build a few simple snares, nothing fancy though, Gale was always the expert in snares. Every once in a while, our snares will trap a squirrel or a rabbit, and when that happens, I teach Peeta how to skin and gut the animals. We bury the skins and the guts, and we are always careful to hide the snares well because Peacekeepers still patrol the area. We only take what we can eat quickly because we don't want to be caught with a house full of incriminating evidence.

As much as I want to, I can't take the credit for any of our Meadow adventures; it was all Peeta's idea. I think he realized that—after a few weeks of no hunting or walking in the woods or anything—I might go crazy without some kind of outlet. He knows me, and I love it. We are glad to have each other, especially with the tension plaguing District 12 at this time of year. We will both need each other to lean on. After all, the Reaping will be upon us in a matter of a few short weeks.