~Chapter 6~

A/N: Good morning, or should I say afternoon, y'all! I just woke up a couple of minutes ago, and right now it's 12:15 in the afternoon, lol. So I'm still in a morning mood, but I'm hyped up and ready to write! I had my special drink: hot cocoa lol. I know it's summer time, but hot chocolate is good any time of year! Anyway, so I don't own the Hunger Games or any of its characters, only the ones that I created, such as Maysilee Mellark (not Donner), Kale Hawthorne, Tommy Odair, and some of the other characters that will enter later on. But I don't own Kale, Maysi, or Tommy's parents. Any of them. None at all. I promise. XD. Anyway, so as usual, read and review, and most importantly… Enjoy!

I am woken on a beautiful Monday morning by the chirping of birds, happily singing to the trees. Glancing at the room, I can tell by the light that it is definitely closer to noon than it is morning.

"Peeta," I say, looking to my right to face him, but instead facing the empty pillows.

Turning over once more, I find the clock and am surprised to find the reading. 11:30. I don't think I've ever in my life slept in this late. I must have been sleeping heavily not to have been woken by Peeta going to work or by Maysilee going to day care. Day care!

Oh, great. Now I really am alone. Isn't this just fabulous?

I slide off the bed and my feet find my slippers. They slip in easily and I find immediate warmth from the cool wooden floor I would've had to endure otherwise. Padding over to the kitchen, I find no signs of anyone being home but me.

I find a mug and fill it with warm milk, then grab some hot cocoa mix and a spoon. Soon enough, I have a nice, warm mug of hot chocolate to get me through the morning.

I have a seat on the sofa in the sunroom and look out the full glass walls, only the birds keeping me company. They begin to sing a tune, and I lose myself in a place I used to share with my father out in the woods. One of those worlds where all there is is music and happiness.

I sit and listen to their different melodies, one mixing with another to create a beautiful harmony. I am so lost in that world that I hardly notice when I open the glass door leading to the wide open lawn of the backyard and begin to sing to them. It's not until every bird falls silent that I realize they're mockingjays.

'Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope

Side by side with me...' I sing, hoping the birds will catch into my tune and join me. When they do, it's almost an overwhelming amount of beauty, hanging in the air around me. I stand in the open green of the backyard, having moved there to listen clearer, and let the mockingjays fly about me, spreading my song amongst themselves.

The song, an old one, The Hanging Tree, always brightens up my spirits. My father used to sing it to Prim and me before he died. My mother didn't like it, though, and one night they got in a fight over us singing it. Prim, not knowing the meaning of it, went around singing random lines of it all of the time. Once, I even made a little rope necklace, and that was the end of the line. The song was officially banned from our home then. But whenever my father and I would hunt out in the woods, we'd sing it secretly, and my mother never knew.

I haven't sung it since the war, though, when Gale, me, and the rebel camera crew were filming propos in the then ruins of District 12. I remember we were eating lunch, and Pollux, an Avox and one of the insects, wanted me to sing to him. I began singing it, and couldn't stop. The birds couldn't keep up; it was new to them then, but now they surely know the tune.

It's not until then that I can hear someone breathing behind me. I turn to see Peeta and Maysilee silently watching. I see Peeta first, smiling a wide smile at me as he did the first time he heard me sing. I notice Maysilee in his arms, also smiling. At first, my cheeks go hot at them catching me, but eventually I can't resist smiling back at them.

"Mommy," Maysi says, struggling against Peeta's arms. He bends over to place her on the ground and she toddles over to me. She taps my knee. "Mommy."

"Yes, baby?"

"You sing with the birds," she says wonderingly.

Peeta answers for me. "Yes."

I bend over so she can look me in the eyes. She places her chubby toddler hand on my cheek and says, "You sing beautiful."

I feel my heart squeezing me tight as it always does during these glorious bonding moments with my daughter. "Do you want to sing?" I ask her.

"I sing to birdies," she replies.

"Okay. I want you to start singing, and we'll see if the birdies listen," I whisper quietly.

"Okay," she whispers back.

I prepare myself for an adorable child's voice, singing something short but sweet like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, but I am completely unprepared for what does happen. Maysilee opens her little pink mouth to begin, and I look at Peeta. He has a look of satisfaction in his eyes, like he's succeeded in keeping her entertained. Maysilee's eyes blink once, twice, her lips move as if warming up, and then sound comes out.

Her voice, soft and childish, with bells ringing high and clear, starts into a song. A lullaby, one I used to sing to her. I think it's been around a long time, like most of the lullabies in our district. I don't think it's always been a lullaby, though. Probably someone turned it into one.

"I can see it from the spark in your eyes

You believe in all the things you deny

You wanna fly, and leave your worries behind

Don't you, don't you..."

She sings, soft but clear in a voice that could never be classified as a child's voice. A beautiful noise, so beautiful that it makes your heart hurt with both jealousy and happiness.

I look to Peeta and mouth, "Someone pinch me."

"Right back at you," he mouths back, staring with wide eyes and a grin on his face at our daughter.

She stops after the first verse, listening for the mockingjays to pick up. When she began singing, not only the mockingjays, but all the birds within a mile of our home stopped to listen.

They pause for a moment politely, then they pick up Maysi's song, chirping it along with her.

Tears fill my eyes at the sight of her, the little girl whose voice is even more beautiful than mine, even more beautiful than my father's. I used to think that was impossible, that my father was the best singer there ever was, until today. The day my life changed.

She looks over to us in confirmation, her full pink lips stretching into a huge smile. We both smile back at her, listening to the melody of the birds.

"Extraordinary," I whisper.

A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Review, please! Constructive criticism and compliments and just plain old comments are allowed, as always. If you have any questions, ideas, etc, please contact me in any way! Review or PM, though if you have questions, please PM me so I can get in touch with you easier! Thanks so much, and…. May the odds be ever in your favor!