The next morning, Katniss woke up first. I guess she was used to getting out of bed at the crack of dawn to hunt, but I for one, was not. Luckily she didn't make too much noise as she wriggled out of my arms and lay very still beside me. Before I could open my eyes to look at her, her hand immediately found my face and began stroking my temple. Her tiny fingers found their way to my jaw next, then my chin, then back to my other temple. It had been a long time since anyone had actually shown me affection, and it felt really good.
My eyes slowly opened to meet her grey ones. A smile was on her face, and she inhaled before speaking.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she whispered.
Okay, where had the old Katniss gone? Someone seemed to have misplaced her with this bright, bubbly, apologetic look-a-like. It actually sort of scared me.
"No, no, it's fine. It'll be good for me to get up, anyway," I responded, waving my hand in dismissal. She just smiled before pushing a little hair off of my forehead. I never quite understood why she did this so often, but I never asked because, well, I didn't hate it. In return I reached my hand out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
"I missed this," I said, thinking aloud. My statement was met with only silence, and I wasn't sure she had heard me until she too spoke.
"Me too. I haven't slept that well in weeks," she admitted with a quiet sigh.
"Yeah, me neither. The nightmares visit me every time I close my eyes. But last night, it was quiet. I feel very... Rested," I told her. This time, I wasn't waiting on a reply. We both knew that our nights were practically identical. We alternated between seeing the people we killed, and dying ourselves.
They say that once you become a victor, everything is over. No more Games.
But that was definitely a lie.
I glanced back over to Katniss, only to find that she had fallen asleep again. So, instead of forcing her up, I pulled the blankets up to her waist and lay back down.
I'm not one to refuse a good night's sleep.