They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it.

The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

No. Now, shut up and eat your pears.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away, A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray, Forget your woes and let your troubles lay, And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. Here it's safe, here it's warm, Here the daisies guard you from every harm, Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, Here is the place where I love you.

Not daring to flee since my general location has just been broadcast to any killer who cares. I mean, I know it's cold out here and not everybody has a sleeping bag.

the evil thing is inside, not out.

I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.