Uncharted-An Everlark fic-Chapter One
UNCHARTED
Pairings: Katniss/Peeta, Effie/Haymitch, Annie/Finnick. Other.
Characters: Katniss, Peeta, Effie, Haymitch, Annie, Gale, Johana, Finnick's son, Ceaser Flickerman, other.
Summary: After the Rebellion and the losses that she has face, Katniss Everdeen is faced with a new sling of challenges. She refuses to deal with her feelings and obvious depression that has been brought on by the war. What effect is this going to have on her life and those around her? What if people from her past come back to haunt her? Can Katniss take on this uncharted territory and get things straightened out?
CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE BOOKS.
****
Chapter One
“Haunting Past”
My fingers are gripping around the smooth, sleek wood of the arch of my bow; one hand is keeping my arrow locked. My aim is perfect. The arrow is ready to be released. All I have to do is let go of it, and that rabbit, the one that is perfectly in my view, will be mine. One hit.
I’m not sure why I’m hesitating. I can almost hear a far too familiar voice whispering in my ear, “Do it, Catnip. What are you waiting for?”
I quickly blink my eyes, trying to push the thought away from my mind. Where did that come from? Why do I continue to miss Gale when he wants nothing to do with me anymore? I suppose it can’t really be helped, Gale was my best friend after all.
I return my focus back to the issue at hand, the rabbit, the one that is a mere twenty feet away, obliviously eating the grass that is sprouting from the forest floor. An easy kill. I slowly start to release my fingers. That rabbit is as good as dead. It’ll make a great dinner for the night.
Just as I’m about to make the shot, there is a loud rustle somewhere in the distance. The rabbit, that had been so clueless just a minute before, was suddenly alert, and just as fast as it was there, it was gone. I groan. So much for dinner. I hear someone yelling. They are too far away for me to recognize the voice, or to make out what they are saying. I feel anger start to brew in the pit of my stomach. Doesn’t this person understand that being loud in the woods chases all the game away?
I know deep down that I really shouldn’t be angry at this person, whoever it is, they’re obviously not a hunter or they wouldn’t be crashing around in the woods like a giant destroying a city. That’s when it hits me.
Peeta.
I lower my bow, removing the arrow from its place on the string and tucking it securely back into the sheath. Once I finish this task, I pull up my jacket sleeve to check the time on my watch. It’s eight.
No wonder Peeta is looking for me. I told him that I would be back an hour and a half ago. I’m so stupid. I should’ve been paying better attention to the time. The last thing Peeta needs is stress. Worrying could cause him to have an attack. How selfish of me to not check the time.
“Katniss!” Peeta’s voice is clearer now. Even though he’s still far away, it’s not hard to hear the worry in his voice. I know that Peeta knows he shouldn’t worry, that I can take out anything or anyone with my bow and arrow, but the fact that I wasn’t back on time must’ve set is nerves on edge. I’m always back when I say I will be. I know what it does to him if I’m not.
“I’m over here, Peeta!” I call back. I shoulder my sheath and my bow before I start walking towards him. It’s at slight jog, maybe if I get to him quickly, he won’t be as like to trigger an attack. I hope that I’m not too late.
It isn’t long before he’s within my sight. He sees me and it’s like he’s running for the Cornucopia in the arena. He reaches me within no time. I’m instantly wrapped in a tight hug.
“Katniss, I was so worried,” he whispers. I can hear the relief in his voice. Our bodies are pressed so close together that I can feel his heart beating. He really was worried. If he hadn’t found me when he did, I’m positive that he would’ve had an attack.
I slip my arms back around him, returning the tight hug he has me locked in. I’m not much for affection with Peeta, at least not yet. I never initiate it. I barely receive it the way that I should, but I can see that Peeta needs this. I won’t deny him that.
Peeta’s muscles seem to relax when I hug him back. He had been so tense just a moment before. My closeness, just knowing I was safe did that to him. Why did that frighten me so much?
“You didn’t have to get worried,” I whisper. What am I supposed to say? How can I apologize for this? I know what it can do to him. All I could think about was an escape, getting away from my problems that I wasn’t thinking of Peeta. I’m so selfish. I’m not sure what Peeta sees in me, even though he chooses to tell me as often as he can.
He simply grips me tighter. I can feel the ripples in his muscles as they unflex for a moment before curling around my body again. He stays silent for awhile. All I can hear is the sound of my own breathing, in sync with Peeta’s, the sounds of animals rustling the leaves nearby, the soft night calls of birds coming out. The sun is setting. We need to head home soon, but I don’t push Peeta. I just let him have his moment.
“I know,” he finally mutters. His voice is so quiet, still so full of relief. “But, I’ve almost lost you too many times before. I was scared when you didn’t come back on time.”
My defenses instantly seem to fall. He breaks down part of that wall like only he can. Peeta is the only person that knows how to hit on my emotions just right. I still haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or not.
“I’m so sorry, Peeta,” I whisper. I can hear the shame in my voice. I feel awful. What if he had worried himself into an attack? No one would have been around to help him. Haymitch had taken a trip into the Capitol for the week. I had no clue what for, but I could strangle him for leaving Peeta and I alone in the Victor’s Village for seven days. He’d been gone for three. He had four more days to go.
“No, don’t worry about it, Katniss. You’re alive, you’re safe. That’s all that matters,” he mutters. His grip around me doesn’t let up any. I actually think it tightens again.
“No, that’s not all that matters, Peeta,” I say. I pull myself from his grasp. Of course my temper would get the best of me in this moment, when Peeta needed me to just surrender to my emotions for a minute. But, like always, I didn’t want to show them, I couldn’t stand the affection for long. “I should have been checking the time. Do you know that because I let you get so stressed that you could have had an episode and it would have been all my fault?”
I turn my back to him. I feel that tears might fall at any given moment. I don’t want Peeta to see if they do. I don’t like crying, especially in front of other people, it makes me feel weak. I’m not weak. I won’t show any sign of it unless I can absolutely help it. And when I’m around Peeta? It seems that my weaknesses like to show themselves.
“Katniss,” he says. His voice is firm. I want to laugh, but I fight to hold it in. Does he really think that tone is going to change the way I feel? He’s tried that so many times, to change my opinion. Doesn’t he know me well enough by now to know that’s not how I work? I’m not one to succumb to anyone, or anything. I never have been. Not even the Rebellion, or Peeta could change that.
“Do you honestly think that?” he asked. He was trying to portray that same firm, strong tone he had been using only moments before. I wasn’t surprised that it was faltering. Peeta could never use a tone on me for very long that wasn’t of love, affection, endearment or sincere in some way. Peeta’s resolve was never there with me.
“Of course I think that, Peeta!” I exclaim. I hear the snapping of branches, the rustle and flapping of wings. Great. I had scared off what game Peeta hadn’t managed to. I couldn’t help it, though. Sometimes my anger, my feelings got the best of me. It always seemed at the most inappropriate times too. They never wanted to show themselves when I was in the privacy of my own home, or even my own room. They always seemed to be in front of someone. I remember a time when I was so in control of my emotions. I don’t know what broke me. I don’t know what turned me into the person I am today. The thing was, I was too stubbron to deal with it.
After the Rebellion, I immediately threw myself into helping everyone else. I didn’t want to think about everything that had happened. I still don’t. I didn’t want to have time to miss Prim, my mom, Gale, or Finnick. I don’t take the time now, even though it’s been a few months. I just pretend that it didn’t happen. Forgetting seems to be very easy for me sometimes, but there are other times that everything comes back to me. Little things can set me off. A look from someone in town, a touch from Peeta that I wasn’t expecting, a certain tone that he could use, little, miniscule things can throw me off the pedestal of emotions that I am constantly balancing on.
Peeta instantly senses that he has said the wrong thing, or used the wrong tone on me. He takes a step back. Dealing with me when my emotions are set on edge is Peeta’s equivalent on me when he has an attack. It’s nowhere near as emotional draining or terrifying. But, I was never hijacked by the Capitol, so I can’t really say that he will ever have to experience that. I would never wish it on him either.
“It wouldn’t be your fault, Katniss,” I hear him whisper. All though, I’m not sure it was a whisper. My hearing, my vision, my breathing process, none of my senses seemed to be working properly. I felt like my body was shutting itself down, like it was getting ready to cancel the world out. I knew I was getting ready for a breakdown. Great. Just great. Breaking down in front of Peeta was not an option. I couldn’t let him see me that way.
“Don’t.” I hiss in response.
Peeta stops in his tracks. He wasn’t expecting to hear a venomous response in return. But what could I do? It was all that my body would allow me to get out. I guess it’s the combination of me trying to keep my breathing steady, and fighting as hard as I possibly can to hold in my tears. I don’t like feeling this weak.
“Katniss, it’s okay.”
I jump when he speaks this time. Peeta has decided to be brave and ventured over to me when I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t object as he slips my bow and sheath of arrows off of my back, shouldering them himself. I don’t say anything when he slips his arms around my waist and begins to lead us back to the house. The times when my emotions get the best of me like this, are the only times that I don’t shy away from Peeta, from affection. I’m not talking about kissing, or hand holding, or anything that would seem normal of any couple. No, I hardly ever give Peeta that luxury unless he is having a particularly bad day, or an episode which I feared he might not recover from. No, I mean affection like the kind you give to someone you care about when they are sick, or hurt. I let Peeta do thing for me, I let him take the lead when he needs it be. I let him lead me home, tuck me in, make me dinner, whatever he deems necessary. I hate it. I hate it because the fact that he feels he needs to do these things for me, makes me feel weak, and, like I’ve mentioned, I hate feeling weak, being weak. Peeta doesn’t know reason behind my outbursts. He doesn’t know that I’m not dealing with everything the Games, the Rebellion; what the grieving has truly done to me. He thinks I’m doing well. The fact that he only ever seems me go off every now and then makes him believe that it’s only once in a while. If only he knew that I cried myself to sleep nearly every night unless I could convince myself that I was strong enough to handle it. If only he knew how often I still had nightmares. Only, they aren’t really nightmares. They are memories. Things that I was actually unfortunate enough to witness. I can see them every time I close my eyes. I can see all of the people I killed. Glimmer’s bloated body, Marvel falling to the ground, an arrow lodged in his neck, Cato begging for mercy from the mutts. I can see little Rue, helpless and lifeless in my arms as I sang her into her final sleep. I can see Finnick dying in an instant; the muttation lizard slicing his head off like it was nothing. One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone. Prim haunts my dreams often, her laugh rings in my ears long after I’ve woken up.
I am so lost in my own thoughts, I don’t notice that we have returned back the Victor’s Village. When Peeta is finally able to grab my attention, it’s because he is pointing to someone standing on my front porch.
We aren’t close enough for me to make out who it is. Instinctively I reach for my bow, but then I remember Peeta has it on his shoulder.
I glance over at him. Peeta merely shake his head at me. He doesn’t have to say anything. I know what he means anyway. He’s telling me that I don’t need it. Somewhere deep down, I know that he’s right. We don’t have anyone to fear anymore. Unless it’s the press, then I do need my arrow. They come around far too often for my liking. They are constantly trying to see into the life of “Panem’s Hero”, the “Mockingjay that Saved the Day”, or into the never ending love of “Everlark”, which is so kindly what Ceaser and his other hosts on Panem Tonight have dubbed us. Endearing isn’t it?
I know that Peeta can chase them off. He has before. He always lets me hide when they come around. He goes to the door, lies, says I’m not here, that I’m not hunting. If they happen to catch a glimpse of me, Peeta threatens them. He has told me several times that he won’t let them publicize me anymore. He says I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime, and that’s the truth.
As we arrive at the steps of my house. I am instantly relieved to see that it’s not the press. In the soft light of the street lamps, I can see them illuminating someone familiar. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, her green eyes are bright, but there are large, dark black circle underneath them, surrounding them. She hasn’t been sleeping. There is a bundle of blue blankets in her arms, a suitcase is sitting by her feet on the wood of the porch.
“Annie!” Peeta exclaims. He is up on the porch before I can make myself move. It’s not that I’m not excited to see Annie, I am, but I can’t seem to figure out why, if she has a suitcase, why there is a bundle of blankets in her arms. Had she gotten cold on the train ride over?
Peeta is looking down at the bundle in her arms. He is smiling. I knew that Peeta could be a little odd sometimes, but those are blankets for crying out loud! I’m finally on the porch with the two of them. Annie and I exchange quick hellos before she adjusts the bundle in her arms and I finally see what all of the fuss is about.
Finnick’s eyes are staring back at me.
***
A/N: That was Chapter One! Please comment, give me Feedback or something! Favorite quotes, or parts. Anything really!
Pairings: Katniss/Peeta, Effie/Haymitch, Annie/Finnick. Other.
Characters: Katniss, Peeta, Effie, Haymitch, Annie, Gale, Johana, Finnick's son, Ceaser Flickerman, other.
Summary: After the Rebellion and the losses that she has face, Katniss Everdeen is faced with a new sling of challenges. She refuses to deal with her feelings and obvious depression that has been brought on by the war. What effect is this going to have on her life and those around her? What if people from her past come back to haunt her? Can Katniss take on this uncharted territory and get things straightened out?
CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE BOOKS.
****
Chapter One
“Haunting Past”
My fingers are gripping around the smooth, sleek wood of the arch of my bow; one hand is keeping my arrow locked. My aim is perfect. The arrow is ready to be released. All I have to do is let go of it, and that rabbit, the one that is perfectly in my view, will be mine. One hit.
I’m not sure why I’m hesitating. I can almost hear a far too familiar voice whispering in my ear, “Do it, Catnip. What are you waiting for?”
I quickly blink my eyes, trying to push the thought away from my mind. Where did that come from? Why do I continue to miss Gale when he wants nothing to do with me anymore? I suppose it can’t really be helped, Gale was my best friend after all.
I return my focus back to the issue at hand, the rabbit, the one that is a mere twenty feet away, obliviously eating the grass that is sprouting from the forest floor. An easy kill. I slowly start to release my fingers. That rabbit is as good as dead. It’ll make a great dinner for the night.
Just as I’m about to make the shot, there is a loud rustle somewhere in the distance. The rabbit, that had been so clueless just a minute before, was suddenly alert, and just as fast as it was there, it was gone. I groan. So much for dinner. I hear someone yelling. They are too far away for me to recognize the voice, or to make out what they are saying. I feel anger start to brew in the pit of my stomach. Doesn’t this person understand that being loud in the woods chases all the game away?
I know deep down that I really shouldn’t be angry at this person, whoever it is, they’re obviously not a hunter or they wouldn’t be crashing around in the woods like a giant destroying a city. That’s when it hits me.
Peeta.
I lower my bow, removing the arrow from its place on the string and tucking it securely back into the sheath. Once I finish this task, I pull up my jacket sleeve to check the time on my watch. It’s eight.
No wonder Peeta is looking for me. I told him that I would be back an hour and a half ago. I’m so stupid. I should’ve been paying better attention to the time. The last thing Peeta needs is stress. Worrying could cause him to have an attack. How selfish of me to not check the time.
“Katniss!” Peeta’s voice is clearer now. Even though he’s still far away, it’s not hard to hear the worry in his voice. I know that Peeta knows he shouldn’t worry, that I can take out anything or anyone with my bow and arrow, but the fact that I wasn’t back on time must’ve set is nerves on edge. I’m always back when I say I will be. I know what it does to him if I’m not.
“I’m over here, Peeta!” I call back. I shoulder my sheath and my bow before I start walking towards him. It’s at slight jog, maybe if I get to him quickly, he won’t be as like to trigger an attack. I hope that I’m not too late.
It isn’t long before he’s within my sight. He sees me and it’s like he’s running for the Cornucopia in the arena. He reaches me within no time. I’m instantly wrapped in a tight hug.
“Katniss, I was so worried,” he whispers. I can hear the relief in his voice. Our bodies are pressed so close together that I can feel his heart beating. He really was worried. If he hadn’t found me when he did, I’m positive that he would’ve had an attack.
I slip my arms back around him, returning the tight hug he has me locked in. I’m not much for affection with Peeta, at least not yet. I never initiate it. I barely receive it the way that I should, but I can see that Peeta needs this. I won’t deny him that.
Peeta’s muscles seem to relax when I hug him back. He had been so tense just a moment before. My closeness, just knowing I was safe did that to him. Why did that frighten me so much?
“You didn’t have to get worried,” I whisper. What am I supposed to say? How can I apologize for this? I know what it can do to him. All I could think about was an escape, getting away from my problems that I wasn’t thinking of Peeta. I’m so selfish. I’m not sure what Peeta sees in me, even though he chooses to tell me as often as he can.
He simply grips me tighter. I can feel the ripples in his muscles as they unflex for a moment before curling around my body again. He stays silent for awhile. All I can hear is the sound of my own breathing, in sync with Peeta’s, the sounds of animals rustling the leaves nearby, the soft night calls of birds coming out. The sun is setting. We need to head home soon, but I don’t push Peeta. I just let him have his moment.
“I know,” he finally mutters. His voice is so quiet, still so full of relief. “But, I’ve almost lost you too many times before. I was scared when you didn’t come back on time.”
My defenses instantly seem to fall. He breaks down part of that wall like only he can. Peeta is the only person that knows how to hit on my emotions just right. I still haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or not.
“I’m so sorry, Peeta,” I whisper. I can hear the shame in my voice. I feel awful. What if he had worried himself into an attack? No one would have been around to help him. Haymitch had taken a trip into the Capitol for the week. I had no clue what for, but I could strangle him for leaving Peeta and I alone in the Victor’s Village for seven days. He’d been gone for three. He had four more days to go.
“No, don’t worry about it, Katniss. You’re alive, you’re safe. That’s all that matters,” he mutters. His grip around me doesn’t let up any. I actually think it tightens again.
“No, that’s not all that matters, Peeta,” I say. I pull myself from his grasp. Of course my temper would get the best of me in this moment, when Peeta needed me to just surrender to my emotions for a minute. But, like always, I didn’t want to show them, I couldn’t stand the affection for long. “I should have been checking the time. Do you know that because I let you get so stressed that you could have had an episode and it would have been all my fault?”
I turn my back to him. I feel that tears might fall at any given moment. I don’t want Peeta to see if they do. I don’t like crying, especially in front of other people, it makes me feel weak. I’m not weak. I won’t show any sign of it unless I can absolutely help it. And when I’m around Peeta? It seems that my weaknesses like to show themselves.
“Katniss,” he says. His voice is firm. I want to laugh, but I fight to hold it in. Does he really think that tone is going to change the way I feel? He’s tried that so many times, to change my opinion. Doesn’t he know me well enough by now to know that’s not how I work? I’m not one to succumb to anyone, or anything. I never have been. Not even the Rebellion, or Peeta could change that.
“Do you honestly think that?” he asked. He was trying to portray that same firm, strong tone he had been using only moments before. I wasn’t surprised that it was faltering. Peeta could never use a tone on me for very long that wasn’t of love, affection, endearment or sincere in some way. Peeta’s resolve was never there with me.
“Of course I think that, Peeta!” I exclaim. I hear the snapping of branches, the rustle and flapping of wings. Great. I had scared off what game Peeta hadn’t managed to. I couldn’t help it, though. Sometimes my anger, my feelings got the best of me. It always seemed at the most inappropriate times too. They never wanted to show themselves when I was in the privacy of my own home, or even my own room. They always seemed to be in front of someone. I remember a time when I was so in control of my emotions. I don’t know what broke me. I don’t know what turned me into the person I am today. The thing was, I was too stubbron to deal with it.
After the Rebellion, I immediately threw myself into helping everyone else. I didn’t want to think about everything that had happened. I still don’t. I didn’t want to have time to miss Prim, my mom, Gale, or Finnick. I don’t take the time now, even though it’s been a few months. I just pretend that it didn’t happen. Forgetting seems to be very easy for me sometimes, but there are other times that everything comes back to me. Little things can set me off. A look from someone in town, a touch from Peeta that I wasn’t expecting, a certain tone that he could use, little, miniscule things can throw me off the pedestal of emotions that I am constantly balancing on.
Peeta instantly senses that he has said the wrong thing, or used the wrong tone on me. He takes a step back. Dealing with me when my emotions are set on edge is Peeta’s equivalent on me when he has an attack. It’s nowhere near as emotional draining or terrifying. But, I was never hijacked by the Capitol, so I can’t really say that he will ever have to experience that. I would never wish it on him either.
“It wouldn’t be your fault, Katniss,” I hear him whisper. All though, I’m not sure it was a whisper. My hearing, my vision, my breathing process, none of my senses seemed to be working properly. I felt like my body was shutting itself down, like it was getting ready to cancel the world out. I knew I was getting ready for a breakdown. Great. Just great. Breaking down in front of Peeta was not an option. I couldn’t let him see me that way.
“Don’t.” I hiss in response.
Peeta stops in his tracks. He wasn’t expecting to hear a venomous response in return. But what could I do? It was all that my body would allow me to get out. I guess it’s the combination of me trying to keep my breathing steady, and fighting as hard as I possibly can to hold in my tears. I don’t like feeling this weak.
“Katniss, it’s okay.”
I jump when he speaks this time. Peeta has decided to be brave and ventured over to me when I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t object as he slips my bow and sheath of arrows off of my back, shouldering them himself. I don’t say anything when he slips his arms around my waist and begins to lead us back to the house. The times when my emotions get the best of me like this, are the only times that I don’t shy away from Peeta, from affection. I’m not talking about kissing, or hand holding, or anything that would seem normal of any couple. No, I hardly ever give Peeta that luxury unless he is having a particularly bad day, or an episode which I feared he might not recover from. No, I mean affection like the kind you give to someone you care about when they are sick, or hurt. I let Peeta do thing for me, I let him take the lead when he needs it be. I let him lead me home, tuck me in, make me dinner, whatever he deems necessary. I hate it. I hate it because the fact that he feels he needs to do these things for me, makes me feel weak, and, like I’ve mentioned, I hate feeling weak, being weak. Peeta doesn’t know reason behind my outbursts. He doesn’t know that I’m not dealing with everything the Games, the Rebellion; what the grieving has truly done to me. He thinks I’m doing well. The fact that he only ever seems me go off every now and then makes him believe that it’s only once in a while. If only he knew that I cried myself to sleep nearly every night unless I could convince myself that I was strong enough to handle it. If only he knew how often I still had nightmares. Only, they aren’t really nightmares. They are memories. Things that I was actually unfortunate enough to witness. I can see them every time I close my eyes. I can see all of the people I killed. Glimmer’s bloated body, Marvel falling to the ground, an arrow lodged in his neck, Cato begging for mercy from the mutts. I can see little Rue, helpless and lifeless in my arms as I sang her into her final sleep. I can see Finnick dying in an instant; the muttation lizard slicing his head off like it was nothing. One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone. Prim haunts my dreams often, her laugh rings in my ears long after I’ve woken up.
I am so lost in my own thoughts, I don’t notice that we have returned back the Victor’s Village. When Peeta is finally able to grab my attention, it’s because he is pointing to someone standing on my front porch.
We aren’t close enough for me to make out who it is. Instinctively I reach for my bow, but then I remember Peeta has it on his shoulder.
I glance over at him. Peeta merely shake his head at me. He doesn’t have to say anything. I know what he means anyway. He’s telling me that I don’t need it. Somewhere deep down, I know that he’s right. We don’t have anyone to fear anymore. Unless it’s the press, then I do need my arrow. They come around far too often for my liking. They are constantly trying to see into the life of “Panem’s Hero”, the “Mockingjay that Saved the Day”, or into the never ending love of “Everlark”, which is so kindly what Ceaser and his other hosts on Panem Tonight have dubbed us. Endearing isn’t it?
I know that Peeta can chase them off. He has before. He always lets me hide when they come around. He goes to the door, lies, says I’m not here, that I’m not hunting. If they happen to catch a glimpse of me, Peeta threatens them. He has told me several times that he won’t let them publicize me anymore. He says I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime, and that’s the truth.
As we arrive at the steps of my house. I am instantly relieved to see that it’s not the press. In the soft light of the street lamps, I can see them illuminating someone familiar. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, her green eyes are bright, but there are large, dark black circle underneath them, surrounding them. She hasn’t been sleeping. There is a bundle of blue blankets in her arms, a suitcase is sitting by her feet on the wood of the porch.
“Annie!” Peeta exclaims. He is up on the porch before I can make myself move. It’s not that I’m not excited to see Annie, I am, but I can’t seem to figure out why, if she has a suitcase, why there is a bundle of blankets in her arms. Had she gotten cold on the train ride over?
Peeta is looking down at the bundle in her arms. He is smiling. I knew that Peeta could be a little odd sometimes, but those are blankets for crying out loud! I’m finally on the porch with the two of them. Annie and I exchange quick hellos before she adjusts the bundle in her arms and I finally see what all of the fuss is about.
Finnick’s eyes are staring back at me.
***
A/N: That was Chapter One! Please comment, give me Feedback or something! Favorite quotes, or parts. Anything really!