Prologue

Katniss Everdeen entered Victor's Village through the back yards, a game bag slung over her shoulder. The sun was just a pink blaze over the horizon. Peeta would be home from the bakery by now after closing up. Or more accurately, he would be over at Haymitch's.

Once a week, the District 12 victors gathered for dinner. The ritual almost always took place at Haymitch's house. For one thing, it was more convenient, because Haymitch never cared about how trashed his place looked, whereas Katniss did. It just meant she didn't have to worry about cleaning for guests. For another thing, Katniss wanted at least some privacy in the house she shared with Peeta, whom she had quietly married and moved in with just a year after the war. There hadn't really even been a wedding, in the classical sense of a big party. She had worn a simple white dress, Peeta a suit; the only guest was Haymitch. They had toasted some bread and shared it, sealed it with a kiss and that was that. Neither of them had even really talked about marrying; it had just been understood that they were practically husband and wife anyway.

Katniss shook these happy memories from her head as she stalked onto Haymitch's back porch. Her nose wrinkled – she could smell the alcohol from here. But, she could also hear laughter, so at least her mentor and husband weren't dead. Still, even if Peeta is already drunk, I'm going to murder him. Or at least refuse to let him fuck me for a week, she thought darkly.

Haymitch Abernathy was, predictably, drunk. Peeta thankfully was not. He pulled her into his lap and gave his wife a searing kiss. Katniss indulged him, even relished it. She never tired of kissing her husband like any other, ordinary woman. Yup, this was home.

"The best part about being me," Peeta declared when he released Katniss. "Is coming home to you every night."

"Uggh! Get a room!" Haymitch slurred from across the table.

"No time for that, old man," Katniss scowled, rising off Peeta's lap as she pointedly ignored his pout. "Supper's ready!"

Indeed, minutes later, the bird she had caught in the woods was cooked and the victors were eating hungrily. Haymitch was even surprisingly less sloppy than normal. Except he still insisted on wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"So," Haymitch began, "you two still working on that book?"

The Memory Book, as it was dubbed, had been Katniss's idea. Peeta had just helped her by sketching old friends whose faces they did not want to forget now that all were long dead. Katniss shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah," she affirmed. "But we thought you didn't want any part of it." They had asked Haymitch if there was anybody from his childhood or any tribute from his long years as a mentor whom he wanted to preserve in the book, but the old man had refused. Katniss had been affronted at first, until Peeta reminded her that, of the three of them, Haymitch dealt the worst with revisiting the often-painful past.

"I didn't, sweetheart," Haymitch agreed. "But, I've changed my mind." He held up a hand as Peeta instantly made to get up from the table and run next door for the book, without even saying Excuse me. "Not everyone, mind you. Yet. It will take me a bit to remember 46 tributes, not to mention folks from my youth. And I still might not get to them all. But…. there is one person who I would like to put in there for posterity."

For some reason, Katniss could tell that whoever this person had been, he or she must have been important, to Haymitch especially. She leaned over the table.

"Who, Haymitch?" she pressed.

Haymitch looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "How many victors of the Hunger Games hailed from District 12?"

Katniss blinked, perplexed. Talk about a letdown. The old drunk had gotten her all excited and now he was doling out trivia? Her husband looked just as confused.

"Uh…. three?" Peeta answered obviously.

Haymitch smirked at him after just taking a swig from his bottle. "Wrong."

"No!" Katniss gasped, suddenly realizing. She grabbed Peeta's arm. "No, cause remember? The Mayor would always read two names at the Reaping: Haymitch and….. oh, I know it, I know it! What is it?"

Haymitch laughed at her frustration. "The first Victor of District 12," he began, "was a man named Duke Vedaldi."

"Story time!" Peeta crowed. "I'll go get the book!" And he was off like a shot, returning with the precious item in less than five seconds and practically falling into his chair in his haste.

Haymitch chuckled and waited for Peeta to ready his pen and art supplies.

"Let's begin. Duke Vedaldi lived long ago at the start of the Games….."