Disclaimers: Still don't own it. Bolded passages have been taken straight from the text.

They play in the woods. By the lake with the old cement house. The twin girls, running hand in hand. One with pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. The other with olive skin, brown hair and grey eyes. Rosie and Rue.

Another ugly cat runs after them. Cotton.

A two-year-old boy with blonde curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up on his chubby toddler legs. Mitch.

I chase the three of them on my quiet hunter's feet with laughter and song. I pause to catch my breath and my hand rubs my abdomen where my fourth, unborn child grows. Another boy this time. I can feel it.

I smile, fondly thinking of my fear, how I didn't want children because of the world I grew up in. Gale changed my mind when we held our newborn daughters. Then, to Gale's delight, I wanted more. I was no longer afraid. Having children was a last "in your face" to the long dead Capitol and its despicable Hunger Games.

I hear soft footfalls that anyone but me would miss as Gale wraps his arms around me. I smile up at him and he kisses my head. Gale made me okay. He took my hand and never let it go through all the turmoil I experienced in the aftermath. He helped Haymitch and I add Peeta to our leather bound book. Slowly, one by one, he helped me face my fears. My nightmares are still with me, but not as frequent or as strong.

But when they are strong, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game- like "Real or not real". Repetitive. Even a little tedious given everything that I've been through, but not impossible.

And that's what I plan to tell my children when the time comes. When I have to relive my horrors, but I know I can do it. Over the years, I've learned that impossible is nothing. I started learning that lesson early on with Gale and now I've come full circle. Besides, it will make all of us stronger by learning from my past.

I take my husband's hand and we follow our three beautiful children to the edge of the lake and have our picnic. Afterwards, the five of us lounge on the bank in the sunshine, Mitch asleep in my arms, identifying the different birdcalls.

"Mommy," Rue says, sitting up from where she lays on the far side of Gale. "I want to hear the mockingjays."

"Yes!" Rosie squeals from beside me. "Sing, Mommy, sing!"

Even Gale joins the begging. I smile at all of them.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise

Here it is safe, here it is 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"

At the end of my song, the woods are silent. Then, one by one, the mockingjays fill the air with the sweet melody. And in that moment as I look at the wonder-filled faces of my children, who take the words of this song for granted, I know that I've done the right things.