Crunch.

Scrape.

Thud.

"Ah, shit," he mutters quietly, almost tripping on a log, breaking into what would be silence if it was anyone else. I can't help but roll my eyes as I listen to Peeta noisily work his way along the forest path behind me.

This is why I don't ever let him hunt with me; he scares away all the game.

Luckily we aren't hunting today, so I pause and turn to him, reaching my hand out towards him. 'Okay?' I question.

'Yeah,' he replies with a faint grunt of displeasure. 'I just almost fell, that's all. I don't know how you come in here so often without injuring yourself." He stubbornly ignores my offer of assistance.

I stifle a grin. "Well, I'm just used to it, that's all. My father taught me how to be confident on my feet." I pause, still holding back a smile, and add cheekily, "And how to tread lightly."

As I let out the soft laugh I have been containing, Peeta throws me a pointedly irritated look before fixing his gaze back on the ground.

Wow. He really must be in a foul mood. I swallow my next giggle and lead off once more, listening to the constant snaps and crunches of dead leaves behind me.

The branches are filled with buds and fresh new leaves; a picture of spring. The air is filled with the fresh, sweet scent of blooms and blossoms, and the woods are teeming with new life. The weather is warm, warning of another long, hot summer that isn't too far away.

It's been almost two years since the bakery opened, and in many ways they have been the best years of my life. It is so different to what I always expected; to be honest the only things I was ever certain of in my life were Prim, Gale and hunting. I could never see anything that could come into my life and take them out of it.

Yet here I am. I don't have them. Not any of them, not really.

I still hunt but I don't have as much time to do it as I used to, and thankfully I don't have nearly as much need.

I don't have Prim. Not a day goes past that I don't think of her, but the pain has dulled to an ache now. A squeeze in the chest every now and then. A sharp stab when I wake from a nightmare. But it is usually just an ache. I know it will never go away. I've accepted that.

I obviously don't have Gale, either. He hasn't even been back to the District yet, although Hazelle and Rory and the rest of the Hawthornes caught one of the new travel trains out to District 2 last fall. Apparently he is still doing well in 2, but his friendship is another thing that is gone from my life.

Instead I am left with memories and nightmares of things so horrifying that they are scarcely believable. Our bad moments are becoming less frequent, but unfortunately they are still there. They'll always be there; they won't ever really go away, I am now coming to realise.

But it is not all bad. Life here in 12 is as good as we can hope for. Peaceful. We are learning to cope with the bad days, even though some mornings bring such darkness that I wonder if we will ever escape it. We have learnt our routines, our ways of finding our way back to one another, whether it is Peeta gripping and clinging to furniture, or my focus on the ceramic vase and all of the images of good that I flash through my mind on repeat. We're moving forward, and hopefully past all the anguish. At the moment it is still baby steps, but we have to start somewhere.

We have had so much loss but we have gained so much as well. We have a house that we love. We have the bakery. We have Haymitch. We have Johanna, even if only by mail, and we sometimes have Annie.

And of course, most importantly, I have Peeta.

I still can't believe that I could be so lucky, especially after all we have been through. Even though we have been so busy with the bakery and my work with the construction team, he still finds time to put us first. Even if it is just a few hours in the evening, or a single daisy resting on my pillow, he still finds the time to show his love. He's still charming. He's still kind. His arms still bring me back from the brink of despair. His kisses still set me alight. He is still Peeta.

"I just don't get it." Speak of the devil. He is also still grumpy when he is doing things he doesn't want to do. Like now, when his grumble breaks me out of my long line of thoughts.

"Get what?" I question, turning to throw a deliberately broad smile back in the direction of his scowling features.

"Here. This place," he gestures widely. "I mean, it's not bad but I don't understand why you love it out here so much. The woods are so dense with undergrowth and there are so many sticks and logs everywhere. You have to constantly think about where you're stepping. It's exhausting."

"Exhausting? And this from the guy who gets up at the crack of dawn to work his muscles throwing sacks of flour and kneading dough?" I question with a laugh, refusing to let his mood dampen mine today.

"That's different," he grumbles. "That's all in the shoulders. Being here you've got to constantly concentrate! It's a workout for your body and your brain."

"Oh quit it, grumpy," I say, perching myself on a log. "We're not too far away now." I take a swig from my water bottle before offering it to him, rolling my eyes as he takes a large gulp and spills a little down the front of his t-shirt. As he drags the back of his hand across his mouth and sits alongside me he looks sheepishly in my direction.

"Sorry," he says, after a moment, "I'm just not used to walking so far."

"I know," I respond, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. "Is it hurting your leg?"

"Not too badly. But I wouldn't want to walk for another hour."

I quickly rise to my feet again, shoving the bottle into my backpack as I move. "That's okay," I state, offering him my hand. "We're ten minutes away – fifteen, tops!"

He lets out a sigh but graces me with a small smile before standing and wordlessly falling into step behind me.

"Okay, we're almost there now," I call back to him. He's about 30 yards behind me, and I want us to get there together.

"Thank goodness," he replies as he approaches me, his mood clearly having deteriorated in the last twenty-five minutes.

"Okay, so we weren't quite as close as I thought we were...but we're here now! It's just past these bushes!" I offer brightly, gesturing out to the line of scrub in front of me. Inwardly, I stifle a groan. I practically sound like Effie Trinket, I am so ridiculously positive. It's just that I want Peeta to like this so badly; I want him to smile and laugh and be happy. We haven't spent a full day just enjoying ourselves and being together in months and I'm so longing for our closeness, our spark, that I'll do just about anything to make his mood better.

Regardless of how ridiculous I sound.

My smile falters a little as I look over and see that he is leaning heavily against a nearby tree, lightly massaging his thigh above the join of his prosthetic. His usual easy expression is long gone, but so is his irritated glare of earlier. Now I can see him wince slightly in pain as he hits tender spots, and my heart jumps slightly in concern.

"Hey, are you okay?" I rush over to him, all thoughts of making a good impression gone as I look up at his pained face in concern.

Peeta opens his eyes and looks out, his gaze softening as he realises that I am right in front of him. "Yeah I'm okay. Just getting a little sore now, that's all."

"Are you sure? I haven't seen you massage it like that in a while." I can feel my voice tightening a little, as it always does when I know he's in pain.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replies. I can feel a slight frown crease my forehead as I look down at his leg, but a soft hand on my cheek alerts my gaze back up. "Seriously, Katniss, I'm okay. I just need to have a bit of a break, that's all. No need to worry."

I hesitate before responding. "Okay, if you're sure."

"I'm sure. And besides, you said that we're almost there. And, given that you've led me on a 45 mile trek through the wilderness, I want to know what my surprise is!" The slight hint of pain remains in his eyes but his usual grin gleams at me mischievously.

I simply roll my eyes, refusing to bite back at his blatant exaggeration. Instead, I swallow my snide retort and lift up onto my toes, bringing my face closer to his. "Well, we're almost there so you'll find out in a moment. You don't want to be too impatient now, do you?"

I feel his hand on my hip, pulling me in closer to him, and I reach my arms around his neck as I lift my lips to nibble gently on his earlobe. His breath catches and I can feel his muscles under his shirt as I press myself against his body. Then, in a slow, drawn-out whisper, I say softly, "You know how much I hate impatience."

I hear him give a slight snort of laughter and fall back to my feet, smirking. Good, now he's really smiling. That's all I wanted really. We both know that it is me who is horrendously impatient. Although I prefer to call it 'punctual'.

'Well, Ms Everdeen, that was a sneaky move," he drawls, taking a step closer to me again and tightening the circle of his arms around me. Against my will I feel my heartbeat pick up slightly; the press of his body and the warmth of his arms affecting me physically, as it always does. But now is not the time so I give my head a slight shake before reaching up and pressing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Come on," I say, shaking myself free of his embrace. "Do you want to see your surprise or do you want to stand here in front of this scrub all day?"

He just stands there, his knowing smirk accompanying the seductive glint in his eyes. "Welllll..." he drags out the word, letting his meaning become clear.

"Oh, cut it out!" I can't help but laugh. "Come on, it's just through here." I take his hand and lead him to the wall of shrubbery before pushing through and stepping aside to let him see.

The lake is glittering in the late morning sunlight, which seems bright and harsh now that we've stepped out of the woods. The slight breeze is delightfully cool after our walk and some waterfowl are standing in the shallows, calling up to their peers in the trees. The grass along the bank is overgrown but it is lush and green, and the dandelions are standing tall and proud amongst it.

Taking a deep lungful of fresh air, I feel all of my anxiety over our hike melt away. It has been so long since I've been here, and the lake's rugged beauty lay almost forgotten beneath a bed of horror in my mind. Now, standing here and seeing it again, it rejuvenates me.

I sneak a glance across at Peeta and catch him gazing around with awe; his eyes alight as he takes in his new surroundings. I clasp onto his hand tightly, running my thumb across the back of his knuckles, glad to have him here with me as memories of my father tug gently at my heart.

"Wow," he breathes, allowing me into his wonder. "I've never seen anything like this before. It's like our own little paradise nestled deeply among the hills, hidden away from real life."

I can't help but let out a laugh. Trust Peeta to sum up this place perfectly in two sentences, and within one solitary minute of our arrival.

He continues, "Can we get closer? Will anyone mind?"

"Mind?" I laugh. "Who would mind? I've never seen anyone else here before...except my father of course." I give him a small smile. "And you, now."

He squeezes my hand gently, before lifting it and dusting a light kiss on my knuckles. "And me, now," he repeats gently.

"Let's go."

I lead the way once more, pulling him along until we stand quietly by a lone tree on the riverbank. The first thing I do is pull off my shoes, relishing in feeling the soft grass tickle the soles of my feet, before swinging the backpack from my shoulders and pulling out a thin blanket that's wound into a small bundle. Together we unwind it before placing it on top of the overgrown grass. Then we lie down, feeling it cushion beneath us as we peer through the branches at the soft puffs of white clouds billowing gently overhead.

Peeta takes in a huge lungful of air before exhaling slowly. "It's really peaceful out here isn't it? And so bright and warm compared to the woods." He sits up, taking in every detail as I just nod in assent, knowing that he'll continue to speak. He always does, and today excitement bounds off his body. "The sky seems bluer, and the grass seems softer here." He runs his fingers over the blades absently before continuing, "And the water is so beautiful. I don't think I have ever seen a body of water so enticing. It's practically begging me to dip my feet in it."

I nod, and reach for the backpack, a small smile creeping onto my lips as I rummage through it purposefully. Peeta eyes me suspiciously.

"Hmmm," he begins, "what else have you got in there? I was trying to figure it out all the way here."

I raise one eyebrow at him. "You'll find out as we go through the day. But here's the first thing." I throw a bundle of dark blue fabric hard at his chest, and his eyes widen in recognition as he catches it in two hands. He glances down at the fabric, then out at the lake and then back at his hands before bringing his eyes to my face.

"Where on earth did you find these?" he asks, holding his arms out and lifting up the swimming shorts. "I haven't seen these since before..." his voice peters out. "I don't think I've worn them since we were at the beach in 4."

I shudder at the memory, but push it down. "I found them last year when we were cleaning," I explain. "I knew that I wanted to bring you here one day so I kept them, thinking that they might be helpful. The fabric dries so much faster than regular clothes."

He looks out towards the lake again, shaking his head slowly. "Katniss...you don't want me to actually go in there do you? I haven't swum since..." His voice fades, and he doesn't complete the sentence.

"The second arena," I finish for him this time. "You can say it, you know. It isn't a taboo subject."

"I know," Peeta shrugs. "I guess it's just because there are so many memories associated with it."

"I know," I repeat, swallowing hard. Looking out at the water I can't help thinking about the Quarter Quell either. It was, after all, the last time we swum together.

He gently reaches out for my hand, his thumb running circles over mine in comfort as he speaks. "I hate thinking about it. The only bearable memory is that night on the beach." His voice trails off, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly and our eyes meeting before he continues, "But even that is tainted because I was preparing for death. I was so sure that they were my last hours with you."

I feel him clutch my hand tighter at the thought, and my lips give a flicker of a smile at the memory. He's right. His kisses set me alight that night, but it was tinged with a sadness, a desperation almost, that we could never have that ever again. I was certain that I was going to die, and that he would live... but in that moment I could think of nothing but him. His face, his hands, his lips, and the fire that he was filling me with.

And then the lightning interrupted us. And woke up Finnick.

Finnick. Suddenly, without warning, he's all I can think of.

Finnick laughing on the beach as we woke up Peeta with our faces. Finnick tying knots in 13, clinging desperately to the hope that Annie was still alive. Finnick taking charge in the Capitol. Finnick being chased by the mutts. Finnick, who will never meet his beautiful son...

I shut my eyes against the darkness creeping onto my heart and feel Peeta shift closer to me, knowing that I need his closeness before I sink further into my memories and allow them to consume me.

I feel his arms wrap around me and his lips press firmly against my forehead as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. I force images of good to flash into my mind, images of Peeta, mostly, repeating one after the other, and will my heart rate to slow down. I won't let it consume me today. Not today. I've been planning this for him for too long.

I feel the pressure ease and swallow hard, forcing a smile. "No. Today I refuse to think about any of that." I glance out at the glistening surface of the lake, feeling the light breeze caress my cheek along with the comfortable weight of Peeta's arms around me, and feel a surge of positivity. Yes. I am in control. We are safe. "Today is going to be a great day. Now get those shorts on and let's swim."

He hears the shift in my tone and loosens his grip on me but he still looks anxious, glancing out at the sparkling blue lake with scepticism. "It'll be fine, Peeta, I promise," I try to reassure him. "I'm not going to let you drown. And the weightlessness of the water will help the pain in your leg."

I can see that he is still not convinced; his forehead is creased into a frown, and he is wringing the fabric in his hands.

"Okay, well I can't make you come in; I just thought you might like to swim. Either way, I'm going to," I say as I shrug and get to my feet, deciding to take a different tack. "And after that walk I just feel so...hot." With a sharp intake of breath I muster up all of my courage and grab onto the bottom of my singlet, lifting it over my head in one smooth motion and baring my skin in the harsh sunlight. Then, suddenly embarrassed, I quickly cross my arms over my chest before turning and walking away.

After a few steps I am unable to resist and I throw a glance over my shoulder, seeing that Peeta's eyes have simultaneously widened and darkened. I can't help but laugh. Last time we swum together in District 4 I was wearing a sensible swim suit that covered everything – it was all that I would allow myself to be seen in – but Johanna sent me this dark grey two-piece a few weeks ago. She knew of my plans to bring Peeta here and thought it was her duty to provide the appropriate attire. At the time I couldn't contain my snort of laughter, but now I feel almost satisfied. It seems to be having the desired effect.

His admiring expression gives me a spurt of confidence, soI quickly unzip my shorts and let them fall to the ground, kicking them to the side as I walk. I don't dare turn around again, not yet, but I can feel his gaze follow my retreating form.

It doesn't matter that we have been together for a long time, or that he has seen me at my worst; I don't think I will ever be comfortable with this level of exposure. I have meat on my bones again now, but my skin is still a patchwork of scars. They are fading, but they are there, and I usually cloak them in darkness and blankets. Peeta says that he doesn't care, but I do, so this brazen show makes me feel more vulnerable than anything. Now that I've bared practically everything, all I want to do is get in the water and away from his prying eyes. But hopefully it is working.

I make a split-second decision to walk a few extra yards to a section of water that I know is quite deep, and I bend my knees, executing a perfect dive before hitting the water.

Perfect. The water is warm on the surface from the sun, but deliciously cool below. I lazily kick my way across the water, letting it wash the sweat from my skin and the exhaustion from my limbs, before flipping over onto my back and floating lazily across the surface. The my eyes remain shut, and as the sun warms my bare skin I feel incredibly at home and completely content. I'd almost forgotten how much I love the water. Swimming is one of the few ways that I can completely relax and totally clear my mind. That's why I wanted to share it with Peeta.

Peeta. Shit. I'd forgotten about him for a second.

I look around, lifting my arm to shield my eyes from the harsh brightness of the sun, and see him standing on the bank mere metres away. I grin to myself; obviously the new plan worked. He has managed to change into the swim shorts at lightning speed and as I float across the rippling water I can feel his gaze burning into my skin, his crooked smile revealing that he likes what he sees.

I hastily dip below the water, letting my feet find the soft earth below, and as I break the surface I squeeze the excess water from my braid. "Well, are you coming in?" I call out, walking closer to him but bending my knees to ensure that my shoulders stay below the surface of the lake.

"Is it deep?" he asks, the apprehension creeping back into his voice as his forehead creases once more.

"No," I respond simply, trying to assure him. "It's only waist-deep where I am, and it is a gradual descent so you'll be fine. I promise."

"It doesn't look waist-deep," he murmurs. "I don't know Katniss. What if I just sit here in the shallow water and watch you? It's been ages since I've been in the water so that's probably enough for today."

I can't help but stifle a groan. How a big, strong guy like Peeta can be hesitant about a little water is beyond me. "If you go over there," I point to a large flat rock directly in front of me, about three yards to his right, "see that rock? It forms a ledge just under the water. You can sit on it and then ease yourself in."

"It isn't deep there?"

"No, I promise you, it isn't deep. It probably won't even go past your hips."

"I don't know... it's covering your shoulders!"

"Have I ever led you astray? You'll be fine, I promise. It barely touches my waist."

"Show me," he persists, his pleading eyes matching his worried tone.

I let out a sigh and stand up straight, my shoulders and chest rising out of the water until it settles just above my navel. "See?"

Peeta's face changes immediately, one eyebrow raising as he smiles his crooked smile once more, this time in triumph. I can feel his gaze roaming over my dripping form. "Niiiice," he drawls.

"Peeta!" I shriek, dunking myself back below the surface and showering him with a spray of water, "I can't believe you did that!"

"What did I do?" His face is a picture of puppy-dog innocence until he breaks it with a bubbling laugh. "You're beautiful, Katniss. It'd be a crime not to look at you."

"Hrmph."

"No, I mean it," he says, lowering himself gingerly onto the ledge, shuffling slowly forward with his hands until the lower half of his legs dangle in the water. "You look amazing in... that."

"Really?" I don't know why I asked. It's just hard to believe that, I guess, but Peeta has always seen more in me than most people. And his eyes tell me that he isn't lying. I move forward with a shy smile, stopping a few steps out of his reach and encouraging him to step down into the water.

"Really," he responds. "I've never seen anything like it." He takes a deep breath and lowers himself down, holding all of his weight on his arms until he realises that the floor of the lake isn't so far away after all.

"See?" I ask with a triumphant smirk. And then it is like his hesitance vanishes, and he strides through the water with confidence. As we meet he smiles gently before lowering his head and bringing his lips to meet mine. My heart races at the hard press of muscle against my body and warmth spreads out from my core. But he surprises me by keeping his kiss soft and sweet, his lips gently caressing mine before slowly pulling back.

Leaning away from him slightly, I run my hands down the hard, hot skin of his biceps before stepping away, and leading him back towards the rock he came in on. "Remember what we did last time?" I ask, careful not to say too much and let the memories rush back.

"What...kicking?" he answers my question with one of his own.

"Yes, kicking," I respond firmly. "This is the exact spot where my father taught me to swim, and you will learn here too."

"I don't know." His face is dubious.

"Come on," I state firmly, placing his hands on the rock with mine atop them, "this isn't hard. And the water isn't even salty this time. You'll be fine."

For the next half hour we practice kicking together, and I teach him how to put his face in the water and when to breathe. Once his exhaustion becomes evident once more we float together, letting the sun warm our skin and feeling the tension ebb away.

Suddenly my attention is caught by a slight splash off to my right, and I sit up, shielding my eyes from the sun. It isn't anything, really, just Peeta making his way up the gradual incline of the bank, but I hadn't realised that he'd left.

He turns to face me as he hears my movement, and as I look up at him, the water barely hitting the line of navy blue fabric sitting low on his hips, I take him in properly for the first time.

I don't think I have ever seen him like this: tall, shirtless and glistening with droplets of water in the sunlight. For a moment I simply stare. My eyes lock with his before travelling down the smooth plane of his jaw and the rippling muscles of his shoulders beneath his golden skin. He too has scars, even more prominent in the sunlight, but they only serve to enhance his beauty. They tell our story. My gaze makes its way down his biceps, strong from his work in the bakery, and across his stomach until it rests on the small trail of dark blonde hair that inches its way from his navel down into his shorts.

I swallow hard and force my gaze back up to his eyes.

And then all of a sudden his eyes darken and he takes three large steps, coming to a stop directly in front of me.

"Katniss," he starts, smoothing a stray strand of wet hair off my forehead, and that simple gesture is my undoing. My breath catches in my throat and he pulls me up to him, bringing his lips to mine. His skin has warmed quickly so my body is slick and cool next to his and I lift my arms to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss as I go. My entire body is pressed against his and I feel the flames of desire rip through me; it's like I just can't get close enough. We've been so busy lately; we've been together, obviously, but it hasn't been like this in months. It seems so long.

And it feels so good. So unbelievably good.

His tongue brushes mine and a wave of desire crashes over me again so I pull him down into the water, making sure to keep my body afloat below his. His lips are soft but firm against mine, his tongue exploring and seeking. My fingers tangle in his hair as his hands run up and down my back, and I can feel every inch of his arousal pressing against me. When his hands reach down to cup my backside I can't help but let out a small moan into his mouth.

Suddenly he lifts me and steps back, closer to the rock ledge before manoeuvring me up and out of the water until I am perched on the edge. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, pressing myself even closer still. The ledge is rough beneath me but I barely notice, swept up in the sensation of his lips, and the flames roaring through my body. He is everywhere, on top of me, around me, and his skin is filled with heat despite the water. I can't seem to press myself close enough. I need more of this. More of him.

My head falls to the side as his lips find the perfect spot below my earlobe and he begins to suckle softly before working his way down my neck. My eyes fall shut and I gasp softly as I give into the feelings he is causing within me, and before I know it he is hooking his arms under me and swiftly carrying me back to the blanket on the shore.

Once settled his lips resume their work, moving their way down my neck and across the sharp jut of my collar bone. As his hips encourage my legs apart and I feel him press against me, all rational thoughts flee my mind. I am a quivering mess beneath him, my hips bucking involuntarily against his. He shifts his weight and his lips continue to move lower, silkily working their way down my skin, leaving a trail of fire down my waist past my belly button. I can focus on nothing but his lips, his breath, his tongue on my skin, and I am filled with an urgent desire to be with him. I need this with him, and I can't think of anything else.

I drag his face up to meet mine and crash our lips together, running my hands over the ridges of his abdomen and feeling the rough fabric of his shorts pulled taut. Our kiss is passionate, filled with fire and fervor, but then he surprises me by pulling his head back an away from mine. I can't help but let out a small cry in his absence. But Peeta simply smiles, bringing a hand up to gently brush the back of his finger across my cheek. I watch his beautiful blue eyes darken and roam over my writhing form as if memorising every detail of this moment. And he trails his hand down over my jaw, then my chest – brushing against the stiffened peak of my breast on his way past my stomach. And as his hand moves lower still my moan is muffled as his lips press gently against mine once more.

The sun is starting its descent in the sky when I wake to Peeta's fingertips gently stroking the skin on my waist. I am overcome with the delicious feeling of happiness that is always connected to Peeta, and I can feel the hard press of his muscles behind me, curving around my waking form. Thankfully my sleep today was dreamless, blissful.

Although I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Not after he lifted me onto that rock and put his lips to work. And certainly not after all that followed.

Initially it surprised me when Peeta would take control in that way. And it really surprised me how much I enjoyed it. I loved seeing the dominant side of him, a side that is completely different to what he is usually like. He could be rough and demanding; he could murmur things in my ear that I would never imagine coming from the same mouth that once won over the citizens of Panem; he could pin my arms over my head and overpower my body with his lips. But I always loved it.

So today, when he charged towards me in the water and claimed me, I was powerless against him.

I didn't think it was possible to want him more, but then his sweetness took over once more and he lay me gently down on the blanket. And when he pulled his lips away from my writhing form and gazed down at me, his eyes filled with the love that his fingers trailed over my skin, I couldn't help but remember why I fell in love with him in the first place, in that cave in another world. And the feeling overcame me, bubbling out in kisses and murmurs, until we lay together, spent and exhausted, in the shade of the solitary tree.

A small sigh escapes my lips and I snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his bare chest against the skin of my back.

"Are you hungry?" his soft voice breaks through my reverie.

I smile, twisting my body around until I face him. I press a soft kiss against his lips before answering. "Yeah, I'm getting there."

"Well, we worked up quite the appetite," he drawls, a slow grin breaking across his face again.

And this time, I can't help but laugh and roll my eyes. I swat his arm and sit, adjusting the top of my swimsuit as I go, before grabbing the backpack and pulling out the cinnamon scrolls that I carefully prepared that morning.

And we eat and we swim and we laugh and we kiss until the shade of the trees cloak the lake. And after trekking through the woods once more, our hands link loosely and the orange sunset lights our final steps back home.

And it is good.

A/N

It has been so long since I have written and it feels so good to do it again. I feel like this is a whole new Peeta and Katniss, but I have really enjoyed writing them. They are so different to the book...but I think that they need to be. Here they aren't dwelling in sadness, they are simply to adults who have seen horrors together, but are now finding time to be alone and in love.

I hope you like it. I'd love it if you would let me know your thoughts on this chapter. xo