A/N: Once again another delay…a very long delay. But it will set the tone for this chapter the long harshness of a winter in the mountains.

The beauty of the Appalachian Mountains is most evident in the fall foliage. Millions of colors clustered together on every mountain side give a radiant glow to the land. But those of us that live in this region know that the colors of fall quickly give way to the harshness of a long winter season. It becomes darker sooner and seems to last longer. The darkness permeates the soul and it is during those hard winter months that you sometimes sink into a period of despair and longing.

Thank you so much for the reviews. They are my inspiration to keep plugging away at this little adventure.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

Cold and longing

The days have steadily become shorter and the air is crisper in the weeks following the fall festival. The celebration of thanksgiving brought on a mixture of feelings that were hard to process. Tiny glimmers of hope have started to creep into my soul. Hope for a different path in this crazy life.

Life. That is exactly what I am living. It has no plan that I am aware of, and it stops for nothing. It seems like yesterday I was standing on the sandy beaches pledging my life to Peeta in front of my mother and our friends. Now we are in a routine of work and quiet evenings.

The District has lost almost all traces of the war. Construction during the warm summer was massive. I wish that my heart could be repaired that quickly.

As I walk toward my home on this crisp evening, I can feel the energy in the air. The wind is a little heavier and the air has a taste of moisture. This usually means the wintery blankets of white are very near.

As a young girl, I loved the snow. On mornings after a big snowfall, the district looked cleaner and brighter than at any other time. For a few hours in the early morning light, you could look around and forget how hard conditions were.

As a hunter, it was also a great time to be in the woods as you could distinguish movement of animals with a greater ease.

Just thinking of the snow that is surely coming; my mind is instantly consumed with another memory. The last time I remember the snow was just before I departed on the victor's tour. Sure it snowed since then, and I was even here at the end of the winter months last season, but that period of my life is so clouded now that I don't recall much of anything.

I stop just in front of my house and I can see the memory so clearly. She was there. It was early on the morning of the tour and the snow had been falling all through the night. But on this morning, it was as bright as any snowy morning I could ever remember.

Prim was radiant and full of excitement on that day. She always had the ability to live for the moment and to celebrate any opportunity for happiness.

She was like so many other people in my district, thankful that Peeta and I had returned safely from the games. Excited that we would be sending off victors rather than mourning victims for a change.

Her excitement on that day was hard to ignore. At some point over breakfast, she was able to talk me into going outside, just to enjoy the snow.

As little girls, we would often spend hours outside playing in the snow. It was one of the few things we could do, it didn't require much more than a couple layers of clothing. It was one of rare times I would actually forget about the dire need of survival. This was all before my father was taken from us.

But on the morning of the tour, as we romped and played, it felt like old times.

Now as I stand here and remember that morning, I can see her eyes, her smile, and almost hear her laugh. I close my eyes just as the first tear begins to fall, willing with all that is in me to somehow go back to that time and see her once again.

When I open my eyes, the darkness and emptiness of the cool night air stabs at my heart. It's as if the outside world is a reflection of the deep pain that is still within me.

I open the door to the house and my mind is reeling with the pain of this depression. I don't know that I will ever escape this pain. I choke it down on a daily basis, bury it deep inside and try to forget how much it hurts.

But as the world turns cold and dark, it is hard to conceal the hurt and I can feel the grip that kept me glued to a chair for weeks when I first returned to this place.

I know that I don't want to bother Peeta with this. He has seemed different over the past few weeks. I wonder if this season has the same effect on him, but I am too scared to open that door and ask.

Walking into the living room, I lean down and kiss his forehead and turn for the stairs. "I love you," he says to me. His eyes don't move from the television screen, his voice is low and monotone.

I am not sure why I didn't say it back to him. Lying in bed, my mind is going so fast and fear is glaring at me from every angle. I am sure that tonight will be a restless night filled with horrors.

After what seems like an eternity, I silently begin talking to myself, playing the thankful game in my head. After several minutes of racking my brain, searching for what I am most thankful, I see his face. My heart begins to soften and warmth fills my body. Peeta. That is what I am most thankful for.

His undying determination to see me happy is what has saved me in the past and is what will get me through the depressing harshness of a cold winter.

I climb out of the bed and make my way back downstairs. I take a place on the couch as close to Peeta as I can get and wrap my arms around him.

A look of confusion appears on his face when he turns to me. "Peeta, I love you and I need you," I say as I lean in for a kiss.

His smile that creeps up from his mouth tells me that he needed to hear this. On this night, for whatever reason, he needed to hear that I need him. That he is an irreplaceable part of my life.

"I don't know what it is about this time of year, but it is so hard," he begins. "This is when I miss them the most."

I know that he must be speaking of his family. It makes sense. The spring and summer warmth invite a person to be outside and moving faster. There is an energy that is lost with the harshness of a cold winter. More time spent inside, in a deeper darkness causes your mind to slow down.

In our world, that is the exact recipe for unhealthy focusing on what we have lost. I silently pray that this won't be our reality for the rest of our lives. It wouldn't take long for the cold and painful winter to strip away the joy of warmer days.

This night, we hold each other a little tighter and for the moment I feel a much needed joy and peace in my heart.

The next few weeks speed past, and the wintery weather has settled in. We are in the final week of school before the winter break and I am mixed about it.

This job of teaching has given my days purpose, and it has been most helpful as the days have become shorter and darker.

Anything to take your mind off of memories is a positive thing. Especially when those memories are as dark as mine. I hope one day that my memories will be filled with more joy than despair.

On the last day of school, I take my class outside for a trek through the woods. This is the reward for their hard work throughout the school year. A time to just be outside and enjoy goofing off and playing around.

As we walk and talk about the things we see, I take a long moment to reflect on these kids. It is no secret; I have developed motherly instincts for them. Though they try my patience, I look forward to seeing t hem every day.

Part of me is jealous of their care-free attitude. I remind myself that they are at an age where they know of the games, but are still filled with a youthful energy that can simply move on.

Most of the families that were still in the town when it was wiped out by the Capitol all died together much like Peeta's family. So even the scars of losing loved ones have escaped the majority of our kids.

I wonder if they will ever truly understand what the cost was for them to have this outlook on life.

The jealousy is short-lived as I watch them and I am simply filled with a small sense of peace knowing that they have a real chance at living a life that I couldn't even dream of a few short years ago.

Even though I am enjoying them, spending time with them and just being around them, I become completely apprehensive when I think about one of them being my own.

Just the thought of being completely attached to one of these kids overwhelms my heart instantly. A small piece of my mind conjured up the idea that teaching the children would somehow soften my resolve at one day becoming a parent.

But with every heart racing feeling of panic that overtakes me when I look at one of them as if they were my own just solidifies the fact that I will probably never be able to take that path in life.

That overwhelming feeling of never confuses me as I look at them with a fondness today that goes beyond just being their teacher.

I realize that Peeta was right when he told me that I have natural instincts, that all women have them. I may never be able to get passed the panic, but that won't stop my body and mind from having a natural longing.

I know, deep in my heart, that having a child would be the ultimate way of showing my love for Peeta. Giving him the one thing that he has probably written off as an unreachable dream would be nothing short of a miracle in his eyes.

The depression that comes from knowing that I may not ever truly make Peeta happy is hard to swallow today.

We finish our trek through the woods and I choke back a tear as I bid them farewell for the winter break. I wish them all a safe time off, and beg with them to remember what we have learned this year and to always have a high level of respect for nature and the outdoors.

I realize I even sound like a mother and another wave of guilt and panic begins to wash over me.

As I leave the school, I turn toward the seam rather than heading home. The guilty feelings have me thinking of her. I intend to simply walk and think, but quickly realize that I am headed toward the meadow.

One of the tributes to those that are no longer with us was a large stone wall that was built on the edge of the meadow where the fence once was.

On this stone is the name of every person that was taken from the district, at least every person that we could remember. Some families were completely wiped out and we had to rely on others in the district remembering them to get their names.

It doesn't take long for my eyes to find her name. Every time I come here and see her name, I remember why I have such anguish in my heart toward being a mother.

I couldn't protect her. I caused the process that eventually took her from me and cut her life so short. How could I ever think that being a mother would be any different? While my instincts may be there because of nature, I know that I am missing the other part that actually protects and takes care of another individual.

I reach out to touch the place where her name is inscribed and feel the coldness of the stone. It matches the feeling in my heart when I think about her.

I must have stayed here in the meadow for an hour and I have become so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't hear his footsteps behind me.

"What are you thinking right now," asks Peeta?

I go into a defensive mode of partial shutdown. I feel like I can tell Peeta everything, but I intentionally avoid sharing any feelings I have about children with him.

I feel like I take something from him every time we talk about kids and I make a comment about never.

"I just needed to come here," I say shortly, never taking my eyes off the stone.

Even in our short time together, he knows exactly what to do for me. He doesn't try to tell me everything is alright, or that it's going to get better. He walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

That is all it takes for the tears to begin to fall. I am sad because she is gone, just a memory and a name on a wall. But I am also sad that I am not the person that can lift him up. Not too far from Prim's name are the names of the entire Mellark family. Everyone he held dear outside of me is now just an etching on a stone face.

On top of the sad is the guilt I feel when I realize he always pushes aside his thoughts and feelings so that he can be completely about me. I love him and once again realize that I really don't deserve him.

We finally turn back toward town and our home, hand in hand in the face of the bitter winter wind.

Once inside, I make two mugs of hot tea and turn to go into the living room. My heart lifts a little when I see Peeta with the book.

"Katniss, I know that you feel the need to visit that place from time to time. But when you do, we should make it a habit to come home and open this book so we can fill our heart with the good memories," he says.

That's my Peeta, always searching for the best part of every moment. He reminds me of her in that way.

"I think that's a great idea," I say. I smile and sit beside him. For the next few hours we read through the many pages that hold the best of what we could remember about our loved ones.

After the book is closed and the tea is gone, we climb the stairs with a little more energy than usual. Though it is hard for me to look at the drawing that Peeta so careful crafted, capturing the very soul of Prim, I realize that my heart is lighter and filled with a little more joy when I read about her.

The next morning, I kiss Peeta before he heads out the door for the bakery and begin to think about ways to spend my day.

It has been a little too long since I made my way over to visit Haymitch. That will be first on the list.

I knock for longer than I should, before I hear the heavy footsteps crossing the floor. You would think that he would begin to warm up to the visits at some point, but it has yet to happen.

"Figured it was you. To what do I owe this wonderful visit," he spits out without even a hint of a smile.

"It's nice to see you too," I remark with condensation in my voice.

I scan the room and notice that it's not nearly as unkempt as I remember in the past.

"House looks nice," I say, half trying to lighten the mood a little.

Haymitch turns away without any reply and shuffles to the kitchen. "What's lover boy up to these days," he says.

I remind him that he does what he has always done…bake and then bake some more. I make small talk about the school year and Haymitch stares at me, nodding from time to time, semi pretending to care.

Somehow the conversation turns to the harshness of the weather and for some reason I decide to pick his brain.

"Haymitch, how do you deal with the winter, the memories and the pain," I blurt out without really considering the door that I am opening.

He reaches across the table for a familiar bottle and raises his eyebrows as if this is the answer. But the next look is over my shoulder and out the window and I see a little softness in his eyes.

"The short days and cold will do things to your mind kid," he says. "Better off staying busy and …" he continues.

I press on, determined to dig deeper; not entirely for his benefit or to know more about him, but to try and answer a plaguing question in my heart. Can I ever get passed the scars of the old life?

"Did you ever try to regain your life, or how you were before…you know," I say with a dull tone.

"Oh sure, there were days when I turned away from the bottle, determined that I would just be happy I was still breathing," he began. "But the winter always dragged me down to a place that I couldn't get passed, or maybe I never wanted to get passed."

My heart wants to hear that it's possible, but my mind is agreeing with my former mentor and I feel like I'll never be that person that I want to be, that person that gives Peeta all that he deserves. I am resolved to leave it alone and tell Haymitch I need to get going.

As I am about to reach for the door, he says something that I can't quite make out. I turn and lean a little closer.

"Katniss, of all the things that have happened in my life, all that I have done, my biggest regret is not finding a way to be happy again," he says.

"Sure I knew that I had to become cold and calloused to keep them from taking anything else from me, but I wasted a lot of time, time I wish I could get back. You have a chance to truly be happy. You deserve to be happy. You went to hell and back and this world owes you a little happy," he continued.

"My excuse was weak, but still an excuse. You don't have one. This world can be anything you want it to be," he finished.

I open the door and the icy chill of winter stings my face. I don't say anything in reply. There aren't words, but in my heart I know that he has cut to the center of my pain. He has told me what I don't want to hear, but know to be true. I am in control of my own path in this life.

I can choose to remain closed and skeptical, or I can choose to move forward.

As the cold winter continued to drag on, I replayed my conversation with Haymitch. We had several other times to talk but it was that conversation all those weeks ago that continued to weigh on my heart.

Peeta's business continued to grow and kept him busy every day. Toward the middle of January, I began to get excited at the upcoming school term. I looked forward to seeing some familiar faces and hearing of how they spent their time off.

I had pushed aside the craziness of my thoughts about what I was denying myself, but life would bring it back to the forefront in a hurry.

On the first day of the new school term, we learned that a sickness was spreading through the seam area of town. It didn't appear to be deadly, but was highly contagious.

Some of the parents, whose home was affected by this sickness, worked out deals with other teachers and people at the school to keep their children to prevent them from being sick.

I didn't even consider offering and couldn't imagine any adult feeling comfortable leaving their child with me for any amount of time beyond a normal class period.

All that changed within a few days. Amanda, a bright eyed 10 year-old girl lingered around after class near the end of the week. I noticed and asked, "What's up with you today? Everything alright?"

"Well, my mom woke up sick this morning," she began.

"I am sorry to hear that, is your Dad sick too," I replied.

"No, I don't think so. But he told me I should ask one of my teachers if I could spend a few days with them so I don't get it," she said a little timidly.

I had a small knot in my stomach as I was afraid she was hinting at asking me, but dismissed the idea as I couldn't imagine any rationale parent or child, for that matter, wanting me to be responsible for caring for a kid.

But before the words could escape my mouth, asking her if she had asked one of her other teachers, she spoke up. "I was wondering if maybe I could stay with you."

My mind started filling with all of the reasons why this was a bad idea. I thought of a million reasons why I should say no, and had thoughts of who I could send her to. But my heart melted when I turned and looked at her face.

I will admit she was one of my favorite students, the most attentative for her age. For reasons unknown to me, I heard myself say that Peeta and I would love for her to come spend a few days with us.

I was a bit confused as to why that was my response as I followed her outside where some of the parents were milling about.

Amanda trotted off toward her father and by his look of surprise she had no doubt told him of where she planned to stay. Our eyes met and I became defensive inside.

I still had a hard time making eye contact with others in the district, mostly because I felt responsible for the pain in their life.

The two made their way toward me and he spoke up. "Mrs. Mellark is it?" he started. I nodded my head. "Amanda said you were willing to let her stay in your home while this crazy virus ran its course," he said. "I wouldn't ask anyone if we had other options, but we don't have any other family," he started.

My pain was immediate as I naturally assumed that he was referring to the fact that any other family that he may have had was gone because I was stupid and started a rebellion that led to the districts demise.

"See we moved here from District four, and my mother and father are not well enough to travel, I just don't have many options," he finished.

I assured him that it was perfectly fine, even if I didn't know that for sure. He thanked me and handed Amanda a large bag, instructing her to mind her manners and listen to the Mellarks.

When I left my house this morning, I expected a normal day. I never dreamed I would have a child in-tow as I made the journey back. I decided to stop at the bakery and let Peeta know what I had gotten us into.

While it's no secret Peeta loves children, is reaction to this news was a bit over the top. I immediately sensed that this might open a door for discontent between us, but pushed that thought back down and tried to focus on doing what I could to keep this kid alive.

Amanda was most likely going to be with us for a week or so. I had decided, long ago, to clean up the room that Prim once occupied, mostly so it wouldn't be a constant reminder that she was gone.

Amanda climbed the steps on the first evening home and without much hesitation headed toward that room. It happened so quickly, that I didn't realize until I shut her door what was happening.

Waves of emotion flooded me as I could hear her begin to sing behind the closed door while she arranged her things and for a moment I could almost hear my sister again.

Peeta was an instant hit with Amanda, quickly bonding with her and moving around the house with an energy I was sure I had never seen before.

It didn't take long before I was caught up in the joy of having her around. It was fascinating how quickly it seemed like she belonged.

What was supposed to be a week or so turned into almost four weeks. It turns out that Amanda's father also contracted the illness and had a difficult time recovering.

Those four weeks passed by quicker than any others during the winter as our days seemed fuller and more exciting.

We had breakfast together, sent Peeta off on his way to the bakery and then walked to school every day. I took the time to point out different wild life as we would see it, and Amanda quickly learned about different animals.

In the evenings when the wind and chill were bearable, we would venture out to the woods. She lit up as we walked and talked about all that was found in nature.

While I had spent many days with my class in the woods teaching and showing, this was somehow different. I felt as though I was doing more than just sharing knowledge, but that I was passing on a love for the outdoors to someone close to me. Someone that was almost like my own.

When it came time to say good-bye, my heart ached a little. It was a different ache, not one of something being ripped away, though that was there too, but more of an ache of not being able to care for this person as much as we had the past few weeks.

The next few weeks saw the seasons begin their annual shift. This time of year is always crazy as the temperature can start to climb one day and then it can snow the next. But it's a time of rebirth. There is anticipation in the air that the winter is coming to an end and that the vibrant life of these mountains will be upon us before we know it.

On one particular morning walk to school, I reflected on that conversation with Haymitch about taking control of how I chose to live life. Opening my heart and home to a child gave me a boost toward choosing a life that was completely different than what I had ever envisioned.

I am only 18 years old, though sometimes I feel like I'm 40. I know that I am still a long way off from being healed of my grief and guilt, but somehow I feel like it may be a possibility.

Having Amanda around gave me a sense of purpose and made me think, that if I ever thought I could go down the road of being a parent, I didn't want to let too much time pass me by.

I have no idea if I'll ever be able to truly consider having children. It isn't something I feel ready to do at this moment in my life, but for a brief period I saw that it was something I was capable of and that was a big step for me.

While I had only focused on the pain, guilt and anxiety that plagued my mind, I was slowly starting to recognize a longing in my heart. This longing was small but powerful. It has been there for years. I realized that all the time I spent taking care of Prim wasn't really out of just the need to provide for her, but was part of this longing to impart my love onto another person. A love that I suppose is ingrained in the natural instincts of a female.

A/N: This was a different chapter. My intent was to focus on the deep despair and emotional roller coaster the darker and cold winter can bring. I also wanted to throw in the twist of bringing our character closer to the moment she can begin to trust this new world and think about kids. I felt as though the book really made kids seem like 100% Peeta's idea and that she finally gave in to his wishes. I want to explore the possibility that kids are a reality in her mind as well and sooner than the 5-10-15 years as described in the original work.

Reviews and ideas are most welcome and appreciated.