Okay, here's the end! Instead of two super-short chapters, it's one kinda-short one. A thousand thank-yous to those who have reviewed, and if you're reading but haven't reviewed, please take just a minute to tell me what you think! I appreciate it!

So many years pass. Bran Mellark marries the carpenter's nasty daughter. Hazelle and Cliff Hawthorne start a family. Flint Satterfield's daughter freezes to death in the 66th Hunger Games with most of the others. Flint, Cliff, and Archer Everdeen are killed in a mining accident. It just makes me want to drink more. Escape faster.

Melinda and William Undersee have a daughter that they name after Maysilee. I wonder if Maysilee and I had a daughter what she would look like. Preferably more like Maysilee than me. I'd muddy the gene pool with my dark hair and grey eyes. I see little Madge outside her house one afternoon on my way to the Hob. I see a lot of Maysilee in her. The sight of me frightens the child and she runs back inside the Undersee house, pink hair ribbons bouncing behind her. Figures. The sight of me isn't a pleasant thing these days.

I go straight to the cemetery and sit with Madge's aunt. She probably wouldn't recognize me anymore. I'm nearing 40. My skin is sallow and my hair is graying. I'm ugly. Not that I was terribly attractive to begin with. If only she could have come home with me. Everything would be better if she hadn't died. My head begins to pound. As I raise a hand to my temples, it shakes uncontrollably. Time to head to the Hob to see Ripper.

To be honest, I don't remember a damn thing about the Reaping for the 74th Games. Not a single thing until the next morning, at breakfast. The boy tribute smashed my morning cocktail, and I decked him. Usually, the tributes eat everything in sight and don't pay me a bit of mind. These ones are different. Gutsy. Could I have a pair with a snowball's chance?

The girl has quick knife skills. I look them over. The boy looks familiar. Then a name vaguely comes to me. Mellark. It's Bran's son. The girl is from the Seam, but what catches my attention is the pin on her collar. I don't allow my eyes to linger on it, or betray the fact that I've noticed it at all. I can't begin to imagine how she came to have it, but I'd know it anywhere. It's my Maysilee's pin. And that, above all else, sways my decision.

I agree to be coherent enough to train them if they leave my liquor alone. I try to squash it, but a tiny bubble of hope forms. A chance at redemption after 46 dead tributes. This year, maybe this time, I could bring one of these kids home.