The sun had risen again. It shone brightly in the morning sky, illuminating the lake and surrounding mountains. It was here that Katniss came to clear her head. It was here where she reflected each and every morning. Not only all of this, but this was where she talked to Metaphor as if he were standing right beside her. She would tell him how sorry she was for being unable to save him. She told him of the baby that grew in her womb. She told him how much she loved and missed him.

But when her heart could no longer take the silent reflection, she allowed herself to fall to her knees along the shores of the river. Nose touched the clear blue waters, her body slowly lowering into the sand. She lay there for what seemed like hours but was only a few minutes. Her pregnancy was progressing as it should, the baby within her womb growing large and restless. The child was ready to be born and soon, she would welcome the child with wide open arms, welcoming him or her into a court that would help raise and protect him/her.

Eventually, the pressure of the child’s growing body was too much for her to handle. And so, she slowly rose to her feet and shook off the sand. The child, ever opinionated, kicked wildly within her belly. Ears flicked back at the uncomfortable sensations. While she was not a huge fan of pregnancy, she would not trade this for the world. She would do nothing differently.

With a steady sigh, she slowly turned to head back towards the small cottage where Finnick was waiting patiently for her to return. The harpy eagle knew how much these morning reflections meant to her, so he did his best to give her the privacy that she wanted and needed. As she began to walk, she could feel the steady sway of her belly. Ever since she realized that she was carrying Metaphor’s child, she had kept this little secret all to herself. She wished she could tell someone, to confide in them the joy and sorry she felt. And yet, she simply could not bring herself. Now within the last month or so of her pregnancy, it was impossible for others to not notice that she was growing more round by the hour. Perhaps at first, they thought that she was eating through her depression, but now even they could see the child move within her if they chose to pay enough attention.

Sighing, feet began to carry her away from the lake. Head rested low, her posture that of sorrow and pain. She wished this depression would leave her, but she was unsure of how to look at the light again. Metaphor was always the light she looked towards. With him no longer here, it was as if light could not shine any longer. Perhaps when her child was born, she would be able to see the light again. Until then, she would continue to just muttle through, hoping that she would make it to another sunrise so she could speak to her lover again.

@Noctiilucent