Cold air stings the back of my throat when I stepped out to the porch and closed the front door behind me as quietly as I could. It took me by surprise, the way my breath filled my lungs and cooled my core, causing my arms to pull closer across my body and rub up and down themselves to generate some heat. The first properly cold morning of fall was always this way though, usually taking me by surprise and hastening the need to bundle up and settle in for winter.

The sun was just barely coming up over the trees and a thin haze still hung suspended over the ground. By mid-morning it would be gone in the late autumn sunlight but for now it lent an eerie feeling to the quiet morning. The grass on the lawn of the Victor's Village crunched under my feet as I made my way back home. The first frost of the season meant it was time to pull the garden, to turn over the soils, caulk errant seams around windows, and check the creaking house for drafts and other seams that may have come undone during the hot summer. There was maybe a week or so to get everything finished before we would leave, a week to put our home to bed for the winter before we headed south to follow the warmer weather.

It's been almost five years since Haymitch and I had started to spend the winter months in a milder district. Most often it was Four, where a small house by the sea had been set aside for us to use when we'd made the initial request all that time ago. Without participating in the political aspects of it, this was one of the few advantages of Haymitch's Victor status that we took advantage of. Though he'd been loathe to admit it at first, the warmer winters were easier on Haymitch and I started to prefer them to the bitter cold and long nights back in Twelve.

In the years following The War there had been a lot to adjust to, not the least of which had been the sudden lack of clarity in how we were supposed to feel. In some sense it had been easy during the days of the Hunger Games. Most days you were afraid, sometimes angry, oftentimes worried, but when the threat was gone what was left was an unfamiliar sense of quiet. I don't know exactly when the shift happened, but one day while walking into town I noticed that my shoulders felt lighter and that the hard knot of anxiety that had been a constant in my life had unraveled. Now, almost fifteen years since the end of The War I was enjoying the peace that had come. The country had had its fair share of growing pains but for the most part it was agreed that we were all better off.

I am greeted at the back door of our house with a warm rush of air and the smell of coffee brewing. Haymitch sits in one of the old rocking chairs near the remains of a fire and chews slowly on a piece of bread. I can't tell whether he's slept at all or has just been waiting up all night for me to come home. Either way I am grateful for the fresh coffee and pause only long enough in the entryway to remove my heavy coat and boots.

"You made coffee," I say, mostly to get his attention."Thank you." Haymitch turns to look my way, tipping his slice of bread up slightly in a little salute of acknowledgment.

"How is everyone over there?" He asks while I move around the kitchen, my feet steps barely making a sound in their thick socks.

"Doing well," I answer. I pour myself a steaming cup of the coffee and take a moment to savor it's bolstering effect. When I turn back towards Haymitch and the hearth so I can settle into my own rocker, I would swear he was on the edge of his seat. I smile behind my cup before I take a sip of the coffee.

"Everyone is fine," I begin when I'd sat down, easing myself back into the chair and keeping a close eye on Haymitch. I like this bit of teasing, making him wait for the news. He looks like he's brewing his own snappy remark if I don't tell him.

"It's a girl," I finally reveal. "She was born early this morning, much to the delight of her mother and father. You should see them, it's like they're all brand new to this world."

Haymitch droops a little, definitely from being perked up a little at waiting, and tips his own coffee cup in a toast.

"Huh," he sighs out a little. "Guess it's a clean slate for everyone over there." He pauses to take a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Looks like I can finally quit worrying over those two."

"Would you ever?" I ask, goading him a little at his lingering habit of keeping an eye out on the kids living across the way. It's just a fact of his life that though the need was long gone, he would never stop being their Mentor. Never stop keeping an eye out for them.

"I can focus all my energy on those damn birds," he remarks. "They keep wandering further and further, maybe I'll find someone to finally build them a fence."

Haymitch has been talking about this fence for a while, thinking it would help keep his little flock of geese safer. He doesn't need reminding that the birds tend to take care of themselves just fine, so I let him talk on for a bit while I relax and enjoy what's left of the morning fire and my coffee.

After awhile I can't stay awake any longer, my eyes drift closed for longer and longer intervals and my mind is getting fuzzy from wanting to fall into a deep sleep. Exhaustion from the long day and night at the Mellark's home while their baby came into this world has finally caught up with him. Haymitch ushers me upstairs and we both lay down to get some rest.

I move in close to him, whispering all that needs to be done now that the frost is here and we'll be leaving soon for the winter. He mumbles something into my hair and brushes it away from my face and behind my ears. His fingers trail through the streaks of gray that are coming on stronger in my dark brown, his own blonde has gotten so light it's almost white. Age is catching up with us and for a second I feel a slight panic at how life is moving on and we are slowing down. The urgency rushes through my veins and I burrow into Haymitch as far as I can, needing his steadiness and the calm that has settled over him recently.

He wraps his arms around me and I drift off into sleep, making lists of tasks to be done and the ways to fill the hours to come. I sleep now, deeper than I had ever known was possible in the days when we couldn't count on tomorrows or babies being born or even what the minutes would bring. That time in my life feels so long ago. Like a separate world. But I'm reminded of it's existence every now and then, when I catch the distance in Haymitch's eyes and I know he's gone somewhere in his memory where I can't reach him. That eventually he will come back and I will be waiting for him when he does.

And I know that someday, when age finally catches up with us and I wake to find myself alone again, I will cut my hair short and lay my palms on a plain pine box before we lower it into the ground and I will give thanks to the man who rescued me all those years ago.

For now though, I drift off in his arms, steady and strong despite the slow march of time, and I give myself over to sleep.