There will be rest, and sure stars shining

Over the rooftops crowned with snow.

A reign of rest, serene forgetting,

The music of stillness holy and low.

I will make this world of my devising

Out of a dream in my lonely mind.

I shall find the crystal of peace – above me

Stars I shall find.

~Sara Teasdale

-1-

Sleep

A late afternoon snow caught everyone by surprise. The storm brought with it biting winds that drove people indoors and built fantastic drifts in the meadow. I watched it swirl from my kitchen window until night fell, each moment regretting not taking my walk when I had the chance. This day was wasted. Then again, most of mine are. I have nothing to fill my time like Peeta has.

He's still at the bakery catering to all those who were unprepared for the snow. Someone always needs the extra food when there's bad weather. Being essential gives purpose to Peeta's life. He does whatever he can to serve the people of District Twelve and to serve me, and I love him for it – but not the way he wishes I did. That probably makes me selfish. I owe him everything.

No. I don't let my thoughts go down that path. Nothing good lies at the end. All that matters is the here and now. That's what he and Prim told me to tell myself when I feel the anguish inside clawing to get out.

Here and now.

Peeta knew he would be late tonight, so he asked Prim to stay with me. She came around dinnertime and tried to hide that she was there to keep an eye on me, but we both know I can't be trusted alone at night.

Here and now. My sister's presence comforts me. She's curled up asleep in the chair by the fireplace with book and cat faithfully in her lap. From my blanket cocoon on the couch, I watch her chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Safe and alive and close. The fire crackles. My head nods, filling with the gray mist of half-dreams. Muffled voices murmur, as if I'm underwater and listening to people talk above the surface. A mockingjay sings the pattern I taught to Rue. A glass clinks. A chair scrapes on a floor. Those don't belong.

I jerk awake in a rush of panic. Someone is in the kitchen. I fling the blanket off and seize the fire poker from the hearth. The intruder hears. Quick footsteps come down the hall, and I prepare to strike. If only I had my bow I could –

"Katniss?" Peeta is suddenly silhouetted against the hallway light. "Easy. It's just me. I'm sorry."

Relief, embarrassment and anger hit me all at once. "It's fine." I lower the poker, but my heart won't stop pounding. I tense and step back when Peeta comes toward me. "It's fine," I say again, harsher. The fire is embers. How long was I out?

"What's going on?" Prim sits up, disturbing Buttercup.

"Nothing. I just got scared."

"Oh." She frowns. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"You need your rest." I try to keep my voice neutral for her.

She glances at Peeta, then at the clock. "I should get back before Mom starts worrying. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I replace the poker on the fireplace. "I'm good."

She hugs me and puts on her coat. "Lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure."

She ventures outside with a disgruntled Buttercup following at her heels. Snow is still coming down. It's falling peacefully now; the wind ceased hours ago, and most of the roads are plowed. Prim says goodnight and sets off down the lamp-lit street. It's about a mile back to the house she shares with our mother, but I know she'll be okay. With her hands in mittens and her pigtails peeking out from under a furry hat, she has the appearance of a little girl. Beneath that outward youth, though, is a woman stronger and more composed than I could ever be.

Peeta touches my shoulder, and this time I let him. It's the least I can do. "Do you want to go up to bed?"

No. I never want to sleep. I may not even be able to after a scare like this, but Peeta is tired, and I don't want to sit alone in the darkened house. So I nod, and he leads me upstairs. I crawl under the covers, and when he slides in beside me I murmur, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For threatening you with a fire poker?"

"Don't worry. I survived." He smiles and kisses my hair. I keep waiting for these moments to make my heart flutter like I've heard they should. Peeta's closeness is welcome, but something always feels wrong when I think of what it means to him. For his sake, I wish I weren't so uncomfortable. He wants to make me his wife, but I have a hard time even saying 'I love you.' What will I do when much more than that is expected of me? A hard kernel of fear has grown in me over the past months – fear that eventually he'll realize it's futile and find someone else to keep warm at night. Fear that I will be left here to pass all my days in the woods or staring out the window. Maybe it would be better that way. After all, our lives no longer depend on my act.

Here and now. I have to stop this spiral before it keeps me up all night. To wipe my thoughts blank I count Peeta's rhythmic breaths as they tickle my neck. Slowly, my body and mind relax. I can still see snow quietly falling. I gaze at it until my eyes close and sleep takes me under.

In my dream I have a conversation with Madge Undersee. We sit together on a hill with fingers entwined as the sunset turns the winter countryside to gold. She wears the white dress she always saved for special days, and her hair falls over her shoulders in perfect waves. Even death cannot tarnish her beauty. I feel a tug at my heart when she turns her eyes to me. "Do you ever think of me?" she asks.

"Of course. I miss you every day."

"Are things better now?"
"Yes. People are free again."

"So… it was all worth it?"

I don't answer. I can't.

She lays her head on my shoulder. "Are you happier?"

"I try not to think about what I feel." I wish I could feel forever like I do right now. I squeeze her hand.

"We could be happy. Together again, just like this."

We watch the sun sink low. I know we should be freezing, but I'm comfortable next to her. It's wrong, I suddenly think, that I survived the war and she did not.

"I don't blame you," she says as if reading my thoughts. "But I wish you'd come with me."

"I can't leave my sister."

"But I'm lonely."

"I can't…" Madge's familiar aura is changing. The safe, secure feeling is replaced with creeping dread. I don't want to be here anymore. A little cry escapes me when I look down – her eyes are filling with black.

"I'm cold, Katniss." Her breath chills my neck. "Won't you keep me warm?"

"Stop!" My eyes snap open. The bed is empty and the house is quiet. Gray morning light filters through the window. I let out a deep breath. I've never been so frightened after a dream visit from Madge. She was always an oasis among nightmares, a small light in the darkness, just as she was in life. Until now. To wash away the haunting image, I take our memory book from the bedside table drawer and flip to her page. There's a photo of us on our last day of school, taken by her father several years before my first Games. The smile on my face always surprises me. Only a few people could release that kind of happiness in me. I do miss Madge terribly. I took my time with her for granted, and now she's gone. Never again will we go walking in the woods together. Never again will I steady her arm as she aims the bow at trees, or hear her laugh with excitement when her arrows find their targets. She'll never play the piano for me or talk with me when no one else will. The lump in my throat grows until I can't hold back. I press my face into the pillow and cry for just one more day with my best friend.