AN: I posted the Interim and the Epilogue at the same time. If you missed the Interim, go back and read that first.

Epilogue

I stand outside the cabin, breathing in the deep, crisp air. The smell of earth and loam rise up from the gardens. To the east, the sun is just breaking over the horizon, turning the fields of pumpkins and tomatoes into a black and pink patchwork of shadows. Somewhere nearby, a cock crows and a goat gives an indignant bleat.

Another day begins in District 11.

I'm in my nightgown, a quilt wrapped around me for warmth. I look out across the fields – my fields, in my home – to where the wall rises, half ruined, no longer marking the borders of District 11. There are vines creeping up its grey concrete walls with a sort of red flower that was in full bloom a month ago. Such a small thing, to tear down the Capitol's wall. In a few more decades, it will be nothing but rubble.

I hear the cabin door close behind me, footsteps coming down the lawn towards me. I feel his presence at my back and lean into him. He's bare-chested and barefoot. I breathe deeply again and smell lemon and pine. His scent.

"You're up early," says Matthos. I love the sound of his voice, deep and slow and so different from the cocksure young man I met so many years ago.

"You're up late," I reply. "Your cousins have been doing their chores for an hour already."

"Owner's privilege," he says as he always does.

"Victor's privilege," I say.

He kisses the top of my head and lets his fingers run through my many long, black braids. We stand there for a few more minutes, or hours. The sun finishes its slow rise and the birds chime in with their lustrous songs. There are mockingjays among them. The scientists in 3 say they're beginning to die out, that the unstable DNA of the jabberjays is finally taking its toll. Doesn't seem to make any difference in 11. They're always here.

"Bad dreams?" Matthos asks after a while.

"Old dreams," I say. Old dreams of dead children. Children long bones and dust, like my nightmares. Shadows of themselves, with little power left.

"I don't think it's fair sometime," I say as I turn around and look my husband in the eye.

"That I weigh fifty more pounds than you, stand a foot taller, but you can still whoop my ass?"

"No," I say. "That I'm so happy."

I kiss him then, long and deep. His kisses taste of lemons.

Matthos breaks away and looks me deep in the eye. "And why wouldn't you deserve happiness, Enobaria Malachite?"

I turn away and clutch his hand over my shoulder. "I was the worst Victor."

"Bullshit," he says as his grip tightens. "Don't you ever say that. I watched the Games, same as you. There were plenty worse."

"No. I was the worst. But it's okay."

He doesn't try to argue again, for which I'm grateful. He's heard it all before, my insecurities, my fears, my nightmares. He's always there to talk them or sing them or kiss them away. Ever since I stepped off the train car after the rescue from the cells of the Capitol and he was there waiting. "Welcome back, Enobaria Malachite," he said with a wide smile and for the first time in thirteen years I let myself cry.

District 11 paid their debt in full. Avoxes who had originally come from 11 broke out of the Capitol and took me with them, just before Snow or Coin could snatch me up. I saved them from the Speaker, and they saved me in turn. In every way a woman can be saved. They kept me hidden throughout the rebellion, safe from both factions of the war, safe from vengeance. Plutarch brought me back for the fiasco that was Snow's execution, and after Paylor stepped into office I was allowed to disappear into obscurity. By then there was only one place to return to. District 2 had nothing left for me.

MawMaw Lime was right. The bonds of blood are strong, and they brought me home.

From the cabin, a phone begins to ring. I frown. There are precious few who have our number. I give Matthos one confused look and return into the cozy one-story house, step around the mismatched furniture, and pick up the ancient phone that sits on an old whiskey barrel.

"What," I say.

"Oh, well hello," comes a voice from the other end. "Oh, it is good to hear your voice again!"

I frown. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"From Haymitch, of course. Oh how are you Enobaria? I haven't seen you in months. Ednick misses his Aunt Baria. You should come visit!"

I let out a sigh of half exasperation and half amusement. "Hello, Annie."

Her voice is suddenly serious. "Enobaria, I need to call in a favor. For Finnick."

Dread wells up in my chest. Matthos is beside me now and I grip his hand again. "Annie, what's happened?"

I hear her breathing deeply on the other end of the line. "It's….it's Katniss. Enobaria, they've taken her. Katniss is gone."

To Be Continued In

The Victors Project

AN: It has taken me eighteen months to get to the end of this work. I owe a debt of gratitude to each and every person who has stood with me the whole way through, and to all of you who picked up on Enobaria's journey along the way. Your support through my various hiatuses, breaks, and life changes has meant the world to me.

Enobaria will return in The Victors Project.