As I sit near the woods where my mother once used to hunt in, I think about what she must have reflected on in this very spot, 18 years ago. She tells me a lot has changed since she was my age, in the time of poverty and the time where humanity was not at its finest. We learn about this period of time as it is written in our history books. A time now known as the Era of the Hunger Games. Whenever I try to think about what it must have been like for my mother, the only question that leaves me so astonished is "how could a sixteen year old have ever be so brave?". It keeps me wondering because as an adolescent, I am frankly not the bravest or most confident 16 year old. Most people would expect that having a mother who had a battle named after her, after having won the Hunger Games twice, results in her children becoming incredibly wise and extremely strong. However, that is not the case for me. My name is Ivy Rue Mellark, and I am the Mocking jay's daughter. I have always wished to become as courageous and outstanding as my mother was back then, and still presently is, but for now, I just sit in the very woods she called her home, and reflect on my dear mother's life.

The warm summer wind blew through my loose hair, leaving its strands scattered across my blouse, making it harder for me to keep it in one place. The wind somehow kept blowing it on to my face, so eventually; I decided to pull it up in a messy bun. I liked this weather, it had to be the only time where I could actually stay in the forest, lying there for a full four hours. I go to the woods every day, as my mother used to, except, I go there alone without any company. My mother, back in her adolescent years, would always go there with the only person who truly made her feel like herself. Plus, she would hunt; I just lie down and enjoy the wind going through my hair. It doesn't bother me staying here all by myself; it is calming. Quieter. In my case, being here is a way of running from reality, and just escaping my problems for as little as two hours a day.

When I had realized that I've stayed 5 hours away from home, I decide that it was time for me to go back. My mother, even with all that's changed today, still worries about my siblings and me, when we head out the door of our house. I do not blame her, although I do find it strange in a way. But I will not argue with her so I came to the conclusion that it would be best if I went back home now. I did not know why it felt like the trail of extravagant flowers was never present in the wood, until today. Following the trail of flowers, I noticed that it had stopped right on the edge of fence. I wondered, since I always enter and exit by this way, yet I have never seen these flowers before. Distracted by the elongated ribbon of flowers, and setting both eyes on these beautiful plants, I bump into a strong figure, and there went my back, collapsing on the pinkish flowers. Must be a pole I've never seen before either.

"Oh gosh. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," a tall, muscular boy, about my age, leaned closer to me, offering a hand to help me back on my grip.

"I, just, I don't really expect anyone to be here."

When I look at him, I observe his face closely. I do not know how, but I'm almost sure that I know him from somewhere. I realize that he must be waiting for me to open my mouth and say something.

"It's okay; I don't usually see anyone here either."

He stares at me, like I was saying something utterly ridiculous. I felt like I needed to add a detail, like he would be less surprised.

"I come here every day."

"Oh, I just moved from district 2 a week ago. Been coming here every day since" he replies, his voice stern, but soft and gentle. I couldn't deny that he was quite handsome, with his dark blonde hair and still, green eyes. It was funny, because he did not seem like someone from 2. He had a simple look, and inherited the physical features of an average District 12 citizen. Although I was curious why the forest was somewhere he'd go to daily.

He gently ran his fingers down his hair, and wiped the sweat off his forehead, as if he were hard at work.

"District 2, the luxurious district. Why would you leave such a place for this," I asked. I tried to sound interested, but I did not succeed. The only thing I wanted to know was why the woods were of such significance to him.

He smirked. "My father insisted. Since district 12 is his hometown, he felt like he had to be here after 18 years of wanting to come back."

This did not answer why he would come to the woods and stay there every day. I felt like he already shared enough of his life to a stranger, so I decide to let the question go. I thought of telling him more about myself, but something stopped me. Besides, my life was not all that interesting anyway. Not like a life of a boy who grew up in District 2, the district where all the major entertainment of Panem occurred in. I look at the time and I realized that my mother would be worried if I hadn't arrived home in about 15 minutes.

"I really have to go now," It was weird, but I really didn't want to. I just wanted to stay with this boy whom I had met 10 minutes ago. "Nice meeting you, uh," I realized that I had not gotten his name.

"Cole," he replied with a slightly crooked smile on his face. I examined him once again. How did this boy make me feel safe and secure, when I had only known him for a short period of time? I smiled at him, and kept smiling until I remembered that I had not yet given him my name.

"I'm Ivy," I wanted to say more, but I just kept giving him the same smile.

"I'll see you around then, Ivy," he turned around, while I stared at him until he had disappeared into the woods.

I arrived home 30 minutes after my conversation with Cole. I was late. My mother was probably worried. When I had eventually turned the doorknob and entered my home, I followed the scent of tonight's supper leading me to the kitchen. My father was sprinkling some sort of extravagant spice on the meal, while my mother was picking out and returning the necessary ingredients. I was expecting a lecture from my mother on how I had stayed a while away from home, and how I had gotten her worried.

"Ivy, great, your home. Would you be an amazing daughter and set the dinner table for me," she said, with not a single worried tone in her voice. Not exactly what I had planned to hear.

"Of course. Dad, do you want me to help you out with the salad?" I always make the salads while my father put together his masterpiece of a dinner. He is the chef of the family. Everyone knows that Peeta Mellark's food is the best of District 12. I'm proud to have inherited at least a portion of his talent in the kitchen.

He was so concentrated on his meal, but he took a second to look at me and reply.

"Please do. After all, you're salads are even better made than my own." He gave me his same old dorky smile that I loved dearly. My father always knew the right words to say to me. My mother, on the other hand, always had the most useful and the best advice for me.

"Mom, Dad, I'm home," my brother yelled from the entrance. He always had a habit of coming in later than me.

My mother rolled her eyes slightly, and did not bother to ask where he'd been. He was always with our godfather during the night, doing god-knows what.

"Jared, next time could you please tell Haymitch to let you go earlier. Honestly you've been spending too much time with him, while we need you here at home. At least help us out with something" my father replied while Jared had entered the kitchen. He grabbed an apple, flipped it in mid air, and took a large bite from the edge.

"Okay, okay. What exactly do you need me to help out with," he took another large bite.

"Well, for starters, you could assist your sister with setting up the dinner table."

"Gotcha," he finished half his apple and then tossed it in the trash. Typical Jared.

"Oh great," my mother sighed, while hitting her forehead; "I forgot to send mother her letter. Ivy, my dear, would you please get the letter from the drawer in my bedroom, and send it off to your grandmother?"

I nodded. My mother's bedroom had always been the room with the coldest breeze coming out of it. I gently shut the window and opened the drawer. There were so many files and photos, yet they were all neatly piled, one on top of the other. I shuffled through the drawer. There were so many old photographs. One of my mother and father. One of me as a baby. One of my aunt Prim. I stared at the next photo in disbelief. Gale Hawthorne. So many questions filled my mind in just half a second, yet I knew the answer to all. It was a photo of Gale Hawthorne.