In Other Words, I Step Out Of

Knowing It And Seeing It Are Two Different Things.

They Play In The Meadow. The Dancing Girl With The Dark Hair And Blue Eyes. The Boy With Blond Curls And Gray Eyes, Struggling To Keep Up With Her On His Chubby Toddler Legs. It Took Five, Ten, Fifteen Years For Me To Agree. But Peeta Wanted Them So Badly. When I First Felt Her Stirring Inside Of Me, I Was Consumed With A Terror That Felt As Old As Life Itself. Only The Joy Of Holding Her In My Arms Could Tame It.

Trapped For Days, Years, Centuries Maybe. Dead, But Not Allowed To Die. Alive, But As Good As Dead. So Alone That Anyone, Anything No Matter How Loathsome Would Be Welcome.

I'm Filled With Awe, As I Always Am, As I Watch Her Transform From A Woman Who Calls Me To Kill A Spider To A Woman Immune To Fear.

Highly Unlikely But Not Impossible.