Autumn fades into winter, and winter brings freezing temperatures and an abundance of snow. In town, the wealthier families have their houses decorated with Christmas wreaths and little lights which remind me of motionless lightening bugs. I always think District Twelve looks so different at this time of the year. The snow makes everything look the same. From the houses of town to the shacks of the Seam, everything is a blanket of white. Personally, I miss the green of the woods, but I do love the Christmas holiday. Everyone seems slightly more cheerful than normal.

Over the past couple of months, I have successfully completed Peeta's bow, quiver, and a few arrows. The anticipation for him to finally see it has been building in me ever since the bow began taking shape several weeks ago. He is ready for his own bow; his arrows hit the target pretty consistently - not the bullseye, of course; that will take a lot of practice. I've had to remind him over and over that I have had years of experience to almost guarantee a perfect shot every time. When he becomes frustrated with his imperfect aim, I explain to him that I was once in his same position. I tell him stories about my dad teaching me to shoot by the lake.

Once, I remember my dad had set up an old rusty can as a target several yards away. I tried over and over and over and over again, and I kept missing it. The most frustrating part was, since I was a beginner, I was still learning to hold my bow. Now, one of the first things my dad taught me was form, but it's easy to forget when something is so new. The part of my left arm where the two bones meet at the elbow would naturally lie flat; it was a conscious effort to turn it so that it would stay out of the way. I loaded my bow with yet another arrow, pulled back, and released. When I let the string go, it snapped back and thwacked my protruding forearm. I dropped everything and broke down.

"You? Crying?" Peeta asked at this point, incredulous.

"It wasn't so much from the pain. That wasn't the first time my form resulted in injury. It was more due to an accumulation of pent up frustration with myself," I explained. "I tell you all of this to show you that even some of the best have had to pick themselves back up from failure. That's how we learn. Now, I won't have to worry about any emotional outbursts from you, will I?" I ask with a smirk.

"Nope." He returns a smile and continues practicing intently.

His improvements in archery alongside his quieted walk have resulted in an exciting new activity for us: We actually hunt together for real now. Unfortunately, we have to continuously share the weapon between the two of us. At least, not for much longer. I finished his bow last week, and I decided that it would make a perfect Christmas gift. Since both of our families celebrate Christmas on December twenty-fifth, we will have our own celebration in the woods on Christmas Eve.

Today is the day: December twenty-forth.

Instead of meeting in the bitter cold of morning, we decide to meet up in the afternoon, when the warmth of the sun is more prevalent. I have his bow hidden in the woods already, so all I have to do is grab some of the dried fruit and nuts we have stashed away for winter meals, stuff them in my game bag, and wait for Peeta.

I told him to meet me at my house, so I'm not surprised when I hear knocking at the front door. I run to grab an old towel and my game bag and rush to the door eagerly. When I open it, Prim and my mother greet him warmly before I rush him outside. I am beyond excited to reveal my gifts to Peeta. He deserves both of them, completely.

"Wow! Someone's excited!" Peeta laughs as I slam the door behind me and pull him away from it.

"You've got that right! Now shut up and turn around!" I command.

"What's all this about?" he asks curiously.

"Don't worry about it. Just do what I say!" I say impatiently.

Realizing that I will not cave and tell him, Peeta finally gives in and turns around. I lift the towel to his eyes and tie a knot on the back of his head.

"A blindfold? Really, Katniss?"

"Really," I reply mischievously.

When I finish tying the blindfold, I allow my hands to wander across his back before I hug him from behind. He laughs again.

"So is this my present?" he asks jokingly. He turns toward me and waves his hand around till he finds my face; then, he tries to find my lips, but instead, he kisses my nose. I laugh heartily.

I realize I could've waited to blind fold him until we got into the woods, but the entertainment brought on by a blinded Peeta won out in the end.

"Do you trust me?" I whisper, as I lean into him and let my lips barely brush over his.

He kisses me softly and replies, "Completely."

At those words, I grab his hand and begin the slow trek to the fence. I try to warn him about rocks and uneven places in the ground as we walk, but he still stumbles a couple of times, so I laugh. He does too. Several people cast curious glances in our direction, surely intrigued by the blindfolded blond. I ignore them.

When we reach the fence, I crawl under first and begin to instruct him step by step as he maneuvers through the metal wires. His efforts to shimmy through blindly cause me to explode with laughter. By the time he makes it over, I'm curled over in a ball, laughing so hard that tears are pooling in my eyes.

"Well, I'm glad you find my discomfort amusing," he teases with a smile.

When I finally regain my composure, I grab my bow from the hollowed out tree along with his, throw them both over my shoulder, and take off into the woods with his hand in mine.

Before we reach our normal hunting grounds, I decide to give him part one of his gift, so he has time to enjoy it before I show him gift number two.

"Wait here," I say as I walk over to a tree stump to assemble his gift, which I hid in between a couple of large boulders near the tree Peeta's been using for target practice. I place the bow on top of the stump and lean the quiver full of arrows up against it. Then, I approach him once more and tease him by walking my fingers all over his chest before reaching to untie the knot. As I pull the blindfold away, I kiss him again, deeply. After we are both breathless, I pull away from him and step aside so he can see his new hunting weapon.

It takes him several seconds to figure out what he's looking for, but he finds it soon enough. I know when he finds it by the excited gasp that escapes him as soon as his eyes settle upon it.

"Katniss..." he breathes. "I can't believe you did this." He walks over to admire it. I watch as he examines the bow and runs his hands across the smooth wood that took me so long to sand to perfection. He throws the quiver across his back, grabs an arrow, places it on the string, pulls the string back with ease, and releases it. The arrow reaches its mark and hits a knot in a nearby tree. I explode with pride at my work. The bow is the perfect size for him; it suits him wonderfully.

He retrieves the arrow, stashes it with the rest of them which are resting on his back, and he walks back towards me.

"Katniss... I don't know what to say. Thank you so much. This is amazing. You are most definitely an artist," he says softly.

I am blushing and beaming with pride.

"It was nothing. Really. You deserve it. You're getting so good at shooting; you need your own bow."

"Thank you, love. You are perfect," he kisses me again.

Any time we spend time together alone - especially in the woods - there is never a shortage in kissing. Many times, it's the best way I can express the mix of overwhelming emotions inside of me. I'm not good at talking. That's Peeta's area of expertise.

"Now it's my turn," he says as he stashes his bow behind him and reaches in his pocket. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

I give him a suspicious look. He knows I don't like surprises.

"Katniss, trust me. Just do it. You made me walk all the way here with a blindfold!" he teases.

"But that was funny," I say.

"Ha-ha. You just wait till next time..." he threatens. "But now it's my turn, so close your eyes and hold out your hand."

"Fine!" I give in. A few seconds later I feel something cool and small settle into my open hand.

"Okay. Now you can open them."

I look down and see a beautiful golden pin of a bird in flight grasping an arrow. It takes me only a second to recognize the bird as a mockingjay. Immediately, my mind is flooded with memories of my father.

"I was visiting the Hob, and I found this. It reminded me of you and your dad and how the mockingjays always stop to listen when you sing," he explains sheepishly. "I hope you like it."

Trying to hold back the tears that are building in the corners of my eyes, I reply, "Peeta... It's perfect." I take the pin and fasten it to my hunting jacket. Then, I grab his hand and kiss it gently. He smiles.

I really do love his gift. More than he probably knows. The pin reminds me of my father in so many ways: it reminds me of singing songs with him and the freedom I always felt when I was with him in the woods and our swimming days in the lake. Those were the times I felt most alive. To me, the mockingjay represents life.

"I have one more thing for you," Peeta says.

He pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me. It's a drawing. He drew a picture of us together in the Meadow. We are lying on a blanket, laughing, and I am admiring a small wildflower. A dandelion. I wonder if Peeta knows how much dandelions mean to me.

On the back, he wrote me a note:

Katniss Everdeen,

You are my dream-come-true. I never thought that I would get the chance to be with you, to express my love for you, but fortunately, I was wrong. You are my light and my song. Sometimes I can't even look at you because I'm afraid my heart will explode with all the things you make me feel. I will love you forever. I am yours and you are mine.

Always,
Peeta Mellark

Now I really am crying. Tears are falling down, one after another. Peeta rushes over to embrace and comfort me.

"Are you okay?" he asks worriedly. He thinks that his gift has upset me.

"Yeah..." I sniff. "I'm okay. It's-it's just that no one has ever said those things about me. And-and the dandelion," sniff, "and the mockingjay... It's just so-so perfect, Peeta." I nuzzle myself into his chest. "I love you, Peeta Mellark. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Katniss Everdeen," he says as he plants a sweet kiss on my head.

After a few more moments, I manage to collect myself once more. I look up at Peeta and see a smile of reassurance, so I grab my things and begin to lead Peeta to the place where his second gift is waiting.

"Now where are we going?" he asks.

"You'll see. You're not the only one with two surprises, you know," I reply.

It takes us quite some time to make the hike to our destination, but when the trees begin to clear and I notice the slight glimmer of sunlight reflecting off of the surface of the frozen water, I turn to watch Peeta's reaction. His mouth drops in amazement.

"Woah, Katniss! This is incredible! How did you find this place?"

"My dad used to take me here to swim and gather plants when I was younger. This is where I always felt free and alive. It's my favorite place. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I think I can hear him singing to me," I say, looking down.

"Thank you," Peeta whispers, after a few moments of silence, taking my hand and bringing it up to his lips to plant a soft kiss. "Thank you for trusting me with this place."

I smile in response. We both return our gaze to the lake. As I am admiring the snow-covered beauty surrounding me, the cement house draws my attention. I notice smoke billowing from the chimney. I look closer and see footprints leading into and out of the building.

Oh, no.

We are not alone.

As soon as I come to this realization, I see the white uniform of a Peacekeeper exit the house with a gun raised, pointed at us.

Cautiously, Peeta and I draw back our arrows on our bows, ready for a confrontation. Then, we hear the click of a loaded weapon behind us. It's over. We lower our bows and slowly turn to face our captor.

We are trapped.

I make eye contact with Peeta, and I can tell he is worried. Images of torture and cut-out tongues and imprisonment flash through my mind. I definitely didn't plan for this. I consider our chances at shooting the two Peacekeepers, but the odds are not in our favor. Although Peeta is doing better with shooting, I don't know how he reacts under this kind of pressure-not to mention the fact that the two visitors have automatic weapons locked and loaded with us in their sights.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" demands the Peacekeeper behind us. I notice that the voice is that of a female.

"I could ask you the same question. What are a couple of Peacekeepers doing in a freezing shack in the middle of the woods?" I respond firmly. They need to know that we aren't going to play along with their little games. I'm sick and tired of Panem's games.

I watch as the two Peacekeepers communicate some hidden message with their eyes. The one in front of us nods to the one behind us and they both lower their weapons simultaneously.

"We aren't Peacekeepers," she says with a long sigh.

I'm confused.

"What? I don't understand," I say.

"We ran away from District 8. We took the uniforms from a factory, and we are on our way to District 13," the one behind us says.

I do a quick inventory of their appearances to see if I can find any evidence to prove their story, and I realized the uniforms on both of them are relatively oversized-especially that of the person ahead of us, who-I notice-is propped up on a crutch. I don't know what to make of the District 13 comment, but I realize that if they are telling the truth, we will have time for discussion later.

"My name is Bonnie," says another female voice, the one belonging to the cripple.

"And I'm Twill," says the woman behind us. She must be several years older than the other girl. I wonder how they ended up together. I am overcome with the need to understand. Why did they flee Eight? How did they steal uniforms? What is their story? District 13?

"I'm Peeta and this is Katniss. We are from Twelve," says Peeta, taking advantage of my silence.

"Why don't you two come inside? We have a fire going. We can talk in there where it's warm," says Twill.

I look at Peeta, and he gives me a cautious nod, so we follow Bonnie and Twill into the cement house. I still don't trust them fully, but my mind is still swimming with questions, and by the look on Peeta's face, I can tell he is just as intrigued. We decide to give them the benefit of the doubt.

As soon as we cross the threshold, I find myself steeped in the scent of pine needles. I search for the source of the smell, and pick out a metal can sitting in the fire stuffed with pine needles and boiling water.

"What are you making?" I ask.

"Tea. Or something like it. I remembered seeing someone do it in the Games a few years back," explains Twill.

I realize that they have come a long way from District 8. I wonder if this concoction has been one of their main sources of nourishment. Then, I remember the food I stuffed in my game bag for my and Peeta's picnic, which would have been occurring now if it wasn't for our mysterious guests.

"Here," I say, as I reach into my game back and hand them the dried fruit I grabbed from home earlier.

"Take this too," says Peeta, handing them a piece of stale bread each.

"Are you sure?" Bonnie asks incredulously.

"Very. You have come a long way from home," replies Peeta.

"Thank you," says Twill. We give them a few moments to eat before my curiosity takes over.

"So, why did you leave Eight?" I ask.

Twill answers after she washes down a bite of bread with pine needle water, "For the last several weeks the Capitol has drastically increased the security in our district. We don't know why, but our whole district has been growing more and more antsy. The Peacekeepers seem even more brutal and violent than normal. They are beating and hanging people publically for the smallest of crimes, all in the name of justice... My husband was killed for stealing food so we could have something to eat. And Bonnie's family was taken to the Capitol for their punishment after the Peacekeepers discovered a few stolen items in their home. She was one of my students, so after we lost our families, we paired up and began planning an escape. After school, we work in a textile factory that specializes in Peacekeeper uniforms, so we collected bits and pieces of the uniforms over time. We couldn't be picky, so some of the pieces are a bit big, but it's the best we could do. Then, when we got a chance, we disguised ourselves, stole the weapons, and fled into the woods."

"I'm sorry about your families," says Peeta sympathetically.

After a moment of mournful silence, my curiosity gets the better of me. "What about Disctrict 13? You said you are going there, but why? There is nothing left of Thirteen," I continue, not wanting to focus on missing loved ones any longer than necessary.

"There wasn't anything left 75 years ago, but we believe there were survivors who have rebuilt Thirteen," explains Bonnie.

"That doesn't make any sense. What would make you think that?" I ask, unbelieving.

"We've heard rumors. But mainly, we noticed that the footage the Capitol always shows of Thirteen is repeat footage that they edit over. You'll see it. Next time, watch the top of the screen. You'll see a mockingjay fly up in the right-hand corner. It's always the same one. Why do you think they always show the Justice Building? It's the only footage they have, and that was from back when they bombed the District at the end of the Dark Days. We think the Captiol leaves them alone because, before, their industry was nuclear development, and obviously, they don't want a nuclear war," continues Twill.

Peeta and I both exchange looks that reveal our reluctance to believe such a claim.

"I guess we will have to pay more attention next time, huh?" I say as I turn back to face Bonnie and Twill.

"Yeah, and you will see it. We aren't crazy. Just wait... You'll see," she says.

I can't help but recognize their eagerness to explain their theories about District 13. It's their only hope. They don't have another option. For them, it's Thirteen or death at this point.

Because their ability to obtain food is vital to their survival, Peeta and I take them out and teach them the basics of hunting, how to build some simple snares, how to skin and clean game, and how to make a fire. Then, I take off one of my socks for Bonnie to stuff in her boot, so its overlarge size won't aggravate her twisted ankle.

They ask Peeta and me about news from our district, and are surprised to learn that we have not been bombarded with Peacekeepers. After several minutes of thanks and farewells, Peeta and I head home, eager to get back while it's still light out. Our conversation is consumed with talk of the mysteries of two districts which are not our own: District 8 and District 13.