The Years Keep On Turning
I’m late, but oh well. Life happened and it was shitty, so I wrote this to cheer myself up and I hope it works for some of you as well. It’s not betad, so the copious mistakes are all mine. A birthday vignette in honor of our beloved muse, Katniss Everdeen. May she never be without her toastbabies, her dandelion in the spring, and plenty of delicious food. RATED M for smut.
She plays in the meadow, twirling and leaping, pretending to have wings like a bird so she can fly. Her father needs only a word, though, to draw her from play and into their chores. The flying girl doesn’t view the chores with distaste at all. She rather enjoys them, especially the moments of free time they get to savor the woods. Like today.
“Come down from that tree, Hummingbird,” the girl’s father calls up to her, his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound. She grins and flips so she’s hanging from the branch by her knees, completely missing her father’s gasp of fear and the handful of running steps he makes towards the base of the tree before her giggle stops him.
“Your Mama’s waiting with your birthday surprise,” he admonishes, the fear of a moment ago making his voice harsher than intended. The girl sobers, hearing the subtle difference, and swings her feet over her head to the branch below before scurrying down the trunk and landing with a soft crunch of leaves, next to her father.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” she whispers, her expression contrite.
“It’s okay, Katniss,” the father says, picking up the girl’s game bag and handing it to her. “But we should get going.”