Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips.
On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. […]
What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses.
That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.