You were rebelious, carefree, tender, especially to others around you. Something happened. An 'accident' the capitol says but everyone knew it was President Snow's fault. You were his. He was yours. Now, he was fading just like you did. Slowly trying to kill himself with alcohol, something he said he would never do. When he finally sleeps, it's on the floor and he always dreams about you. Even if he dreams about his gorey games, you always appear. You plague his dreams like a ghost unable to move on.

You echo in his mind as he wonders the woods, your woods. When one day, the one day he was sober, he say a figure hiding behind a tree. A familiar figure, but his vision was a blur. He went to follow but he could jever catch up, until he did. And when he had, there he saw someone. Someone with the same eyes as you, feeding the geese, your geese. It was you. You were alive when you died in his arms.