She's screaming and he's already moving, barely away that he's awake before he's crambling on all fours towards the bedroom. His fingers still almost feel like he's holding a bow. His stomach has that same raw, hollowed out feeling that came from shooting and watching men fall with his arrows standing proud.

"Katniss," he says, in the doorway. "It's okay."
The words it was a dream are on his lips, but he knows that's not true.