a violent yet flammable world.

Things are different these days, now that Gale's gone and the treehouse is empty. But life goes on, and in her own way, Katniss is beginning to see that as well. She revives a bit more each day, albeit gradually. Some nights, the nightmares are more brief than others. Some days, it isn't a struggle to get out of bed. Her body recovers too, bit by bit. Not enough to be noticeable, but after months and months - nearly a year now, she reflects on it from time to time.

Except that morning, she woke up to many things that were noticeable. Pushing the blankets back, Katniss realized that her burn scars were much more faded than they usually were. And she felt...different. Taller, stronger, although no less tired. One quick look in the mirror revealed something entirely different: herself, but older. The same braid, the same scrubbed face and grey eyes, but-- it was strange. It must be something done by the island. She throws clothes on haphazardly before grabbing her bow and rucksack, heading out to see if this isn't just something happening to her.

Peeta. She should check on him, shouldn't she?

Moving quickly despite her legs being longer than her remembering them being, she passes by a woman she doesn't quite recognize, and doesn't give it any thought. Katniss is antisocial. She knows very few people on the island, although...one would think she would at least recognize people's faces.