porchwood: ink hair by alealgethi “Catkin?” Peeta echoes curiously, his smile warming. I
porchwood: ink hair by alealgethi “Catkin?” Peeta echoes curiously, his smile warming. I scowl again. My childhood nickname is part of the story, but I hadn’t expected to be stopped and asked questions so soon. “It’s the furry little gray bud on a pussywillow,” I tell him. “They’re called willow catkins. You know what those are?” To my surprise, Peeta nods. “Well, when I was a baby, Dad called me his ‘willow catkin,’” I explain. “As I got older, it shortened to just ‘catkin.’” “I remember that,” he says, surprising me further. “Hearing your dad call you that, when you came by the bakery on Sundays. I always thought it was a derivative of your name,” he admits, pink-cheeked. “‘Catkin,’ like ‘little Katniss.’” ~ When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun, Ch 10, “The Moon is a Huntress” -- source link
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