People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.

Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return.

Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine, but I don't even know what your favorite color is?

I think you'd be pretty in any color."-Posy to Octavia

What do you think?" I whisper to Peeta. "About the fire?" "I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," he says through gritted teeth.

My lips are just forming his name when his fingers lock around my throat.

Positioned on my dresser, that white-as-snow rose is a personal message to me. It speaks of unfinished business. It whispers, I can find you. I can reach you. Perhaps I am watching you now.