And it takes so much energy to stay angry with someone who cries so much.

It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

Whose is it, do you think?" I say finally. "No telling," says Finnick. "Why don't we let Peeta claim it, since he died today?

Katniss. I remember about the bread.

I don't know what it is with Finnick and bread, but he seems obsessed with handling it.

My voice, at first rough and breaking on the high notes, warms up into something splendid. A voice that would make the mockingjays fall silent and then tumble over themselves to join in.

No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But what then ... what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some.