I flee what I can't fight. What can only do me harm.

District 12. Where you can starve to death in safety," I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

Sorry excuses for hunters and friends. Both of us.

And then, when he’s been underwater so long I feel certain he’s drowned, his head pops up right next to me and I start. “Don’t do that,” I say. “What? Come up or stay under?” he says. “Either. Neither. Whatever

Then, in my most careful handwriting, come all the details it would be a crime to forget. Lady licking Prim's cheek. My father's laugh. Peeta's father with the cookies. The colour of Finnick's eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight. On and on. We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their death count.

Peeta?" I creep along the bank. "Well, don't step on me.

They more than do their work, they take pride in it. Like Cinna.