Let the Seventy-forth Hunger Games begin, Cato, I think. Let them begin for real.

This is what birds see. Only they're free and safe. The very opposite of me.

But the only thing that distracts me from my current situation is fantasizing about killing President Snow.

I can almost hear Haymitch groaning as I team up with this wispy child. But I want her. Because she's a survivor, and I trust her, and why not admit it? She reminds me of Prim.

So that's who Finnick loves, I think. Not his string of fancy lovers in the Capitol. But a poor, mad girl back home.

deep in the meadow , under the willow , a bed of grass , a soft green pillow

It’s the first time I’ve ever kissed a boy, which should make some sort of impression I guess, but all I can register is how unnaturally hot his lips are from the fever.