When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim`s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the Reaping.

I volunteer!" I gasp. "I volunteer as tribute!

I’m in a shallow hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination but with old, dead leaves.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away, A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray, Forget your woes and let your troubles lay, And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. Here it's safe, here it's warm, Here the daisies guard you from every harm, Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, Here is the place where I love you.

The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That's how they recognize me; Why I belong to them.

You haven't hurt people—you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it.

They recognize me. Of course they recognize me. My face is uncovered and I'm standing here outside of District 12 pointing an arrow at them. Who else would I be?