The only thing worse than fighting a giant scorpion was fighting a giant scorpion who was trying to protect her young.

But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.

In my mind, President Snow should be viewed in front of marble pillars hung with oversized flags. It's jarring to see him surrounded by the ordinary objects in the room. Like taking the lid off a pot and finding a fanged viper instead of stew.

You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.

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

I don’t stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You’ll never be able to let him go. You’ll always feel wrong about being with me.” “The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you,” I say. Gale holds my gaze. “If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it.

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen when we get home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.