It's a long shot, it's suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. "Don't let him take you from me." Peeta's panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging his head. "No. I don't want to. . ." I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.

I'm not a very fancy person. I've been a writer a long time, and right now 'The Hunger Games' is getting a lot of focus. It'll pass. The focus will be on something else. It'll shift. It always does. And that seems just fine.

It's not easy to find a topic. Talking of home is painful. Talking of the present unbearable.

It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death." "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you will find in the arena. Say it's a gigantic cake-

And then he gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.

Tuck in your tail, little duck.

Yeah, we wouldn't want to lose our little Mockingjay when she's finally begun to sing.