We follow instructions to my destination, a chamber for my preparation.

We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss," says Plutarch. "While you live, the revolution lives.

I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often," he says. "They suit you.

I send a silent thank-you to Dalton for suggesting I wash off the makeup. How ridiculous, how perverse I would feel presenting that painted Capitol mask to these people. The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That's how they recognize me, why I belong to them.

But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me. "Katniss, there is no District Twelve."

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.” I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

You here to finish me off, Sweetheart?