Tomorrow's a hunting day," I say. "I won't be much of a help with that," Peeta says. "I've never hunted before." "I'll kill and you cook," I say. "And you can always gather." "I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," says Peeta.

It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.

Winning means fame and fortune. Losing means certain death. The Hunger Games have begun.

Four people wheel out a huge wedding cake from a side room. Most of the guests back up, making way for this rarity, this dazzling creation with blue-green, white-tipped icing waves swimming with fish and sailboats, seals and sea flowers. But I push my way through the crowd to confirm what I knew at first sight. As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie's gown were done by Cinna's hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta's.

Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had an agreement not to lie to each other.

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

Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.