Not if we blow it up," Gale says brusquely. His intent, his full intent, becomes clear. Gale has no interest in preserving the lives of those in the Nut. No interest in caging the pray for later use. This is one of his death traps.

Mostly we just add to the piles of rainbow glass that's been blown off the exteriors of the cany-colored buildings.

No one really needs me,” he says, and there's no self-pity in his voice...“I do,” I say. “I need you.” He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.

Maybe the other tributes are out there beating one another senseless. Which would be fine. - Katniss -

Let the Seventy-forth Hunger Games begin, Cato, I think. Let them begin for real.

So what I'd really like is to try and conceal him somewhere safe, then go hunt, and come back and collect him. But I have a feeling his ego isn't going to go for that suggestion.

Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it's just a nervous spasm.