My sleep wasn't peaceful, though. I have the sense of emerging from a world of dark, haunted places where I traveled alone.

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.

Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.

The idea of being strong for someone else having never entered their heads, I find myself in the position of having to console them. Since I'm the person going in to be slaughtered, this is somewhat annoying.

I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads 'mentally disoriented' around and around my wrist.

For me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand. -Peeta

Just because people starve in a book, doesn't mean that we will starve in the future.