I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I'm so grateful that he's here, not dead by the stream as I'd thought. So glad I don't have to face Cato alone.

My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.

He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow in the Capitol. Thinks it makes for better television." "Are you and Beetee going?" I ask. "As many young and attractive victors as possible," Haymitch corrects himself. "So, no. We'll be here.

Plants are tricky. Many are edible, but one false mouthful and your dead

Oh, well. At least my blood is flowing.

So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts.

Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.