Behind a rack of framed photos of Snow, we encounter a wounded Peacekeeper propped up against a strip of brick wall. He asks us for help. Gale knees him in the side of the head and takes his gun.

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

I go back to my room and lie under the covers, trying not to think of Gale and thinking of nothing else.

You haven't hurt people—you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it.

Why? Do you find this" - he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose - "distracting?

Well you are a piece of work aren't you?

They hadn’t counted on the highly controlled jabberjay having the brains to adapt to the wild, to pass on its genetic code, to thrive in a new form. They hadn’t anticipated its will to live.