Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not without you.

But there's food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run.

Technically, I am unarmed. But no one should ever underestimate the harm that fingernails can do. Especially if the target is unprepared.

I press my ear against his chest, to the spot where I always rest my head, where I know I will hear the strong and steady beat of his heart. Instead, I find silence.

I’m stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

My mother says healers are born, not made.