I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it.

As we trudge back through the woods, we reach a boulder, and both Gale and I turn our heads in the same direction, like a pair of dogs catching a scent on the wind. Cressida notices and asks what lies that way. We admit, without acknowledging each other, it's our old hunting rendez-vous place. She wants to see it, even after we tell her it's nothing really. Nothing but a place where I was happy, I think.

I take Peeta's face in my hands. "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight.

Roses. Wolf mutts. Tributes. Frosted Dolphins. Friends. Mockingjays. Stylists. Me. Everything screams in my dreams tonight.

People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.

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

I knew it. In this way, Peeta's not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking of me. Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel.