Oh, that I do know...Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without.

I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good. Because really it's mostly for their own good.

But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece o time we call today.

It's just me and the Bane. And I'm fighting him because he killed all of those innocent mice and people, and I have to stop him. Not because Sandwich says so but because I say so.

Peeta crouches down on the other side of her and strokes her hair. When he begins to speak in a soft voice, it seems almost nonsensical, but the words aren’t for me. “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.

Katniss?" Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words. "How about that kiss?

It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down.