Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

I drink in his wholeness, the soudness of his body and mind. It runs through me like the morphling they give me in the hospital, dulling the pain of the last weeks.

But once I saw Fulvia Cardew crumple up a sheet of paper with just a couple of words written on it and you would’ve thought she’d murdered someone from the looks she got.

"Katniss," Gale says softly. I recognize that voice. It's the same one he uses to approach wounded animals before he delivers a deathblow. I Instinctively raise my hand to block his words but he catches it and holds on tightly. "Don't," I whisper. But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me. "Katniss, there is no District Twelve."

If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.

He never lets go of Annie's hand. Not when they walk, not when they eat. I doubt he ever plans to.

Look, if you wanted to be babied you should have asked Peeta.