And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen when we get home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.

Hey, look at this!" He holds up a glistening, perfect pearl about the size of a pea. "You know, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls," he says earnestly to Finnick. "No, it doesn't," says Finnick dismissively. But I crack up, remembering that's how a clueless Effie Trinket presented us to the people of the Capitol last year, before anyone knew us. As coal pressured into pearls by our weighty existence. Beauty that arose out of pain.

turn and turn and turn again you see the what, but not the when remedy and wrong entwine and so they form a single vine

How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?” “Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot,” I say.

That it's no good loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and he'd just end up hating me later instead of sooner.

I look down from the branch I'm perched on. The Careers look murderous. Now I smile.'How have things been with you?' I ask sweetly.

Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams.