I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite.

The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

The morphlings from District 6 are in the camouflage station, painting each other's faces with bright pink swirls.

He’s dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever.

Something inside me twists as I remember another voice. Rue. In the arena. When I gave her the leg of groosling. “Oh, I've never had a whole leg to myself before.” The disbelief of the chronically hungry.

Winning means fame and fortune. Losing means certain death. The Hunger Games have begun.

It's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back.