KEEP CALM and HAVE A SUGAR CUBE
Our romance became a key strategy for our survival in the arena. Only it wasn't just a strategy for Peeta.
In other words, I step out of line and we're all dead.
It's more complicated than that. I know them. They're not evil or cruel. They're not even smart. Hurting them, it's like hurting children.
I wish Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I'm not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol's design, not mine.
That was the first time I ever saw him smile. It transformed him from someone menacing to someone you wished you knew.
It's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back.
I've spent so much time making sure I don't underestimate my opponents that I've forgotten it's just as dangerous to overestimate them as well.
Fine, than I will not have to blame you for killing my friends with your stupidity. -Haymitch
What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?
No more kisses for you, until you have eaten !
Just don't die for me, you won't be doing me any favour !
That's when I hear the scream. So full of fear and pain it ices my blood. And so familiar. I drop the spile, forget where I am or what lies ahead, only know I must reach her, protect her. I run wildly in the direction of the voice, heedless of danger, ripping through vines and branches, through anything that keeps me from reaching her. From reaching my little sister.
Katniss, got that spile?" Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality.
What do you think?" he asks. "I hate them," I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?" "I see them every night," he says.
Just give him the medicine!" I scream at her. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!
Just one more thing. I kill Snow.
I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it.
Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we'd found each other.
You haven't hurt people—you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it.
Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.
Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!
I begin to fully understand the lengths to which people have gone to protect me. What I mean to the rebels. My on going struggle against the Capitol, which has so often felt like a solitary journey, has not been undertaken alone. I have had thousands upon thousands of people from the districts at my side. I was their Mockingjay long before I accepted the role.
You'd have thought we planned it," says Peeta, giving me just the hint of a smile. "Didn't you?" asks Portia. Her fingers press her eyelids closed as if she's warding off a very bright light. "No," I say looking at Peeta with a new sense of apreciation. "Neither of us even knew what we were going to do before we went in." "And Haymitch?" says Peeta. "We decided we don't want any other allies in the arena." "Good. Then I won't be responsible for you killing off any of my friends with your stupidity," he says.
Your favorite colour . . . it's green?" "That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange." "Orange?" He seems unconvinced. "Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once." "Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you." But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.
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