The Hunger Games Trilogy

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TableofContents

TitlePage

TheHungerGames

CatchingFire

Mockingjay

AbouttheAuthor

AlsoAvailable

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Contents
TitlePage
Dedication
PartI:“TheTributes”
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
PartII:“TheGames”
10
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11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
PartIII:“TheVictor”
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
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WhenIwakeup,theothersideofthebediscold.Myfingers

stretchout,seekingPrim’swarmthbutfindingonlytherough

canvascoverofthemattress.Shemusthavehadbaddreamsand

climbedinwithourmother.Ofcourse,shedid.Thisisthedayof

thereaping.

Ipropmyselfupononeelbow.There’senoughlightinthe

bedroomtoseethem.Mylittlesister,Prim,curleduponher

side,cocoonedinmymother’sbody,theircheekspressed

together.Insleep,mymotherlooksyounger,stillwornbutnot

sobeaten-down.Prim’sfaceisasfreshasaraindrop,aslovely

astheprimroseforwhichshewasnamed.Mymotherwasvery

beautifulonce,too.Orsotheytellme.

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SittingatPrim’sknees,guardingher,istheworld’sugliest

cat.Mashed-innose,halfofoneearmissing,eyesthecolorof

rottingsquash.PrimnamedhimButtercup,insistingthathis

muddyyellowcoatmatchedthebrightflower.Hehatesme.Orat

leastdistrustsme.Eventhoughitwasyearsago,Ithinkhestill

remembershowItriedtodrownhiminabucketwhenPrim

broughthimhome.Scrawnykitten,bellyswollenwithworms,

crawlingwithfleas.ThelastthingIneededwasanothermouthto

feed.ButPrimbeggedsohard,criedeven,Ihadtolethimstay.

Itturnedoutokay.Mymothergotridoftheverminandhe’sa

bornmouser.Evencatchestheoccasionalrat.Sometimes,whenI

cleanakill,IfeedButtercuptheentrails.Hehasstoppedhissing

atme.

Entrails.Nohissing.Thisistheclosestwewillevercometo

love.

Iswingmylegsoffthebedandslideintomyhuntingboots.

Suppleleatherthathasmoldedtomyfeet.Ipullontrousers,a

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shirt,tuckmylongdarkbraidupintoacap,andgrabmyforage

bag.Onthetable,underawoodenbowltoprotectitfromhungry

ratsandcatsalike,sitsaperfectlittlegoatcheesewrappedin

basilleaves.Prim’sgifttomeonreapingday.Iputthecheese

carefullyinmypocketasIslipoutside.

OurpartofDistrict12,nicknamedtheSeam,isusually

crawlingwithcoalminersheadingouttothemorningshiftat

thishour.Menandwomenwithhunchedshoulders,swollen

knuckles,manywhohavelongsincestoppedtryingtoscrubthe

coaldustoutoftheirbrokennails,thelinesoftheirsunkenfaces.

Buttodaytheblackcinderstreetsareempty.Shuttersonthe

squatgrayhousesareclosed.Thereapingisn’tuntiltwo.Mayas

wellsleepin.Ifyoucan.

OurhouseisalmostattheedgeoftheSeam.Ionlyhaveto

passafewgatestoreachthescruffyfieldcalledtheMeadow.

SeparatingtheMeadowfromthewoods,infactenclosingallof

District12,isahighchain-linkfencetoppedwithbarbed-wire

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loops.Intheory,it’ssupposedtobeelectrifiedtwenty-fourhours

adayasadeterrenttothepredatorsthatliveinthewoods—

packsofwilddogs,lonecougars,bears—thatusedtothreaten

ourstreets.Butsincewe’reluckytogettwoorthreehoursof

electricityintheevenings,it’susuallysafetotouch.Evenso,I

alwaystakeamomenttolistencarefullyforthehumthatmeans

thefenceislive.Rightnow,it’ssilentasastone.Concealedbya

clumpofbushes,Iflattenoutonmybellyandslideunderatwo-

footstretchthat’sbeenlooseforyears.Thereareseveralother

weakspotsinthefence,butthisoneissoclosetohomeIalmost

alwaysenterthewoodshere.

AssoonasI’minthetrees,Iretrieveabowandsheathof

arrowsfromahollowlog.Electrifiedornot,thefencehasbeen

successfulatkeepingtheflesh-eatersoutofDistrict12.Inside

thewoodstheyroamfreely,andthereareaddedconcernslike

venomoussnakes,rabidanimals,andnorealpathstofollow.But

there’salsofoodifyouknowhowtofindit.Myfatherknewand

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hetaughtmesomebeforehewasblowntobitsinamine

explosion.Therewasnothingeventobury.Iwaseleventhen.

Fiveyearslater,Istillwakeupscreamingforhimtorun.

Eventhoughtrespassinginthewoodsisillegalandpoaching

carriestheseverestofpenalties,morepeoplewouldriskitif

theyhadweapons.Butmostarenotboldenoughtoventureout

withjustaknife.Mybowisararity,craftedbymyfatheralong

withafewothersthatIkeepwellhiddeninthewoods,carefully

wrappedinwaterproofcovers.Myfathercouldhavemadegood

moneysellingthem,butiftheofficialsfoundouthewouldhave

beenpubliclyexecutedforincitingarebellion.Mostofthe

Peacekeepersturnablindeyetothefewofuswhohuntbecause

they’reashungryforfreshmeatasanybodyis.Infact,they’re

amongourbestcustomers.Buttheideathatsomeonemightbe

armingtheSeamwouldneverhavebeenallowed.

Inthefall,afewbravesoulssneakintothewoodstoharvest

apples.ButalwaysinsightoftheMeadow.Alwayscloseenough

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torunbacktothesafetyofDistrict12iftroublearises.“District

Twelve.Whereyoucanstarvetodeathinsafety,”Imutter.Then

Iglancequicklyovermyshoulder.Evenhere,eveninthemiddle

ofnowhere,youworrysomeonemightoverhearyou.

WhenIwasyounger,Iscaredmymothertodeath,thethings

IwouldblurtoutaboutDistrict12,aboutthepeoplewhoruleour

country,Panem,fromthefar-offcitycalledtheCapitol.

EventuallyIunderstoodthiswouldonlyleadustomoretrouble.

SoIlearnedtoholdmytongueandtoturnmyfeaturesintoan

indifferentmasksothatnoonecouldeverreadmythoughts.Do

myworkquietlyinschool.Makeonlypolitesmalltalkinthe

publicmarket.DiscusslittlemorethantradesintheHob,which

istheblackmarketwhereImakemostofmymoney.Evenat

home,whereIamlesspleasant,Iavoiddiscussingtrickytopics.

Likethereaping,orfoodshortages,ortheHungerGames.Prim

mightbegintorepeatmywordsandthenwherewouldwebe?

InthewoodswaitstheonlypersonwithwhomIcanbe

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myself.Gale.Icanfeelthemusclesinmyfacerelaxing,mypace

quickeningasIclimbthehillstoourplace,arockledge

overlookingavalley.Athicketofberrybushesprotectsitfrom

unwantedeyes.Thesightofhimwaitingtherebringsonasmile.

GalesaysIneversmileexceptinthewoods.

“Hey,Catnip,”saysGale.MyrealnameisKatniss,butwhen

Ifirsttoldhim,Ihadbarelywhisperedit.SohethoughtI’dsaid

Catnip.Thenwhenthiscrazylynxstartedfollowingmearound

thewoodslookingforhandouts,itbecamehisofficialnickname

forme.Ifinallyhadtokillthelynxbecausehescaredoffgame.

Ialmostregretteditbecausehewasn’tbadcompany.ButIgota

decentpriceforhispelt.

“LookwhatIshot.”Galeholdsupaloafofbreadwithan

arrowstuckinit,andIlaugh.It’srealbakerybread,nottheflat,

denseloaveswemakefromourgrainrations.Itakeitinmy

hands,pulloutthearrow,andholdthepunctureinthecrustto

mynose,inhalingthefragrancethatmakesmymouthfloodwith

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saliva.Finebreadlikethisisforspecialoccasions.

“Mm,stillwarm,”Isay.Hemusthavebeenatthebakeryat

thecrackofdawntotradeforit.“Whatdiditcostyou?”

“Justasquirrel.Thinktheoldmanwasfeelingsentimental

thismorning,”saysGale.“Evenwishedmeluck.”

“Well,weallfeelalittleclosertoday,don’twe?”Isay,not

evenbotheringtorollmyeyes.“Primleftusacheese.”Ipullit

out.

Hisexpressionbrightensatthetreat.“Thankyou,Prim.

We’llhavearealfeast.”SuddenlyhefallsintoaCapitolaccent

ashemimicsEffieTrinket,themaniacallyupbeatwomanwho

arrivesonceayeartoreadoutthenamesatthereaping.“I

almostforgot!HappyHungerGames!”Heplucksafew

blackberriesfromthebushesaroundus.“Andmaytheodds—”

Hetossesaberryinahigharctowardme.

Icatchitinmymouthandbreakthedelicateskinwithmy

teeth.Thesweettartnessexplodesacrossmytongue.“—beever

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inyourfavor!”Ifinishwithequalverve.Wehavetojokeabout

itbecausethealternativeistobescaredoutofyourwits.

Besides,theCapitolaccentissoaffected,almostanything

soundsfunnyinit.

IwatchasGalepullsouthisknifeandslicesthebread.He

couldbemybrother.Straightblackhair,oliveskin,weeven

havethesamegrayeyes.Butwe’renotrelated,atleastnot

closely.Mostofthefamilieswhoworktheminesresembleone

anotherthisway.

That’swhymymotherandPrim,withtheirlighthairand

blueeyes,alwayslookoutofplace.Theyare.Mymother’s

parentswerepartofthesmallmerchantclassthatcatersto

officials,Peacekeepers,andtheoccasionalSeamcustomer.They

rananapothecaryshopinthenicerpartofDistrict12.Since

almostnoonecanafforddoctors,apothecariesareourhealers.

Myfathergottoknowmymotherbecauseonhishuntshewould

sometimescollectmedicinalherbsandsellthemtohershopto

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bebrewedintoremedies.Shemusthavereallylovedhimto

leaveherhomefortheSeam.ItrytorememberthatwhenallI

canseeisthewomanwhosatby,blankandunreachable,while

herchildrenturnedtoskinandbones.Itrytoforgiveherformy

father’ssake.Buttobehonest,I’mnottheforgivingtype.

Galespreadsthebreadsliceswiththesoftgoatcheese,

carefullyplacingabasilleafoneachwhileIstripthebushesof

theirberries.Wesettlebackinanookintherocks.Fromthis

place,weareinvisiblebuthaveaclearviewofthevalley,which

isteemingwithsummerlife,greenstogather,rootstodig,fish

iridescentinthesunlight.Thedayisglorious,withabluesky

andsoftbreeze.Thefood’swonderful,withthecheeseseeping

intothewarmbreadandtheberriesburstinginourmouths.

Everythingwouldbeperfectifthisreallywasaholiday,ifallthe

dayoffmeantwasroamingthemountainswithGale,huntingfor

tonight’ssupper.Butinsteadwehavetobestandinginthe

squareattwoo’clockwaitingforthenamestobecalledout.

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“Wecoulddoit,youknow,”Galesaysquietly.

“What?”Iask.

“Leavethedistrict.Runoff.Liveinthewoods.YouandI,

wecouldmakeit,”saysGale.

Idon’tknowhowtorespond.Theideaissopreposterous.

“Ifwedidn’thavesomanykids,”headdsquickly.

They’renotourkids,ofcourse.Buttheymightaswellbe.

Gale’stwolittlebrothersandasister.Prim.Andyoumayaswell

throwinourmothers,too,becausehowwouldtheylivewithout

us?Whowouldfillthosemouthsthatarealwaysaskingfor

more?Withbothofushuntingdaily,therearestillnightswhen

gamehastobeswappedforlardorshoelacesorwool,stillnights

whenwegotobedwithourstomachsgrowling.

“Ineverwanttohavekids,”Isay.

“Imight.IfIdidn’tlivehere,”saysGale.

“Butyoudo,”Isay,irritated.

“Forgetit,”hesnapsback.

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Theconversationfeelsallwrong.Leave?HowcouldIleave

Prim,whoistheonlypersonintheworldI’mcertainIlove?And

Galeisdevotedtohisfamily.Wecan’tleave,sowhybother

talkingaboutit?Andevenifwedid...evenifwedid...where

didthisstuffabouthavingkidscomefrom?There’sneverbeen

anythingromanticbetweenGaleandme.Whenwemet,Iwasa

skinnytwelve-year-old,andalthoughhewasonlytwoyears

older,healreadylookedlikeaman.Ittookalongtimeforusto

evenbecomefriends,tostophagglingovereverytradeandbegin

helpingeachotherout.

Besides,ifhewantskids,Galewon’thaveanytrouble

findingawife.He’sgood-looking,he’sstrongenoughtohandle

theworkinthemines,andhecanhunt.Youcantellbytheway

thegirlswhisperabouthimwhenhewalksbyinschoolthatthey

wanthim.Itmakesmejealousbutnotforthereasonpeople

wouldthink.Goodhuntingpartnersarehardtofind.

“Whatdoyouwanttodo?”Iask.Wecanhunt,fish,or

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gather.

“Let’sfishatthelake.Wecanleaveourpolesandgatherin

thewoods.Getsomethingnicefortonight,”hesays.

Tonight.Afterthereaping,everyoneissupposedto

celebrate.Andalotofpeopledo,outofreliefthattheirchildren

havebeensparedforanotheryear.Butatleasttwofamilieswill

pulltheirshutters,locktheirdoors,andtrytofigureouthow

theywillsurvivethepainfulweekstocome.

Wemakeoutwell.Thepredatorsignoreusonadaywhen

easier,tastierpreyabounds.Bylatemorning,wehaveadozen

fish,abagofgreensand,bestofall,agallonofstrawberries.I

foundthepatchafewyearsago,butGalehadtheideatostring

meshnetsaroundittokeepouttheanimals.

Onthewayhome,weswingbytheHob,theblackmarket

thatoperatesinanabandonedwarehousethatonceheldcoal.

Whentheycameupwithamoreefficientsystemthattransported

thecoaldirectlyfromtheminestothetrains,theHobgradually

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tookoverthespace.Mostbusinessesareclosedbythistimeon

reapingday,buttheblackmarket’sstillfairlybusy.Weeasily

tradesixofthefishforgoodbread,theothertwoforsalt.Greasy

Sae,thebonyoldwomanwhosellsbowlsofhotsoupfroma

largekettle,takeshalfthegreensoffourhandsinexchangefora

coupleofchunksofparaffin.Wemightdoatadbetter

elsewhere,butwemakeanefforttokeepongoodtermswith

GreasySae.She’stheonlyonewhocanconsistentlybecounted

ontobuywilddog.Wedon’thuntthemonpurpose,butifyou’re

attackedandyoutakeoutadogortwo,well,meatismeat.

“Onceit’sinthesoup,I’llcallitbeef,”GreasySaesayswitha

wink.NooneintheSeamwouldturnuptheirnoseatagoodleg

ofwilddog,butthePeacekeeperswhocometotheHobcan

affordtobealittlechoosier.

Whenwefinishourbusinessatthemarket,wegototheback

doorofthemayor’shousetosellhalfthestrawberries,knowing

hehasaparticularfondnessforthemandcanaffordourprice.

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Themayor’sdaughter,Madge,opensthedoor.She’sinmyyear

atschool.Beingthemayor’sdaughter,you’dexpecthertobea

snob,butshe’sallright.Shejustkeepstoherself.Likeme.Since

neitherofusreallyhasagroupoffriends,weseemtoendup

togetheralotatschool.Eatinglunch,sittingnexttoeachotherat

assemblies,partneringforsportsactivities.Werarelytalk,which

suitsusbothjustfine.

Todayherdrabschooloutfithasbeenreplacedbyan

expensivewhitedress,andherblondehairisdoneupwithapink

ribbon.Reapingclothes.

“Prettydress,”saysGale.

Madgeshootshimalook,tryingtoseeifit’sagenuine

complimentorifhe’sjustbeingironic.Itisaprettydress,but

shewouldneverbewearingitordinarily.Shepressesherlips

togetherandthensmiles.“Well,ifIendupgoingtotheCapitol,

Iwanttolooknice,don’tI?”

Nowit’sGale’sturntobeconfused.Doesshemeanit?Oris

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shemessingwithhim?I’mguessingthesecond.

“Youwon’tbegoingtotheCapitol,”saysGalecoolly.His

eyeslandonasmall,circularpinthatadornsherdress.Real

gold.Beautifullycrafted.Itcouldkeepafamilyinbreadfor

months.“Whatcanyouhave?Fiveentries?IhadsixwhenIwas

justtwelveyearsold.”

“That’snotherfault,”Isay.

“No,it’snoone’sfault.Justthewayitis,”saysGale.

Madge’sfacehasbecomeclosedoff.Sheputsthemoneyfor

theberriesinmyhand.“Goodluck,Katniss.”

“You,too,”Isay,andthedoorcloses.

WewalktowardtheSeaminsilence.Idon’tlikethatGale

tookadigatMadge,buthe’sright,ofcourse.Thereaping

systemisunfair,withthepoorgettingtheworstofit.You

becomeeligibleforthereapingthedayyouturntwelve.That

year,yournameisenteredonce.Atthirteen,twice.Andsoon

andsoonuntilyoureachtheageofeighteen,thefinalyearof

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eligibility,whenyournamegoesintothepoolseventimes.

That’strueforeverycitizeninalltwelvedistrictsintheentire

countryofPanem.

Buthere’sthecatch.Sayyouarepoorandstarvingaswe

were.Youcanopttoaddyournamemoretimesinexchangefor

tesserae.Eachtesseraisworthameageryear’ssupplyofgrain

andoilforoneperson.Youmaydothisforeachofyourfamily

membersaswell.So,attheageoftwelve,Ihadmyname

enteredfourtimes.Once,becauseIhadto,andthreetimesfor

tesseraeforgrainandoilformyself,Prim,andmymother.In

fact,everyyearIhaveneededtodothis.Andtheentriesare

cumulative.Sonow,attheageofsixteen,mynamewillbeinthe

reapingtwentytimes.Gale,whoiseighteenandhasbeeneither

helpingorsingle-handedlyfeedingafamilyoffiveforseven

years,willhavehisnameinforty-twotimes.

YoucanseewhysomeonelikeMadge,whohasneverbeen

atriskofneedingatessera,cansethimoff.Thechanceofher

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namebeingdrawnisveryslimcomparedtothoseofuswholive

intheSeam.Notimpossible,butslim.Andeventhoughtherules

weresetupbytheCapitol,notthedistricts,certainlynot

Madge’sfamily,it’shardnottoresentthosewhodon’thaveto

signupfortesserae.

GaleknowshisangeratMadgeismisdirected.Onother

days,deepinthewoods,I’velistenedtohimrantabouthowthe

tesseraearejustanothertooltocausemiseryinourdistrict.A

waytoplanthatredbetweenthestarvingworkersoftheSeam

andthosewhocangenerallycountonsupperandtherebyensure

wewillnevertrustoneanother.“It’stotheCapitol’sadvantage

tohaveusdividedamongourselves,”hemightsayiftherewere

noearstohearbutmine.Ifitwasn’treapingday.Ifagirlwitha

goldpinandnotesseraehadnotmadewhatI’msureshethought

wasaharmlesscomment.

Aswewalk,IglanceoveratGale’sface,stillsmoldering

underneathhisstonyexpression.Hisragesseempointlesstome,

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althoughIneversayso.It’snotthatIdon’tagreewithhim.Ido.

ButwhatgoodisyellingabouttheCapitolinthemiddleofthe

woods?Itdoesn’tchangeanything.Itdoesn’tmakethingsfair.It

doesn’tfillourstomachs.Infact,itscaresoffthenearbygame.I

lethimyellthough.Betterhedoesitinthewoodsthaninthe

district.

GaleandIdivideourspoils,leavingtwofish,acoupleof

loavesofgoodbread,greens,aquartofstrawberries,salt,

paraffin,andabitofmoneyforeach.

“Seeyouinthesquare,”Isay.

“Wearsomethingpretty,”hesaysflatly.

Athome,Ifindmymotherandsisterarereadytogo.My

motherwearsafinedressfromherapothecarydays.Primisin

myfirstreapingoutfit,askirtandruffledblouse.It’sabitbigon

her,butmymotherhasmadeitstaywithpins.Evenso,she’s

havingtroublekeepingtheblousetuckedinattheback.

Atubofwarmwaterwaitsforme.Iscruboffthedirtand

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sweatfromthewoodsandevenwashmyhair.Tomysurprise,

mymotherhaslaidoutoneofherownlovelydressesforme.A

softbluethingwithmatchingshoes.

“Areyousure?”Iask.I’mtryingtogetpastrejectingoffers

ofhelpfromher.Forawhile,Iwassoangry,Iwouldn’tallow

hertodoanythingforme.Andthisissomethingspecial.Her

clothesfromherpastareveryprecioustoher.

“Ofcourse.Let’sputyourhairup,too,”shesays.Ilether

towel-dryitandbraidituponmyhead.Icanhardlyrecognize

myselfinthecrackedmirrorthatleansagainstthewall.

“Youlookbeautiful,”saysPriminahushedvoice.

“Andnothinglikemyself,”Isay.Ihugher,becauseIknow

thesenextfewhourswillbeterribleforher.Herfirstreaping.

She’saboutassafeasyoucanget,sinceshe’sonlyenteredonce.

Iwouldn’tlethertakeoutanytesserae.Butshe’sworriedabout

me.Thattheunthinkablemighthappen.

IprotectPrimineverywayIcan,butI’mpowerlessagainst

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thereaping.TheanguishIalwaysfeelwhenshe’sinpainwells

upinmychestandthreatenstoregisteronmyface.Inoticeher

blousehaspulledoutofherskirtinthebackagainandforce

myselftostaycalm.“Tuckyourtailin,littleduck,”Isay,

smoothingtheblousebackinplace.

Primgigglesandgivesmeasmall“Quack.”

“Quackyourself,”Isaywithalightlaugh.Thekindonly

Primcandrawoutofme.“Comeon,let’seat,”Isayandplanta

quickkissonthetopofherhead.

Thefishandgreensarealreadycookinginastew,butthat

willbeforsupper.Wedecidetosavethestrawberriesandbakery

breadforthisevening’smeal,tomakeitspecialwesay.Instead

wedrinkmilkfromPrim’sgoat,Lady,andeattheroughbread

madefromthetesseragrain,althoughnoonehasmuchappetite

anyway.

Atoneo’clock,weheadforthesquare.Attendanceis

mandatoryunlessyouareondeath’sdoor.Thisevening,officials

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willcomearoundandchecktoseeifthisisthecase.Ifnot,

you’llbeimprisoned.

It’stoobad,really,thattheyholdthereapinginthesquare

—oneofthefewplacesinDistrict12thatcanbepleasant.The

square’ssurroundedbyshops,andonpublicmarketdays,

especiallyifthere’sgoodweather,ithasaholidayfeeltoit.But

today,despitethebrightbannershangingonthebuildings,

there’sanairofgrimness.Thecameracrews,perchedlike

buzzardsonrooftops,onlyaddtotheeffect.

Peoplefileinsilentlyandsignin.Thereapingisagood

opportunityfortheCapitoltokeeptabsonthepopulationas

well.Twelve-througheighteen-year-oldsareherdedintoroped

areasmarkedoffbyages,theoldestinthefront,theyoungones,

likePrim,towardtheback.Familymemberslineuparoundthe

perimeter,holdingtightlytooneanother’shands.Butthereare

others,too,whohavenoonetheyloveatstake,orwhonolonger

care,whoslipamongthecrowd,takingbetsonthetwokids

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whosenameswillbedrawn.Oddsaregivenontheirages,

whetherthey’reSeamormerchant,iftheywillbreakdownand

weep.Mostrefusedealingwiththeracketeersbutcarefully,

carefully.Thesesamepeopletendtobeinformers,andwho

hasn’tbrokenthelaw?Icouldbeshotonadailybasisfor

hunting,buttheappetitesofthoseinchargeprotectme.Not

everyonecanclaimthesame.

Anyway,GaleandIagreethatifwehavetochoosebetween

dyingofhungerandabulletinthehead,thebulletwouldbe

muchquicker.

Thespacegetstighter,moreclaustrophobicaspeoplearrive.

Thesquare’squitelarge,butnotenoughtoholdDistrict12’s

populationofabouteightthousand.Latecomersaredirectedto

theadjacentstreets,wheretheycanwatchtheeventonscreensas

it’stelevisedlivebythestate.

IfindmyselfstandinginaclumpofsixteensfromtheSeam.

Weallexchangetersenodsthenfocusourattentiononthe

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temporarystagethatissetupbeforetheJusticeBuilding.It

holdsthreechairs,apodium,andtwolargeglassballs,onefor

theboysandoneforthegirls.Istareatthepaperslipsinthe

girls’ball.TwentyofthemhaveKatnissEverdeenwrittenon

themincarefulhandwriting.

TwoofthethreechairsfillwithMadge’sfather,Mayor

Undersee,who’satall,baldingman,andEffieTrinket,District

12’sescort,freshfromtheCapitolwithherscarywhitegrin,

pinkishhair,andspringgreensuit.Theymurmurtoeachother

andthenlookwithconcernattheemptyseat.

Justasthetownclockstrikestwo,themayorstepsuptothe

podiumandbeginstoread.It’sthesamestoryeveryyear.He

tellsofthehistoryofPanem,thecountrythatroseupoutofthe

ashesofaplacethatwasoncecalledNorthAmerica.Heliststhe

disasters,thedroughts,thestorms,thefires,theencroachingseas

thatswallowedupsomuchoftheland,thebrutalwarforwhat

littlesustenanceremained.TheresultwasPanem,ashining

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Capitolringedbythirteendistricts,whichbroughtpeaceand

prosperitytoitscitizens.ThencametheDarkDays,theuprising

ofthedistrictsagainsttheCapitol.Twelveweredefeated,the

thirteenthobliterated.TheTreatyofTreasongaveusthenew

lawstoguaranteepeaceand,asouryearlyreminderthattheDark

Daysmustneverberepeated,itgaveustheHungerGames.

TherulesoftheHungerGamesaresimple.Inpunishment

fortheuprising,eachofthetwelvedistrictsmustprovideone

girlandoneboy,calledtributes,toparticipate.Thetwenty-four

tributeswillbeimprisonedinavastoutdoorarenathatcould

holdanythingfromaburningdeserttoafrozenwasteland.Over

aperiodofseveralweeks,thecompetitorsmustfighttothe

death.Thelasttributestandingwins.

Takingthekidsfromourdistricts,forcingthemtokillone

anotherwhilewewatch—thisistheCapitol’swayofreminding

ushowtotallyweareattheirmercy.Howlittlechancewewould

standofsurvivinganotherrebellion.Whateverwordstheyuse,

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therealmessageisclear.“Lookhowwetakeyourchildrenand

sacrificethemandthere’snothingyoucando.Ifyoulifta

finger,wewilldestroyeverylastoneofyou.Justaswedidin

DistrictThirteen.”

Tomakeithumiliatingaswellastorturous,theCapitol

requiresustotreattheHungerGamesasafestivity,asporting

eventpittingeverydistrictagainsttheothers.Thelasttribute

alivereceivesalifeofeasebackhome,andtheirdistrictwillbe

showeredwithprizes,largelyconsistingoffood.Allyear,the

Capitolwillshowthewinningdistrictgiftsofgrainandoiland

evendelicacieslikesugarwhiletherestofusbattlestarvation.

“Itisbothatimeforrepentanceandatimeforthanks,”

intonesthemayor.

ThenhereadsthelistofpastDistrict12victors.Inseventy-

fouryears,wehavehadexactlytwo.Onlyoneisstillalive.

HaymitchAbernathy,apaunchy,middle-agedman,whoatthis

momentappearsholleringsomethingunintelligible,staggers

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ontothestage,andfallsintothethirdchair.He’sdrunk.Very.

Thecrowdrespondswithitstokenapplause,buthe’sconfused

andtriestogiveEffieTrinketabighug,whichshebarely

managestofendoff.

Themayorlooksdistressed.Sinceallofthisisbeing

televised,rightnowDistrict12isthelaughingstockofPanem,

andheknowsit.Hequicklytriestopulltheattentionbacktothe

reapingbyintroducingEffieTrinket.

Brightandbubblyasever,EffieTrinkettrotstothepodium

andgiveshersignature,“HappyHungerGames!Andmaythe

oddsbeeverinyourfavor!”Herpinkhairmustbeawigbecause

hercurlshaveshiftedslightlyoff-centersinceherencounterwith

Haymitch.Shegoesonabitaboutwhatanhonoritistobehere,

althougheveryoneknowsshe’sjustachingtogetbumpeduptoa

betterdistrictwheretheyhavepropervictors,notdrunkswho

molestyouinfrontoftheentirenation.

Throughthecrowd,IspotGalelookingbackatmewitha

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ghostofasmile.Asreapingsgo,thisoneatleasthasaslight

entertainmentfactor.ButsuddenlyIamthinkingofGaleandhis

forty-twonamesinthatbigglassballandhowtheoddsarenotin

hisfavor.Notcomparedtoalotoftheboys.Andmaybehe’s

thinkingthesamethingaboutmebecausehisfacedarkensand

heturnsaway.“Buttherearestillthousandsofslips,”IwishI

couldwhispertohim.

It’stimeforthedrawing.EffieTrinketsaysasshealways

does,“Ladiesfirst!”andcrossestotheglassballwiththegirls’

names.Shereachesin,digsherhanddeepintotheball,andpulls

outaslipofpaper.Thecrowddrawsinacollectivebreathand

thenyoucanhearapindrop,andI’mfeelingnauseousandso

desperatelyhopingthatit’snotme,thatit’snotme,thatit’snot

me.

EffieTrinketcrossesbacktothepodium,smoothestheslip

ofpaper,andreadsoutthenameinaclearvoice.Andit’snot

me.

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It’sPrimroseEverdeen.

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Onetime,whenIwasinablindinatree,waitingmotionless

forgametowanderby,Idozedoffandfelltenfeettothe

ground,landingonmyback.Itwasasiftheimpacthadknocked

everywispofairfrommylungs,andIlaytherestrugglingto

inhale,toexhale,todoanything.

That’showIfeelnow,tryingtorememberhowtobreathe,

unabletospeak,totallystunnedasthenamebouncesaroundthe

insideofmyskull.Someoneisgrippingmyarm,aboyfromthe

Seam,andIthinkmaybeIstartedtofallandhecaughtme.

Theremusthavebeensomemistake.Thiscan’tbe

happening.Primwasoneslipofpaperinthousands!Herchances

ofbeingchosensoremotethatI’dnotevenbotheredtoworry

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abouther.Hadn’tIdoneeverything?Takenthetesserae,refused

toletherdothesame?Oneslip.Oneslipinthousands.Theodds

hadbeenentirelyinherfavor.Butithadn’tmattered.

Somewherefaraway,Icanhearthecrowdmurmuring

unhappilyastheyalwaysdowhenatwelve-year-oldgetschosen

becausenoonethinksthisisfair.AndthenIseeher,theblood

drainedfromherface,handsclenchedinfistsathersides,

walkingwithstiff,smallstepsuptowardthestage,passingme,

andIseethebackofherblousehasbecomeuntuckedandhangs

outoverherskirt.It’sthisdetail,theuntuckedblouseforminga

ducktail,thatbringsmebacktomyself.

“Prim!”Thestrangledcrycomesoutofmythroat,andmy

musclesbegintomoveagain.“Prim!”Idon’tneedtoshove

throughthecrowd.Theotherkidsmakewayimmediately

allowingmeastraightpathtothestage.Ireachherjustassheis

abouttomountthesteps.Withonesweepofmyarm,Ipushher

behindme.

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“Ivolunteer!”Igasp.“Ivolunteerastribute!”

There’ssomeconfusiononthestage.District12hasn’thada

volunteerindecadesandtheprotocolhasbecomerusty.Therule

isthatonceatribute’snamehasbeenpulledfromtheball,

anothereligibleboy,ifaboy’snamehasbeenread,orgirl,ifa

girl’snamehasbeenread,canstepforwardtotakehisorher

place.Insomedistricts,inwhichwinningthereapingissucha

greathonor,peopleareeagertorisktheirlives,thevolunteering

iscomplicated.ButinDistrict12,wherethewordtributeis

prettymuchsynonymouswiththewordcorpse,volunteersareall

butextinct.

“Lovely!”saysEffieTrinket.“ButIbelievethere’sasmall

matterofintroducingthereapingwinnerandthenaskingfor

volunteers,andifonedoescomeforththenwe,um...”she

trailsoff,unsureherself.

“Whatdoesitmatter?”saysthemayor.He’slookingatme

withapainedexpressiononhisface.Hedoesn’tknowmereally,

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butthere’safaintrecognitionthere.Iamthegirlwhobringsthe

strawberries.Thegirlhisdaughtermighthavespokenofon

occasion.Thegirlwhofiveyearsagostoodhuddledwithher

motherandsister,ashepresentedher,theoldestchild,witha

medalofvalor.Amedalforherfather,vaporizedinthemines.

Doesherememberthat?“Whatdoesitmatter?”herepeats

gruffly.“Lethercomeforward.”

Primisscreaminghystericallybehindme.She’swrappedher

skinnyarmsaroundmelikeavise.“No,Katniss!No!Youcan’t

go!”

“Prim,letgo,”Isayharshly,becausethisisupsettingme

andIdon’twanttocry.Whentheytelevisethereplayofthe

reapingstonight,everyonewillmakenoteofmytears,andI’ll

bemarkedasaneasytarget.Aweakling.Iwillgivenoonethat

satisfaction.“Letgo!”

Icanfeelsomeonepullingherfrommyback.Iturnandsee

GalehasliftedPrimoffthegroundandshe’sthrashinginhis

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arms.“Upyougo,Catnip,”hesays,inavoicehe’sfightingto

keepsteady,andthenhecarriesPrimofftowardmymother.I

steelmyselfandclimbthesteps.

“Well,bravo!”gushesEffieTrinket.“That’sthespiritofthe

Games!”She’spleasedtofinallyhaveadistrictwithalittle

actiongoingoninit.“What’syourname?”

Iswallowhard.“KatnissEverdeen,”Isay.

“Ibetmybuttonsthatwasyoursister.Don’twantherto

stealalltheglory,dowe?Comeon,everybody!Let’sgiveabig

roundofapplausetoournewesttribute!”trillsEffieTrinket.

TotheeverlastingcreditofthepeopleofDistrict12,notone

personclaps.Noteventheonesholdingbettingslips,theones

whoareusuallybeyondcaring.Possiblybecausetheyknowme

fromtheHob,orknewmyfather,orhaveencounteredPrim,who

noonecanhelploving.Soinsteadofacknowledgingapplause,I

standthereunmovingwhiletheytakepartintheboldestformof

dissenttheycanmanage.Silence.Whichsayswedonotagree.

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Wedonotcondone.Allofthisiswrong.

Thensomethingunexpectedhappens.Atleast,Idon’texpect

itbecauseIdon’tthinkofDistrict12asaplacethatcaresabout

me.ButashifthasoccurredsinceIsteppeduptotakePrim’s

place,andnowitseemsIhavebecomesomeoneprecious.At

firstone,thenanother,thenalmosteverymemberofthecrowd

touchesthethreemiddlefingersoftheirlefthandtotheirlips

andholdsitouttome.Itisanoldandrarelyusedgestureofour

district,occasionallyseenatfunerals.Itmeansthanks,itmeans

admiration,itmeansgood-byetosomeoneyoulove.

NowIamtrulyindangerofcrying,butfortunately

Haymitchchoosesthistimetocomestaggeringacrossthestage

tocongratulateme.“Lookather.Lookatthisone!”hehollers,

throwinganarmaroundmyshoulders.He’ssurprisinglystrong

forsuchawreck.“Ilikeher!”Hisbreathreeksofliquorandit’s

beenalongtimesincehe’sbathed.“Lotsof...”Hecan’tthink

ofthewordforawhile.“Spunk!”hesaystriumphantly.“More

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thanyou!”hereleasesmeandstartsforthefrontofthestage.

“Morethanyou!”heshouts,pointingdirectlyintoacamera.

Isheaddressingtheaudienceorishesodrunkhemight

actuallybetauntingtheCapitol?I’llneverknowbecausejustas

he’sopeninghismouthtocontinue,Haymitchplummetsoffthe

stageandknockshimselfunconscious.

He’sdisgusting,butI’mgrateful.Witheverycamera

gleefullytrainedonhim,Ihavejustenoughtimetoreleasethe

small,chokedsoundinmythroatandcomposemyself.Iputmy

handsbehindmybackandstareintothedistance.Icanseethe

hillsIclimbedthismorningwithGale.Foramoment,Iyearnfor

something...theideaofusleavingthedistrict...makingour

wayinthewoods...butIknowIwasrightaboutnotrunning

off.BecausewhoelsewouldhavevolunteeredforPrim?

Haymitchiswhiskedawayonastretcher,andEffieTrinket

istryingtogettheballrollingagain.“Whatanexcitingday!”

shewarblesassheattemptstostraightenherwig,whichhas

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listedseverelytotheright.“Butmoreexcitementtocome!It’s

timetochooseourboytribute!”Clearlyhopingtocontainher

tenuoushairsituation,sheplantsonehandonherheadasshe

crossestotheballthatcontainstheboys’namesandgrabsthe

firstslipsheencounters.Shezipsbacktothepodium,andIdon’t

evenhavetimetowishforGale’ssafetywhenshe’sreadingthe

name.“PeetaMellark.”

PeetaMellark!

Oh,no,Ithink.Nothim.BecauseIrecognizethisname,

althoughIhaveneverspokendirectlytoitsowner.Peeta

Mellark.

No,theoddsarenotinmyfavortoday.

Iwatchhimashemakeshiswaytowardthestage.Medium

height,stockybuild,ashyblondhairthatfallsinwavesoverhis

forehead.Theshockofthemomentisregisteringonhisface,

youcanseehisstruggletoremainemotionless,buthisblueeyes

showthealarmI’veseensoofteninprey.Yetheclimbssteadily

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ontothestageandtakeshisplace.

EffieTrinketasksforvolunteers,butnoonestepsforward.

Hehastwoolderbrothers,Iknow,I’veseentheminthebakery,

butoneisprobablytoooldnowtovolunteerandtheotherwon’t.

Thisisstandard.Familydevotiononlygoessofarformost

peopleonreapingday.WhatIdidwastheradicalthing.

Themayorbeginstoreadthelong,dullTreatyofTreasonas

hedoeseveryyearatthispoint—it’srequired—butI’mnot

listeningtoaword.

Whyhim?Ithink.ThenItrytoconvincemyselfitdoesn’t

matter.PeetaMellarkandIarenotfriends.Notevenneighbors.

Wedon’tspeak.Ouronlyrealinteractionhappenedyearsago.

He’sprobablyforgottenit.ButIhaven’tandIknowIneverwill.

...

Itwasduringtheworsttime.Myfatherhadbeenkilledin

themineaccidentthreemonthsearlierinthebitterestJanuary

anyonecouldremember.Thenumbnessofhislosshadpassed,

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andthepainwouldhitmeoutofnowhere,doublingmeover,

rackingmybodywithsobs.Whereareyou?Iwouldcryoutin

mymind.Wherehaveyougone?Ofcourse,therewasneverany

answer.

Thedistricthadgivenusasmallamountofmoneyas

compensationforhisdeath,enoughtocoveronemonthof

grievingatwhichtimemymotherwouldbeexpectedtogeta

job.Onlyshedidn’t.Shedidn’tdoanythingbutsitproppedupin

achairor,moreoften,huddledundertheblanketsonherbed,

eyesfixedonsomepointinthedistance.Onceinawhile,she’d

stir,getupasifmovedbysomeurgentpurpose,onlytothen

collapsebackintostillness.NoamountofpleadingfromPrim

seemedtoaffecther.

Iwasterrified.Isupposenowthatmymotherwaslockedin

somedarkworldofsadness,butatthetime,allIknewwasthatI

hadlostnotonlyafather,butamotheraswell.Atelevenyears

old,withPrimjustseven,Itookoverasheadofthefamily.

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Therewasnochoice.Iboughtourfoodatthemarketandcooked

itasbestIcouldandtriedtokeepPrimandmyselflooking

presentable.Becauseifithadbecomeknownthatmymother

couldnolongercareforus,thedistrictwouldhavetakenus

awayfromherandplacedusinthecommunityhome.I’dgrown

upseeingthosehomekidsatschool.Thesadness,themarksof

angryhandsontheirfaces,thehopelessnessthatcurledtheir

shouldersforward.IcouldneverletthathappentoPrim.Sweet,

tinyPrimwhocriedwhenIcriedbeforesheevenknewthe

reason,whobrushedandplaitedmymother’shairbeforeweleft

forschool,whostillpolishedmyfather’sshavingmirroreach

nightbecausehe’dhatedthelayerofcoaldustthatsettledon

everythingintheSeam.Thecommunityhomewouldcrushher

likeabug.SoIkeptourpredicamentasecret.

Butthemoneyranoutandwewereslowlystarvingtodeath.

There’snootherwaytoputit.IkepttellingmyselfifIcould

onlyholdoutuntilMay,justMay8th,Iwouldturntwelveand

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beabletosignupforthetesseraeandgetthatpreciousgrainand

oiltofeedus.Onlytherewerestillseveralweekstogo.We

couldwellbedeadbythen.

Starvation’snotanuncommonfateinDistrict12.Who

hasn’tseenthevictims?Olderpeoplewhocan’twork.Children

fromafamilywithtoomanytofeed.Thoseinjuredinthemines.

Stragglingthroughthestreets.Andoneday,youcomeupon

themsittingmotionlessagainstawallorlyingintheMeadow,

youhearthewailsfromahouse,andthePeacekeepersarecalled

intoretrievethebody.Starvationisneverthecauseofdeath

officially.It’salwaystheflu,orexposure,orpneumonia.But

thatfoolsnoone.

OntheafternoonofmyencounterwithPeetaMellark,the

rainwasfallinginrelentlessicysheets.Ihadbeenintown,

tryingtotradesomethreadbareoldbabyclothesofPrim’sinthe

publicmarket,buttherewerenotakers.AlthoughIhadbeento

theHobonseveraloccasionswithmyfather,Iwastoo

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frightenedtoventureintothatrough,grittyplacealone.Therain

hadsoakedthroughmyfather’shuntingjacket,leavingme

chilledtothebone.Forthreedays,we’dhadnothingbutboiled

waterwithsomeolddriedmintleavesI’dfoundinthebackofa

cupboard.Bythetimethemarketclosed,IwasshakingsohardI

droppedmybundleofbabyclothesinamudpuddle.Ididn’t

pickitupforfearIwouldkeeloverandbeunabletoregainmy

feet.Besides,noonewantedthoseclothes.

Icouldn’tgohome.Becauseathomewasmymotherwith

herdeadeyesandmylittlesister,withherhollowcheeksand

crackedlips.Icouldn’twalkintothatroomwiththesmokyfire

fromthedampbranchesIhadscavengedattheedgeofthe

woodsafterthecoalhadrunout,myhandsemptyofanyhope.

Ifoundmyselfstumblingalongamuddylanebehindthe

shopsthatservethewealthiesttownspeople.Themerchantslive

abovetheirbusinesses,soIwasessentiallyintheirbackyards.I

remembertheoutlinesofgardenbedsnotyetplantedforthe

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spring,agoatortwoinapen,onesoddendogtiedtoapost,

huncheddefeatedinthemuck.

AllformsofstealingareforbiddeninDistrict12.Punishable

bydeath.Butitcrossedmymindthattheremightbesomething

inthetrashbins,andthosewerefairgame.Perhapsaboneatthe

butcher’sorrottedvegetablesatthegrocer’s,somethingnoone

butmyfamilywasdesperateenoughtoeat.Unfortunately,the

binshadjustbeenemptied.

WhenIpassedthebaker’s,thesmelloffreshbreadwasso

overwhelmingIfeltdizzy.Theovenswereintheback,anda

goldenglowspilledouttheopenkitchendoor.Istood

mesmerizedbytheheatandthelusciousscentuntiltherain

interfered,runningitsicyfingersdownmyback,forcingme

backtolife.Iliftedthelidtothebaker’strashbinandfoundit

spotlessly,heartlesslybare.

SuddenlyavoicewasscreamingatmeandIlookeduptosee

thebaker’swife,tellingmetomoveonanddidIwanthertocall

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thePeacekeepersandhowsickshewasofhavingthosebrats

fromtheSeampawingthroughhertrash.Thewordswereugly

andIhadnodefense.AsIcarefullyreplacedthelidandbacked

away,Inoticedhim,aboywithblondhairpeeringoutfrom

behindhismother’sback.I’dseenhimatschool.Hewasinmy

year,butIdidn’tknowhisname.Hestuckwiththetownkids,so

howwouldI?Hismotherwentbackintothebakery,grumbling,

buthemusthavebeenwatchingmeasImademywaybehindthe

penthatheldtheirpigandleanedagainstthefarsideofanold

appletree.TherealizationthatI’dhavenothingtotakehomehad

finallysunkin.MykneesbuckledandIsliddownthetreetrunk

toitsroots.Itwastoomuch.Iwastoosickandweakandtired,

oh,sotired.LetthemcallthePeacekeepersandtakeustothe

communityhome,Ithought.Orbetteryet,letmedierightherein

therain.

TherewasaclatterinthebakeryandIheardthewoman

screamingagainandthesoundofablow,andIvaguely

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wonderedwhatwasgoingon.Feetsloshedtowardmethrough

themudandIthought,It’sher.She’scomingtodrivemeaway

withastick.Butitwasn’ther.Itwastheboy.Inhisarms,he

carriedtwolargeloavesofbreadthatmusthavefallenintothe

firebecausethecrustswerescorchedblack.

Hismotherwasyelling,“Feedittothepig,youstupid

creature!Whynot?Noonedecentwillbuyburnedbread!”

Hebegantotearoffchunksfromtheburnedpartsandtoss

themintothetrough,andthefrontbakerybellrungandthe

motherdisappearedtohelpacustomer.

Theboyneverevenglancedmyway,butIwaswatching

him.Becauseofthebread,becauseoftheredwealthatstoodout

onhischeekbone.Whathadshehithimwith?Myparentsnever

hitus.Icouldn’tevenimagineit.Theboytookonelookbackto

thebakeryasifcheckingthatthecoastwasclear,then,his

attentionbackonthepig,hethrewaloafofbreadinmy

direction.Thesecondquicklyfollowed,andhesloshedbackto

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thebakery,closingthekitchendoortightlybehindhim.

Istaredattheloavesindisbelief.Theywerefine,perfect

really,exceptfortheburnedareas.Didhemeanformetohave

them?Hemusthave.Becausetheretheywereatmyfeet.Before

anyonecouldwitnesswhathadhappenedIshovedtheloavesup

undermyshirt,wrappedthehuntingjackettightlyaboutme,and

walkedswiftlyaway.Theheatofthebreadburnedintomyskin,

butIclutchedittighter,clingingtolife.

BythetimeIreachedhome,theloaveshadcooled

somewhat,buttheinsideswerestillwarm.WhenIdroppedthem

onthetable,Prim’shandsreachedtotearoffachunk,butImade

hersit,forcedmymothertojoinusatthetable,andpoured

warmtea.Iscrapedofftheblackstuffandslicedthebread.We

ateanentireloaf,slicebyslice.Itwasgoodheartybread,filled

withraisinsandnuts.

Iputmyclothestodryatthefire,crawledintobed,andfell

intoadreamlesssleep.Itdidn’toccurtomeuntilthenext

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morningthattheboymighthaveburnedthebreadonpurpose.

Mighthavedroppedtheloavesintotheflames,knowingitmeant

beingpunished,andthendeliveredthemtome.ButIdismissed

this.Itmusthavebeenanaccident.Whywouldhehavedoneit?

Hedidn’tevenknowme.Still,justthrowingmethebreadwasan

enormouskindnessthatwouldhavesurelyresultedinabeating

ifdiscovered.Icouldn’texplainhisactions.

Weateslicesofbreadforbreakfastandheadedtoschool.It

wasasifspringhadcomeovernight.Warmsweetair.Fluffy

clouds.Atschool,Ipassedtheboyinthehall,hischeekhad

swelledupandhiseyehadblackened.Hewaswithhisfriends

anddidn’tacknowledgemeinanyway.ButasIcollectedPrim

andstartedforhomethatafternoon,Ifoundhimstaringatme

fromacrosstheschoolyard.Oureyesmetforonlyasecond,

thenheturnedhisheadaway.Idroppedmygaze,embarrassed,

andthat’swhenIsawit.Thefirstdandelionoftheyear.Abell

wentoffinmyhead.Ithoughtofthehoursspentinthewoods

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withmyfatherandIknewhowweweregoingtosurvive.

Tothisday,Icannevershaketheconnectionbetweenthis

boy,PeetaMellark,andthebreadthatgavemehope,andthe

dandelionthatremindedmethatIwasnotdoomed.Andmore

thanonce,Ihaveturnedintheschoolhallwayandcaughthis

eyestrainedonme,onlytoquicklyflitaway.IfeellikeIowe

himsomething,andIhateowingpeople.MaybeifIhadthanked

himatsomepoint,I’dbefeelinglessconflictednow.Ithought

aboutitacoupleoftimes,buttheopportunityneverseemedto

presentitself.Andnowitneverwill.Becausewe’regoingtobe

thrownintoanarenatofighttothedeath.ExactlyhowamI

supposedtoworkinathank-youinthere?Somehowitjustwon’t

seemsincereifI’mtryingtoslithisthroat.

ThemayorfinishesthedrearyTreatyofTreasonandmotions

forPeetaandmetoshakehands.Hisareassolidandwarmas

thoseloavesofbread.Peetalooksmerightintheeyeandgives

myhandwhatIthinkismeanttobeareassuringsqueeze.Maybe

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it’sjustanervousspasm.

WeturnbacktofacethecrowdastheanthemofPanem

plays.

Oh,well,Ithink.Therewillbetwenty-fourofus.Oddsare

someoneelsewillkillhimbeforeIdo.

Ofcourse,theoddshavenotbeenverydependableoflate.

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Themomenttheanthemends,wearetakenintocustody.I

don’tmeanwe’rehandcuffedoranything,butagroupof

PeacekeepersmarchesusthroughthefrontdooroftheJustice

Building.Maybetributeshavetriedtoescapeinthepast.I’ve

neverseenthathappenthough.

Onceinside,I’mconductedtoaroomandleftalone.It’sthe

richestplaceI’veeverbeenin,withthick,deepcarpetsanda

velvetcouchandchairs.Iknowvelvetbecausemymotherhasa

dresswithacollarmadeofthestuff.WhenIsitonthecouch,I

can’thelprunningmyfingersoverthefabricrepeatedly.Ithelps

tocalmmeasItrytoprepareforthenexthour.Thetimeallotted

forthetributestosaygood-byetotheirlovedones.Icannot

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affordtogetupset,toleavethisroomwithpuffyeyesandared

nose.Cryingisnotanoption.Therewillbemorecamerasatthe

trainstation.

Mysisterandmymothercomefirst.IreachouttoPrimand

sheclimbsonmylap,herarmsaroundmyneck,headonmy

shoulder,justlikeshedidwhenshewasatoddler.Mymother

sitsbesidemeandwrapsherarmsaroundus.Forafewminutes,

wesaynothing.ThenIstarttellingthemallthethingstheymust

remembertodo,nowthatIwillnotbetheretodothemforthem.

Primisnottotakeanytesserae.Theycangetby,ifthey’re

careful,onsellingPrim’sgoatmilkandcheeseandthesmall

apothecarybusinessmymothernowrunsforthepeopleinthe

Seam.Galewillgethertheherbsshedoesn’tgrowherself,but

shemustbeverycarefultodescribethembecausehe’snotas

familiarwiththemasIam.He’llalsobringthemgame—he

andImadeapactaboutthisayearorsoago—andwill

probablynotaskforcompensation,buttheyshouldthankhim

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withsomekindoftrade,likemilkormedicine.

Idon’tbothersuggestingPrimlearntohunt.Itriedtoteach

heracoupleoftimesanditwasdisastrous.Thewoodsterrified

her,andwheneverIshotsomething,she’dgettearyandtalk

abouthowwemightbeabletohealitifwegotithomesoon

enough.Butshemakesoutwellwithhergoat,soIconcentrate

onthat.

WhenIamdonewithinstructionsaboutfuel,andtrading,

andstayinginschool,Iturntomymotherandgripherarm,

hard.“Listentome.Areyoulisteningtome?”Shenods,alarmed

bymyintensity.Shemustknowwhat’scoming.“Youcan’t

leaveagain,”Isay.

Mymother’seyesfindthefloor.“Iknow.Iwon’t.Icouldn’t

helpwhat—”

“Well,youhavetohelpitthistime.Youcan’tclockoutand

leavePrimonherown.There’snomenowtokeepyouboth

alive.Itdoesn’tmatterwhathappens.Whateveryouseeonthe

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screen.Youhavetopromisemeyou’llfightthroughit!”My

voicehasrisentoashout.Initisalltheanger,allthefearIfelt

atherabandonment.

Shepullsherarmfrommygrasp,movedtoangerherself

now.“Iwasill.IcouldhavetreatedmyselfifI’dhadthe

medicineIhavenow.”

Thatpartaboutherbeingillmightbetrue.I’veseenher

bringbackpeoplesufferingfromimmobilizingsadnesssince.

Perhapsitisasickness,butit’sonewecan’tafford.

“Thentakeit.Andtakecareofher!”Isay.

“I’llbeallright,Katniss,”saysPrim,claspingmyfaceinher

hands.“Butyouhavetotakecare,too.You’resofastandbrave.

Maybeyoucanwin.”

Ican’twin.Primmustknowthatinherheart.The

competitionwillbefarbeyondmyabilities.Kidsfromwealthier

districts,wherewinningisahugehonor,who’vebeentrained

theirwholelivesforthis.Boyswhoaretwotothreetimesmy

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size.Girlswhoknowtwentydifferentwaystokillyouwitha

knife.Oh,there’llbepeoplelikeme,too.Peopletoweedout

beforetherealfunbegins.

“Maybe,”Isay,becauseIcanhardlytellmymothertocarry

onifI’vealreadygivenupmyself.Besides,itisn’tinmynature

togodownwithoutafight,evenwhenthingsseem

insurmountable.“Thenwe’dberichasHaymitch.”

“Idon’tcareifwe’rerich.Ijustwantyoutocomehome.

Youwilltry,won’tyou?Really,reallytry?”asksPrim.

“Really,reallytry.Iswearit,”Isay.AndIknow,becauseof

Prim,I’llhaveto.

AndthenthePeacekeeperisatthedoor,signalingourtimeis

up,andwe’reallhuggingoneanothersohardithurtsandallI’m

sayingis“Iloveyou.Iloveyouboth.”Andthey’resayingit

backandthenthePeacekeeperordersthemoutandthedoor

closes.Iburymyheadinoneofthevelvetpillowsasifthiscan

blockthewholethingout.

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Someoneelseenterstheroom,andwhenIlookup,I’m

surprisedtoseeit’sthebaker,PeetaMellark’sfather.Ican’t

believehe’scometovisitme.Afterall,I’llbetryingtokillhis

sonsoon.Butwedoknoweachotherabit,andheknowsPrim

evenbetter.WhenshesellshergoatcheesesattheHob,sheputs

twoofthemasideforhimandhegivesheragenerousamountof

breadinreturn.Wealwayswaittotradewithhimwhenhiswitch

ofawifeisn’taroundbecausehe’ssomuchnicer.Ifeelcertain

hewouldneverhavehithissonthewayshedidovertheburned

bread.Butwhyhashecometoseeme?

Thebakersitsawkwardlyontheedgeofoneoftheplush

chairs.He’sabig,broad-shoulderedmanwithburnscarsfrom

yearsattheovens.Hemusthavejustsaidgood-byetohisson.

Hepullsawhitepaperpackagefromhisjacketpocketand

holdsitouttome.Iopenitandfindcookies.Thesearealuxury

wecanneverafford.

“Thankyou,”Isay.Thebaker’snotaverytalkativemanin

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thebestoftimes,andtodayhehasnowordsatall.“Ihadsome

ofyourbreadthismorning.MyfriendGalegaveyouasquirrel

forit.”Henods,asifrememberingthesquirrel.“Notyourbest

trade,”Isay.Heshrugsasifitcouldn’tpossiblymatter.

ThenIcan’tthinkofanythingelse,sowesitinsilenceuntil

aPeacemakersummonshim.Herisesandcoughstoclearhis

throat.“I’llkeepaneyeonthelittlegirl.Makesureshe’s

eating.”

Ifeelsomeofthepressureinmychestlightenathiswords.

Peopledealwithme,buttheyaregenuinelyfondofPrim.Maybe

therewillbeenoughfondnesstokeepheralive.

Mynextguestisalsounexpected.Madgewalksstraightto

me.Sheisnotweepyorevasive,insteadthere’sanurgency

abouthertonethatsurprisesme.“Theyletyouwearonething

fromyourdistrictinthearena.Onethingtoremindyouofhome.

Willyouwearthis?”Sheholdsoutthecirculargoldpinthatwas

onherdressearlier.Ihadn’tpaidmuchattentiontoitbefore,but

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nowIseeit’sasmallbirdinflight.

“Yourpin?”Isay.Wearingatokenfrommydistrictisabout

thelastthingonmymind.

“Here,I’llputitonyourdress,allright?”Madgedoesn’t

waitforananswer,shejustleansinandfixesthebirdtomy

dress.“Promiseyou’llwearitintothearena,Katniss?”sheasks.

“Promise?”

“Yes,”Isay.Cookies.Apin.I’mgettingallkindsofgifts

today.Madgegivesmeonemore.Akissonthecheek.Then

she’sgoneandI’mleftthinkingthatmaybeMadgereallyhas

beenmyfriendallalong.

Finally,Galeishereandmaybethereisnothingromantic

betweenus,butwhenheopenshisarmsIdon’thesitatetogo

intothem.Hisbodyisfamiliartome—thewayitmoves,the

smellofwoodsmoke,eventhesoundofhisheartbeatingIknow

fromquietmomentsonahunt—butthisisthefirsttimeIreally

feelit,leanandhard-muscledagainstmyown.

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“Listen,”hesays.“Gettingaknifeshouldbeprettyeasy,but

you’vegottogetyourhandsonabow.That’syourbestchance.”

“Theydon’talwayshavebows,”Isay,thinkingoftheyear

therewereonlyhorriblespikedmacesthatthetributeshadto

bludgeononeanothertodeathwith.

“Thenmakeone,”saysGale.“Evenaweakbowisbetter

thannobowatall.”

Ihavetriedcopyingmyfather’sbowswithpoorresults.It’s

notthateasy.Evenhehadtoscraphisownworksometimes.

“Idon’tevenknowifthere’llbewood,”Isay.Anotheryear,

theytossedeverybodyintoalandscapeofnothingbutboulders

andsandandscruffybushes.Iparticularlyhatedthatyear.Many

contestantswerebittenbyvenomoussnakesorwentinsanefrom

thirst.

“There’salmostalwayssomewood,”Galesays.“Sincethat

yearhalfofthemdiedofcold.Notmuchentertainmentinthat.”

It’strue.WespentoneHungerGameswatchingtheplayers

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freezetodeathatnight.Youcouldhardlyseethembecausethey

werejusthuddledinballsandhadnowoodforfiresortorchesor

anything.ItwasconsideredveryanticlimacticintheCapitol,all

thosequiet,bloodlessdeaths.Sincethen,there’susuallybeen

woodtomakefires.

“Yes,there’susuallysome,”Isay.

“Katniss,it’sjusthunting.You’rethebesthunterIknow,”

saysGale.

“It’snotjusthunting.They’rearmed.Theythink,”Isay.

“Sodoyou.Andyou’vehadmorepractice.Realpractice,”

hesays.“Youknowhowtokill.”

“Notpeople,”Isay.

“Howdifferentcanitbe,really?”saysGalegrimly.

TheawfulthingisthatifIcanforgetthey’repeople,itwill

benodifferentatall.

ThePeacekeepersarebacktoosoonandGaleasksformore

time,butthey’retakinghimawayandIstarttopanic.“Don’tlet

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themstarve!”Icryout,clingingtohishand.

“Iwon’t!YouknowIwon’t!Katniss,rememberI—”he

says,andtheyyankusapartandslamthedoorandI’llnever

knowwhatitwashewantedmetoremember.

It’sashortridefromtheJusticeBuildingtothetrainstation.

I’veneverbeeninacarbefore.Rarelyevenriddeninwagons.In

theSeam,wetravelonfoot.

I’vebeenrightnottocry.Thestationisswarmingwith

reporterswiththeirinsectlikecamerastraineddirectlyonmy

face.ButI’vehadalotofpracticeatwipingmyfacecleanof

emotionsandIdothisnow.Icatchaglimpseofmyselfonthe

televisionscreenonthewallthat’sairingmyarrivalliveandfeel

gratifiedthatIappearalmostbored.

PeetaMellark,ontheotherhand,hasobviouslybeencrying

andinterestinglyenoughdoesnotseemtobetryingtocoverit

up.Iimmediatelywonderifthiswillbehisstrategyinthe

Games.Toappearweakandfrightened,toreassuretheother

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tributesthatheisnocompetitionatall,andthencomeout

fighting.Thisworkedverywellforagirl,JohannaMason,from

District7afewyearsback.Sheseemedlikesuchasniveling,

cowardlyfoolthatnoonebotheredaboutheruntiltherewere

onlyahandfulofcontestantsleft.Itturnedoutshecouldkill

viciously.Prettyclever,thewaysheplayedit.Butthisseemsan

oddstrategyforPeetaMellarkbecausehe’sabaker’sson.All

thoseyearsofhavingenoughtoeatandhaulingbreadtrays

aroundhavemadehimbroad-shoulderedandstrong.Itwilltake

anawfullotofweepingtoconvinceanyonetooverlookhim.

Wehavetostandforafewminutesinthedoorwayofthe

trainwhilethecamerasgobbleupourimages,thenwe’re

allowedinsideandthedoorsclosemercifullybehindus.The

trainbeginstomoveatonce.

Thespeedinitiallytakesmybreathaway.Ofcourse,I’ve

neverbeenonatrain,astravelbetweenthedistrictsisforbidden

exceptforofficiallysanctionedduties.Forus,that’smainly

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transportingcoal.Butthisisnoordinarycoaltrain.It’soneof

thehigh-speedCapitolmodelsthataverage250milesperhour.

OurjourneytotheCapitolwilltakelessthanaday.

Inschool,theytellustheCapitolwasbuiltinaplaceonce

calledtheRockies.District12wasinaregionknownas

Appalachia.Evenhundredsofyearsago,theyminedcoalhere.

Whichiswhyourminershavetodigsodeep.

Somehowitallcomesbacktocoalatschool.Besidesbasic

readingandmathmostofourinstructioniscoal-related.Except

fortheweeklylectureonthehistoryofPanem.It’smostlyalot

ofblatheraboutwhatweowetheCapitol.Iknowtheremustbe

morethanthey’retellingus,anactualaccountofwhathappened

duringtherebellion.ButIdon’tspendmuchtimethinkingabout

it.Whateverthetruthis,Idon’tseehowitwillhelpmegetfood

onthetable.

ThetributetrainisfancierthaneventheroomintheJustice

Building.Weareeachgivenourownchambersthathavea

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bedroom,adressingarea,andaprivatebathroomwithhotand

coldrunningwater.Wedon’thavehotwaterathome,unlesswe

boilit.

Therearedrawersfilledwithfineclothes,andEffieTrinket

tellsmetodoanythingIwant,wearanythingIwant,everything

isatmydisposal.Justbereadyforsupperinanhour.Ipeeloff

mymother’sbluedressandtakeahotshower.I’veneverhada

showerbefore.It’slikebeinginasummerrain,onlywarmer.I

dressinadarkgreenshirtandpants.

Atthelastminute,IrememberMadge’slittlegoldpin.For

thefirsttime,Igetagoodlookatit.It’sasifsomeonefashioned

asmallgoldenbirdandthenattachedaringaroundit.Thebirdis

connectedtotheringonlybyitswingtips.Isuddenlyrecognize

it.Amockingjay.

They’refunnybirdsandsomethingofaslapinthefaceto

theCapitol.Duringtherebellion,theCapitolbredaseriesof

geneticallyalteredanimalsasweapons.Thecommontermfor

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themwasmuttations,orsometimesmuttsforshort.Onewasa

specialbirdcalledajabberjaythathadtheabilitytomemorize

andrepeatwholehumanconversations.Theywerehomingbirds,

exclusivelymale,thatwerereleasedintoregionswherethe

Capitol’senemieswereknowntobehiding.Afterthebirds

gatheredwords,they’dflybacktocenterstoberecorded.Ittook

peopleawhiletorealizewhatwasgoingoninthedistricts,how

privateconversationswerebeingtransmitted.Then,ofcourse,

therebelsfedtheCapitolendlesslies,andthejokewasonit.So

thecenterswereshutdownandthebirdswereabandonedtodie

offinthewild.

Onlytheydidn’tdieoff.Instead,thejabberjaysmatedwith

femalemockingbirds,creatingawholenewspeciesthatcould

replicatebothbirdwhistlesandhumanmelodies.Theyhadlost

theabilitytoenunciatewordsbutcouldstillmimicarangeof

humanvocalsounds,fromachild’shigh-pitchedwarbletoa

man’sdeeptones.Andtheycouldre-createsongs.Notjustafew

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notes,butwholesongswithmultipleverses,ifyouhadthe

patiencetosingthemandiftheylikedyourvoice.

Myfatherwasparticularlyfondofmockingjays.Whenwe

wenthunting,hewouldwhistleorsingcomplicatedsongsto

themand,afterapolitepause,they’dalwayssingback.Not

everyoneistreatedwithsuchrespect.Butwhenevermyfather

sang,allthebirdsintheareawouldfallsilentandlisten.His

voicewasthatbeautiful,highandclearandsofilledwithlifeit

madeyouwanttolaughandcryatthesametime.Icouldnever

bringmyselftocontinuethepracticeafterhewasgone.Still,

there’ssomethingcomfortingaboutthelittlebird.It’slike

havingapieceofmyfatherwithme,protectingme.Ifastenthe

pinontomyshirt,andwiththedarkgreenfabricasa

background,Icanalmostimaginethemockingjayflyingthrough

thetrees.

EffieTrinketcomestocollectmeforsupper.Ifollowher

throughthenarrow,rockingcorridorintoadiningroomwith

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polishedpaneledwalls.There’satablewhereallthedishesare

highlybreakable.PeetaMellarksitswaitingforus,thechairnext

tohimempty.

“Where’sHaymitch?”asksEffieTrinketbrightly.

“LasttimeIsawhim,hesaidhewasgoingtotakeanap,”

saysPeeta.

“Well,it’sbeenanexhaustingday,”saysEffieTrinket.I

thinkshe’srelievedbyHaymitch’sabsence,andwhocanblame

her?

Thesuppercomesincourses.Athickcarrotsoup,green

salad,lambchopsandmashedpotatoes,cheeseandfruit,a

chocolatecake.Throughoutthemeal,EffieTrinketkeeps

remindingustosavespacebecausethere’smoretocome.But

I’mstuffingmyselfbecauseI’veneverhadfoodlikethis,so

goodandsomuch,andbecauseprobablythebestthingIcando

betweennowandtheGamesisputonafewpounds.

“Atleast,youtwohavedecentmanners,”saysEffieaswe’re

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finishingthemaincourse.“Thepairlastyearateeverythingwith

theirhandslikeacoupleofsavages.Itcompletelyupsetmy

digestion.”

ThepairlastyearweretwokidsfromtheSeamwho’dnever,

notonedayoftheirlives,hadenoughtoeat.Andwhentheydid

havefood,tablemannersweresurelythelastthingontheir

minds.Peeta’sabaker’sson.MymothertaughtPrimandmeto

eatproperly,soyes,Icanhandleaforkandknife.ButIhate

EffieTrinket’scommentsomuchImakeapointofeatingthe

restofmymealwithmyfingers.ThenIwipemyhandsonthe

tablecloth.Thismakesherpurseherlipstightlytogether.

Nowthatthemeal’sover,I’mfightingtokeepthefood

down.IcanseePeeta’slookingalittlegreen,too.Neitherofour

stomachsisusedtosuchrichfare.ButifIcanholddownGreasy

Sae’sconcoctionofmicemeat,pigentrails,andtreebark—a

winterspecialty—I’mdeterminedtohangontothis.

Wegotoanothercompartmenttowatchtherecapofthe

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reapingsacrossPanem.Theytrytostaggerthemthroughoutthe

daysoapersoncouldconceivablywatchthewholethinglive,

butonlypeopleintheCapitolcouldreallydothat,sincenoneof

themhavetoattendreapingsthemselves.

Onebyone,weseetheotherreapings,thenamescalled,the

volunteerssteppingforwardor,moreoften,not.Weexaminethe

facesofthekidswhowillbeourcompetition.Afewstandoutin

mymind.Amonstrousboywholungesforwardtovolunteer

fromDistrict2.Afox-facedgirlwithsleekredhairfromDistrict

5.AboywithacrippledfootfromDistrict10.Andmost

hauntingly,atwelve-year-oldgirlfromDistrict11.Shehasdark

brownskinandeyes,butotherthanthat,she’sverylikePrimin

sizeanddemeanor.Onlywhenshemountsthestageandtheyask

forvolunteers,allyoucanhearisthewindwhistlingthroughthe

decrepitbuildingsaroundher.There’snoonewillingtotakeher

place.

Lastofall,theyshowDistrict12.Primbeingcalled,me

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runningforwardtovolunteer.Youcan’tmissthedesperationin

myvoiceasIshovePrimbehindme,asifI’mafraidnoonewill

hearandthey’lltakePrimaway.But,ofcourse,theydohear.I

seeGalepullingheroffmeandwatchmyselfmountthestage.

Thecommentatorsarenotsurewhattosayaboutthecrowd’s

refusaltoapplaud.Thesilentsalute.OnesaysthatDistrict12

hasalwaysbeenabitbackwardbutthatlocalcustomscanbe

charming.Asifoncue,Haymitchfallsoffthestage,andthey

groancomically.Peeta’snameisdrawn,andhequietlytakeshis

place.Weshakehands.Theycuttotheanthemagain,andthe

programends.

EffieTrinketisdisgruntledaboutthestateherwigwasin.

“Yourmentorhasalottolearnaboutpresentation.Alotabout

televisedbehavior.”

Peetaunexpectedlylaughs.“Hewasdrunk,”saysPeeta.

“He’sdrunkeveryyear.”

“Everyday,”Iadd.Ican’thelpsmirkingalittle.Effie

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TrinketmakesitsoundlikeHaymitchjusthassomewhatrough

mannersthatcouldbecorrectedwithafewtipsfromher.

“Yes,”hissesEffieTrinket.“Howoddyoutwofindit

amusing.Youknowyourmentorisyourlifelinetotheworldin

theseGames.Theonewhoadvisesyou,linesupyoursponsors,

anddictatesthepresentationofanygifts.Haymitchcanwellbe

thedifferencebetweenyourlifeandyourdeath!”

Justthen,Haymitchstaggersintothecompartment.“Imiss

supper?”hesaysinaslurredvoice.Thenhevomitsalloverthe

expensivecarpetandfallsinthemess.

“Solaughaway!”saysEffieTrinket.Shehopsinherpointy

shoesaroundthepoolofvomitandfleestheroom.

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Forafewmoments,PeetaandItakeinthesceneofour

mentortryingtoriseoutoftheslipperyvilestufffromhis

stomach.Thereekofvomitandrawspiritsalmostbringsmy

dinnerup.Weexchangeaglance.ObviouslyHaymitchisn’t

much,butEffieTrinketisrightaboutonething,oncewe’rein

thearenahe’sallwe’vegot.Asifbysomeunspokenagreement,

PeetaandIeachtakeoneofHaymitch’sarmsandhelphimto

hisfeet.

“Itripped?”Haymitchasks.“Smellsbad.”Hewipeshishand

onhisnose,smearinghisfacewithvomit.

“Let’sgetyoubacktoyourroom,”saysPeeta.“Cleanyouup

abit.”

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Wehalf-leadhalf-carryHaymitchbacktohiscompartment.

Sincewecan’texactlysethimdownontheembroidered

bedspread,wehaulhimintothebathtubandturntheshoweron

him.Hehardlynotices.

“It’sokay,”Peetasaystome.“I’lltakeitfromhere.”

Ican’thelpfeelingalittlegratefulsincethelastthingIwant

todoisstripdownHaymitch,washthevomitoutofhischest

hair,andtuckhimintobed.PossiblyPeetaistryingtomakea

goodimpressiononhim,tobehisfavoriteoncetheGames

begin.Butjudgingbythestatehe’sin,Haymitchwillhaveno

memoryofthistomorrow.

“Allright,”Isay.“IcansendoneoftheCapitolpeopleto

helpyou.”There’sanynumberonthetrain.Cookingforus.

Waitingonus.Guardingus.Takingcareofusistheirjob.

“No.Idon’twantthem,”saysPeeta.

Inodandheadtomyownroom.IunderstandhowPeeta

feels.Ican’tstandthesightoftheCapitolpeoplemyself.But

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makingthemdealwithHaymitchmightbeasmallformof

revenge.SoI’mponderingthereasonwhyheinsistsontaking

careofHaymitchandallofasuddenIthink,It’sbecausehe’s

beingkind.Justashewaskindtogivemethebread.

Theideapullsmeupshort.AkindPeetaMellarkisfarmore

dangeroustomethananunkindone.Kindpeoplehaveawayof

workingtheirwayinsidemeandrootingthere.AndIcan’tlet

Peetadothis.Notwherewe’regoing.SoIdecide,fromthis

momenton,tohaveaslittleaspossibletodowiththebaker’s

son.

WhenIgetbacktomyroom,thetrainispausingata

platformtorefuel.Iquicklyopenthewindow,tossthecookies

Peeta’sfathergavemeoutofthetrain,andslamtheglassshut.

Nomore.Nomoreofeitherofthem.

Unfortunately,thepacketofcookieshitsthegroundand

burstsopeninapatchofdandelionsbythetrack.Ionlyseethe

imageforamoment,becausethetrainisoffagain,butit’s

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enough.Enoughtoremindmeofthatotherdandelioninthe

schoolyardyearsago...

IhadjustturnedawayfromPeetaMellark’sbruisedface

whenIsawthedandelionandIknewhopewasn’tlost.Iplucked

itcarefullyandhurriedhome.IgrabbedabucketandPrim’s

handandheadedtotheMeadowandyes,itwasdottedwiththe

golden-headedweeds.Afterwe’dharvestedthose,wescrounged

alonginsidethefenceforprobablyamileuntilwe’dfilledthe

bucketwiththedandeliongreens,stems,andflowers.Thatnight,

wegorgedourselvesondandelionsaladandtherestofthe

bakerybread.

“Whatelse?”Primaskedme.“Whatotherfoodcanwe

find?”

“Allkindsofthings,”Ipromisedher.“Ijusthaveto

rememberthem.”

Mymotherhadabookshe’dbroughtwithherfromthe

apothecaryshop.Thepagesweremadeofoldparchmentand

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coveredininkdrawingsofplants.Neathandwrittenblockstold

theirnames,wheretogatherthem,whentheycameinbloom,

theirmedicaluses.Butmyfatheraddedotherentriestothebook.

Plantsforeating,nothealing.Dandelions,pokeweed,wild

onions,pines.PrimandIspenttherestofthenightporingover

thosepages.

Thenextday,wewereoffschool.ForawhileIhungaround

theedgesoftheMeadow,butfinallyIworkedupthecourageto

gounderthefence.ItwasthefirsttimeI’dbeentherealone,

withoutmyfather’sweaponstoprotectme.ButIretrievedthe

smallbowandarrowshe’dmademefromahollowtree.I

probablydidn’tgomorethantwentyyardsintothewoodsthat

day.Mostofthetime,Iperchedupinthebranchesofanoldoak,

hopingforgametocomeby.Afterseveralhours,Ihadthegood

lucktokillarabbit.I’dshotafewrabbitsbefore,withmy

father’sguidance.ButthisI’ddoneonmyown.

Wehadn’thadmeatinmonths.Thesightoftherabbit

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seemedtostirsomethinginmymother.Sherousedherself,

skinnedthecarcass,andmadeastewwiththemeatandsome

moregreensPrimhadgathered.Thensheactedconfusedand

wentbacktobed,butwhenthestewwasdone,wemadehereata

bowl.

Thewoodsbecameoursavior,andeachdayIwentabit

fartherintoitsarms.Itwasslow-goingatfirst,butIwas

determinedtofeedus.Istoleeggsfromnests,caughtfishin

nets,sometimesmanagedtoshootasquirrelorrabbitforstew,

andgatheredthevariousplantsthatsprungupbeneathmyfeet.

Plantsaretricky.Manyareedible,butonefalsemouthfuland

you’redead.Icheckedanddouble-checkedtheplantsIharvested

withmyfather’spictures.Ikeptusalive.

Anysignofdanger,adistanthowl,theinexplicablebreakof

abranch,sentmeflyingbacktothefenceatfirst.ThenIbegan

toriskclimbingtreestoescapethewilddogsthatquicklygot

boredandmovedon.Bearsandcatsliveddeeperin,perhaps

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dislikingthesootyreekofourdistrict.

OnMay8th,IwenttotheJusticeBuilding,signedupformy

tesserae,andpulledhomemyfirstbatchofgrainandoilin

Prim’stoywagon.Ontheeighthofeverymonth,Iwasentitled

todothesame.Icouldn’tstophuntingandgathering,ofcourse.

Thegrainwasnotenoughtoliveon,andtherewereotherthings

tobuy,soapandmilkandthread.Whatwedidn’tabsolutely

havetoeat,IbegantotradeattheHob.Itwasfrighteningto

enterthatplacewithoutmyfatheratmyside,butpeoplehad

respectedhim,andtheyacceptedme.Gamewasgameafterall,

nomatterwho’dshotit.Ialsosoldatthebackdoorsofthe

wealthierclientsintown,tryingtorememberwhatmyfatherhad

toldmeandlearningafewnewtricksaswell.Thebutcherwould

buymyrabbitsbutnotsquirrels.Thebakerenjoyedsquirrelbut

wouldonlytradeforoneifhiswifewasn’taround.TheHead

Peacekeeperlovedwildturkey.Themayorhadapassionfor

strawberries.

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Inlatesummer,IwaswashingupinapondwhenInoticed

theplantsgrowingaroundme.Tallwithleaveslikearrowheads.

Blossomswiththreewhitepetals.Ikneltdowninthewater,my

fingersdiggingintothesoftmud,andIpulleduphandfulsofthe

roots.Small,bluishtubersthatdon’tlooklikemuchbutboiled

orbakedareasgoodasanypotato.“Katniss,”Isaidaloud.It’s

theplantIwasnamedfor.AndIheardmyfather’svoicejoking,

“Aslongasyoucanfindyourself,you’llneverstarve.”Ispent

hoursstirringupthepondbedwithmytoesandastick,

gatheringthetubersthatfloatedtothetop.Thatnight,wefeasted

onfishandkatnissrootsuntilwewereall,forthefirsttimein

months,full.

Slowly,mymotherreturnedtous.Shebegantocleanand

cookandpreservesomeofthefoodIbroughtinforwinter.

Peopletradedusorpaidmoneyforhermedicalremedies.One

day,Iheardhersinging.

Primwasthrilledtohaveherback,butIkeptwatching,

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waitingforhertodisappearonusagain.Ididn’ttrusther.And

somesmallgnarledplaceinsidemehatedherforherweakness,

forherneglect,forthemonthsshehadputusthrough.Prim

forgaveher,butIhadtakenastepbackfrommymother,putup

awalltoprotectmyselffromneedingher,andnothingwasever

thesamebetweenusagain.

NowIwasgoingtodiewithoutthateverbeingsetright.I

thoughtofhowIhadyelledathertodayintheJusticeBuilding.I

hadtoldherIlovedher,too,though.Somaybeitwouldall

balanceout.

ForawhileIstandstaringoutthetrainwindow,wishingI

couldopenitagain,butunsureofwhatwouldhappenatsuch

highspeed.Inthedistance,Iseethelightsofanotherdistrict.7?

10?Idon’tknow.Ithinkaboutthepeopleintheirhouses,

settlinginforbed.Iimaginemyhome,withitsshuttersdrawn

tight.Whataretheydoingnow,mymotherandPrim?Werethey

abletoeatsupper?Thefishstewandthestrawberries?Ordidit

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lieuntouchedontheirplates?Didtheywatchtherecapofthe

day’seventsonthebatteredoldTVthatsitsonthetableagainst

thewall?Surely,thereweremoretears.Ismymotherholding

up,beingstrongforPrim?Orhasshealreadystartedtoslip

away,leavingtheweightoftheworldonmysister’sfragile

shoulders?

Primwillundoubtedlysleepwithmymothertonight.The

thoughtofthatscruffyoldButtercuppostinghimselfonthebed

towatchoverPrimcomfortsme.Ifshecries,hewillnosehis

wayintoherarmsandcurlupthereuntilshecalmsdownand

fallsasleep.I’msogladIdidn’tdrownhim.

Imaginingmyhomemakesmeachewithloneliness.This

dayhasbeenendless.CouldGaleandIhavebeeneating

blackberriesonlythismorning?Itseemslikealifetimeago.

Likealongdreamthatdeterioratedintoanightmare.Maybe,ifI

gotosleep,IwillwakeupbackinDistrict12,whereIbelong.

Probablythedrawersholdanynumberofnightgowns,butI

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juststripoffmyshirtandpantsandclimbintobedinmy

underwear.Thesheetsaremadeofsoft,silkyfabric.Athick

fluffycomfortergivesimmediatewarmth.

IfI’mgoingtocry,nowisthetimetodoit.Bymorning,I’ll

beabletowashthedamagedonebythetearsfrommyface.But

notearscome.I’mtootiredortoonumbtocry.TheonlythingI

feelisadesiretobesomewhereelse.SoIletthetrainrockme

intooblivion.

Graylightisleakingthroughthecurtainswhentherapping

rousesme.IhearEffieTrinket’svoice,callingmetorise.“Up,

up,up!It’sgoingtobeabig,big,bigday!”Itryandimagine,for

amoment,whatitmustbelikeinsidethatwoman’shead.What

thoughtsfillherwakinghours?Whatdreamscometoherat

night?Ihavenoidea.

Iputthegreenoutfitbackonsinceit’snotreallydirty,just

slightlycrumpledfromspendingthenightonthefloor.My

fingerstracethecirclearoundthelittlegoldmockingjayandI

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thinkofthewoods,andofmyfather,andofmymotherandPrim

wakingup,havingtogetonwiththings.Isleptintheelaborate

braidedhairmymotherdidforthereapinganditdoesn’tlook

toobad,soIjustleaveitup.Itdoesn’tmatter.Wecan’tbefar

fromtheCapitolnow.Andoncewereachthecity,mystylistwill

dictatemylookfortheopeningceremoniestonightanyway.I

justhopeIgetonewhodoesn’tthinknudityisthelastwordin

fashion.

AsIenterthediningcar,EffieTrinketbrushesbymewitha

cupofblackcoffee.She’smutteringobscenitiesunderher

breath.Haymitch,hisfacepuffyandredfromthepreviousday’s

indulgences,ischuckling.Peetaholdsarollandlookssomewhat

embarrassed.

“Sitdown!Sitdown!”saysHaymitch,wavingmeover.The

momentIslideintomychairI’mservedanenormousplatterof

food.Eggs,ham,pilesoffriedpotatoes.Atureenoffruitsitsin

icetokeepitchilled.Thebasketofrollstheysetbeforeme

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wouldkeepmyfamilygoingforaweek.There’sanelegantglass

oforangejuice.Atleast,Ithinkit’sorangejuice.I’veonlyeven

tastedanorangeonce,atNewYear’swhenmyfatherboughtone

asaspecialtreat.Acupofcoffee.Mymotheradorescoffee,

whichwecouldalmostneverafford,butitonlytastesbitterand

thintome.ArichbrowncupofsomethingI’veneverseen.

“Theycallithotchocolate,”saysPeeta.“It’sgood.”

Itakeasipofthehot,sweet,creamyliquidandashudder

runsthroughme.Eventhoughtherestofthemealbeckons,I

ignoreituntilI’vedrainedmycup.ThenIstuffdownevery

mouthfulIcanhold,whichisasubstantialamount,beingcareful

tonotoverdoitonthericheststuff.Onetime,mymothertold

methatIalwayseatlikeI’llneverseefoodagain.AndIsaid,“I

won’tunlessIbringithome.”Thatshutherup.

Whenmystomachfeelslikeit’sabouttosplitopen,Ilean

backandtakeinmybreakfastcompanions.Peetaisstilleating,

breakingoffbitsofrollanddippingtheminhotchocolate.

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Haymitchhasn’tpaidmuchattentiontohisplatter,buthe’s

knockingbackaglassofredjuicethathekeepsthinningwitha

clearliquidfromabottle.Judgingbythefumes,it’ssomekind

ofspirit.Idon’tknowHaymitch,butI’veseenhimoftenenough

intheHob,tossinghandfulsofmoneyonthecounterofthe

womanwhosellswhiteliquor.He’llbeincoherentbythetime

wereachtheCapitol.

IrealizeIdetestHaymitch.NowondertheDistrict12

tributesneverstandachance.Itisn’tjustthatwe’vebeen

underfedandlacktraining.Someofourtributeshavestillbeen

strongenoughtomakeagoofit.Butwerarelygetsponsorsand

he’sabigpartofthereasonwhy.Therichpeoplewhoback

tributes—eitherbecausethey’rebettingonthemorsimplyfor

thebraggingrightsofpickingawinner—expectsomeone

classierthanHaymitchtodealwith.

“So,you’resupposedtogiveusadvice,”IsaytoHaymitch.

“Here’ssomeadvice.Stayalive,”saysHaymitch,andthen

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burstsoutlaughing.IexchangealookwithPeetabeforeI

rememberI’mhavingnothingmoretodowithhim.I’m

surprisedtoseethehardnessinhiseyes.Hegenerallyseemsso

mild.

“That’sveryfunny,”saysPeeta.Suddenlyhelashesoutat

theglassinHaymitch’shand.Itshattersonthefloor,sendingthe

bloodredliquidrunningtowardthebackofthetrain.“Onlynot

tous.”

Haymitchconsidersthisamoment,thenpunchesPeetainthe

jaw,knockinghimfromhischair.Whenheturnsbacktoreach

forthespirits,Idrivemyknifeintothetablebetweenhishand

andthebottle,barelymissinghisfingers.Ibracemyselfto

deflecthishit,butitdoesn’tcome.Insteadhesitsbackand

squintsatus.

“Well,what’sthis?”saysHaymitch.“DidIactuallygeta

pairoffightersthisyear?”

Peetarisesfromthefloorandscoopsupahandfulofice

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fromunderthefruittureen.Hestartstoraiseittotheredmark

onhisjaw.

“No,”saysHaymitch,stoppinghim.“Letthebruiseshow.

Theaudiencewillthinkyou’vemixeditupwithanothertribute

beforeyou’veevenmadeittothearena.”

“That’sagainsttherules,”saysPeeta.

“Onlyiftheycatchyou.Thatbruisewillsayyoufought,you

weren’tcaught,evenbetter,”saysHaymitch.Heturnstome.

“Canyouhitanythingwiththatknifebesidesatable?”

Thebowandarrowismyweapon.ButI’vespentafair

amountoftimethrowingknivesaswell.Sometimes,ifI’ve

woundedananimalwithanarrow,it’sbettertogetaknifeinto

it,too,beforeIapproachit.IrealizethatifIwantHaymitch’s

attention,thisismymomenttomakeanimpression.Iyankthe

knifeoutofthetable,getagripontheblade,andthenthrowit

intothewallacrosstheroom.Iwasactuallyjusthopingtogeta

goodsolidstick,butitlodgesintheseambetweentwopanels,

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makingmelookalotbetterthanIam.

“Standoverhere.Bothofyou,”saysHaymitch,noddingto

themiddleoftheroom.Weobeyandhecirclesus,proddingus

likeanimalsattimes,checkingourmuscles,examiningour

faces.“Well,you’renotentirelyhopeless.Seemfit.Andonce

thestylistsgetholdofyou,you’llbeattractiveenough.”

PeetaandIdon’tquestionthis.TheHungerGamesaren’ta

beautycontest,butthebest-lookingtributesalwaysseemtopull

moresponsors.

“Allright,I’llmakeadealwithyou.Youdon’tinterfere

withmydrinking,andI’llstaysoberenoughtohelpyou,”says

Haymitch.“ButyouhavetodoexactlywhatIsay.”

It’snotmuchofadealbutstillagiantstepforwardfromten

minutesagowhenwehadnoguideatall.

“Fine,”saysPeeta.

“Sohelpus,”Isay.“Whenwegettothearena,what’sthe

beststrategyattheCornucopiaforsomeone—”

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“Onethingatatime.Inafewminutes,we’llbepullinginto

thestation.You’llbeputinthehandsofyourstylists.You’renot

goingtolikewhattheydotoyou.Butnomatterwhatitis,don’t

resist,”saysHaymitch.

“But—”Ibegin.

“Nobuts.Don’tresist,”saysHaymitch.Hetakesthebottle

ofspiritsfromthetableandleavesthecar.Asthedoorswings

shutbehindhim,thecargoesdark.Therearestillafewlights

inside,butoutsideit’sasifnighthasfallenagain.Irealizewe

mustbeinthetunnelthatrunsupthroughthemountainsintothe

Capitol.Themountainsformanaturalbarrierbetweenthe

Capitolandtheeasterndistricts.Itisalmostimpossibletoenter

fromtheeastexceptthroughthetunnels.Thisgeographical

advantagewasamajorfactorinthedistrictslosingthewarthat

ledtomybeingatributetoday.Sincetherebelshadtoscalethe

mountains,theywereeasytargetsfortheCapitol’sairforces.

PeetaMellarkandIstandinsilenceasthetrainspeeds

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along.ThetunnelgoesonandonandIthinkofthetonsofrock

separatingmefromthesky,andmychesttightens.Ihatebeing

encasedinstonethisway.Itremindsmeoftheminesandmy

father,trapped,unabletoreachsunlight,buriedforeverinthe

darkness.

Thetrainfinallybeginstoslowandsuddenlybrightlight

floodsthecompartment.Wecan’thelpit.BothPeetaandIrunto

thewindowtoseewhatwe’veonlyseenontelevision,the

Capitol,therulingcityofPanem.Thecamerashaven’tliedabout

itsgrandeur.Ifanything,theyhavenotquitecapturedthe

magnificenceoftheglisteningbuildingsinarainbowofhues

thattowerintotheair,theshinycarsthatrolldownthewide

pavedstreets,theoddlydressedpeoplewithbizarrehairand

paintedfaceswhohavenevermissedameal.Allthecolorsseem

artificial,thepinkstoodeep,thegreenstoobright,theyellows

painfultotheeyes,liketheflatrounddisksofhardcandywecan

neveraffordtobuyatthetinysweetshopinDistrict12.

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Thepeoplebegintopointatuseagerlyastheyrecognizea

tributetrainrollingintothecity.Istepawayfromthewindow,

sickenedbytheirexcitement,knowingtheycan’twaittowatch

usdie.ButPeetaholdshisground,actuallywavingandsmiling

atthegawkingcrowd.Heonlystopswhenthetrainpullsintothe

station,blockingusfromtheirview.

Heseesmestaringathimandshrugs.“Whoknows?”he

says.“Oneofthemmayberich.”

Ihavemisjudgedhim.Ithinkofhisactionssincethereaping

began.Thefriendlysqueezeofmyhand.Hisfathershowingup

withthecookiesandpromisingtofeedPrim...didPeetaput

himuptothat?Histearsatthestation.Volunteeringtowash

Haymitchbutthenchallenginghimthismorningwhen

apparentlythenice-guyapproachhadfailed.Andnowthe

wavingatthewindow,alreadytryingtowinthecrowd.

Allofthepiecesarestillfittingtogether,butIsensehehasa

planforming.Hehasn’tacceptedhisdeath.Heisalready

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fightinghardtostayalive.WhichalsomeansthatkindPeeta

Mellark,theboywhogavemethebread,isfightinghardtokill

me.

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R-i-i-i-p!IgritmyteethasVenia,awomanwithaquahair

andgoldtattoosabovehereyebrows,yanksastripoffabricfrom

myleg,tearingoutthehairbeneathit.“Sorry!”shepipesinher

sillyCapitolaccent.“You’rejustsohairy!”

Whydothesepeoplespeakinsuchahighpitch?Whydo

theirjawsbarelyopenwhentheytalk?Whydotheendsoftheir

sentencesgoupasifthey’reaskingaquestion?Oddvowels,

clippedwords,andalwaysahissontheletters...nowonder

it’simpossiblenottomimicthem.

Veniamakeswhat’ssupposedtobeasympatheticface.

“Goodnews,though.Thisisthelastone.Ready?”Igetagripon

theedgesofthetableI’mseatedonandnod.Thefinalswatheof

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myleghairisuprootedinapainfuljerk.

I’vebeenintheRemakeCenterformorethanthreehours

andIstillhaven’tmetmystylist.Apparentlyhehasnointerest

inseeingmeuntilVeniaandtheothermembersofmyprepteam

haveaddressedsomeobviousproblems.Thishasincluded

scrubbingdownmybodywithagrittyfoamthathasremovednot

onlydirtbutatleastthreelayersofskin,turningmynailsinto

uniformshapes,andprimarily,riddingmybodyofhair.Mylegs,

arms,torso,underarms,andpartsofmyeyebrowshavebeen

strippedofthestuff,leavingmelikeapluckedbird,readyfor

roasting.Idon’tlikeit.Myskinfeelssoreandtinglingand

intenselyvulnerable.ButIhavekeptmysideofthebargainwith

Haymitch,andnoobjectionhascrossedmylips.

“You’redoingverywell,”sayssomeguynamedFlavius.He

giveshisorangecorkscrewlocksashakeandappliesafreshcoat

ofpurplelipsticktohismouth.“Ifthere’sonethingwecan’t

stand,it’sawhiner.Greaseherdown!”

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VeniaandOctavia,aplumpwomanwhoseentirebodyhas

beendyedapaleshadeofpeagreen,rubmedownwithalotion

thatfirststingsbutthensoothesmyrawskin.Thentheypullme

fromthetable,removingthethinrobeI’vebeenallowedtowear

offandon.Istandthere,completelynaked,asthethreecircle

me,wieldingtweezerstoremoveanylastbitsofhair.IknowI

shouldbeembarrassed,butthey’resounlikepeoplethatI’mno

moreself-consciousthanifatrioofoddlycoloredbirdswere

peckingaroundmyfeet.

Thethreestepbackandadmiretheirwork.“Excellent!You

almostlooklikeahumanbeingnow!”saysFlavius,andtheyall

laugh.

IforcemylipsupintoasmiletoshowhowgratefulIam.

“Thankyou,”Isaysweetly.“Wedon’thavemuchcausetolook

niceinDistrictTwelve.”

Thiswinsthemovercompletely.“Ofcourse,youdon’t,you

poordarling!”saysOctaviaclaspingherhandstogetherin

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distressforme.

“Butdon’tworry,”saysVenia.“BythetimeCinnais

throughwithyou,you’regoingtobeabsolutelygorgeous!”

“Wepromise!Youknow,nowthatwe’vegottenridofallthe

hairandfilth,you’renothorribleatall!”saysFlavius

encouragingly.“Let’scallCinna!”

Theydartoutoftheroom.It’shardtohatemyprepteam.

They’resuchtotalidiots.Andyet,inanoddway,Iknowthey’re

sincerelytryingtohelpme.

Ilookatthecoldwhitewallsandfloorandresisttheimpulse

toretrievemyrobe.ButthisCinna,mystylist,willsurelymake

meremoveitatonce.Insteadmyhandsgotomyhairdo,theone

areaofmybodymyprepteamhadbeentoldtoleavealone.My

fingersstrokethesilkybraidsmymothersocarefullyarranged.

Mymother.Ileftherbluedressandshoesonthefloorofmy

traincar,neverthinkingaboutretrievingthem,oftryingtohold

ontoapieceofher,ofhome.NowIwishIhad.

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ThedooropensandayoungmanwhomustbeCinnaenters.

I’mtakenabackbyhownormalhelooks.Mostofthestylists

theyinterviewontelevisionaresodyed,stenciled,andsurgically

alteredthey’regrotesque.ButCinna’sclose-croppedhair

appearstobeitsnaturalshadeofbrown.He’sinasimpleblack

shirtandpants.Theonlyconcessiontoself-alterationseemsto

bemetallicgoldeyelinerthathasbeenappliedwithalighthand.

Itbringsouttheflecksofgoldinhisgreeneyes.And,despitemy

disgustwiththeCapitolandtheirhideousfashions,Ican’thelp

thinkinghowattractiveitlooks.

“Hello,Katniss.I’mCinna,yourstylist,”hesaysinaquiet

voicesomewhatlackingintheCapitol’saffectations.

“Hello,”Iventurecautiously.

“Justgivemeamoment,allright?”heasks.Hewalks

aroundmynakedbody,nottouchingme,buttakingineveryinch

ofitwithhiseyes.Iresisttheimpulsetocrossmyarmsovermy

chest.“Whodidyourhair?”

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“Mymother,”Isay.

“It’sbeautiful.Classicreally.Andinalmostperfectbalance

withyourprofile.Shehasverycleverfingers,”hesays.

Ihadexpectedsomeoneflamboyant,someoneoldertrying

desperatelytolookyoung,someonewhoviewedmeasapieceof

meattobepreparedforaplatter.Cinnahasmetnoneofthese

expectations.

“You’renew,aren’tyou?Idon’tthinkI’veseenyoubefore,”

Isay.Mostofthestylistsarefamiliar,constantsintheever-

changingpooloftributes.Somehavebeenaroundmywholelife.

“Yes,thisismyfirstyearintheGames,”saysCinna.

“SotheygaveyouDistrictTwelve,”Isay.Newcomers

generallyendupwithus,theleastdesirabledistrict.

“IaskedforDistrictTwelve,”hesayswithoutfurther

explanation.“Whydon’tyouputonyourrobeandwe’llhavea

chat.”

Pullingonmyrobe,Ifollowhimthroughadoorintoa

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sittingroom.Tworedcouchesfaceoffoveralowtable.Three

wallsareblank,thefourthisentirelyglass,providingawindow

tothecity.Icanseebythelightthatitmustbearoundnoon,

althoughthesunnyskyhasturnedovercast.Cinnainvitesmeto

sitononeofthecouchesandtakeshisplaceacrossfromme.He

pressesabuttononthesideofthetable.Thetopsplitsandfrom

belowrisesasecondtabletopthatholdsourlunch.Chickenand

chunksoforangescookedinacreamysaucelaidonabedof

pearlywhitegrain,tinygreenpeasandonions,rollsshapedlike

flowers,andfordessert,apuddingthecolorofhoney.

Itrytoimagineassemblingthismealmyselfbackhome.

Chickensaretooexpensive,butIcouldmakedowithawild

turkey.I’dneedtoshootasecondturkeytotradeforanorange.

Goat’smilkwouldhavetosubstituteforcream.Wecangrow

peasinthegarden.I’dhavetogetwildonionsfromthewoods.I

don’trecognizethegrain,ourowntesserarationcooksdownto

anunattractivebrownmush.Fancyrollswouldmeananother

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tradewiththebaker,perhapsfortwoorthreesquirrels.Asfor

thepudding,Ican’tevenguesswhat’sinit.Daysofhuntingand

gatheringforthisonemealandeventhenitwouldbeapoor

substitutionfortheCapitolversion.

Whatmustitbelike,Iwonder,toliveinaworldwherefood

appearsatthepressofabutton?HowwouldIspendthehoursI

nowcommittocombingthewoodsforsustenanceifitwereso

easytocomeby?Whatdotheydoallday,thesepeopleinthe

Capitol,besidesdecoratingtheirbodiesandwaitingaroundfora

newshipmentoftributestorollinanddiefortheir

entertainment?

IlookupandfindCinna’seyestrainedonmine.“How

despicablewemustseemtoyou,”hesays.

Hasheseenthisinmyfaceorsomehowreadmythoughts?

He’sright,though.Thewholerottenlotofthemisdespicable.

“Nomatter,”saysCinna.“So,Katniss,aboutyourcostume

fortheopeningceremonies.Mypartner,Portia,isthestylistfor

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yourfellowtribute,Peeta.Andourcurrentthoughtistodress

youincomplementarycostumes,”saysCinna.“Asyouknow,

it’scustomarytoreflecttheflavorofthedistrict.”

Fortheopeningceremonies,you’resupposedtowear

somethingthatsuggestsyourdistrict’sprincipalindustry.

District11,agriculture.District4,fishing.District3,factories.

ThismeansthatcomingfromDistrict12,PeetaandIwillbein

somekindofcoalminer’sgetup.Sincethebaggyminer’s

jumpsuitsarenotparticularlybecoming,ourtributesusuallyend

upinskimpyoutfitsandhatswithheadlamps.Oneyear,our

tributeswerestarknakedandcoveredinblackpowderto

representcoaldust.It’salwaysdreadfulanddoesnothingtowin

favorwiththecrowd.Ipreparemyselffortheworst.

“So,I’llbeinacoalmineroutfit?”Iask,hopingitwon’tbe

indecent.

“Notexactly.Yousee,PortiaandIthinkthatcoalminer

thing’sveryoverdone.Noonewillrememberyouinthat.And

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webothseeitasourjobtomaketheDistrictTwelvetributes

unforgettable,”saysCinna.

I’llbenakedforsure,Ithink.

“Soratherthanfocusonthecoalminingitself,we’regoing

tofocusonthecoal,”saysCinna.

Nakedandcoveredinblackdust,Ithink.

“Andwhatdowedowithcoal?Weburnit,”saysCinna.

“You’renotafraidoffire,areyou,Katniss?”Heseesmy

expressionandgrins.

Afewhourslater,Iamdressedinwhatwilleitherbethe

mostsensationalorthedeadliestcostumeintheopening

ceremonies.I’minasimpleblackunitardthatcoversmefrom

ankletoneck.Shinyleatherbootslaceuptomyknees.Butit’s

theflutteringcapemadeofstreamsoforange,yellow,andred

andthematchingheadpiecethatdefinethiscostume.Cinnaplans

tolightthemonfirejustbeforeourchariotrollsintothestreets.

“It’snotrealflame,ofcourse,justalittlesyntheticfire

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PortiaandIcameupwith.You’llbeperfectlysafe,”hesays.But

I’mnotconvincedIwon’tbeperfectlybarbecuedbythetimewe

reachthecity’scenter.

Myfaceisrelativelyclearofmakeup,justabitof

highlightinghereandthere.Myhairhasbeenbrushedoutand

thenbraideddownmybackinmyusualstyle.“Iwantthe

audiencetorecognizeyouwhenyou’reinthearena,”saysCinna

dreamily.“Katniss,thegirlwhowasonfire.”

ItcrossesmymindthatCinna’scalmandnormaldemeanor

masksacompletemadman.

Despitethismorning’srevelationaboutPeeta’scharacter,

I’mactuallyrelievedwhenheshowsup,dressedinanidentical

costume.Heshouldknowaboutfire,beingabaker’ssonandall.

Hisstylist,Portia,andherteamaccompanyhim,andeveryoneis

absolutelygiddywithexcitementoverwhatasplashwe’llmake.

ExceptCinna.Hejustseemsabitwearyasheaccepts

congratulations.

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We’rewhiskeddowntothebottomleveloftheRemake

Center,whichisessentiallyagiganticstable.Theopening

ceremoniesareabouttostart.Pairsoftributesarebeingloaded

intochariotspulledbyteamsoffourhorses.Oursarecoalblack.

Theanimalsaresowelltrained,nooneevenneedstoguidetheir

reins.CinnaandPortiadirectusintothechariotandcarefully

arrangeourbodypositions,thedrapeofourcapes,before

movingofftoconsultwitheachother.

“Whatdoyouthink?”IwhispertoPeeta.“Aboutthefire?”

“I’llripoffyourcapeifyou’llripoffmine,”hesaysthrough

grittedteeth.

“Deal,”Isay.Maybe,ifwecangetthemoffsoonenough,

we’llavoidtheworstburns.It’sbadthough.They’llthrowus

intothearenanomatterwhatconditionwe’rein.“Iknowwe

promisedHaymitchwe’ddoexactlywhattheysaid,butIdon’t

thinkheconsideredthisangle.”

“WhereisHaymitch,anyway?Isn’thesupposedtoprotect

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usfromthissortofthing?”saysPeeta.

“Withallthatalcoholinhim,it’sprobablynotadvisableto

havehimaroundanopenflame,”Isay.

Andsuddenlywe’rebothlaughing.Iguesswe’rebothso

nervousabouttheGamesandmorepressingly,petrifiedofbeing

turnedintohumantorches,we’renotactingsensibly.

Theopeningmusicbegins.It’seasytohear,blastedaround

theCapitol.Massivedoorsslideopenrevealingthecrowd-lined

streets.Theridelastsabouttwentyminutesandendsupatthe

CityCircle,wheretheywillwelcomeus,playtheanthem,and

escortusintotheTrainingCenter,whichwillbeourhome/prison

untiltheGamesbegin.

ThetributesfromDistrict1rideoutinachariotpulledby

snow-whitehorses.Theylooksobeautiful,spray-paintedsilver,

intastefultunicsglitteringwithjewels.District1makesluxury

itemsfortheCapitol.Youcanheartheroarofthecrowd.They

arealwaysfavorites.

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District2getsintopositiontofollowthem.Innotimeatall,

weareapproachingthedoorandIcanseethatbetweenthe

overcastskyandeveninghourthelightisturninggray.The

tributesfromDistrict11arejustrollingoutwhenCinnaappears

withalightedtorch.“Herewegothen,”hesays,andbeforewe

canreacthesetsourcapesonfire.Igasp,waitingfortheheat,

butthereisonlyafaintticklingsensation.Cinnaclimbsup

beforeusandignitesourheaddresses.Heletsoutasighofrelief.

“Itworks.”Thenhegentlytucksahandundermychin.

“Remember,headshigh.Smiles.They’regoingtoloveyou!”

Cinnajumpsoffthechariotandhasonelastidea.Heshouts

somethingupatus,butthemusicdrownshimout.Heshouts

againandgestures.

“What’shesaying?”IaskPeeta.Forthefirsttime,Ilookat

himandrealizethatablazewiththefakeflames,heisdazzling.

AndImustbe,too.

“Ithinkhesaidforustoholdhands,”saysPeeta.Hegrabs

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myrighthandinhisleft,andwelooktoCinnaforconfirmation.

Henodsandgivesathumbs-up,andthat’sthelastthingIsee

beforeweenterthecity.

Thecrowd’sinitialalarmatourappearancequicklychanges

tocheersandshoutsof“DistrictTwelve!”Everyheadisturned

ourway,pullingthefocusfromthethreechariotsaheadofus.At

first,I’mfrozen,butthenIcatchsightofusonalargetelevision

screenandamflooredbyhowbreathtakingwelook.Inthe

deepeningtwilight,thefirelightilluminatesourfaces.Weseem

tobeleavingatrailoffireofftheflowingcapes.Cinnawasright

abouttheminimalmakeup,webothlookmoreattractivebut

utterlyrecognizable.

Remember,headshigh.Smiles.They’regoingtoloveyou!I

hearCinna’svoiceinmyhead.Iliftmychinabithigher,puton

mymostwinningsmile,andwavewithmyfreehand.I’mglad

nowIhavePeetatoclutchforbalance,heissosteady,solidasa

rock.AsIgainconfidence,Iactuallyblowafewkissestothe

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crowd.ThepeopleoftheCapitolaregoingnuts,showeringus

withflowers,shoutingournames,ourfirstnames,whichthey

havebotheredtofindontheprogram.

Thepoundingmusic,thecheers,theadmirationworktheir

wayintomyblood,andIcan’tsuppressmyexcitement.Cinna

hasgivenmeagreatadvantage.Noonewillforgetme.Notmy

look,notmyname.Katniss.Thegirlwhowasonfire.

Forthefirsttime,Ifeelaflickerofhoperisingupinme.

Surely,theremustbeonesponsorwillingtotakemeon!And

withalittleextrahelp,somefood,therightweapon,whyshould

IcountmyselfoutoftheGames?

Someonethrowsmearedrose.Icatchit,giveitadelicate

sniff,andblowakissbackinthegeneraldirectionofthegiver.

Ahundredhandsreachuptocatchmykiss,asifitwereareal

andtangiblething.

“Katniss!Katniss!”Icanhearmynamebeingcalledfromall

sides.Everyonewantsmykisses.

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It’snotuntilweentertheCityCirclethatIrealizeImust

havecompletelystoppedthecirculationinPeeta’shand.That’s

howtightlyI’vebeenholdingit.Ilookdownatourlinked

fingersasIloosenmygrasp,butheregainshisgriponme.“No,

don’tletgoofme,”hesays.Thefirelightflickersoffhisblue

eyes.“Please.Imightfalloutofthisthing.”

“Okay,”Isay.SoIkeepholdingon,butIcan’thelpfeeling

strangeaboutthewayCinnahaslinkedustogether.It’snot

reallyfairtopresentusasateamandthenlockusintothearena

tokilleachother.

ThetwelvechariotsfilltheloopoftheCityCircle.Onthe

buildingsthatsurroundtheCircle,everywindowispackedwith

themostprestigiouscitizensoftheCapitol.Ourhorsespullour

chariotrightuptoPresidentSnow’smansion,andwecometoa

halt.Themusicendswithaflourish.

Thepresident,asmall,thinmanwithpaper-whitehair,gives

theofficialwelcomefromabalconyaboveus.Itistraditionalto

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cutawaytothefacesofthetributesduringthespeech.ButIcan

seeonthescreenthatwearegettingwaymorethanourshareof

airtime.Thedarkeritbecomes,themoredifficultitistotake

youreyesoffourflickering.Whenthenationalanthemplays,

theydomakeanefforttodoaquickcutaroundtoeachpairof

tributes,butthecameraholdsontheDistrict12chariotasit

paradesaroundthecircleonefinaltimeanddisappearsintothe

TrainingCenter.

Thedoorshaveonlyjustshutbehinduswhenwe’reengulfed

bytheprepteams,whoarenearlyunintelligibleastheybabble

outpraise.AsIglancearound,Inoticealotoftheothertributes

areshootingusdirtylooks,whichconfirmswhatI’vesuspected,

we’veliterallyoutshonethemall.ThenCinnaandPortiaare

there,helpingusdownfromthechariot,carefullyremovingour

flamingcapesandheaddresses.Portiaextinguishesthemwith

somekindofsprayfromacanister.

IrealizeI’mstillgluedtoPeetaandforcemystifffingersto

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open.Webothmassageourhands.

“Thanksforkeepingholdofme.Iwasgettingalittleshaky

there,”saysPeeta.

“Itdidn’tshow,”Itellhim.“I’msurenoonenoticed.”

“I’msuretheydidn’tnoticeanythingbutyou.Youshould

wearflamesmoreoften,”hesays.“Theysuityou.”Andthenhe

givesmeasmilethatseemssogenuinelysweetwithjustthe

righttouchofshynessthatunexpectedwarmthrushesthrough

me.

Awarningbellgoesoffinmyhead.Don’tbesostupid.

Peetaisplanninghowtokillyou,Iremindmyself.Heisluring

youintomakeyoueasyprey.Themorelikableheis,themore

deadlyheis.

Butbecausetwocanplayatthisgame,Istandontiptoeand

kisshischeek.Rightonhisbruise.

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TheTrainingCenterhasatowerdesignedexclusivelyforthe

tributesandtheirteams.Thiswillbeourhomeuntiltheactual

Gamesbegin.Eachdistricthasanentirefloor.Yousimplystep

ontoanelevatorandpressthenumberofyourdistrict.Easy

enoughtoremember.

I’veriddentheelevatoracoupleoftimesintheJustice

BuildingbackinDistrict12.Oncetoreceivethemedalformy

father’sdeathandthenyesterdaytosaymyfinalgood-byesto

myfriendsandfamily.Butthat’sadarkandcreakythingthat

moveslikeasnailandsmellsofsourmilk.Thewallsofthis

elevatoraremadeofcrystalsothatyoucanwatchthepeopleon

thegroundfloorshrinktoantsasyoushootupintotheair.It’s

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exhilaratingandI’mtemptedtoaskEffieTrinketifwecanride

itagain,butsomehowthatseemschildish.

Apparently,EffieTrinket’sdutiesdidnotconcludeatthe

station.SheandHaymitchwillbeoverseeingusrightintothe

arena.Inaway,that’saplusbecauseatleastshecanbecounted

ontocorralusaroundtoplacesontimewhereaswehaven’tseen

Haymitchsinceheagreedtohelpusonthetrain.Probably

passedoutsomewhere.EffieTrinket,ontheotherhand,seemsto

beflyinghigh.We’rethefirstteamshe’severchaperonedthat

madeasplashattheopeningceremonies.She’scomplimentary

aboutnotjustourcostumesbuthowweconductedourselves.

And,tohearhertellit,Effieknowseveryonewho’sanyonein

theCapitolandhasbeentalkingusupallday,tryingtowinus

sponsors.

“I’vebeenverymysterious,though,”shesays,hereyes

squinthalfshut.“Because,ofcourse,Haymitchhasn’tbothered

totellmeyourstrategies.ButI’vedonemybestwithwhatIhad

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toworkwith.HowKatnisssacrificedherselfforhersister.How

you’vebothsuccessfullystruggledtoovercomethebarbarismof

yourdistrict.”

Barbarism?That’sironiccomingfromawomanhelpingto

prepareusforslaughter.Andwhat’sshebasingoursuccesson?

Ourtablemanners?

“Everyonehastheirreservations,naturally.Youbeingfrom

thecoaldistrict.ButIsaid,andthiswasverycleverofme,I

said,‘Well,ifyouputenoughpressureoncoalitturnsto

pearls!’”Effiebeamsatussobrilliantlythatwehavenochoice

buttorespondenthusiasticallytoherclevernesseventhoughit’s

wrong.

Coaldoesn’tturntopearls.Theygrowinshellfish.Possibly

shemeantcoalturnstodiamonds,butthat’suntrue,too.I’ve

heardtheyhavesomesortofmachineinDistrict1thatcanturn

graphiteintodiamonds.Butwedon’tminegraphiteinDistrict

12.ThatwaspartofDistrict13’sjobuntiltheyweredestroyed.

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Iwonderifthepeopleshe’sbeenpluggingustoallday

eitherknoworcare.

“Unfortunately,Ican’tsealthesponsordealsforyou.Only

Haymitchcandothat,”saysEffiegrimly.“Butdon’tworry,I’ll

gethimtothetableatgunpointifnecessary.”

Althoughlackinginmanydepartments,EffieTrinkethasa

certaindeterminationIhavetoadmire.

Myquartersarelargerthanourentirehousebackhome.

Theyareplush,likethetraincar,butalsohavesomany

automaticgadgetsthatI’msureIwon’thavetimetopressallthe

buttons.Theshoweralonehasapanelwithmorethanahundred

optionsyoucanchooseregulatingwatertemperature,pressure,

soaps,shampoos,scents,oils,andmassagingsponges.Whenyou

stepoutonamat,heaterscomeonthatblow-dryyourbody.

Insteadofstrugglingwiththeknotsinmywethair,Imerely

placemyhandonaboxthatsendsacurrentthroughmyscalp,

untangling,parting,anddryingmyhairalmostinstantly.Itfloats

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downaroundmyshouldersinaglossycurtain.

Iprogramtheclosetforanoutfittomytaste.Thewindows

zoominandoutonpartsofthecityatmycommand.Youneed

onlywhisperatypeoffoodfromagiganticmenuintoa

mouthpieceanditappears,hotandsteamy,beforeyouinless

thanaminute.Iwalkaroundtheroomeatinggooseliverand

puffybreaduntilthere’saknockonthedoor.Effie’scallingme

todinner.

Good.I’mstarving.

Peeta,Cinna,andPortiaarestandingoutonabalconythat

overlookstheCapitolwhenweenterthediningroom.I’mglad

toseethestylists,particularlyafterIhearthatHaymitchwillbe

joiningus.AmealpresidedoverbyjustEffieandHaymitchis

boundtobeadisaster.Besides,dinnerisn’treallyaboutfood,

it’saboutplanningoutourstrategies,andCinnaandPortiahave

alreadyprovenhowvaluabletheyare.

Asilentyoungmandressedinawhitetunicoffersusall

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stemmedglassesofwine.Ithinkaboutturningitdown,butI’ve

neverhadwine,exceptthehomemadestuffmymotherusesfor

coughs,andwhenwillIgetachancetotryitagain?Itakeasip

ofthetart,dryliquidandsecretlythinkitcouldbeimprovedby

afewspoonfulsofhoney.

Haymitchshowsupjustasdinnerisbeingserved.Itlooksas

ifhe’shadhisownstylistbecausehe’scleanandgroomedand

aboutassoberasI’veeverseenhim.Hedoesn’trefusetheoffer

ofwine,butwhenhestartsinonhissoup,Irealizeit’sthefirst

timeI’veeverseenhimeat.Maybehereallywillpullhimself

togetherlongenoughtohelpus.

CinnaandPortiaseemtohaveacivilizingeffecton

HaymitchandEffie.Atleastthey’readdressingeachother

decently.Andtheybothhavenothingbutpraiseforourstylists’

openingact.Whiletheymakesmalltalk,Iconcentrateonthe

meal.Mushroomsoup,bittergreenswithtomatoesthesizeof

peas,rareroastbeefslicedasthinaspaper,noodlesinagreen

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sauce,cheesethatmeltsonyourtongueservedwithsweetblue

grapes.Theservers,allyoungpeopledressedinwhitetunicslike

theonewhogaveuswine,movewordlesslytoandfromthe

table,keepingtheplattersandglassesfull.

Abouthalfwaythroughmyglassofwine,myheadstarts

feelingfoggy,soIchangetowaterinstead.Idon’tlikethe

feelingandhopeitwearsoffsoon.HowHaymitchcanstand

walkingaroundlikethisfull-timeisamystery.

Itrytofocusonthetalk,whichhasturnedtoourinterview

costumes,whenagirlsetsagorgeous-lookingcakeonthetable

anddeftlylightsit.Itblazesupandthentheflamesflicker

aroundtheedgesawhileuntilitfinallygoesout.Ihavea

momentofdoubt.“Whatmakesitburn?Isitalcohol?”Isay,

lookingupatthegirl.“That’sthelastthingIwa—oh!Iknow

you!”

Ican’tplaceanameortimetothegirl’sface.ButI’m

certainofit.Thedarkredhair,thestrikingfeatures,the

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porcelainwhiteskin.ButevenasIutterthewords,Ifeelmy

insidescontractingwithanxietyandguiltatthesightofher,and

whileIcan’tpullitup,Iknowsomebadmemoryisassociated

withher.Theexpressionofterrorthatcrossesherfaceonlyadds

tomyconfusionandunease.Sheshakesherheadindenial

quicklyandhurriesawayfromthetable.

WhenIlookback,thefouradultsarewatchingmelike

hawks.

“Don’tberidiculous,Katniss.Howcouldyoupossiblyknow

anAvox?”snapsEffie.“Theverythought.”

“What’sanAvox?”Iaskstupidly.

“Someonewhocommittedacrime.Theycuthertongueso

shecan’tspeak,”saysHaymitch.“She’sprobablyatraitorof

somesort.Notlikelyyou’dknowher.”

“Andevenifyoudid,you’renottospeaktooneofthem

unlessit’stogiveanorder,”saysEffie.“Ofcourse,youdon’t

reallyknowher.”

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ButIdoknowher.AndnowthatHaymitchhasmentioned

thewordtraitorIrememberfromwhere.Thedisapprovalisso

highIcouldneveradmitit.“No,Iguessnot,Ijust—”I

stammer,andthewineisnothelping.

Peetasnapshisfingers.“DellyCartwright.That’swhoitis.I

keptthinkingshelookedfamiliaraswell.ThenIrealizedshe’sa

deadringerforDelly.”

DellyCartwrightisapasty-faced,lumpygirlwithyellowish

hairwholooksaboutasmuchlikeourserverasabeetledoesa

butterfly.Shemayalsobethefriendliestpersonontheplanet—

shesmilesconstantlyateverybodyinschool,evenme.Ihave

neverseenthegirlwiththeredhairsmile.ButIjumponPeeta’s

suggestiongratefully.“Ofcourse,that’swhoIwasthinkingof.It

mustbethehair,”Isay.

“Somethingabouttheeyes,too,”saysPeeta.

Theenergyatthetablerelaxes.“Oh,well.Ifthat’sallitis,”

saysCinna.“Andyes,thecakehasspirits,butallthealcoholhas

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burnedoff.Iordereditspeciallyinhonorofyourfierydebut.”

Weeatthecakeandmoveintoasittingroomtowatchthe

replayoftheopeningceremoniesthat’sbeingbroadcast.Afew

oftheothercouplesmakeaniceimpression,butnoneofthem

canholdacandletous.Evenourownpartyletsoutan“Ahh!”as

theyshowuscomingoutoftheRemakeCenter.

“Whoseideawasthehandholding?”asksHaymitch.

“Cinna’s,”saysPortia.

“Justtheperfecttouchofrebellion,”saysHaymitch.“Very

nice.”

Rebellion?Ihavetothinkaboutthatoneamoment.But

whenIremembertheothercouples,standingstifflyapart,never

touchingoracknowledgingeachother,asiftheirfellowtribute

didnotexist,asiftheGameshadalreadybegun,Iknowwhat

Haymitchmeans.Presentingourselvesnotasadversariesbutas

friendshasdistinguishedusasmuchasthefierycostumes.

“Tomorrowmorningisthefirsttrainingsession.Meetme

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forbreakfastandI’lltellyouexactlyhowIwantyoutoplayit,”

saysHaymitchtoPeetaandme.“Nowgogetsomesleepwhile

thegrown-upstalk.”

PeetaandIwalktogetherdownthecorridortoourrooms.

Whenwegettomydoor,heleansagainsttheframe,not

blockingmyentranceexactlybutinsistingIpayattentiontohim.

“So,DellyCartwright.Imaginefindingherlookalikehere.”

He’saskingforanexplanation,andI’mtemptedtogivehim

one.Webothknowhecoveredforme.SohereIaminhisdebt

again.IfItellhimthetruthaboutthegirl,somehowthatmight

eventhingsup.Howcanithurtreally?Evenifherepeatedthe

story,itcouldn’tdomemuchharm.ItwasjustsomethingI

witnessed.AndheliedasmuchasIdidaboutDellyCartwright.

IrealizeIdowanttotalktosomeoneaboutthegirl.

Someonewhomightbeabletohelpmefigureoutherstory.Gale

wouldbemyfirstchoice,butit’sunlikelyI’lleverseeGale

again.ItrytothinkiftellingPeetacouldgivehimanypossible

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advantageoverme,butIdon’tseehow.Maybesharinga

confidencewillactuallymakehimbelieveIseehimasafriend.

Besides,theideaofthegirlwithhermaimedtongue

frightensme.ShehasremindedmewhyI’mhere.Nottomodel

flashycostumesandeatdelicacies.Buttodieabloodydeath

whilethecrowdsurgeonmykiller.

Totellornottotell?Mybrainstillfeelsslowfromthewine.

Istaredowntheemptycorridorasifthedecisionliesthere.

Peetapicksuponmyhesitation.“Haveyoubeenontheroof

yet?”Ishakemyhead.“Cinnashowedme.Youcanpractically

seethewholecity.Thewind’sabitloud,though.”

Itranslatethisinto“Noonewilloverhearustalking”inmy

head.Youdohavethesensethatwemightbeundersurveillance

here.“Canwejustgoup?”

“Sure,comeon,”saysPeeta.Ifollowhimtoaflightofstairs

thatleadtotheroof.There’sasmalldome-shapedroomwitha

doortotheoutside.Aswestepintothecool,windyeveningair,I

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catchmybreathattheview.TheCapitoltwinkleslikeavast

fieldoffireflies.ElectricityinDistrict12comesandgoes,

usuallyweonlyhaveitafewhoursaday.Oftentheeveningsare

spentincandlelight.Theonlytimeyoucancountonitiswhen

they’reairingtheGamesorsomeimportantgovernment

messageontelevisionthatit’smandatorytowatch.Buthere

therewouldbenoshortage.Ever.

PeetaandIwalktoarailingattheedgeoftheroof.Ilook

straightdownthesideofthebuildingtothestreet,whichis

buzzingwithpeople.Youcanheartheircars,anoccasional

shout,andastrangemetallictinkling.InDistrict12,we’dallbe

thinkingaboutbedrightnow.

“IaskedCinnawhytheyletusuphere.Weren’ttheyworried

thatsomeofthetributesmightdecidetojumprightoverthe

side?”saysPeeta.

“What’dhesay?”Iask.

“Youcan’t,”saysPeeta.Heholdsouthishandinto

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

seeminglyemptyspace.There’sasharpzapandhejerksitback.

“Somekindofelectricfieldthrowsyoubackontheroof.”

“Alwaysworriedaboutoursafety,”Isay.EventhoughCinna

hasshownPeetatheroof,Iwonderifwe’resupposedtobeup

herenow,solateandalone.I’veneverseentributesonthe

TrainingCenterroofbefore.Butthatdoesn’tmeanwe’renot

beingtaped.“Doyouthinkthey’rewatchingusnow?”

“Maybe,”headmits.“Comeseethegarden.”

Ontheothersideofthedome,they’vebuiltagardenwith

flowerbedsandpottedtrees.Fromthebrancheshanghundreds

ofwindchimes,whichaccountforthetinklingIheard.Herein

thegarden,onthiswindynight,it’senoughtodrownouttwo

peoplewhoaretryingnottobeheard.Peetalooksatme

expectantly.

Ipretendtoexamineablossom.“Wewerehuntinginthe

woodsoneday.Hidden,waitingforgame,”Iwhisper.

“Youandyourfather?”hewhispersback.

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“No,myfriendGale.Suddenlyallthebirdsstoppedsinging

atonce.Exceptone.Asifitweregivingawarningcall.Andthen

wesawher.I’msureitwasthesamegirl.Aboywaswithher.

Theirclothesweretattered.Theyhaddarkcirclesundertheir

eyesfromnosleep.Theywererunningasiftheirlivesdepended

onit,”Isay.

ForamomentI’msilent,asIrememberhowthesightofthis

strangepair,clearlynotfromDistrict12,fleeingthroughthe

woodsimmobilizedus.Later,wewonderedifwecouldhave

helpedthemescape.Perhapswemighthave.Concealedthem.If

we’dmovedquickly.GaleandIweretakenbysurprise,yes,but

we’rebothhunters.Weknowhowanimalslookatbay.Weknew

thepairwasintroubleassoonaswesawthem.Butweonly

watched.

“Thehovercraftappearedoutofnowhere,”Icontinueto

Peeta.“Imean,onemomenttheskywasemptyandthenextit

wasthere.Itdidn’tmakeasound,buttheysawit.Anetdropped

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downonthegirlandcarriedherup,fast,sofastliketheelevator.

Theyshotsomesortofspearthroughtheboy.Itwasattachedto

acableandtheyhauledhimupaswell.ButI’mcertainhewas

dead.Weheardthegirlscreamonce.Theboy’sname,Ithink.

Thenitwasgone,thehovercraft.Vanishedintothinair.Andthe

birdsbegantosingagain,asifnothinghadhappened.”

“Didtheyseeyou?”Peetaasked.

“Idon’tknow.Wewereunderashelfofrock,”Ireply.ButI

doknow.Therewasamoment,afterthebirdcall,butbeforethe

hovercraft,wherethegirlhadseenus.She’dlockedeyeswith

meandcalledoutforhelp.ButneitherGaleorIhadresponded.

“You’reshivering,”saysPeeta.

Thewindandthestoryhaveblownallthewarmthfrommy

body.Thegirl’sscream.Haditbeenherlast?

Peetatakesoffhisjacketandwrapsitaroundmyshoulders.I

starttotakeastepback,butthenIlethim,decidingfora

momenttoacceptbothhisjacketandhiskindness.Afriend

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woulddothat,right?

“Theywerefromhere?”heasks,andhesecuresabuttonat

myneck.

Inod.They’dhadthatCapitollookaboutthem.Theboyand

thegirl.

“Wheredoyousupposetheyweregoing?”heasks.

“Idon’tknowthat,”Isay.District12isprettymuchtheend

oftheline.Beyondus,there’sonlywilderness.Ifyoudon’t

counttheruinsofDistrict13thatstillsmolderfromthetoxic

bombs.Theyshowitontelevisionoccasionally,justtoremind

us.“Orwhytheywouldleavehere.”Haymitchhadcalledthe

Avoxestraitors.Againstwhat?ItcouldonlybetheCapitol.But

theyhadeverythinghere.Nocausetorebel.

“I’dleavehere,”Peetablurtsout.Thenhelooksaround

nervously.Itwasloudenoughtohearabovethechimes.He

laughs.“I’dgohomenowiftheyletme.Butyouhavetoadmit,

thefood’sprime.”

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He’scoveredagain.Ifthat’sallyou’dhearditwouldjust

soundlikethewordsofascaredtribute,notsomeone

contemplatingtheunquestionablegoodnessoftheCapitol.

“It’sgettingchilly.Webettergoin,”hesays.Insidethe

dome,it’swarmandbright.Histoneisconversational.“Your

friendGale.He’stheonewhotookyoursisterawayatthe

reaping?”

“Yes.Doyouknowhim?”Iask.

“Notreally.Ihearthegirlstalkabouthimalot.Ithoughthe

wasyourcousinorsomething.Youfavoreachother,”hesays.

“No,we’renotrelated,”Isay.

Peetanods,unreadable.“Didhecometosaygood-byeto

you?”

“Yes,”Isay,observinghimcarefully.“Sodidyourfather.

Hebroughtmecookies.”

Peetaraiseshiseyebrowsasifthisisnews.Butafter

watchinghimliesosmoothly,Idon’tgivethismuchweight.

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

“Really?Well,helikesyouandyoursister.Ithinkhewisheshe

hadadaughterinsteadofahousefulofboys.”

TheideathatImighteverhavebeendiscussed,aroundthe

dinnertable,atthebakeryfire,justinpassinginPeeta’shouse

givesmeastart.Itmusthavebeenwhenthemotherwasoutof

theroom.

“Heknewyourmotherwhentheywerekids,”saysPeeta.

Anothersurprise.Butprobablytrue.“Oh,yes.Shegrewup

intown,”Isay.Itseemsimpolitetosayshenevermentionedthe

bakerexcepttocomplimenthisbread.

We’reatmydoor.Igivebackhisjacket.“Seeyouinthe

morningthen.”

“Seeyou,”hesays,andwalksoffdownthehall.

WhenIopenmydoor,theredheadedgirliscollectingmy

unitardandbootsfromwhereIleftthemonthefloorbeforemy

shower.Iwanttoapologizeforpossiblygettingherintrouble

earlier.ButIrememberI’mnotsupposedtospeaktoherunless

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

I’mgivingheranorder.

“Oh,sorry,”Isay.“Iwassupposedtogetthosebackto

Cinna.I’msorry.Canyoutakethemtohim?”

Sheavoidsmyeyes,givesasmallnod,andheadsoutthe

door.

I’dsetouttotellherIwassorryaboutdinner.ButIknow

thatmyapologyrunsmuchdeeper.ThatI’mashamedInever

triedtohelpherinthewoods.ThatIlettheCapitolkilltheboy

andmutilateherwithoutliftingafinger.

JustlikeIwaswatchingtheGames.

Ikickoffmyshoesandclimbunderthecoversinmy

clothes.Theshiveringhasn’tstopped.Perhapsthegirldoesn’t

evenrememberme.ButIknowshedoes.Youdon’tforgetthe

faceofthepersonwhowasyourlasthope.Ipullthecoversup

overmyheadasifthiswillprotectmefromtheredheadedgirl

whocan’tspeak.ButIcanfeelhereyesstaringatme,piercing

throughwallsanddoorsandbedding.

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Iwonderifshe’llenjoywatchingmedie.

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Myslumbersarefilledwithdisturbingdreams.Thefaceof

theredheadedgirlintertwineswithgoryimagesfromearlier

HungerGames,withmymotherwithdrawnandunreachable,

withPrimemaciatedandterrified.Iboltupscreamingformy

fathertorunasthemineexplodesintoamilliondeadlybitsof

light.

Dawnisbreakingthroughthewindows.TheCapitolhasa

misty,hauntedair.MyheadachesandImusthavebittenintothe

sideofmycheekinthenight.Mytongueprobestheraggedflesh

andItasteblood.

Slowly,Idragmyselfoutofbedandintotheshower.I

arbitrarilypunchbuttonsonthecontrolboardandendup

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hoppingfromfoottofootasalternatingjetsoficycoldand

steaminghotwaterassaultme.ThenI’mdelugedinlemony

foamthatIhavetoscrapeoffwithaheavybristledbrush.Oh,

well.Atleastmybloodisflowing.

WhenI’mdriedandmoisturizedwithlotion,Ifindanoutfit

hasbeenleftformeatthefrontofthecloset.Tightblackpants,a

long-sleevedburgundytunic,andleathershoes.Iputmyhairin

thesinglebraiddownmyback.Thisisthefirsttimesincethe

morningofthereapingthatIresemblemyself.Nofancyhairand

clothes,noflamingcapes.Justme.LookinglikeIcouldbe

headedforthewoods.Itcalmsme.

Haymitchdidn’tgiveusanexacttimetomeetforbreakfast

andnoonehascontactedmethismorning,butI’mhungrysoI

headdowntothediningroom,hopingtherewillbefood.I’mnot

disappointed.Whilethetableisempty,alongboardofftothe

sidehasbeenlaidwithatleasttwentydishes.Ayoungman,an

Avox,standsatattentionbythespread.WhenIaskifIcanserve

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

myself,henodsassent.Iloadaplatewitheggs,sausages,batter

cakescoveredinthickorangepreserves,slicesofpalepurple

melon.AsIgorgemyself,IwatchthesunriseovertheCapitol.I

haveasecondplateofhotgrainsmotheredinbeefstew.Finally,

Ifillaplatewithrollsandsitatthetable,breakingoffbitsand

dippingthemintohotchocolate,thewayPeetadidonthetrain.

MymindwanderstomymotherandPrim.Theymustbeup.

Mymothergettingtheirbreakfastofmush.Primmilkingher

goatbeforeschool.Justtwomorningsago,Iwashome.Canthat

beright?Yes,justtwo.Andnowhowemptythehousefeels,

evenfromadistance.Whatdidtheysaylastnightaboutmyfiery

debutattheGames?Diditgivethemhope,orsimplyaddto

theirterrorwhentheysawtherealityoftwenty-fourtributes

circledtogether,knowingonlyonecouldlive?

HaymitchandPeetacomein,bidmegoodmorning,filltheir

plates.ItmakesmeirritatedthatPeetaiswearingexactlythe

sameoutfitIam.IneedtosaysomethingtoCinna.Thistwins

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actisgoingtoblowupinourfacesoncetheGamesbegin.

Surely,theymustknowthis.ThenIrememberHaymitchtelling

metodoexactlywhatthestyliststellmetodo.Ifitwasanyone

butCinna,Imightbetemptedtoignorehim.Butafterlast

night’striumph,Idon’thavealotofroomtocriticizehis

choices.

I’mnervousaboutthetraining.Therewillbethreedaysin

whichallthetributespracticetogether.Onthelastafternoon,

we’lleachgetachancetoperforminprivatebeforethe

Gamemakers.Thethoughtofmeetingtheothertributesface-to-

facemakesmequeasy.IturntherollIhavejusttakenfromthe

basketoverandoverinmyhands,butmyappetiteisgone.

WhenHaymitchhasfinishedseveralplattersofstew,he

pushesbackhisplatewithasigh.Hetakesaflaskfromhis

pocketandtakesalongpullonitandleanshiselbowsonthe

table.“So,let’sgetdowntobusiness.Training.Firstoff,ifyou

like,I’llcoachyouseparately.Decidenow.”

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“Whywouldyoucoachusseparately?”Iask.

“Sayifyouhadasecretskillyoumightnotwanttheotherto

knowabout,”saysHaymitch.

IexchangealookwithPeeta.“Idon’thaveanysecret

skills,”hesays.“AndIalreadyknowwhatyoursis,right?I

mean,I’veeatenenoughofyoursquirrels.”

IneverthoughtaboutPeetaeatingthesquirrelsIshot.

SomehowIalwayspicturedthebakerquietlygoingoffand

fryingthemupforhimself.Notoutofgreed.Butbecausetown

familiesusuallyeatexpensivebutchermeat.Beefandchicken

andhorse.

“Youcancoachustogether,”ItellHaymitch.Peetanods.

“Allright,sogivemesomeideaofwhatyoucando,”says

Haymitch.

“Ican’tdoanything,”saysPeeta.“Unlessyoucountbaking

bread.”

“Sorry,Idon’t.Katniss.Ialreadyknowyou’rehandywitha

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knife,”saysHaymitch.

“Notreally.ButIcanhunt,”Isay.“Withabowandarrow.”

“Andyou’regood?”asksHaymitch.

Ihavetothinkaboutit.I’vebeenputtingfoodonthetable

forfouryears.That’snosmalltask.I’mnotasgoodasmyfather

was,buthe’dhadmorepractice.I’vebetteraimthanGale,but

I’vehadmorepractice.He’sageniuswithtrapsandsnares.“I’m

allright,”Isay.

“She’sexcellent,”saysPeeta.“Myfatherbuyshersquirrels.

Healwayscommentsonhowthearrowsneverpiercethebody.

Shehitseveryoneintheeye.It’sthesamewiththerabbitsshe

sellsthebutcher.Shecanevenbringdowndeer.”

ThisassessmentofmyskillsfromPeetatakesmetotallyby

surprise.First,thatheevernoticed.Second,thathe’stalkingme

up.“Whatareyoudoing?”Iaskhimsuspiciously.

“Whatareyoudoing?Ifhe’sgoingtohelpyou,hehasto

knowwhatyou’recapableof.Don’tunderrateyourself,”says

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Peeta.

Idon’tknowwhy,butthisrubsmethewrongway.“What

aboutyou?I’veseenyouinthemarket.Youcanlifthundred-

poundbagsofflour,”Isnapathim.“Tellhimthat.That’snot

nothing.”

“Yes,andI’msurethearenawillbefullofbagsofflourfor

metochuckatpeople.It’snotlikebeingabletouseaweapon.

Youknowitisn’t,”heshootsback.

“Hecanwrestle,”ItellHaymitch.“Hecameinsecondinour

schoolcompetitionlastyear,onlyafterhisbrother.”

“Whatuseisthat?Howmanytimeshaveyouseensomeone

wrestlesomeonetodeath?”saysPeetaindisgust.

“There’salwayshand-to-handcombat.Allyouneedisto

comeupwithaknife,andyou’llatleaststandachance.IfIget

jumped,I’mdead!”Icanhearmyvoicerisinginanger.

“Butyouwon’t!You’llbelivingupinsometreeeatingraw

squirrelsandpickingoffpeoplewitharrows.Youknowwhatmy

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mothersaidtomewhenshecametosaygood-bye,asiftocheer

meup,shesaysmaybeDistrictTwelvewillfinallyhavea

winner.ThenIrealized,shedidn’tmeanme,shemeantyou!”

burstsoutPeeta.

“Oh,shemeantyou,”Isaywithawaveofdismissal.

“Shesaid,‘She’sasurvivor,thatone.’Sheis,”saysPeeta.

Thatpullsmeupshort.Didhismotherreallysaythatabout

me?Didsheratemeoverherson?IseethepaininPeeta’seyes

andknowheisn’tlying.

SuddenlyI’mbehindthebakeryandIcanfeelthechillof

therainrunningdownmyback,thehollownessinmybelly.I

soundelevenyearsoldwhenIspeak.“Butonlybecausesomeone

helpedme.”

Peeta’seyesflickerdowntotherollinmyhands,andIknow

heremembersthatday,too.Buthejustshrugs.“Peoplewillhelp

youinthearena.They’llbetrippingovereachothertosponsor

you.”

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“Nomorethanyou,”Isay.

PeetarollshiseyesatHaymitch.“Shehasnoidea.Theeffect

shecanhave.”Herunshisfingernailalongthewoodgraininthe

table,refusingtolookatme.

Whatonearthdoeshemean?Peoplehelpme?Whenwe

weredyingofstarvation,noonehelpedme!Nooneexcept

Peeta.OnceIhadsomethingtobarterwith,thingschanged.I’m

atoughtrader.OramI?WhateffectdoIhave?ThatI’mweak

andneedy?IshesuggestingthatIgotgooddealsbecausepeople

pitiedme?Itrytothinkifthisistrue.Perhapssomeofthe

merchantswerealittlegenerousintheirtrades,butIalways

attributedthattotheirlong-standingrelationshipwithmyfather.

Besides,mygameisfirst-class.Noonepitiedme!

Iglowerattheroll,surehemeanttoinsultme.

Afteraboutaminuteofthis,Haymitchsays,“Well,then.

Well,well,well.Katniss,there’snoguaranteethere’llbebows

andarrowsinthearena,butduringyourprivatesessionwiththe

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Gamemakers,showthemwhatyoucando.Untilthen,stayclear

ofarchery.Areyouanygoodattrapping?”

“Iknowafewbasicsnares,”Imutter.

“Thatmaybesignificantintermsoffood,”saysHaymitch.

“And,Peeta,she’sright,neverunderestimatestrengthinthe

arena.Veryoften,physicalpowertiltstheadvantagetoaplayer.

IntheTrainingCenter,theywillhaveweights,butdon’treveal

howmuchyoucanliftinfrontoftheothertributes.Theplan’s

thesameforbothofyou.Yougotogrouptraining.Spendthe

timetryingtolearnsomethingyoudon’tknow.Throwaspear.

Swingamace.Learntotieadecentknot.Saveshowingwhat

you’rebestatuntilyourprivatesessions.Areweclear?”says

Haymitch.

PeetaandInod.

“Onelastthing.Inpublic,Iwantyoubyeachother’sside

everyminute,”saysHaymitch.Webothstarttoobject,but

Haymitchslamshishandonthetable.“Everyminute!It’snot

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openfordiscussion!YouagreedtodoasIsaid!Youwillbe

together,youwillappearamiabletoeachother.Nowgetout.

MeetEffieattheelevatorattenfortraining.”

Ibitemylipandstalkbacktomyroom,makingsurePeeta

canhearthedoorslam.Isitonthebed,hatingHaymitch,hating

Peeta,hatingmyselfformentioningthatdaylongagointherain.

It’ssuchajoke!PeetaandIgoingalongpretendingtobe

friends!Talkingupeachother’sstrengths,insistingtheother

takecreditfortheirabilities.Because,infact,atsomepoint,

we’regoingtohavetoknockitoffandacceptwe’rebitter

adversaries.WhichI’dbepreparedtodorightnowifitwasn’t

forHaymitch’sstupidinstructionthatwesticktogetherin

training.It’smyownfault,Iguess,fortellinghimhedidn’thave

tocoachusseparately.Butthatdidn’tmeanIwantedtodo

everythingwithPeeta.Who,bytheway,clearlydoesn’twantto

bepartneringupwithme,either.

IhearPeeta’svoiceinmyhead.Shehasnoidea.Theeffect

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shecanhave.Obviouslymeanttodemeanme.Right?Butatiny

partofmewondersifthiswasacompliment.ThathemeantI

wasappealinginsomeway.It’sweird,howmuchhe’snoticed

me.Liketheattentionhe’spaidtomyhunting.Andapparently,I

havenotbeenasoblivioustohimasIimagined,either.The

flour.Thewrestling.Ihavekepttrackoftheboywiththebread.

It’salmostten.Icleanmyteethandsmoothbackmyhair

again.Angertemporarilyblockedoutmynervousnessabout

meetingtheothertributes,butnowIcanfeelmyanxietyrising

again.BythetimeImeetEffieandPeetaattheelevator,Icatch

myselfbitingmynails.Istopatonce.

Theactualtrainingroomsarebelowgroundlevelofour

building.Withtheseelevators,therideislessthanaminute.The

doorsopenintoanenormousgymnasiumfilledwithvarious

weaponsandobstaclecourses.Althoughit’snotyetten,we’re

thelastonestoarrive.Theothertributesaregatheredinatense

circle.Theyeachhaveaclothsquarewiththeirdistrictnumber

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onitpinnedtotheirshirts.Whilesomeonepinsthenumber12

onmyback,Idoaquickassessment.PeetaandIaretheonlytwo

dressedalike.

Assoonaswejointhecircle,theheadtrainer,atall,athletic

womannamedAtalastepsupandbeginstoexplainthetraining

schedule.Expertsineachskillwillremainattheirstations.We

willbefreetotravelfromareatoareaaswechoose,perour

mentor’sinstructions.Someofthestationsteachsurvivalskills,

othersfightingtechniques.Weareforbiddentoengageinany

combativeexercisewithanothertribute.Thereareassistantson

handifwewanttopracticewithapartner.

WhenAtalabeginstoreaddownthelistoftheskillstations,

myeyescan’thelpflittingaroundtotheothertributes.It’sthe

firsttimewe’vebeenassembled,onlevelground,insimple

clothes.Myheartsinks.Almostalloftheboysandatleasthalf

ofthegirlsarebiggerthanIam,eventhoughmanyofthe

tributeshaveneverbeenfedproperly.Youcanseeitintheir

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bones,theirskin,thehollowlookintheireyes.Imaybesmaller

naturally,butoverallmyfamily’sresourcefulnesshasgivenme

anedgeinthatarea.Istandstraight,andwhileI’mthin,I’m

strong.Themeatandplantsfromthewoodscombinedwiththe

exertionittooktogetthemhavegivenmeahealthierbodythan

mostofthoseIseearoundme.

Theexceptionsarethekidsfromthewealthierdistricts,the

volunteers,theoneswhohavebeenfedandtrainedthroughout

theirlivesforthismoment.Thetributesfrom1,2,and4

traditionallyhavethislookaboutthem.It’stechnicallyagainst

therulestotraintributesbeforetheyreachtheCapitolbutit

happenseveryyear.InDistrict12,wecallthemtheCareer

Tributes,orjusttheCareers.Andlikeasnot,thewinnerwillbe

oneofthem.

TheslightadvantageIheldcomingintotheTrainingCenter,

myfieryentrancelastnight,seemstovanishinthepresenceof

mycompetition.Theothertributeswerejealousofus,butnot

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becausewewereamazing,becauseourstylistswere.NowIsee

nothingbutcontemptintheglancesoftheCareerTributes.Each

musthavefiftytoahundredpoundsonme.Theyproject

arroganceandbrutality.WhenAtalareleasesus,theyhead

straightforthedeadliest-lookingweaponsinthegymandhandle

themwithease.

I’mthinkingthatit’sluckyI’mafastrunnerwhenPeeta

nudgesmyarmandIjump.Heisstillbesideme,perHaymitch’s

instructions.Hisexpressionissober.“Wherewouldyouliketo

start?”

IlookaroundattheCareerTributeswhoareshowingoff,

clearlytryingtointimidatethefield.Thenattheothers,the

underfed,theincompetent,shakilyhavingtheirfirstlessonswith

aknifeoranax.

“Supposewetiesomeknots,”Isay.

“Rightyouare,”saysPeeta.Wecrosstoanemptystation

wherethetrainerseemspleasedtohavestudents.Yougetthe

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feelingthattheknot-tyingclassisnottheHungerGameshot

spot.WhenherealizesIknowsomethingaboutsnares,heshows

usasimple,excellenttrapthatwillleaveahumancompetitor

danglingbyalegfromatree.Weconcentrateonthisoneskill

foranhouruntilbothofushavemasteredit.Thenwemoveon

tocamouflage.Peetagenuinelyseemstoenjoythisstation,

swirlingacombinationofmudandclayandberryjuicesaround

onhispaleskin,weavingdisguisesfromvinesandleaves.The

trainerwhorunsthecamouflagestationisfullofenthusiasmat

hiswork.

“Idothecakes,”headmitstome.

“Thecakes?”Iask.I’vebeenpreoccupiedwithwatchingthe

boyfromDistrict2sendaspearthroughadummy’sheartfrom

fifteenyards.“Whatcakes?”

“Athome.Theicedones,forthebakery,”hesays.

Hemeanstheonestheydisplayinthewindows.Fancycakes

withflowersandprettythingspaintedinfrosting.They’refor

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birthdaysandNewYear’sDay.Whenwe’reinthesquare,Prim

alwaysdragsmeovertoadmirethem,althoughwe’dneverbe

abletoaffordone.There’slittleenoughbeautyinDistrict12,

though,soIcanhardlydenyherthis.

IlookmorecriticallyatthedesignonPeeta’sarm.The

alternatingpatternoflightanddarksuggestssunlightfalling

throughtheleavesinthewoods.Iwonderhowheknowsthis,

sinceIdoubthe’severbeenbeyondthefence.Hashebeenable

topickthisupfromjustthatscragglyoldappletreeinhis

backyard?Somehowthewholething—hisskill,those

inaccessiblecakes,thepraiseofthecamouflageexpert—

annoysme.

“It’slovely.Ifonlyyoucouldfrostsomeonetodeath,”Isay.

“Don’tbesosuperior.Youcannevertellwhatyou’llfindin

thearena.Sayit’sactuallyagiganticcake—”beginsPeeta.

“Saywemoveon,”Ibreakin.

SothenextthreedayspasswithPeetaandmegoingquietly

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fromstationtostation.Wedopickupsomevaluableskills,from

startingfires,toknifethrowing,tomakingshelter.Despite

Haymitch’sordertoappearmediocre,Peetaexcelsinhand-to-

handcombat,andIsweeptheedibleplantstestwithoutblinking

aneye.Westeerclearofarcheryandweightliftingthough,

wantingtosavethoseforourprivatesessions.

TheGamemakersappearedearlyonthefirstday.Twentyor

somenandwomendressedindeeppurplerobes.Theysitinthe

elevatedstandsthatsurroundthegymnasium,sometimes

wanderingabouttowatchus,jottingdownnotes,othertimes

eatingattheendlessbanquetthathasbeensetforthem,ignoring

thelotofus.Buttheydoseemtobekeepingtheireyeonthe

District12tributes.SeveraltimesI’velookeduptofindone

fixatedonme.Theyconsultwiththetrainersduringourmealsas

well.Weseethemallgatheredtogetherwhenwecomeback.

Breakfastanddinnerareservedonourfloor,butatlunchthe

twenty-fourofuseatinadiningroomoffthegymnasium.Food

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isarrangedoncartsaroundtheroomandyouserveyourself.The

CareerTributestendtogatherrowdilyaroundonetable,asifto

provetheirsuperiority,thattheyhavenofearofoneanotherand

considertherestofusbeneathnotice.Mostoftheothertributes

sitalone,likelostsheep.Noonesaysawordtous.PeetaandI

eattogether,andsinceHaymitchkeepsdoggingusaboutit,try

tokeepupafriendlyconversationduringthemeals.

It’snoteasytofindatopic.Talkingofhomeispainful.

Talkingofthepresentunbearable.Oneday,Peetaemptiesour

breadbasketandpointsouthowtheyhavebeencarefultoinclude

typesfromthedistrictsalongwiththerefinedbreadofthe

Capitol.Thefish-shapedloaftintedgreenwithseaweedfrom

District4.Thecrescentmoonrolldottedwithseedsfrom

District11.Somehow,althoughit’smadefromthesamestuff,it

looksalotmoreappetizingthantheuglydropbiscuitsthatare

thestandardfareathome.

“Andthereyouhaveit,”saysPeeta,scoopingthebreads

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backinthebasket.

“Youcertainlyknowalot,”Isay.

“Onlyaboutbread,”hesays.“Okay,nowlaughasifI’vesaid

somethingfunny.”

Webothgiveasomewhatconvincinglaughandignorethe

staresfromaroundtheroom.

“Allright,I’llkeepsmilingpleasantlyandyoutalk,”says

Peeta.It’swearingusbothout,Haymitch’sdirectiontobe

friendly.BecauseeversinceIslammedmydoor,there’sbeena

chillintheairbetweenus.Butwehaveourorders.

“DidIevertellyouaboutthetimeIwaschasedbyabear?”I

ask.

“No,butitsoundsfascinating,”saysPeeta.

ItryandanimatemyfaceasIrecalltheevent,atruestory,

inwhichI’dfoolishlychallengedablackbearovertherightstoa

beehive.Peetalaughsandasksquestionsrightoncue.He’smuch

betteratthisthanIam.

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Onthesecondday,whilewe’retakingashotatspear

throwing,hewhisperstome.“Ithinkwehaveashadow.”

Ithrowmyspear,whichI’mnottoobadatactually,ifI

don’thavetothrowtoofar,andseethelittlegirlfromDistrict

11standingbackabit,watchingus.She’sthetwelve-year-old,

theonewhoremindedmesoofPriminstature.Upcloseshe

looksaboutten.Shehasbright,darkeyesandsatinybrownskin

andstandstilteduponhertoeswithherarmsslightlyextended

tohersides,asifreadytotakewingattheslightestsound.It’s

impossiblenottothinkofabird.

IpickupanotherspearwhilePeetathrows.“Ithinkher

name’sRue,”hesayssoftly.

Ibitemylip.Rueisasmallyellowflowerthatgrowsinthe

Meadow.Rue.Primrose.Neitherofthemcouldtipthescaleat

seventypoundssoakingwet.

“Whatcanwedoaboutit?”Iaskhim,moreharshlythanI

intended.

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“Nothingtodo,”hesaysback.“Justmakingconversation.”

NowthatIknowshe’sthere,it’shardtoignorethechild.

Sheslipsupandjoinsusatdifferentstations.Likeme,she’s

cleverwithplants,climbsswiftly,andhasgoodaim.Shecanhit

thetargeteverytimewithaslingshot.Butwhatisaslingshot

againsta220-poundmalewithasword?

BackontheDistrict12floor,HaymitchandEffiegrillus

throughoutbreakfastanddinnerabouteverymomentoftheday.

Whatwedid,whowatchedus,howtheothertributessizeup.

CinnaandPortiaaren’taround,sothere’snoonetoaddany

sanitytothemeals.NotthatHaymitchandEffiearefighting

anymore.Insteadtheyseemtobeofonemind,determinedto

whipusintoshape.Fullofendlessdirectionsaboutwhatwe

shoulddoandnotdointraining.Peetaismorepatient,butI

becomefedupandsurly.

Whenwefinallyescapetobedonthesecondnight,Peeta

mumbles,“SomeoneoughttogetHaymitchadrink.”

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Imakeasoundthatissomewherebetweenasnortanda

laugh.Thencatchmyself.It’smessingwithmymindtoomuch,

tryingtokeepstraightwhenwe’resupposedlyfriendsandwhen

we’renot.Atleastwhenwegetintothearena,I’llknowwhere

westand.“Don’t.Don’tlet’spretendwhenthere’snoone

around.”

“Allright,Katniss,”hesaystiredly.Afterthat,weonlytalk

infrontofpeople.

Onthethirddayoftraining,theystarttocallusoutoflunch

forourprivatesessionswiththeGamemakers.Districtby

district,firsttheboy,thenthegirltribute.Asusual,District12is

slatedtogolast.Welingerinthediningroom,unsurewhereelse

togo.Noonecomesbackoncetheyhaveleft.Astheroom

empties,thepressuretoappearfriendlylightens.Bythetime

theycallRue,weareleftalone.Wesitinsilenceuntilthey

summonPeeta.Herises.

“RememberwhatHaymitchsaidaboutbeingsuretothrow

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

theweights.”Thewordscomeoutofmymouthwithout

permission.

“Thanks.Iwill,”hesays.“You...shootstraight.”

Inod.Idon’tknowwhyIsaidanythingatall.Althoughif

I’mgoingtolose,I’dratherPeetawinthantheothers.Betterfor

ourdistrict,formymotherandPrim.

Afteraboutfifteenminutes,theycallmyname.Ismoothmy

hair,setmyshouldersback,andwalkintothegymnasium.

Instantly,IknowI’mintrouble.They’vebeenheretoolong,the

Gamemakers.Satthroughtwenty-threeotherdemonstrations.

Hadtoomuchwine,mostofthem.Wantmorethananythingto

gohome.

There’snothingIcandobutcontinuewiththeplan.Iwalkto

thearcherystation.Oh,theweapons!I’vebeenitchingtogetmy

handsonthemfordays!Bowsmadeofwoodandplasticand

metalandmaterialsIcan’tevenname.Arrowswithfeatherscut

inflawlessuniformlines.Ichooseabow,stringit,andslingthe

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

matchingquiverofarrowsovermyshoulder.There’sashooting

range,butit’smuchtoolimited.Standardbull’s-eyesandhuman

silhouettes.Iwalktothecenterofthegymnasiumandpickmy

firsttarget.Thedummyusedforknifepractice.EvenasIpull

backonthebowIknowsomethingiswrong.Thestring’stighter

thantheoneIuseathome.Thearrow’smorerigid.Imissthe

dummybyacoupleofinchesandlosewhatlittleattentionIhad

beencommanding.Foramoment,I’mhumiliated,thenIhead

backtothebull’s-eye.IshootagainandagainuntilIgetthefeel

ofthesenewweapons.

Backinthecenterofthegymnasium,Itakemyinitial

positionandskewerthedummyrightthroughtheheart.ThenI

severtheropethatholdsthesandbagforboxing,andthebag

splitsopenasitslamstotheground.Withoutpausing,I

shoulder-rollforward,comeupononeknee,andsendanarrow

intooneofthehanginglightshighabovethegymnasiumfloor.A

showerofsparksburstsfromthefixture.

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It’sexcellentshooting.IturntotheGamemakers.Afeware

noddingapproval,butthemajorityofthemarefixatedonaroast

pigthathasjustarrivedattheirbanquettable.

SuddenlyIamfurious,thatwithmylifeontheline,they

don’tevenhavethedecencytopayattentiontome.ThatI’m

beingupstagedbyadeadpig.Myheartstartstopound,Icanfeel

myfaceburning.Withoutthinking,Ipullanarrowfrommy

quiverandsenditstraightattheGamemakers’table.Ihear

shoutsofalarmaspeoplestumbleback.Thearrowskewersthe

appleinthepig’smouthandpinsittothewallbehindit.

Everyonestaresatmeindisbelief.

“Thankyouforyourconsideration,”Isay.ThenIgivea

slightbowandwalkstraighttowardtheexitwithoutbeing

dismissed.

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AsIstridetowardtheelevator,Iflingmybowtooneside

andmyquivertotheother.IbrushpastthegapingAvoxeswho

guardtheelevatorsandhitthenumbertwelvebuttonwithmy

fist.ThedoorsslidetogetherandIzipupward.Iactuallymakeit

backtomyfloorbeforethetearsstartrunningdownmycheeks.I

canheartheotherscallingmefromthesittingroom,butIfly

downthehallintomyroom,boltthedoor,andflingmyselfonto

mybed.ThenIreallybegintosob.

NowI’vedoneit!NowI’veruinedeverything!IfI’dstood

evenaghostofachance,itvanishedwhenIsentthatarrow

flyingattheGamemakers.Whatwilltheydotomenow?Arrest

me?Executeme?CutmytongueandturnmeintoanAvoxsoI

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canwaitonthefuturetributesofPanem?WhatwasIthinking,

shootingattheGamemakers?Ofcourse,Iwasn’t,Iwasshooting

atthatapplebecauseIwassoangryatbeingignored.Iwasn’t

tryingtokilloneofthem.IfIwere,they’dbedead!

Oh,whatdoesitmatter?It’snotlikeIwasgoingtowinthe

Gamesanyway.Whocareswhattheydotome?Whatreally

scaresmeiswhattheymightdotomymotherandPrim,howmy

familymightsuffernowbecauseofmyimpulsiveness.Willthey

taketheirfewbelongings,orsendmymothertoprisonandPrim

tothecommunityhome,orkillthem?Theywouldn’tkillthem,

wouldthey?Whynot?Whatdotheycare?

Ishouldhavestayedandapologized.Orlaughed,likeitwas

abigjoke.ThenmaybeIwouldhavefoundsomeleniency.But

insteadIstalkedoutoftheplaceinthemostdisrespectful

mannerpossible.

HaymitchandEffieareknockingonmydoor.Ishoutfor

themtogoawayandeventuallytheydo.Ittakesatleastanhour

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formetocrymyselfout.ThenIjustliecurleduponthebed,

strokingthesilkensheets,watchingthesunsetovertheartificial

candyCapitol.

Atfirst,Iexpectguardstocomeforme.Butastimepasses,

itseemslesslikely.Icalmdown.Theystillneedagirltribute

fromDistrict12,don’tthey?IftheGamemakerswanttopunish

me,theycandoitpublicly.WaituntilI’minthearenaandsic

starvingwildanimalsonme.Youcanbetthey’llmakesureI

don’thaveabowandarrowtodefendmyself.

Beforethatthough,they’llgivemeascoresolow,noonein

theirrightmindwouldsponsorme.That’swhatwillhappen

tonight.Sincethetrainingisn’topentoviewers,the

Gamemakersannounceascoreforeachplayer.Itgivesthe

audienceastartingplaceforthebettingthatwillcontinue

throughouttheGames.Thenumber,whichisbetweenoneand

twelve,onebeingirredeemablybadandtwelvebeing

unattainablyhigh,signifiesthepromiseofthetribute.Themark

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

isnotaguaranteeofwhichpersonwillwin.It’sonlyan

indicationofthepotentialatributeshowedintraining.Often,

becauseofthevariablesintheactualarena,high-scoringtributes

godownalmostimmediately.Andafewyearsago,theboywho

wontheGamesonlyreceivedathree.Still,thescorescanhelpor

hurtanindividualtributeintermsofsponsorship.Ihadbeen

hopingmyshootingskillsmightgetmeasixoraseven,evenif

I’mnotparticularlypowerful.NowI’msureI’llhavethelowest

scoreofthetwenty-four.Ifnoonesponsorsme,myoddsof

stayingalivedecreasetoalmostzero.

WhenEffietapsonthedoortocallmetodinner,IdecideI

mayaswellgo.Thescoreswillbetelevisedtonight.It’snotlike

Icanhidewhathappenedforever.Igotothebathroomandwash

myface,butit’sstillredandsplotchy.

Everyone’swaitingatthetable,evenCinnaandPortia.I

wishthestylistshadn’tshownupbecauseforsomereason,I

don’tliketheideaofdisappointingthem.It’sasifI’vethrown

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

awayallthegoodworktheydidontheopeningceremonies

withoutathought.IavoidlookingatanyoneasItaketiny

spoonfulsoffishsoup.Thesaltinessremindsmeofmytears.

Theadultsbeginsomechitchatabouttheweatherforecast,

andIletmyeyesmeetPeeta’s.Heraiseshiseyebrows.A

question.Whathappened?Ijustgivemyheadasmallshake.

Then,asthey’reservingthemaincourse,IhearHaymitchsay,

“Okay,enoughsmalltalk,justhowbadwereyoutoday?”

Peetajumpsin.“Idon’tknowthatitmattered.BythetimeI

showedup,nooneevenbotheredtolookatme.Theywere

singingsomekindofdrinkingsong,Ithink.So,Ithrewaround

someheavyobjectsuntiltheytoldmeIcouldgo.”

Thatmakesmefeelabitbetter.It’snotlikePeetaattacked

theGamemakers,butatleasthewasprovoked,too.

“Andyou,sweetheart?”saysHaymitch.

SomehowHaymitchcallingmesweetheartticksmeoff

enoughthatI’matleastabletospeak.“Ishotanarrowatthe

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

Gamemakers.”

Everyonestopseating.“Youwhat?”ThehorrorinEffie’s

voiceconfirmsmyworsesuspicions.

“Ishotanarrowatthem.Notexactlyatthem.Intheir

direction.It’slikePeetasaid,Iwasshootingandtheywere

ignoringmeandIjust...Ijustlostmyhead,soIshotanapple

outoftheirstupidroastpig’smouth!”Isaydefiantly.

“Andwhatdidtheysay?”saysCinnacarefully.

“Nothing.OrIdon’tknow.Iwalkedoutafterthat,”Isay.

“Withoutbeingdismissed?”gaspsEffie.

“Idismissedmyself,”Isaid.IrememberhowIpromised

PrimthatIreallywouldtrytowinandIfeellikeatonofcoal

hasdroppedonme.

“Well,that’sthat,”saysHaymitch.Thenhebuttersaroll.

“Doyouthinkthey’llarrestme?”Iask.

“Doubtit.Beapaintoreplaceyouatthisstage,”says

Haymitch.

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“Whataboutmyfamily?”Isay.“Willtheypunishthem?”

“Don’tthinkso.Wouldn’tmakemuchsense.See,they’d

havetorevealwhathappenedintheTrainingCenterforitto

haveanyworthwhileeffectonthepopulation.Peoplewouldneed

toknowwhatyoudid.Buttheycan’tsinceit’ssecret,soit’dbea

wasteofeffort,”saysHaymitch.“Morelikelythey’llmakeyour

lifehellinthearena.”

“Well,they’vealreadypromisedtodothattousanyway,”

saysPeeta.

“Verytrue,”saysHaymitch.AndIrealizetheimpossiblehas

happened.Theyhaveactuallycheeredmeup.Haymitchpicksup

aporkchopwithhisfingers,whichmakesEffiefrown,and

dunksitinhiswine.Heripsoffahunkofmeatandstartsto

chuckle.“Whatweretheirfaceslike?”

Icanfeeltheedgesofmymouthtiltingup.“Shocked.

Terrified.Uh,ridiculous,someofthem.”Animagepopsintomy

mind.“Onemantrippedbackwardintoabowlofpunch.”

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HaymitchguffawsandweallstartlaughingexceptEffie,

althoughevensheissuppressingasmile.“Well,itservesthem

right.It’stheirjobtopayattentiontoyou.Andjustbecauseyou

comefromDistrictTwelveisnoexcusetoignoreyou.”Thenher

eyesdartaroundasifshe’ssaidsomethingtotallyoutrageous.

“I’msorry,butthat’swhatIthink,”shesaystonoonein

particular.

“I’llgetaverybadscore,”Isay.

“Scoresonlymatterifthey’reverygood,noonepaysmuch

attentiontothebadormediocreones.Foralltheyknow,you

couldbehidingyourtalentstogetalowscoreonpurpose.

Peopleusethatstrategy,”saidPortia.

“Ihopethat’showpeopleinterpretthefourI’llprobably

get,”saysPeeta.“Ifthat.Really,isanythinglessimpressivethan

watchingapersonpickupaheavyballandthrowitacoupleof

yards.Onealmostlandedonmyfoot.”

IgrinathimandrealizethatI’mstarving.Icutoffapieceof

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pork,dunkitinmashedpotatoes,andstarteating.It’sokay.My

familyissafe.Andiftheyaresafe,norealharmhasbeendone.

Afterdinner,wegotothesittingroomtowatchthescores

announcedontelevision.Firsttheyshowaphotoofthetribute,

thenflashtheirscorebelowit.TheCareerTributesnaturallyget

intheeight-to-tenrange.Mostoftheotherplayersaveragea

five.Surprisingly,littleRuecomesupwithaseven.Idon’tknow

whatsheshowedthejudges,butshe’ssotinyitmusthavebeen

impressive.

District12comesuplast,asusual.Peetapullsaneightsoat

leastacoupleoftheGamemakersmusthavebeenwatchinghim.

Idigmyfingernailsintomypalmsasmyfacecomesup,

expectingtheworst.Thenthey’reflashingthenumberelevenon

thescreen.

Eleven!

EffieTrinketletsoutasqueal,andeverybodyisslappingme

onthebackandcheeringandcongratulatingme.Butitdoesn’t

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seemreal.

“Theremustbeamistake.How...howcouldthathappen?”

IaskHaymitch.

“Guesstheylikedyourtemper,”hesays.“They’vegota

showtoputon.Theyneedsomeplayerswithsomeheat.”

“Katniss,thegirlwhowasonfire,”saysCinnaandgivesme

ahug.“Oh,waituntilyouseeyourinterviewdress.”

“Moreflames?”Iask.

“Ofasort,”hesaysmischievously.

PeetaandIcongratulateeachother,anotherawkward

moment.We’vebothdonewell,butwhatdoesthatmeanforthe

other?Iescapetomyroomasquicklyaspossibleandburrow

downunderthecovers.Thestressoftheday,particularlythe

crying,haswornmeout.Idriftoff,reprieved,relieved,andwith

thenumberelevenstillflashingbehindmyeyelids.

Atdawn,Ilieinbedforawhile,watchingthesuncomeup

onabeautifulmorning.It’sSunday.Adayoffathome.Iwonder

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ifGaleisinthewoodsyet.UsuallywedevoteallofSundayto

stockingupfortheweek.Risingearly,huntingandgathering,

thentradingattheHob.IthinkofGalewithoutme.Bothofus

canhuntalone,butwe’rebetterasapair.Particularlyifwe’re

tryingforbiggergame.Butalsointhelittlerthings,havinga

partnerlightenedtheload,couldevenmakethearduoustaskof

fillingmyfamily’stableenjoyable.

Ihadbeenstrugglingalongonmyownforaboutsixmonths

whenIfirstranintoGaleinthewoods.ItwasaSundayin

October,theaircoolandpungentwithdyingthings.I’dspentthe

morningcompetingwiththesquirrelsfornutsandtheslightly

warmerafternoonwadinginshallowpondsharvestingkatniss.

TheonlymeatI’dshotwasasquirrelthathadpracticallyrun

overmytoesinitsquestforacorns,buttheanimalswouldstill

beafootwhenthesnowburiedmyotherfoodsources.Having

strayedfartherafieldthanusual,Iwashurryingbackhome,

luggingmyburlapsacks,whenIcameacrossadeadrabbit.It

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washangingbyitsneckinathinwireafootabovemyhead.

Aboutfifteenyardsawaywasanother.Irecognizedthetwitch-up

snaresbecausemyfatherhadusedthem.Whenthepreyis

caught,it’syankedintotheairoutofthereachofotherhungry

animals.I’dbeentryingtousesnaresallsummerwithno

success,soIcouldn’thelpdroppingmysackstoexaminethis

one.Myfingerswerejustonthewireaboveoneoftherabbits

whenavoicerangout.“That’sdangerous.”

IjumpedbackseveralfeetasGalematerializedfrombehind

atree.Hemusthavebeenwatchingmethewholetime.Hewas

onlyfourteen,butheclearedsixfeetandwasasgoodasanadult

tome.I’dseenhimaroundtheSeamandatschool.Andone

othertime.He’dlosthisfatherinthesameblastthatkilledmine.

InJanuary,I’dstoodbywhilehereceivedhismedalofvalorin

theJusticeBuilding,anotheroldestchildwithnofather.I

rememberedhistwolittlebrothersclutchinghismother,a

womanwhoseswollenbellyannouncedshewasjustdaysaway

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fromgivingbirth.

“What’syourname?”hesaid,comingoveranddisengaging

therabbitfromthesnare.Hehadanotherthreehangingfromhis

belt.

“Katniss,”Isaid,barelyaudible.

“Well,Catnip,stealing’spunishablebydeath,orhadn’tyou

heard?”hesaid.

“Katniss,”Isaidlouder.“AndIwasn’tstealingit.Ijust

wantedtolookatyoursnare.Minenevercatchanything.”

Hescowledatme,notconvinced.“Sowhere’dyougetthe

squirrel?”

“Ishotit.”Ipulledmybowoffmyshoulder.Iwasstillusing

thesmallversionmyfatherhadmademe,butI’dbeenpracticing

withthefull-sizeonewhenIcould.IwashopingthatbyspringI

mightbeabletobringdownsomebiggergame.

Gale’seyesfastenedonthebow.“CanIseethat?”

Ihandeditover.“Justremember,stealing’spunishableby

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death.”

ThatwasthefirsttimeIeversawhimsmile.Ittransformed

himfromsomeonemenacingtosomeoneyouwishedyouknew.

ButittookseveralmonthsbeforeIreturnedthatsmile.

Wetalkedhuntingthen.ItoldhimImightbeabletogethim

abowifhehadsomethingtotrade.Notfood.Iwanted

knowledge.Iwantedtosetmyownsnaresthatcaughtabeltof

fatrabbitsinoneday.Heagreedsomethingmightbeworkedout.

Astheseasonswentby,wegrudginglybegantoshareour

knowledge,ourweapons,oursecretplacesthatwerethickwith

wildplumsorturkeys.Hetaughtmesnaresandfishing.Ishowed

himwhatplantstoeatandeventuallygavehimoneofour

preciousbows.Andthenoneday,withouteitherofussayingit,

webecameateam.Dividingtheworkandthespoils.Making

surethatbothourfamilieshadfood.

GalegavemeasenseofsecurityI’dlackedsincemyfather’s

death.Hiscompanionshipreplacedthelongsolitaryhoursinthe

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woods.IbecameamuchbetterhunterwhenIdidn’thavetolook

overmyshoulderconstantly,whensomeonewaswatchingmy

back.Butheturnedintosomuchmorethanahuntingpartner.He

becamemyconfidant,someonewithwhomIcouldshare

thoughtsIcouldnevervoiceinsidethefence.Inexchange,he

trustedmewithhis.BeingoutinthewoodswithGale...

sometimesIwasactuallyhappy.

Icallhimmyfriend,butinthelastyearit’sseemedtoo

casualawordforwhatGaleistome.Apangoflongingshoots

throughmychest.Ifonlyhewaswithmenow!But,ofcourse,I

don’twantthat.Idon’twanthiminthearenawherehe’dbedead

inafewdays.Ijust...Ijustmisshim.AndIhatebeingso

alone.Doeshemissme?Hemust.

Ithinkoftheelevenflashingundermynamelastnight.I

knowexactlywhathe’dsaytome.“Well,there’ssomeroomfor

improvementthere.”Andthenhe’dgivemeasmileandI’d

returnitwithouthesitatingnow.

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Ican’thelpcomparingwhatIhavewithGaletowhatI’m

pretendingtohavewithPeeta.HowIneverquestionGale’s

motiveswhileIdonothingbutdoubtthelatter’s.It’snotafair

comparisonreally.GaleandIwerethrowntogetherbyamutual

needtosurvive.PeetaandIknowtheother’ssurvivalmeansour

owndeath.Howdoyousidestepthat?

Effie’sknockingatthedoor,remindingmethere’sanother

“big,big,bigday!”ahead.Tomorrownightwillbeourtelevised

interviews.Iguessthewholeteamwillhavetheirhandsfull

readyingusforthat.

Igetupandtakeaquickshower,beingabitmorecareful

aboutthebuttonsIhit,andheaddowntothediningroom.Peeta,

Effie,andHaymitcharehuddledaroundthetabletalkingin

hushedvoices.Thatseemsodd,buthungerwinsoutover

curiosityandIloadupmyplatewithbreakfastbeforeIjoin

them.

Thestew’smadewithtenderchunksoflambanddried

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plumstoday.Perfectonthebedofwildrice.I’veshoveledabout

halfwaythroughthemoundwhenIrealizenoone’stalking.I

takeabiggulpoforangejuiceandwipemymouth.“So,what’s

goingon?You’recoachingusoninterviewstoday,right?”

“That’sright,”saysHaymitch.

“Youdon’thavetowaituntilI’mdone.Icanlistenandeat

atthesametime,”Isay.

“Well,there’sbeenachangeofplans.Aboutourcurrent

approach,”saysHaymitch.

“What’sthat?”Iask.I’mnotsurewhatourcurrentapproach

is.Tryingtoappearmediocreinfrontoftheothertributesisthe

lastbitofstrategyIremember.

Haymitchshrugs.“Peetahasaskedtobecoached

separately.”

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Betrayal.That’sthefirstthingIfeel,whichisludicrous.For

theretobebetrayal,therewouldhavetohavebeentrustfirst.

BetweenPeetaandme.Andtrusthasnotbeenpartofthe

agreement.We’retributes.Buttheboywhoriskedabeatingto

givemebread,theonewhosteadiedmeinthechariot,who

coveredformewiththeredheadedAvoxgirl,whoinsisted

Haymitchknowmyhuntingskills...wastheresomepartofme

thatcouldn’thelptrustinghim?

Ontheotherhand,I’mrelievedthatwecanstopthepretense

ofbeingfriends.Obviously,whateverthinconnectionwe’d

foolishlyformedhasbeensevered.Andhightime,too.The

Gamesbeginintwodays,andtrustwillonlybeaweakness.

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WhatevertriggeredPeeta’sdecision—andIsuspectithadtodo

withmyoutperforminghimintraining—Ishouldbenothing

butgratefulforit.Maybehe’sfinallyacceptedthefactthatthe

soonerweopenlyacknowledgethatweareenemies,thebetter.

“Good,”Isay.“Sowhat’stheschedule?”

“You’lleachhavefourhourswithEffieforpresentationand

fourwithmeforcontent,”saysHaymitch.“YoustartwithEffie,

Katniss.”

Ican’timaginewhatEffiewillhavetoteachmethatcould

takefourhours,butshe’sgotmeworkingdowntothelast

minute.Wegotomyroomandsheputsmeinafull-lengthgown

andhigh-heeledshoes,nottheonesI’llbewearingfortheactual

interview,andinstructsmeonwalking.Theshoesaretheworst

part.I’veneverwornhighheelsandcan’tgetusedtoessentially

wobblingaroundontheballsofmyfeet.ButEffierunsaroundin

themfull-time,andI’mdeterminedthatifshecandoit,socanI.

Thedressposesanotherproblem.Itkeepstanglingaroundmy

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shoesso,ofcourse,Ihitchitup,andthenEffieswoopsdownon

melikeahawk,smackingmyhandsandyelling,“Notabovethe

ankle!”WhenIfinallyconquerwalking,there’sstillsitting,

posture—apparentlyIhaveatendencytoduckmyhead—eye

contact,handgestures,andsmiling.Smilingismostlyabout

smilingmore.Effiemakesmesayahundredbanalphrases

startingwithasmile,whilesmiling,orendingwithasmile.By

lunch,themusclesinmycheeksaretwitchingfromoveruse.

“Well,that’sthebestIcando,”Effiesayswithasigh.“Just

remember,Katniss,youwanttheaudiencetolikeyou.”

“Andyoudon’tthinktheywill?”Iask.

“Notifyouglareatthemtheentiretime.Whydon’tyou

savethatforthearena?Instead,thinkofyourselfamong

friends,”saysEffie.

“They’rebettingonhowlongI’lllive!”Iburstout.“They’re

notmyfriends!”

“Well,tryandpretend!”snapsEffie.Thenshecomposes

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herselfandbeamsatme.“See,likethis.I’msmilingatyoueven

thoughyou’reaggravatingme.”

“Yes,itfeelsveryconvincing,”Isay.“I’mgoingtoeat.”I

kickoffmyheelsandstompdowntothediningroom,hikingmy

skirtuptomythighs.

PeetaandHaymitchseeminprettygoodmoods,soI’m

thinkingthecontentsessionshouldbeanimprovementoverthe

morning.Icouldn’tbemorewrong.Afterlunch,Haymitchtakes

meintothesittingroom,directsmetothecouch,andthenjust

frownsatmeforawhile.

“What?”Ifinallyask.

“I’mtryingtofigureoutwhattodowithyou,”hesays.

“Howwe’regoingtopresentyou.Areyougoingtobecharming?

Aloof?Fierce?Sofar,you’reshininglikeastar.You

volunteeredtosaveyoursister.Cinnamadeyoulook

unforgettable.You’vegotthetoptrainingscore.Peopleare

intrigued,butnooneknowswhoyouare.Theimpressionyou

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maketomorrowwilldecideexactlywhatIcangetyouinterms

ofsponsors,”saysHaymitch.

Havingwatchedthetributeinterviewsallmylife,Iknow

there’struthtowhathe’ssaying.Ifyouappealtothecrowd,

eitherbybeinghumorousorbrutaloreccentric,yougainfavor.

“What’sPeeta’sapproach?OramInotallowedtoask?”I

say.

“Likable.Hehasasortofself-deprecatinghumornaturally,”

saysHaymitch.“Whereaswhenyouopenyourmouth,youcome

acrossmoreassullenandhostile.”

“Idonot!”Isay.

“Please.Idon’tknowwhereyoupulledthatcheery,wavy

girlonthechariotfrom,butIhaven’tseenherbeforeorsince,”

saysHaymitch.

“Andyou’vegivenmesomanyreasonstobecheery,”I

counter.

“Butyoudon’thavetopleaseme.I’mnotgoingtosponsor

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you.SopretendI’mtheaudience,”saysHaymitch.“Delightme.”

“Fine!”Isnarl.Haymitchtakestheroleoftheinterviewer

andItrytoanswerhisquestionsinawinningfashion.ButI

can’t.I’mtooangrywithHaymitchforwhathesaidandthatI

evenhavetoanswerthequestions.AllIcanthinkishowunjust

thewholethingis,theHungerGames.WhyamIhoppingaround

likesometraineddogtryingtopleasepeopleIhate?Thelonger

theinterviewgoeson,themoremyfuryseemstorisetothe

surface,untilI’mliterallyspittingoutanswersathim.

“Allright,enough,”hesays.“We’vegottofindanother

angle.Notonlyareyouhostile,Idon’tknowanythingaboutyou.

I’veaskedyoufiftyquestionsandstillhavenosenseofyourlife,

yourfamily,whatyoucareabout.Theywanttoknowaboutyou,

Katniss.”

“ButIdon’twantthemto!They’realreadytakingmyfuture!

Theycan’thavethethingsthatmatteredtomeinthepast!”I

say.

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“Thenlie!Makesomethingup!”saysHaymitch.

“I’mnotgoodatlying,”Isay.

“Well,youbetterlearnfast.You’vegotaboutasmuch

charmasadeadslug,”saysHaymitch.

Ouch.Thathurts.EvenHaymitchmustknowhe’sbeentoo

harshbecausehisvoicesoftens.“Here’sanidea.Tryacting

humble.”

“Humble,”Iecho.

“Thatyoucan’tbelievealittlegirlfromDistrictTwelvehas

donethiswell.Thewholething’sbeenmorethanyouevercould

havedreamedof.TalkaboutCinna’sclothes.Hownicethe

peopleare.Howthecityamazesyou.Ifyouwon’ttalkabout

yourself,atleastcomplimenttheaudience.Justkeepturningit

backaround,allright.Gush.”

Thenexthoursareagonizing.Atonce,it’sclearIcannot

gush.Wetrymeplayingcocky,butIjustdon’thavethe

arrogance.Apparently,I’mtoo“vulnerable”forferocity.I’mnot

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witty.Funny.Sexy.Ormysterious.

Bytheendofthesession,Iamnooneatall.Haymitch

starteddrinkingsomewherearoundwitty,andanastyedgehas

creptintohisvoice.“Igiveup,sweetheart.Justanswerthe

questionsandtrynottolettheaudienceseehowopenlyyou

despisethem.”

Ihavedinnerthatnightinmyroom,orderinganoutrageous

numberofdelicacies,eatingmyselfsick,andthentakingoutmy

angeratHaymitch,attheHungerGames,ateverylivingbeingin

theCapitolbysmashingdishesaroundmyroom.Whenthegirl

withtheredhaircomesintoturndownmybed,hereyeswiden

atthemess.“Justleaveit!”Iyellather.“Justleaveitalone!”

Ihateher,too,withherknowingreproachfuleyesthatcall

meacoward,amonster,apuppetoftheCapitol,bothnowand

then.Forher,justicemustfinallybehappening.Atleastmy

deathwillhelppayforthelifeoftheboyinthewoods.

Butinsteadoffleeingtheroom,thegirlclosesthedoor

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behindherandgoestothebathroom.Shecomesbackwitha

dampclothandwipesmyfacegentlythencleansthebloodfrom

abrokenplateoffmyhands.Whyisshedoingthis?WhyamI

lettingher?

“Ishouldhavetriedtosaveyou,”Iwhisper.

Sheshakesherhead.Doesthismeanwewererighttostand

by?Thatshehasforgivenme?

“No,itwaswrong,”Isay.

Shetapsherlipswithherfingersthenpointstomychest.I

thinkshemeansthatIwouldjusthaveendedupanAvox,too.

Probablywouldhave.AnAvoxordead.

Ispendthenexthourhelpingtheredheadedgirlcleanthe

room.Whenallthegarbagehasbeendroppeddownadisposal

andthefoodcleanedaway,sheturnsdownmybed.Icrawlin

betweenthesheetslikeafive-year-oldandlethertuckmein.

Thenshegoes.IwanthertostayuntilIfallasleep.Tobethere

whenIwakeup.Iwanttheprotectionofthisgirl,eventhough

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sheneverhadmine.

Inthemorning,it’snotthegirlbutmyprepteamwhoare

hangingoverme.MylessonswithEffieandHaymitchareover.

ThisdaybelongstoCinna.He’smylasthope.Maybehecan

makemelooksowonderful,noonewillcarewhatcomesoutof

mymouth.

Theteamworksonmeuntillateafternoon,turningmyskin

toglowingsatin,stencilingpatternsonmyarms,paintingflame

designsonmytwentyperfectnails.ThenVeniagoestoworkon

myhair,weavingstrandsofredintoapatternthatbeginsatmy

leftear,wrapsaroundmyhead,andthenfallsinonebraiddown

myrightshoulder.Theyerasemyfacewithalayerofpale

makeupanddrawmyfeaturesbackout.Hugedarkeyes,fullred

lips,lashesthatthrowoffbitsoflightwhenIblink.Finally,they

covermyentirebodyinapowderthatmakesmeshimmerin

golddust.

ThenCinnaenterswithwhatIassumeismydress,butI

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can’treallyseeitbecauseit’scovered.“Closeyoureyes,”he

orders.

Icanfeelthesilkeninsideastheyslipitdownovermy

nakedbody,thentheweight.Itmustbefortypounds.Iclutch

Octavia’shandasIblindlystepintomyshoes,gladtofindthey

areatleasttwoincheslowerthanthepairEffiehadmepractice

in.There’ssomeadjustingandfidgeting.Thensilence.

“CanIopenmyeyes?”Iask.

“Yes,”saysCinna.“Openthem.”

Thecreaturestandingbeforemeinthefull-lengthmirrorhas

comefromanotherworld.Whereskinshimmersandeyesflash

andapparentlytheymaketheirclothesfromjewels.Becausemy

dress,oh,mydressisentirelycoveredinreflectiveprecious

gems,redandyellowandwhitewithbitsofbluethataccentthe

tipsoftheflamedesign.Theslightestmovementgivesthe

impressionIamengulfedintonguesoffire.

Iamnotpretty.Iamnotbeautiful.Iamasradiantasthesun.

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Forawhile,wealljuststareatme.“Oh,Cinna,”Ifinally

whisper.“Thankyou.”

“Twirlforme,”hesays.Iholdoutmyarmsandspinina

circle.Theprepteamscreamsinadmiration.

Cinnadismissestheteamandhasmemovearoundinthe

dressandshoes,whichareinfinitelymoremanageablethan

Effie’s.ThedresshangsinsuchawaythatIdon’thavetoliftthe

skirtwhenIwalk,leavingmewithonelessthingtoworryabout.

“So,allreadyfortheinterviewthen?”asksCinna.Icansee

byhisexpressionthathe’sbeentalkingtoHaymitch.Thathe

knowshowdreadfulIam.

“I’mawful.Haymitchcalledmeadeadslug.Nomatterwhat

wetried,Icouldn’tdoit.Ijustcan’tbeoneofthosepeoplehe

wantsmetobe,”Isay.

Cinnathinksaboutthisamoment.“Whydon’tyoujustbe

yourself?”

“Myself?That’snogood,either.HaymitchsaysI’msullen

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andhostile,”Isay.

“Well,youare...aroundHaymitch,”saysCinnawitha

grin.“Idon’tfindyouso.Theprepteamadoresyou.Youeven

wonovertheGamemakers.AndasforthecitizensoftheCapitol,

well,theycan’tstoptalkingaboutyou.Noonecanhelpbut

admireyourspirit.”

Myspirit.Thisisanewthought.I’mnotsureexactlywhatit

means,butitsuggestsI’mafighter.Inasortofbraveway.It’s

notasifI’mneverfriendly.Okay,maybeIdon’tgoaround

lovingeverybodyImeet,maybemysmilesarehardtocomeby,

butIdocareforsomepeople.

Cinnatakesmyicyhandsinhiswarmones.“Suppose,when

youanswerthequestions,youthinkyou’readdressingafriend

backhome.Whowouldyourbestfriendbe?”asksCinna.

“Gale,”Isayinstantly.“Onlyitdoesn’tmakesense,Cinna.I

wouldneverbetellingGalethosethingsaboutme.Healready

knowsthem.”

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“Whataboutme?Couldyouthinkofmeasafriend?”asks

Cinna.

OfallthepeopleI’vemetsinceIlefthome,Cinnaisbyfar

myfavorite.Ilikedhimrightoffandhehasn’tdisappointedme

yet.“Ithinkso,but—”

“I’llbesittingonthemainplatformwiththeotherstylists.

You’llbeabletolookrightatme.Whenyou’reaskedaquestion,

findme,andansweritashonestlyaspossible,”saysCinna.

“EvenifwhatIthinkishorrible?”Iask.Becauseitmightbe,

really.

“Especiallyifwhatyouthinkishorrible,”saysCinna.

“You’lltryit?”

Inod.It’saplan.Oratleastastrawtograspat.

Toosoonit’stimetogo.Theinterviewstakeplaceonastage

constructedinfrontoftheTrainingCenter.OnceIleavemy

room,itwillbeonlyminutesuntilI’minfrontofthecrowd,the

cameras,allofPanem.

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AsCinnaturnsthedoorknob,Istophishand.“Cinna...”

I’mcompletelyovercomewithstagefright.

“Remember,theyalreadyloveyou,”hesaysgently.“Justbe

yourself.”

WemeetupwiththerestoftheDistrict12crowdatthe

elevator.Portiaandherganghavebeenhardatwork.Peetalooks

strikinginablacksuitwithflameaccents.Whilewelookwell

together,it’sareliefnottobedressedidentically.Haymitchand

Effieareallfanciedupfortheoccasion.IavoidHaymitch,but

acceptEffie’scompliments.Effiecanbetiresomeandclueless,

butshe’snotdestructivelikeHaymitch.

Whentheelevatoropens,theothertributesarebeinglined

uptotakethestage.Alltwenty-fourofussitinabigarc

throughouttheinterviews.I’llbelast,orsecondtolastsincethe

girltributeprecedestheboyfromeachdistrict.HowIwishI

couldbefirstandgetthewholethingoutoftheway!NowI’ll

havetolistentohowwitty,funny,humble,fierce,andcharming

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everybodyelseisbeforeIgoup.Plus,theaudiencewillstartto

getbored,justastheGamemakersdid.AndIcan’texactlyshoot

anarrowintothecrowdtogettheirattention.

Rightbeforeweparadeontothestage,Haymitchcomesup

behindPeetaandmeandgrowls,“Remember,you’restilla

happypair.Soactlikeit.”

What?IthoughtweabandonedthatwhenPeetaaskedfor

separatecoaching.ButIguessthatwasaprivate,notapublic

thing.Anyway,there’snotmuchchanceforinteractionnow,as

wewalksingle-filetoourseatsandtakeourplaces.

Juststeppingonthestagemakesmybreathingrapidand

shallow.Icanfeelmypulsepoundinginmytemples.It’sarelief

togettomychair,becausebetweentheheelsandmylegs

shaking,I’mafraidI’lltrip.Althougheveningisfalling,theCity

Circleisbrighterthanasummer’sday.Anelevatedseatingunit

hasbeensetupforprestigiousguests,withthestylists

commandingthefrontrow.Thecameraswillturntothemwhen

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thecrowdisreactingtotheirhandiwork.Alargebalconyoffa

buildingtotherighthasbeenreservedfortheGamemakers.

Televisioncrewshaveclaimedmostoftheotherbalconies.But

theCityCircleandtheavenuesthatfeedintoitarecompletely

packedwithpeople.Standingroomonly.Athomesand

communityhallsaroundthecountry,everytelevisionsetis

turnedon.EverycitizenofPanemistunedin.Therewillbeno

blackoutstonight.

CaesarFlickerman,themanwhohashostedtheinterviews

formorethanfortyyears,bouncesontothestage.It’salittle

scarybecausehisappearancehasbeenvirtuallyunchanged

duringallthattime.Samefaceunderacoatingofpurewhite

makeup.Samehairstylethathedyesadifferentcolorforeach

HungerGames.Sameceremonialsuit,midnightbluedottedwith

athousandtinyelectricbulbsthattwinklelikestars.Theydo

surgeryintheCapitol,tomakepeopleappearyoungerand

thinner.InDistrict12,lookingoldissomethingofan

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achievementsincesomanypeopledieearly.Youseeanelderly

person,youwanttocongratulatethemontheirlongevity,askthe

secretofsurvival.Aplumppersonisenviedbecausetheyaren’t

scrapingbylikethemajorityofus.Buthereitisdifferent.

Wrinklesaren’tdesirable.Aroundbellyisn’tasignofsuccess.

Thisyear,Caesar’shairispowderblueandhiseyelidsand

lipsarecoatedinthesamehue.Helooksfreakishbutless

frighteningthanhedidlastyearwhenhiscolorwascrimsonand

heseemedtobebleeding.Caesartellsafewjokestowarmup

theaudiencebutthengetsdowntobusiness.

ThegirltributefromDistrict1,lookingprovocativeinasee-

throughgoldgown,stepsupthecenterofthestagetojoinCaesar

forherinterview.Youcantellhermentordidn’thaveany

troublecomingupwithanangleforher.Withthatflowing

blondehair,emeraldgreeneyes,herbodytallandlush...she’s

sexyalltheway.

Eachinterviewonlylaststhreeminutes.Thenabuzzergoes

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offandthenexttributeisup.I’llsaythisforCaesar,hereally

doeshisbesttomakethetributesshine.He’sfriendly,triestoset

thenervousonesatease,laughsatlamejokes,andcanturna

weakresponseintoamemorableonebythewayhereacts.

Isitlikealady,thewayEffieshowedme,asthedistricts

slipby.2,3,4.Everyoneseemstobeplayingupsomeangle.The

monstrousboyfromDistrict2isaruthlesskillingmachine.The

fox-facedgirlfromDistrict5slyandelusive.IspottedCinnaas

soonashetookhisplace,butevenhispresencecannotrelaxme.

8,9,10.Thecrippledboyfrom10isveryquiet.Mypalmsare

sweatinglikecrazy,butthejeweleddressisn’tabsorbentand

theyskidrightoffifItrytodrythem.11.

Rue,whoisdressedinagossamergowncompletewith

wings,fluttersherwaytoCaesar.Ahushfallsoverthecrowdat

thesightofthismagicalwispofatribute.Caesar’sverysweet

withher,complimentinghersevenintraining,anexcellentscore

foronesosmall.Whenheasksherwhathergreateststrengthin

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thearenawillbe,shedoesn’thesitate.“I’mveryhardtocatch,”

shesaysinatremulousvoice.“Andiftheycan’tcatchme,they

can’tkillme.Sodon’tcountmeout.”

“Iwouldn’tinamillionyears,”saysCaesarencouragingly.

TheboytributefromDistrict11,Thresh,hasthesamedark

skinasRue,buttheresemblancestopsthere.He’soneofthe

giants,probablysixandahalffeettallandbuiltlikeanox,butI

noticedherejectedtheinvitationsfromtheCareerTributesto

jointheircrowd.Insteadhe’sbeenverysolitary,speakingtono

one,showinglittleinterestintraining.Evenso,hescoredaten

andit’snothardtoimagineheimpressedtheGamemakers.He

ignoresCaesar’sattemptsatbanterandanswerswithayesorno

orjustremainssilent.

IfonlyIwashissize,Icouldgetawaywithsullenand

hostileanditwouldbejustfine!Ibethalfthesponsorsareat

leastconsideringhim.IfIhadanymoney,I’dbetonhimmyself.

Andthenthey’recallingKatnissEverdeen,andIfeelmyself,

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asifinadream,standingandmakingmywaycenterstage.I

shakeCaesar’soutstretchedhand,andhehasthegoodgracenot

toimmediatelywipehisoffonhissuit.

“So,Katniss,theCapitolmustbequiteachangefrom

DistrictTwelve.What’simpressedyoumostsinceyouarrived

here?”asksCaesar.

What?Whatdidhesay?It’sasifthewordsmakenosense.

Mymouthhasgoneasdryassawdust.Idesperatelyfind

Cinnainthecrowdandlockeyeswithhim.Iimaginethewords

comingfromhislips.“What’simpressedyoumostsinceyou

arrivedhere?”Irackmybrainforsomethingthatmademe

happyhere.Behonest,Ithink.Behonest.

“Thelambstew,”Igetout.

Caesarlaughs,andvaguelyIrealizesomeoftheaudience

hasjoinedin.

“Theonewiththedriedplums?”asksCaesar.Inod.“Oh,I

eatitbythebucketful.”Heturnssidewaystotheaudiencein

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horror,handonhisstomach.“Itdoesn’tshow,doesit?”They

shoutreassurancestohimandapplaud.ThisiswhatImean

aboutCaesar.Hetriestohelpyouout.

“Now,Katniss,”hesaysconfidentially,“Whenyoucameout

intheopeningceremonies,myheartactuallystopped.Whatdid

youthinkofthatcostume?”

Cinnaraisesoneeyebrowatme.Behonest.“Youmeanafter

Igotovermyfearofbeingburnedalive?”Iask.

Biglaugh.Arealonefromtheaudience.

“Yes.Startthen,”saysCaesar.

Cinna,myfriend,Ishouldtellhimanyway.“IthoughtCinna

wasbrilliantanditwasthemostgorgeouscostumeI’deverseen

andIcouldn’tbelieveIwaswearingit.Ican’tbelieveI’m

wearingthis,either.”Iliftupmyskirttospreaditout.“Imean,

lookatit!”

Astheaudienceoohsandahs,IseeCinnamakethetiniest

circularmotionwithhisfinger.ButIknowwhathe’ssaying.

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Twirlforme.

Ispininacircleonceandthereactionisimmediate.

“Oh,dothatagain!”saysCaesar,andsoIliftupmyarms

andspinaroundandaroundlettingtheskirtflyout,lettingthe

dressengulfmeinflames.Theaudiencebreaksintocheers.

WhenIstop,IclutchCaesar’sarm.

“Don’tstop!”hesays.

“Ihaveto,I’mdizzy!”I’malsogiggling,whichIthinkI’ve

donemaybeneverinmylifetime.Butthenervesandthe

spinninghavegottentome.

Caesarwrapsaprotectivearmaroundme.“Don’tworry,I’ve

gotyou.Can’thaveyoufollowinginyourmentor’sfootsteps.”

Everyone’shootingasthecamerasfindHaymitch,whoisby

nowfamousforhisheaddiveatthereaping,andhewavesthem

awaygood-naturedlyandpointsbacktome.

“It’sallright,”Caesarreassuresthecrowd.“She’ssafewith

me.So,howaboutthattrainingscore.E-le-ven.Giveusahint

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

whathappenedinthere.”

IglanceattheGamemakersonthebalconyandbitemylip.

“Um...allIcansay,isIthinkitwasafirst.”

ThecamerasarerightontheGamemakers,whoare

chucklingandnodding.

“You’rekillingus,”saysCaesarasifinactualpain.“Details.

Details.”

Iaddressthebalcony.“I’mnotsupposedtotalkaboutit,

right?”

TheGamemakerwhofellinthepunchbowlshoutsout,

“She’snot!”

“Thankyou,”Isay.“Sorry.Mylipsaresealed.”

“Let’sgobackthen,tothemomenttheycalledyoursister’s

nameatthereaping,”saysCaesar.Hismoodisquieternow.

“Andyouvolunteered.Canyoutellusabouther?”

No.No,notallofyou.ButmaybeCinna.Idon’tthinkI’m

imaginingthesadnessonhisface.“Hername’sPrim.She’sjust

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

twelve.AndIlovehermorethananything.”

YoucouldhearapindropintheCityCirclenow.

“Whatdidshesaytoyou?Afterthereaping?”Caesarasks.

Behonest.Behonest.Iswallowhard.“Sheaskedmetotry

reallyhardtowin.”Theaudienceisfrozen,hangingonmyevery

word.

“Andwhatdidyousay?”promptsCaesargently.

Butinsteadofwarmth,Ifeelanicyrigiditytakeovermy

body.Mymusclestenseastheydobeforeakill.WhenIspeak,

myvoiceseemstohavedroppedanoctave.“IsworeIwould.”

“Ibetyoudid,”saysCaesar,givingmeasqueeze.The

buzzergoesoff.“Sorrywe’reoutoftime.Bestofluck,Katniss

Everdeen,tributefromDistrictTwelve.”

TheapplausecontinueslongafterI’mseated.IlooktoCinna

forreassurance.Hegivesmeasubtlethumbs-up.

I’mstillinadazeforthefirstpartofPeeta’sinterview.He

hastheaudiencefromtheget-go,though;Icanhearthem

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laughing,shoutingout.Heplaysupthebaker’ssonthing,

comparingthetributestothebreadsfromtheirdistricts.Then

hasafunnyanecdoteabouttheperilsoftheCapitolshowers.

“Tellme,doIstillsmelllikeroses?”heasksCaesar,andthen

there’sawholerunwheretheytaketurnssniffingeachotherthat

bringsdownthehouse.I’mcomingbackintofocuswhenCaesar

askshimifhehasagirlfriendbackhome.

Peetahesitates,thengivesanunconvincingshakeofhis

head.

“Handsomeladlikeyou.Theremustbesomespecialgirl.

Comeon,what’shername?”saysCaesar.

Peetasighs.“Well,thereisthisonegirl.I’vehadacrushon

hereversinceIcanremember.ButI’mprettysureshedidn’t

knowIwasaliveuntilthereaping.”

Soundsofsympathyfromthecrowd.Unrequitedlovethey

canrelateto.

“Shehaveanotherfellow?”asksCaesar.

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

“Idon’tknow,butalotofboyslikeher,”saysPeeta.

“So,here’swhatyoudo.Youwin,yougohome.Shecan’t

turnyoudownthen,eh?”saysCaesarencouragingly.

“Idon’tthinkit’sgoingtoworkout.Winning...won’thelp

inmycase,”saysPeeta.

“Whyevernot?”saysCaesar,mystified.

Peetablushesbeetredandstammersout.“Because...

because...shecameherewithme.”

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Foramoment,thecamerasholdonPeeta’sdowncasteyesas

whathesayssinksin.ThenIcanseemyface,mouthhalfopenin

amixofsurpriseandprotest,magnifiedoneveryscreenasI

realize,Me!Hemeansme!Ipressmylipstogetherandstareat

thefloor,hopingthiswillconcealtheemotionsstartingtoboil

upinsideofme.

“Oh,thatisapieceofbadluck,”saysCaesar,andthere’sa

realedgeofpaininhisvoice.Thecrowdismurmuringin

agreement,afewhaveevengivenagonizedcries.

“It’snotgood,”agreesPeeta.

“Well,Idon’tthinkanyofuscanblameyou.It’dbehardnot

tofallforthatyounglady,”saysCaesar.“Shedidn’tknow?”

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

Peetashakeshishead.“Notuntilnow.”

Iallowmyeyestoflickeruptothescreenlongenoughtosee

thattheblushonmycheeksisunmistakable.

“Wouldn’tyoulovetopullherbackouthereandgeta

response?”Caesaraskstheaudience.Thecrowdscreamsassent.

“Sadly,rulesarerules,andKatnissEverdeen’stimehasbeen

spent.Well,bestoflucktoyou,PeetaMellark,andIthinkI

speakforallofPanemwhenIsayourheartsgowithyours.”

Theroarofthecrowdisdeafening.Peetahasabsolutely

wipedtherestofusoffthemapwithhisdeclarationoflovefor

me.Whentheaudiencefinallysettlesdown,hechokesouta

quiet“Thankyou”andreturnstohisseat.Westandforthe

anthem.Ihavetoraisemyheadoutoftherequiredrespectand

cannotavoidseeingthateveryscreenisnowdominatedbyashot

ofPeetaandme,separatedbyafewfeetthatintheviewers’

headscanneverbebreached.Poortragicus.

ButIknowbetter.

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Aftertheanthem,thetributesfilebackintotheTraining

Centerlobbyandontotheelevators.Imakesuretoveerintoa

carthatdoesnotcontainPeeta.Thecrowdslowsourentourages

ofstylistsandmentorsandchaperones,sowehaveonlyeach

otherforcompany.Noonespeaks.Myelevatorstopstodeposit

fourtributesbeforeIamaloneandthenfindthedoorsopening

onthetwelfthfloor.Peetahasonlyjuststeppedfromhiscar

whenIslammypalmsintohischest.Heloseshisbalanceand

crashesintoanuglyurnfilledwithfakeflowers.Theurntipsand

shattersintohundredsoftinypieces.Peetalandsintheshards,

andbloodimmediatelyflowsfromhishands.

“Whatwasthatfor?”hesays,aghast.

“Youhadnoright!Norighttogosayingthosethingsabout

me!”Ishoutathim.

Nowtheelevatorsopenandthewholecrewisthere,Effie,

Haymitch,Cinna,andPortia.

“What’sgoingon?”saysEffie,anoteofhysteriainher

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

voice.“Didyoufall?”

“Aftersheshovedme,”saysPeetaasEffieandCinnahelp

himup.

Haymitchturnsonme.“Shovedhim?”

“Thiswasyouridea,wasn’tit?Turningmeintosomekind

offoolinfrontoftheentirecountry?”Ianswer.

“Itwasmyidea,”saysPeeta,wincingashepullsspikesof

potteryfromhispalms.“Haymitchjusthelpedmewithit.”

“Yes,Haymitchisveryhelpful.Toyou!”Isay.

“Youareafool,”Haymitchsaysindisgust.“Doyouthinkhe

hurtyou?Thatboyjustgaveyousomethingyoucouldnever

achieveonyourown.”

“Hemademelookweak!”Isay.

“Hemadeyoulookdesirable!Andlet’sfaceit,youcanuse

allthehelpyoucangetinthatdepartment.Youwereaboutas

romanticasdirtuntilhesaidhewantedyou.Nowtheyalldo.

You’reallthey’retalkingabout.Thestar-crossedloversfrom

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DistrictTwelve!”saysHaymitch.

“Butwe’renotstar-crossedlovers!”Isay.

Haymitchgrabsmyshouldersandpinsmeagainstthewall.

“Whocares?It’sallabigshow.It’sallhowyou’reperceived.

ThemostIcouldsayaboutyouafteryourinterviewwasthatyou

wereniceenough,althoughthatinitselfwasasmallmiracle.

NowIcansayyou’reaheartbreaker.Oh,oh,oh,howtheboys

backhomefalllonginglyatyourfeet.Whichdoyouthinkwill

getyoumoresponsors?”

Thesmellofwineonhisbreathmakesmesick.Ishovehis

handsoffmyshouldersandstepaway,tryingtoclearmyhead.

Cinnacomesoverandputshisarmaroundme.“He’sright,

Katniss.”

Idon’tknowwhattothink.“Ishouldhavebeentold,soI

didn’tlooksostupid.”

“No,yourreactionwasperfect.Ifyou’dknown,itwouldn’t

havereadasreal,”saysPortia.

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“She’sjustworriedaboutherboyfriend,”saysPeetagruffly,

tossingawayabloodypieceoftheurn.

MycheeksburnagainatthethoughtofGale.“Idon’thavea

boyfriend.”

“Whatever,”saysPeeta.“ButIbethe’ssmartenoughto

knowabluffwhenheseesit.Besidesyoudidn’tsayyouloved

me.Sowhatdoesitmatter?”

Thewordsaresinkingin.Myangerfading.I’mtornnow

betweenthinkingI’vebeenusedandthinkingI’vebeengivenan

edge.Haymitchisright.Isurvivedmyinterview,butwhatwasI

really?Asillygirlspinninginasparklingdress.Giggling.The

onlymomentofanysubstanceIhadwaswhenItalkedabout

Prim.ComparethatwithThresh,hissilent,deadlypower,and

I’mforgettable.Sillyandsparklyandforgettable.No,not

entirelyforgettable,Ihavemyelevenintraining.

ButnowPeetahasmademeanobjectoflove.Notjusthis.

TohearhimtellitIhavemanyadmirers.Andiftheaudience

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reallythinkswe’reinlove...Irememberhowstronglythey

respondedtohisconfession.Star-crossedlovers.Haymitchis

right,theyeatthatstuffupintheCapitol.SuddenlyI’mworried

thatIdidn’treactproperly.

“Afterhesaidhelovedme,didyouthinkIcouldbeinlove

withhim,too?”Iask.

“Idid,”saysPortia.“Thewayyouavoidedlookingatthe

cameras,theblush.”

Theotherschimein,agreeing.

“You’regolden,sweetheart.You’regoingtohavesponsors

lineduparoundtheblock,”saysHaymitch.

I’membarrassedaboutmyreaction.Iforcemyselfto

acknowledgePeeta.“I’msorryIshovedyou.”

“Doesn’tmatter,”heshrugs.“Althoughit’stechnically

illegal.”

“Areyourhandsokay?”Iask.

“They’llbeallright,”hesays.

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Inthesilencethatfollows,delicioussmellsofourdinner

waftinfromthediningroom.“Comeon,let’seat,”says

Haymitch.Weallfollowhimtothetableandtakeourplaces.

ButthenPeetaisbleedingtooheavily,andPortialeadshimoff

formedicaltreatment.Westartthecreamandrose-petalsoup

withoutthem.Bythetimewe’vefinished,they’reback.Peeta’s

handsarewrappedinbandages.Ican’thelpfeelingguilty.

Tomorrowwewillbeinthearena.HehasdonemeafavorandI

haveansweredwithaninjury.WillIneverstopowinghim?

Afterdinner,wewatchthereplayinthesittingroom.Iseem

frillyandshallow,twirlingandgigglinginmydress,although

theothersassuremeIamcharming.Peetaactuallyischarming

andthenutterlywinningastheboyinlove.AndthereIam,

blushingandconfused,madebeautifulbyCinna’shands,

desirablebyPeeta’sconfession,tragicbycircumstance,andby

allaccounts,unforgettable.

Whentheanthemfinishesandthescreengoesdark,ahush

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fallsontheroom.Tomorrowatdawn,wewillberousedand

preparedforthearena.TheactualGamesdon’tstartuntilten

becausesomanyoftheCapitolresidentsriselate.ButPeetaand

Imustmakeanearlystart.Thereisnotellinghowfarwewill

traveltothearenathathasbeenpreparedforthisyear’sGames.

IknowHaymitchandEffiewillnotbegoingwithus.As

soonastheyleavehere,they’llbeattheGamesHeadquarters,

hopefullymadlysigningupoursponsors,workingoutastrategy

onhowandwhentodeliverthegiftstous.CinnaandPortiawill

travelwithustotheveryspotfromwhichwewillbelaunched

intothearena.Stillfinalgood-byesmustbesaidhere.

Effietakesbothofusbythehandand,withactualtearsin

hereyes,wishesuswell.Thanksusforbeingthebesttributesit

haseverbeenherprivilegetosponsor.Andthen,becauseit’s

Effieandshe’sapparentlyrequiredbylawtosaysomething

awful,sheadds“Iwouldn’tbeatallsurprisedifIfinallyget

promotedtoadecentdistrictnextyear!”

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Thenshekissesuseachonthecheekandhurriesout,

overcomewitheithertheemotionalpartingorthepossible

improvementofherfortunes.

Haymitchcrosseshisarmsandlooksusbothover.

“Anyfinalwordsofadvice?”asksPeeta.

“Whenthegongsounds,getthehelloutofthere.You’re

neitherofyouuptothebloodbathattheCornucopia.Justclear

out,putasmuchdistanceasyoucanbetweenyourselvesandthe

others,andfindasourceofwater,”hesays.“Gotit?”

“Andafterthat?”Iask.

“Stayalive,”saysHaymitch.It’sthesameadvicehegaveus

onthetrain,buthe’snotdrunkandlaughingthistime.Andwe

onlynod.Whatelseistheretosay?

WhenIheadtomyroom,PeetalingerstotalktoPortia.I’m

glad.Whateverstrangewordsofpartingweexchangecanwait

untiltomorrow.Mycoversaredrawnback,butthereisnosign

oftheredheadedAvoxgirl.IwishIknewhername.Ishould

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haveaskedit.Shecouldwriteitdownmaybe.Oractitout.But

perhapsthatwouldonlyresultinpunishmentforher.

Itakeashowerandscrubthegoldpaint,themakeup,the

scentofbeautyfrommybody.Allthatremainsofthedesign-

team’seffortsaretheflamesonmynails.Idecidetokeepthem

asreminderofwhoIamtotheaudience.Katniss,thegirlwho

wasonfire.Perhapsitwillgivemesomethingtoholdontoin

thedaystocome.

Ipullonathick,fleecynightgownandclimbintobed.It

takesmeaboutfivesecondstorealizeI’llneverfallasleep.And

IneedsleepdesperatelybecauseinthearenaeverymomentI

giveintofatiguewillbeaninvitationtodeath.

It’snogood.Onehour,two,threepass,andmyeyelids

refusetogetheavy.Ican’tstoptryingtoimagineexactlywhat

terrainI’llbethrowninto.Desert?Swamp?Afrigidwasteland?

AboveallIamhopingfortrees,whichmayaffordmesome

meansofconcealmentandfoodandshelter.Oftentherearetrees

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becausebarrenlandscapesaredullandtheGamesresolvetoo

quicklywithoutthem.Butwhatwilltheclimatebelike?What

trapshavetheGamemakershiddentolivenuptheslower

moments?Andthentherearemyfellowtributes...

ThemoreanxiousIamtofindsleep,themoreiteludesme.

Finally,Iamtoorestlesstoevenstayinbed.Ipacethefloor,

heartbeatingtoofast,breathingtooshort.Myroomfeelslikea

prisoncell.IfIdon’tgetairsoon,I’mgoingtostarttothrow

thingsagain.Irundownthehalltothedoortotheroof.It’snot

onlyunlockedbutajar.Perhapssomeoneforgottocloseit,butit

doesn’tmatter.Theenergyfieldenclosingtheroofpreventsany

desperateformofescape.AndI’mnotlookingtoescape,onlyto

fillmylungswithair.Iwanttoseetheskyandthemoononthe

lastnightthatnoonewillbehuntingme.

Theroofisnotlitatnight,butassoonasmybarefeetreach

itstiledsurfaceIseehissilhouette,blackagainstthelightsthat

shineendlesslyintheCapitol.There’squiteacommotiongoing

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ondowninthestreets,musicandsingingandcarhorns,noneof

whichIcouldhearthroughthethickglasswindowpanelsinmy

room.Icouldslipawaynow,withouthimnoticingme;he

wouldn’thearmeoverthedin.Butthenightair’ssosweet,I

can’tbearreturningtothatstuffycageofaroom.Andwhat

differencedoesitmake?Whetherwespeakornot?

Myfeetmovesoundlesslyacrossthetiles.I’monlyayard

behindhimwhenIsay,“Youshouldbegettingsomesleep.”

Hestartsbutdoesn’tturn.Icanseehimgivehisheada

slightshake.“Ididn’twanttomisstheparty.It’sforus,after

all.”

Icomeupbesidehimandleanovertheedgeoftherail.The

widestreetsarefullofdancingpeople.Isquinttomakeouttheir

tinyfiguresinmoredetail.“Aretheyincostumes?”

“Whocouldtell?”Peetaanswers.“Withallthecrazyclothes

theywearhere.Couldn’tsleep,either?”

“Couldn’tturnmymindoff,”Isay.

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“Thinkingaboutyourfamily?”heasks.

“No,”Iadmitabitguiltily.“AllIcandoiswonderabout

tomorrow.Whichispointless,ofcourse.”Inthelightfrom

below,Icanseehisfacenow,theawkwardwayheholdshis

bandagedhands.“Ireallyamsorryaboutyourhands.”

“Itdoesn’tmatter,Katniss,”hesays.“I’veneverbeena

contenderintheseGamesanyway.”

“That’snowaytobethinking,”Isay.

“Whynot?It’strue.Mybesthopeistonotdisgracemyself

and...”Hehesitates.

“Andwhat?”Isay.

“Idon’tknowhowtosayitexactly.Only...Iwanttodieas

myself.Doesthatmakeanysense?”heasks.Ishakemyhead.

Howcouldhedieasanyonebuthimself?“Idon’twantthemto

changemeinthere.TurnmeintosomekindofmonsterthatI’m

not.”

Ibitemylip,feelinginferior.WhileI’vebeenruminatingon

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theavailabilityoftrees,Peetahasbeenstrugglingwithhowto

maintainhisidentity.Hispurityofself.“Doyoumeanyouwon’t

killanyone?”Iask.

“No,whenthetimecomes,I’msureI’llkilljustlike

everybodyelse.Ican’tgodownwithoutafight.OnlyIkeep

wishingIcouldthinkofawayto...toshowtheCapitolthey

don’townme.ThatI’mmorethanjustapieceintheirGames,”

saysPeeta.

“Butyou’renot,”Isay.“Noneofusare.That’showthe

Gameswork.”

“Okay,butwithinthatframework,there’sstillyou,there’s

stillme,”heinsists.“Don’tyousee?”

“Alittle.Only...nooffense,butwhocares,Peeta?”Isay.

“Ido.Imean,whatelseamIallowedtocareaboutatthis

point?”heasksangrily.He’slockedthoseblueeyesonmine

now,demandingananswer.

Itakeastepback.“CareaboutwhatHaymitchsaid.About

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stayingalive.”

Peetasmilesatme,sadandmocking.“Okay.Thanksforthe

tip,sweetheart.”

It’slikeaslapintheface.HisuseofHaymitch’spatronizing

endearment.“Look,ifyouwanttospendthelasthoursofyour

lifeplanningsomenobledeathinthearena,that’syourchoice.I

wanttospendmineinDistrictTwelve.”

“Wouldn’tsurprisemeifyoudo,”saysPeeta.“Givemy

mothermybestwhenyoumakeitback,willyou?”

“Countonit,”Isay.ThenIturnandleavetheroof.

Ispendtherestofthenightslippinginandoutofadoze,

imaginingthecuttingremarksIwillmaketoPeetaMellarkin

themorning.PeetaMellark.Wewillseehowhighandmightyhe

iswhenhe’sfacedwithlifeanddeath.He’llprobablyturninto

oneofthoseragingbeasttributes,thekindwhotriestoeat

someone’sheartafterthey’vekilledthem.Therewasaguylike

thatafewyearsagofromDistrict6calledTitus.Hewent

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completelysavageandtheGamemakershadtohavehimstunned

withelectricgunstocollectthebodiesoftheplayershe’dkilled

beforeheatethem.Therearenorulesinthearena,but

cannibalismdoesn’tplaywellwiththeCapitolaudience,sothey

triedtoheaditoff.Therewassomespeculationthatthe

avalanchethatfinallytookTitusoutwasspecificallyengineered

toensurethevictorwasnotalunatic.

Idon’tseePeetainthemorning.Cinnacomestomebefore

dawn,givesmeasimpleshifttowear,andguidesmetotheroof.

Myfinaldressingandpreparationswillbedoneinthecatacombs

underthearenaitself.Ahovercraftappearsoutofthinair,just

liketheonedidinthewoodsthedayIsawtheredheadedAvox

girlcaptured,andaladderdropsdown.Iplacemyhandsandfeet

onthelowerrungsandinstantlyit’sasifI’mfrozen.Somesort

ofcurrentgluesmetotheladderwhileI’mliftedsafelyinside.

Iexpecttheladdertoreleasemethen,butI’mstillstuck

whenawomaninawhitecoatapproachesmecarryingasyringe.

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“Thisisjustyourtracker,Katniss.Thestilleryouare,themore

efficientlyIcanplaceit,”shesays.

Still?I’mastatue.Butthatdoesn’tpreventmefromfeeling

thesharpstabofpainastheneedleinsertsthemetaltracking

devicedeepundertheskinontheinsideofmyforearm.Nowthe

Gamemakerswillalwaysbeabletotracemywhereaboutsinthe

arena.Wouldn’twanttoloseatribute.

Assoonasthetracker’sinplace,theladderreleasesme.The

womandisappearsandCinnaisretrievedfromtheroof.AnAvox

boycomesinanddirectsustoaroomwherebreakfasthasbeen

laidout.Despitethetensioninmystomach,IeatasmuchasI

can,althoughnoneofthedelectablefoodmakesanyimpression

onme.I’msonervous,Icouldbeeatingcoaldust.Theonething

thatdistractsmeatallistheviewfromthewindowsaswesail

overthecityandthentothewildernessbeyond.Thisiswhat

birdssee.Onlythey’refreeandsafe.Theveryoppositeofme.

Theridelastsabouthalfanhourbeforethewindowsblack

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out,suggestingthatwe’renearingthearena.Thehovercraft

landsandCinnaandIgobacktotheladder,onlythistimeit

leadsdownintoatubeunderground,intothecatacombsthatlie

beneaththearena.Wefollowinstructionstomydestination,a

chamberformypreparation.IntheCapitol,theycallitthe

LaunchRoom.Inthedistricts,it’sreferredtoastheStockyard.

Theplaceanimalsgobeforeslaughter.

Everythingisbrand-new,Iwillbethefirstandonlytribute

tousethisLaunchRoom.Thearenasarehistoricsites,preserved

aftertheGames.PopulardestinationsforCapitolresidentsto

visit,tovacation.Goforamonth,rewatchtheGames,tourthe

catacombs,visitthesiteswherethedeathstookplace.Youcan

eventakepartinreenactments.

Theysaythefoodisexcellent.

IstruggletokeepmybreakfastdownasIshowerandclean

myteeth.Cinnadoesmyhairinmysimpletrademarkbraid

downmyback.Thentheclothesarrive,thesameforevery

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tribute.Cinnahashadnosayinmyoutfit,doesnotevenknow

whatwillbeinthepackage,buthehelpsmedressinthe

undergarments,simpletawnypants,lightgreenblouse,sturdy

brownbelt,andthin,hoodedblackjacketthatfallstomythighs.

“Thematerialinthejacket’sdesignedtoreflectbodyheat.

Expectsomecoolnights,”hesays.

Theboots,wornoverskintightsocks,arebetterthanIcould

havehopedfor.Softleathernotunlikemyonesathome.These

haveanarrowflexiblerubbersolewithtreads,though.Goodfor

running.

IthinkI’mfinishedwhenCinnapullsthegoldmockingjay

pinfromhispocket.Ihadcompletelyforgottenaboutit.

“Wheredidyougetthat?”Iask.

“Offthegreenoutfityouworeonthetrain,”hesays.I

remembernowtakingitoffmymother’sdress,pinningittothe

shirt.“It’syourdistricttoken,right?”Inodandhefastensiton

myshirt.“Itbarelyclearedthereviewboard.Somethoughtthe

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pincouldbeusedasaweapon,givingyouanunfairadvantage.

Buteventually,theyletitthrough,”saysCinna.“They

eliminatedaringfromthatDistrictOnegirl,though.Ifyou

twistedthegemstone,aspikepoppedout.Poisonedone.She

claimedshehadnoknowledgetheringtransformedandthere

wasnowaytoproveshedid.Butshelosthertoken.There,

you’reallset.Movearound.Makesureeverythingfeels

comfortable.”

Iwalk,runinacircle,swingmyarmsabout.“Yes,it’sfine.

Fitsperfectly.”

“Thenthere’snothingtodobutwaitforthecall,”says

Cinna.“Unlessyouthinkyoucouldeatanymore?”

IturndownfoodbutacceptaglassofwaterthatItaketiny

sipsofaswewaitonacouch.Idon’twanttochewonmynails

orlips,soIfindmyselfgnawingontheinsideofmycheek.It

stillhasn’tfullyhealedfromafewdaysago.Soonthetasteof

bloodfillsmymouth.

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NervousnessseepsintoterrorasIanticipatewhatistocome.

Icouldbedead,flat-outdead,inanhour.Noteven.Myfingers

obsessivelytracethehardlittlelumponmyforearmwherethe

womaninjectedthetrackingdevice.Ipressonit,eventhoughit

hurts,Ipressonitsohardasmallbruisebeginstoform.

“Doyouwanttotalk,Katniss?”Cinnaasks.

Ishakemyheadbutafteramomentholdoutmyhandto

him.Cinnaenclosesitinbothofhis.Andthisishowwesituntil

apleasantfemalevoiceannouncesit’stimetopreparefor

launch.

StillclenchingoneofCinna’shands,Iwalkoverandstand

onthecircularmetalplate.“RememberwhatHaymitchsaid.

Run,findwater.Therestwillfollow,”hesays.Inod.“And

rememberthis.I’mnotallowedtobet,butifIcould,mymoney

wouldbeonyou.”

“Truly?”Iwhisper.

“Truly,”saysCinna.Heleansdownandkissesmeonthe

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forehead.“Goodluck,girlonfire.”Andthenaglasscylinderis

loweringaroundme,breakingourhandhold,cuttinghimoff

fromme.Hetapshisfingersunderhischin.Headhigh.

IliftmychinandstandasstraightasIcan.Thecylinder

beginstorise.Formaybefifteenseconds,I’mindarknessand

thenIcanfeelthemetalplatepushingmeoutofthecylinder,

intotheopenair.Foramoment,myeyesaredazzledbythe

brightsunlightandI’mconsciousonlyofastrongwindwiththe

hopefulsmellofpinetrees.

ThenIhearthelegendaryannouncer,ClaudiusTemplesmith,

ashisvoiceboomsallaroundme.

“Ladiesandgentlemen,lettheSeventy-fourthHunger

Gamesbegin!”

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Sixtyseconds.That’showlongwe’rerequiredtostandon

ourmetalcirclesbeforethesoundofagongreleasesus.Stepoff

beforetheminuteisup,andlandminesblowyourlegsoff.Sixty

secondstotakeintheringoftributesallequidistantfromthe

Cornucopia,agiantgoldenhornshapedlikeaconewithacurved

tail,themouthofwhichisatleasttwentyfeethigh,spillingover

withthethingsthatwillgiveuslifehereinthearena.Food,

containersofwater,weapons,medicine,garments,firestarters.

StrewnaroundtheCornucopiaareothersupplies,theirvalue

decreasingthefarthertheyarefromthehorn.Forinstance,only

afewstepsfrommyfeetliesathree-footsquareofplastic.

Certainlyitcouldbeofsomeuseinadownpour.Butthereinthe

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mouth,Icanseeatentpackthatwouldprotectfromalmostany

sortofweather.IfIhadthegutstogoinandfightforitagainst

theothertwenty-threetributes.WhichIhavebeeninstructednot

todo.

We’reonaflat,openstretchofground.Aplainofhard-

packeddirt.Behindthetributesacrossfromme,Icansee

nothing,indicatingeitherasteepdownwardslopeorevenacliff.

Tomyrightliesalake.Tomyleftandback,sparsepineywoods.

ThisiswhereHaymitchwouldwantmetogo.Immediately.

Ihearhisinstructionsinmyhead.“Justclearout,putas

muchdistanceasyoucanbetweenyourselvesandtheothers,and

findasourceofwater.”

Butit’stempting,sotempting,whenIseethebountywaiting

therebeforeme.AndIknowthatifIdon’tgetit,someoneelse

will.ThattheCareerTributeswhosurvivethebloodbathwill

divideupmostoftheselife-sustainingspoils.Somethingcatches

myeye.There,restingonamoundofblanketrolls,isasilver

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sheathofarrowsandabow,alreadystrung,justwaitingtobe

engaged.That’smine,Ithink.It’smeantforme.

I’mfast.Icansprintfasterthananyofthegirlsinourschool

althoughacouplecanbeatmeindistanceraces.Butthisforty-

yardlength,thisiswhatIambuiltfor.IknowIcangetit,I

knowIcanreachitfirst,butthenthequestionishowquicklycan

Igetoutofthere?BythetimeI’vescrambledupthepacksand

grabbedtheweapons,otherswillhavereachedthehorn,andone

ortwoImightbeabletopickoff,butsaythere’sadozen,atthat

closerange,theycouldtakemedownwiththespearsandthe

clubs.Ortheirownpowerfulfists.

Still,Iwon’tbetheonlytarget.I’mbettingmanyofthe

othertributeswouldpassupasmallergirl,evenonewhoscored

anelevenintraining,totakeouttheirmorefierceadversaries.

Haymitchhasneverseenmerun.Maybeifhehadhe’dtell

metogoforit.Gettheweapon.Sincethat’stheveryweapon

thatmightbemysalvation.AndIonlyseeonebowinthatwhole

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pile.Iknowtheminutemustbealmostupandwillhaveto

decidewhatmystrategywillbeandIfindmyselfpositioningmy

feettorun,notawayintothesurroundingforestsbuttowardthe

pile,towardthebow.WhensuddenlyInoticePeeta,he’sabout

fivetributestomyright,quiteafairdistance,stillIcantellhe’s

lookingatmeandIthinkhemightbeshakinghishead.Butthe

sun’sinmyeyes,andwhileI’mpuzzlingoveritthegongrings

out.

AndI’vemissedit!I’vemissedmychance!Becausethose

extracoupleofsecondsI’velostbynotbeingreadyareenough

tochangemymindaboutgoingin.Myfeetshufflefora

moment,confusedatthedirectionmybrainwantstotakeand

thenIlungeforward,scoopupthesheetofplasticandaloafof

bread.ThepickingsaresosmallandI’msoangrywithPeetafor

distractingmethatIsprintintwentyyardstoretrieveabright

orangebackpackthatcouldholdanythingbecauseIcan’tstand

leavingwithvirtuallynothing.

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Aboy,IthinkfromDistrict9,reachesthepackatthesame

timeIdoandforabrieftimewegrappleforitandthenhe

coughs,splatteringmyfacewithblood.Istaggerback,repulsed

bythewarm,stickyspray.Thentheboyslipstotheground.

That’swhenIseetheknifeinhisback.Alreadyothertributes

havereachedtheCornucopiaandarespreadingouttoattack.

Yes,thegirlfromDistrict2,tenyardsaway,runningtowardme,

onehandclutchingahalf-dozenknives.I’veseenherthrowin

training.Shenevermisses.AndI’mhernexttarget.

AllthegeneralfearI’vebeenfeelingcondensesintoan

immediatefearofthisgirl,thispredatorwhomightkillmein

seconds.AdrenalineshootsthroughmeandIslingthepackover

oneshoulderandrunfull-speedforthewoods.Icanhearthe

bladewhistlingtowardmeandreflexivelyhikethepackupto

protectmyhead.Thebladelodgesinthepack.Bothstrapsonmy

shouldersnow,Imakeforthetrees.SomehowIknowthegirl

willnotpursueme.Thatshe’llbedrawnbackintothe

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Cornucopiabeforeallthegoodstuffisgone.Agrincrossesmy

face.Thanksfortheknife,Ithink.

AttheedgeofthewoodsIturnforoneinstanttosurveythe

field.Aboutadozenorsotributesarehackingawayatone

anotheratthehorn.Severalliedeadalreadyontheground.

Thosewhohavetakenflightaredisappearingintothetreesor

intothevoidoppositeme.Icontinuerunninguntilthewoods

havehiddenmefromtheothertributesthenslowintoasteady

jogthatIthinkIcanmaintainforawhile.Forthenextfew

hours,Ialternatebetweenjoggingandwalking,puttingasmuch

distanceasIcanbetweenmyselfandmycompetitors.Ilostmy

breadduringthestrugglewiththeboyfromDistrict9but

managedtostuffmyplasticinmysleevesoasIwalkIfoldit

neatlyandtuckitintoapocket.Ialsofreetheknife—it’safine

onewithalongsharpblade,serratednearthehandle,whichwill

makeithandyforsawingthroughthings—andslideitintomy

belt.Idon’tdarestoptoexaminethecontentsofthepackyet.I

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justkeepmoving,pausingonlytocheckforpursuers.

Icangoalongtime.Iknowthatfrommydaysinthewoods.

ButIwillneedwater.ThatwasHaymitch’ssecondinstruction,

andsinceIsortofbotchedthefirst,Ikeepasharpeyeoutfor

anysignofit.Noluck.

Thewoodsbegintoevolve,andthepinesareintermixed

withavarietyoftrees,someIrecognize,somecompletely

foreigntome.Atonepoint,Ihearanoiseandpullmyknife,

thinkingImayhavetodefendmyself,butI’veonlystartleda

rabbit.“Goodtoseeyou,”Iwhisper.Ifthere’sonerabbit,there

couldbehundredsjustwaitingtobesnared.

Thegroundslopesdown.Idon’tparticularlylikethis.

Valleysmakemefeeltrapped.Iwanttobehigh,likeinthehills

aroundDistrict12,whereIcanseemyenemiesapproaching.But

Ihavenochoicebuttokeepgoing.

Funnythough,Idon’tfeeltoobad.Thedaysofgorging

myselfhavepaidoff.I’vegotstayingpowereventhoughI’m

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shortonsleep.Beinginthewoodsisrejuvenating.I’mgladfor

thesolitude,eventhoughit’sanillusion,becauseI’mprobably

on-screenrightnow.Notconsistentlybutoffandon.Thereare

somanydeathstoshowthefirstdaythatatributetrekking

throughthewoodsisn’tmuchtolookat.Butthey’llshowme

enoughtoletpeopleknowI’malive,uninjuredandonthemove.

Oneoftheheaviestdaysofbettingistheopening,whenthe

initialcasualtiescomein.Butthatcan’tcomparetowhat

happensasthefieldshrinkstoahandfulofplayers.

It’slateafternoonwhenIbegintohearthecannons.Each

shotrepresentsadeadtribute.Thefightingmusthavefinally

stoppedattheCornucopia.Theynevercollectthebloodbath

bodiesuntilthekillershavedispersed.Ontheopeningday,they

don’tevenfirethecannonsuntiltheinitialfighting’sover

becauseit’stoohardtokeeptrackofthefatalities.Iallow

myselftopause,panting,asIcounttheshots.One...two...

three...onandonuntiltheyreacheleven.Elevendeadinall.

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Thirteenlefttoplay.Myfingernailsscrapeatthedriedbloodthe

boyfromDistrict9coughedintomyface.He’sgone,certainly.I

wonderaboutPeeta.Hashelastedthroughtheday?I’llknowin

afewhours.Whentheyprojectthedead’simagesintothesky

fortherestofustosee.

Allofasudden,I’moverwhelmedbythethoughtthatPeeta

maybealreadylost,bledwhite,collected,andintheprocessof

beingtransportedbacktotheCapitoltobecleanedup,redressed,

andshippedinasimplewoodenboxbacktoDistrict12.No

longerhere.Headinghome.ItryhardtorememberifIsawhim

oncetheactionstarted.ButthelastimageIcanconjureupis

Peetashakinghisheadasthegongrangout.

Maybeit’sbetter,ifhe’sgonealready.Hehadnoconfidence

hecouldwin.AndIwillnotendupwiththeunpleasanttaskof

killinghim.Maybeit’sbetterifhe’soutofthisforgood.

Islumpdownnexttomypack,exhausted.Ineedtogo

throughitanywaybeforenightfalls.SeewhatIhavetowork

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with.AsIunhookthestraps,Icanfeelit’ssturdilymade

althougharatherunfortunatecolor.Thisorangewillpractically

glowinthedark.Imakeamentalnotetocamouflageitfirst

thingtomorrow.

Iflipopentheflap.WhatIwantmost,rightatthismoment,

iswater.Haymitch’sdirectivetoimmediatelyfindwaterwasnot

arbitrary.Iwon’tlastlongwithoutit.Forafewdays,I’llbeable

tofunctionwithunpleasantsymptomsofdehydration,butafter

thatI’lldeteriorateintohelplessnessandbedeadinaweek,tops.

Icarefullylayouttheprovisions.Onethinblacksleepingbag

thatreflectsbodyheat.Apackofcrackers.Apackofdriedbeef

strips.Abottleofiodine.Aboxofwoodenmatches.Asmallcoil

ofwire.Apairofsunglasses.Andahalf-gallonplasticbottle

withacapforcarryingwaterthat’sbonedry.

Nowater.Howhardwouldithavebeenforthemtofillup

thebottle?Ibecomeawareofthedrynessinmythroatand

mouth,thecracksinmylips.I’vebeenmovingalldaylong.It’s

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beenhotandI’vesweatalot.Idothisathome,butthereare

alwaysstreamstodrinkfrom,orsnowtomeltifitshouldcome

toit.

AsIrefillmypackIhaveanawfulthought.Thelake.The

oneIsawwhileIwaswaitingforthegongtosound.Whatif

that’stheonlywatersourceinthearena?Thatwaythey’ll

guaranteedrawingusintofight.Thelakeisafullday’sjourney

fromwhereIsitnow,amuchharderjourneywithnothingto

drink.Andthen,evenifIreachit,it’ssuretobeheavilyguarded

bysomeoftheCareerTributes.I’mabouttopanicwhenI

remembertherabbitIstartledearliertoday.Ithastodrink,too.I

justhavetofindoutwhere.

TwilightisclosinginandIamillatease.Thetreesaretoo

thintooffermuchconcealment.Thelayerofpineneedlesthat

mufflesmyfootstepsalsomakestrackinganimalsharderwhenI

needtheirtrailstofindwater.AndI’mstillheadingdownhill,

deeperanddeeperintoavalleythatseemsendless.

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I’mhungry,too,butIdon’tdarebreakintomyprecious

storeofcrackersandbeefyet.Instead,Itakemyknifeandgoto

workonapinetree,cuttingawaytheouterbarkandscrapingoff

alargehandfulofthesofterinnerbark.Islowlychewthestuffas

Iwalkalong.Afteraweekofthefinestfoodintheworld,it’sa

littlehardtochokedown.ButI’veeatenplentyofpineinmy

life.I’lladjustquickly.

Inanotherhour,it’sclearI’vegottofindaplacetocamp.

Nightcreaturesarecomingout.Icanheartheoccasionalhootor

howl,myfirstcluethatI’llbecompetingwithnaturalpredators

fortherabbits.AstowhetherI’llbeviewedasasourceoffood,

it’stoosoontotell.Therecouldbeanynumberofanimals

stalkingmeatthismoment.

Butrightnow,Idecidetomakemyfellowtributesapriority.

I’msuremanywillcontinuehuntingthroughthenight.Those

whofoughtitoutattheCornucopiawillhavefood,anabundance

ofwaterfromthelake,torchesorflashlights,andweapons

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they’reitchingtouse.IcanonlyhopeI’vetraveledfarandfast

enoughtobeoutofrange.

Beforesettlingdown,Itakemywireandsettwotwitch-up

snaresinthebrush.Iknowit’sriskytobesettingtraps,butfood

willgosofastouthere.AndIcan’tsetsnaresontherun.Still,I

walkanotherfiveminutesbeforemakingcamp.

Ipickmytreecarefully.Awillow,notterriblytallbutsetin

aclumpofotherwillows,offeringconcealmentinthoselong,

flowingtresses.Iclimbup,stickingtothestrongerbranches

closetothetrunk,andfindasturdyforkformybed.Ittakes

somedoing,butIarrangethesleepingbaginarelatively

comfortablemanner.Iplacemybackpackinthefootofthebag,

thenslideinafterit.Asaprecaution,Iremovemybelt,loopit

allthewayaroundthebranchandmysleepingbag,andrefasten

itatmywaist.NowifIrolloverinmysleep,Iwon’tgocrashing

totheground.I’msmallenoughtotuckthetopofthebagover

myhead,butIputonmyhoodaswell.Asnightfalls,theairis

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coolingquickly.DespitetheriskItookingettingthebackpack,I

knownowitwastherightchoice.Thissleepingbag,radiating

backandpreservingmybodyheat,willbeinvaluable.I’msure

thereareseveralothertributeswhosebiggestconcernrightnow

ishowtostaywarmwhereasImayactuallybeabletogetafew

hoursofsleep.IfonlyIwasn’tsothirsty...

NighthasjustcomewhenIheartheanthemthatprecedesthe

deathrecap.ThroughthebranchesIcanseethesealofthe

Capitol,whichappearstobefloatinginthesky.I’mactually

viewinganotherscreen,anenormousonethat’stransportedby

oneoftheirdisappearinghovercraft.Theanthemfadesoutand

theskygoesdarkforamoment.Athome,wewouldbewatching

fullcoverageofeachandeverykilling,butthat’sthoughttogive

anunfairadvantagetothelivingtributes.Forinstance,ifIgot

myhandsonthebowandshotsomeone,mysecretwouldbe

revealedtoall.No,hereinthearena,allweseearethesame

photographstheyshowedwhentheytelevisedourtraining

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scores.Simpleheadshots.Butnowinsteadofscorestheypost

onlydistrictnumbers.Itakeadeepbreathasthefacesofthe

elevendeadtributesbeginandtickthemoffonebyoneonmy

fingers.

ThefirsttoappearisthegirlfromDistrict3.Thatmeans

thattheCareerTributesfrom1and2haveallsurvived.No

surprisethere.Thentheboyfrom4.Ididn’texpectthatone,

usuallyalltheCareersmakeitthroughthefirstday.Theboy

fromDistrict5...Iguessthefox-facedgirlmadeit.Both

tributesfrom6and7.Theboyfrom8.Bothfrom9.Yes,there’s

theboywhoIfoughtforthebackpack.I’verunthroughmy

fingers,onlyonemoredeadtributetogo.IsitPeeta?No,there’s

thegirlfromDistrict10.That’sit.TheCapitolsealisbackwith

afinalmusicalflourish.Thendarknessandthesoundsofthe

forestresume.

I’mrelievedPeeta’salive.ItellmyselfagainthatifIget

killed,hiswinningwillbenefitmymotherandPrimthemost.

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ThisiswhatItellmyselftoexplaintheconflictingemotionsthat

arisewhenIthinkofPeeta.Thegratitudethathegavemean

edgebyprofessinghisloveformeintheinterview.Theangerat

hissuperiorityontheroof.Thedreadthatwemaycomeface-to-

faceatanymomentinthisarena.

Elevendead,butnonefromDistrict12.Itrytoworkoutwho

isleft.FiveCareerTributes.Foxface.ThreshandRue.Rue...so

shemadeitthroughthefirstdayafterall.Ican’thelpfeeling

glad.Thatmakestenofus.TheotherthreeI’llfigureout

tomorrow.Nowwhenitisdark,andIhavetraveledfar,andIam

nestledhighinthistree,nowImusttryandrest.

Ihaven’treallysleptintwodays,andthenthere’sbeenthe

longday’sjourneyintothearena.Slowly,Iallowmymusclesto

relax.Myeyestoclose.ThelastthingIthinkisit’sluckyIdon’t

snore....

Snap!Thesoundofabreakingbranchwakesme.Howlong

haveIbeenasleep?Fourhours?Five?Thetipofmynoseisicy

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cold.Snap!Snap!What’sgoingon?Thisisnotthesoundofa

branchundersomeone’sfoot,butthesharpcrackofonecoming

fromatree.Snap!Snap!Ijudgeittobeseveralhundredyardsto

myright.Slowly,noiselessly,Iturnmyselfinthatdirection.For

afewminutes,there’snothingbutblacknessandsomescuffling.

ThenIseeasparkandasmallfirebeginstobloom.Apairof

handswarmsoverflames,butIcan’tmakeoutmorethanthat.

IhavetobitemylipnottoscreameveryfoulnameIknowat

thefirestarter.Whataretheythinking?Afirelitjustatnightfall

wouldhavebeenonething.ThosewhobattledattheCornucopia,

withtheirsuperiorstrengthandsurplusofsupplies,theycouldn’t

possiblyhavebeennearenoughtospottheflamesthen.Butnow,

whenthey’veprobablybeencombingthewoodsforhours

lookingforvictims.Youmightaswellbewavingaflagand

shouting,“Comeandgetme!”

AndhereIamastone’sthrowfromthebiggestidiotinthe

Games.Strappedinatree.Notdaringtofleesincemygeneral

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locationhasjustbeenbroadcasttoanykillerwhocares.Imean,I

knowit’scoldouthereandnoteverybodyhasasleepingbag.

Butthenyougrityourteethandstickitoutuntildawn!

Iliesmolderinginmybagforthenextcoupleofhours,

reallythinkingthatifIcangetoutofthistree,Iwon’thavethe

leastproblemtakingoutmynewneighbor.Myinstincthasbeen

toflee,notfight.Butobviouslythisperson’sahazard.Stupid

peoplearedangerous.Andthisoneprobablydoesn’thavemuch

inthewayofweaponswhileI’vegotthisexcellentknife.

Theskyisstilldark,butIcanfeelthefirstsignsofdawn

approaching.I’mbeginningtothinkwe—meaningtheperson

whosedeathI’mnowdevisingandI—wemightactuallyhave

goneunnoticed.ThenIhearit.Severalpairsoffeetbreakinginto

arun.Thefirestartermusthavedozedoff.They’reonherbefore

shecanescape.Iknowit’sagirlnow,Icantellbythepleading,

theagonizedscreamthatfollows.Thenthere’slaughterand

congratulationsfromseveralvoices.Someonecriesout,“Twelve

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downandeleventogo!”whichgetsaroundofappreciative

hoots.

Sothey’refightinginapack.I’mnotreallysurprised.Often

alliancesareformedintheearlystagesoftheGames.Thestrong

bandtogethertohuntdowntheweakthen,whenthetension

becomestoogreat,begintoturnononeanother.Idon’thaveto

wondertoohardwhohasmadethisalliance.It’llbethe

remainingCareerTributesfromDistricts1,2,and4.Twoboys

andthreegirls.Theoneswholunchedtogether.

Foramoment,Ihearthemcheckingthegirlforsupplies.I

cantellbytheircommentsthey’vefoundnothinggood.Iwonder

ifthevictimisRuebutquicklydismissthethought.She’smuch

toobrighttobebuildingafirelikethat.

“Betterclearoutsotheycangetthebodybeforeitstarts

stinking.”I’malmostcertainthat’sthebrutishboyfromDistrict

2.Therearemurmursofassentandthen,tomyhorror,Ihearthe

packheadingtowardme.TheydonotknowI’mhere.Howcould

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they?AndI’mwellconcealedintheclumpoftrees.Atleast

whilethesunstaysdown.Thenmyblacksleepingbagwillturn

fromcamouflagetotrouble.Iftheyjustkeepmoving,theywill

passmeandbegoneinaminute.

ButtheCareersstopintheclearingabouttenyardsfrommy

tree.Theyhaveflashlights,torches.Icanseeanarmhere,aboot

there,throughthebreaksinthebranches.Iturntostone,not

evendaringtobreathe.Havetheyspottedme?No,notyet.Ican

tellfromtheirwordstheirmindsareelsewhere.

“Shouldn’twehaveheardacannonbynow?”

“I’dsayyes.Nothingtopreventthemfromgoingin

immediately.”

“Unlesssheisn’tdead.”

“She’sdead.Istuckhermyself.”

“Thenwhere’sthecannon?”

“Someoneshouldgoback.Makesurethejob’sdone.”

“Yeah,wedon’twanttohavetotrackherdowntwice.”

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“Isaidshe’sdead!”

Anargumentbreaksoutuntilonetributesilencestheothers.

“We’rewastingtime!I’llgofinishherandlet’smoveon!”

Ialmostfalloutofthetree.ThevoicebelongstoPeeta.

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Thankgoodness,Ihadtheforesighttobeltmyselfin.I’ve

rolledsidewaysofftheforkandI’mfacingtheground,heldin

placebythebelt,onehand,andmyfeetstraddlingthepack

insidemysleepingbag,bracedagainstthetrunk.Theremust

havebeensomerustlingwhenItippedsideways,buttheCareers

havebeentoocaughtupintheirownargumenttocatchit.

“Goon,then,LoverBoy,”saystheboyfromDistrict2.“See

foryourself.”

IjustgetaglimpseofPeeta,litbyatorch,headingbackto

thegirlbythefire.Hisfaceisswollenwithbruises,there’sa

bloodybandageononearm,andfromthesoundofhisgaithe’s

limpingsomewhat.Irememberhimshakinghishead,tellingme

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nottogointothefightforthesupplies,whenallalong,allalong

he’dplannedtothrowhimselfintothethickofthings.Justthe

oppositeofwhatHaymitchhadtoldhimtodo.

Okay,Icanstomachthat.Seeingallthosesupplieswas

tempting.Butthis...thisotherthing.Thisteamingupwiththe

Careerwolfpacktohuntdowntherestofus.Noonefrom

District12wouldthinkofdoingsuchathing!Careertributesare

overlyvicious,arrogant,betterfed,butonlybecausethey’rethe

Capitol’slapdogs.Universally,solidlyhatedbyallbutthose

fromtheirowndistricts.Icanimaginethethingsthey’resaying

abouthimbackhomenow.AndPeetahadthegalltotalktome

aboutdisgrace?

Obviously,thenobleboyontherooftopwasplayingjustone

moregamewithme.Butthiswillbehislast.Iwilleagerlywatch

thenightskiesforsignsofhisdeath,ifIdon’tkillhimfirst

myself.

TheCareertributesaresilentuntilhegetsoutofearshot,

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thenusehushedvoices.

“Whydon’twejustkillhimnowandgetitoverwith?”

“Lethimtagalong.What’stheharm?Andhe’shandywith

thatknife.”

Ishe?That’snews.WhatalotofinterestingthingsI’m

learningaboutmyfriendPeetatoday.

“Besides,he’sourbestchanceoffindingher.”

Ittakesmeamomenttoregisterthatthe“her”they’re

referringtoisme.

“Why?Youthinksheboughtintothatsappyromancestuff?”

“Shemighthave.Seemedprettysimplemindedtome.Every

timeIthinkaboutherspinningaroundinthatdress,Iwantto

puke.”

“Wishweknewhowshegotthateleven.”

“BetyouLoverBoyknows.”

ThesoundofPeetareturningsilencesthem.

“Wasshedead?”askstheboyfromDistrict2.

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“No.Butsheisnow,”saysPeeta.Justthen,thecannonfires.

“Readytomoveon?”

TheCareerpacksetsoffatarunjustasdawnbeginsto

break,andbirdsongfillstheair.Iremaininmyawkward

position,musclestremblingwithexertionforawhilelonger,

thenhoistmyselfbackontomybranch.Ineedtogetdown,toget

going,butforamomentIliethere,digestingwhatI’veheard.

NotonlyisPeetawiththeCareers,he’shelpingthemfindme.

Thesimplemindedgirlwhohastobetakenseriouslybecauseof

hereleven.Becauseshecanuseabowandarrow.WhichPeeta

knowsbetterthananyone.

Buthehasn’ttoldthemyet.Ishesavingthatinformation

becauseheknowsit’sallthatkeepshimalive?Ishestill

pretendingtolovemefortheaudience?Whatisgoingoninhis

head?

Suddenly,thebirdsfallsilent.Thenonegivesahigh-pitched

warningcall.Asinglenote.JustliketheoneGaleandIheard

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whentheredheadedAvoxgirlwascaught.Highabovethedying

campfireahovercraftmaterializes.Asetoflargemetalteeth

dropsdown.Slowly,gently,thedeadtributegirlisliftedintothe

hovercraft.Thenitvanishes.Thebirdsresumetheirsong.

“Move,”Iwhispertomyself.Iwriggleoutofmysleeping

bag,rollitup,andplaceitinthepack.Itakeadeepbreath.

WhileI’vebeenconcealedbydarknessandthesleepingbagand

thewillowbranches,ithasprobablybeendifficultforthe

camerastogetagoodshotofme.Iknowtheymustbetracking

menowthough.TheminuteIhittheground,I’mguaranteeda

close-up.

Theaudiencewillhavebeenbesidethemselves,knowingI

wasinthetree,thatIoverheardtheCareerstalking,thatI

discoveredPeetawaswiththem.UntilIworkoutexactlyhowI

wanttoplaythat,I’dbetteratleastactontopofthings.Not

perplexed.Certainlynotconfusedorfrightened.

No,Ineedtolookonestepaheadofthegame.

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SoasIslideoutofthefoliageandintothedawnlight,I

pauseasecond,givingthecamerastimetolockonme.ThenI

cockmyheadslightlytothesideandgiveaknowingsmile.

There!Letthemfigureoutwhatthatmeans!

I’mabouttotakeoffwhenIthinkofmysnares.Maybeit’s

imprudenttocheckthemwiththeotherssoclose.ButIhaveto.

Toomanyyearsofhunting,Iguess.Andthelureofpossible

meat.I’mrewardedwithonefinerabbit.Innotime,I’vecleaned

andguttedtheanimal,leavingthehead,feet,tail,skin,and

innards,underapileofleaves.I’mwishingforafire—eating

rawrabbitcangiveyourabbitfever,alessonIlearnedthehard

way—whenIthinkofthedeadtribute.Ihurrybacktoher

camp.Sureenough,thecoalsofherdyingfirearestillhot.Icut

uptherabbit,fashionaspitoutofbranches,andsetitoverthe

coals.

I’mgladforthecamerasnow.IwantsponsorstoseeIcan

hunt,thatI’magoodbetbecauseIwon’tbeluredintotrapsas

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easilyastheotherswillbyhunger.Whiletherabbitcooks,I

grinduppartofacharredbranchandsetaboutcamouflagingmy

orangepack.Theblacktonesitdown,butIfeelalayerofmud

woulddefinitelyhelp.Ofcourse,tohavemud,I’dneedwater...

Ipullonmygear,grabmyspit,kicksomedirtoverthe

coals,andtakeoffintheoppositedirectiontheCareerswent.I

eathalftherabbitasIgo,thenwrapuptheleftoversinmy

plasticforlater.Themeatstopsthegrumblinginmystomach

butdoeslittletoquenchmythirst.Waterismytopprioritynow.

AsIhikealong,IfeelcertainI’mstillholdingthescreenin

theCapitol,soI’mcarefultocontinuetohidemyemotions.But

whatagoodtimeClaudiusTemplesmithmustbehavingwithhis

guestcommentators,dissectingPeeta’sbehavior,myreaction.

Whattomakeofitall?HasPeetarevealedhistruecolors?How

doesthisaffectthebettingodds?Willwelosesponsors?Dowe

evenhavesponsors?Yes,Ifeelcertainwedo,oratleastdid.

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CertainlyPeetahasthrownawrenchintoourstar-crossed

loverdynamic.Orhashe?Maybe,sincehehasn’tspokenmuch

aboutme,wecanstillgetsomemileageoutofit.Maybepeople

willthinkit’ssomethingweplottedtogetherifIseemlikeit

amusesmenow.

Thesunrisesintheskyandeventhroughthecanopyit

seemsoverlybright.Icoatmylipsinsomegreasefromthe

rabbitandtrytokeepfrompanting,butit’snouse.It’sonlybeen

adayandI’mdehydratingfast.ItryandthinkofeverythingI

knowaboutfindingwater.Itrunsdownhill,so,infact,

continuingdownintothisvalleyisn’tabadthing.IfIcouldjust

locateagametrailorspotaparticularlygreenpatchof

vegetation,thesemighthelpmealong.Butnothingseemsto

change.There’sjusttheslightgradualslope,thebirds,the

samenesstothetrees.

Asthedaywearson,IknowI’mheadedfortrouble.What

littleurineI’vebeenabletopassisadarkbrown,myheadis

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aching,andthere’sadrypatchonmytonguethatrefusesto

moisten.ThesunhurtsmyeyessoIdigoutmysunglasses,but

whenIputthemontheydosomethingfunnytomyvision,soI

juststuffthembackinmypack.

It’slateafternoonwhenIthinkI’vefoundhelp.Ispota

clusterofberrybushesandhurrytostripthefruit,tosuckthe

sweetjuicesfromtheskins.ButjustasI’mholdingthemtomy

lips,Igetahardlookatthem.WhatIthoughtwereblueberries

haveaslightlydifferentshape,andwhenIbreakoneopenthe

insidesarebloodred.Idon’trecognizetheseberries,perhaps

theyareedible,butI’mguessingthisissomeeviltrickonthe

partoftheGamemakers.Eventheplantinstructorinthe

TrainingCentermadeapointoftellingustoavoidberriesunless

youwere100percentsuretheyweren’ttoxic.SomethingI

alreadyknew,butI’msothirstyittakesherremindertogiveme

thestrengthtoflingthemaway.

Fatigueisbeginningtosettleonme,butit’snottheusual

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tirednessthatfollowsalonghike.Ihavetostopandrest

frequently,althoughIknowtheonlycureforwhatailsme

requirescontinuedsearching.Itryanewtactic—climbinga

treeashighasIdareinmyshakystate—tolookforanysigns

ofwater.ButasfarasIcanseeinanydirection,there’sthesame

unrelentingstretchofforest.

Determinedtogoonuntilnightfall,IwalkuntilI’m

stumblingovermyownfeet.

Exhausted,Ihaulmyselfupintoatreeandbeltmyselfin.

I’venoappetite,butIsuckonarabbitbonejusttogivemy

mouthsomethingtodo.Nightfalls,theanthemplays,andhigh

intheskyIseethepictureofthegirl,whowasapparentlyfrom

District8.TheonePeetawentbacktofinishoff.

MyfearoftheCareerpackisminorcomparedtomyburning

thirst.Besides,theywereheadingawayfrommeandbynow

they,too,willhavetorest.Withthescarcityofwater,theymay

evenhavehadtoreturntothelakeforrefills.

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Maybe,thatistheonlycourseformeaswell.

Morningbringsdistress.Myheadthrobswitheverybeatof

myheart.Simplemovementssendstabsofpainthroughmy

joints.Ifall,ratherthanjumpfromthetree.Ittakesseveral

minutesformetoassemblemygear.Somewhereinsideme,I

knowthisiswrong.Ishouldbeactingwithmorecaution,

movingwithmoreurgency.Butmymindseemsfoggyand

formingaplanishard.Ileanbackagainstthetrunkofmytree,

onefingergingerlystrokingthesandpapersurfaceofmytongue,

asIassessmyoptions.HowcanIgetwater?

Returntothelake.Nogood.I’dnevermakeit.

Hopeforrain.There’snotacloudinthesky.

Keeplooking.Yes,thisismyonlychance.Butthen,another

thoughthitsme,andthesurgeofangerthatfollowsbringsmeto

mysenses.

Haymitch!Hecouldsendmewater!Pressabuttonandhave

itdeliveredtomeinasilverparachuteinminutes.IknowImust

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havesponsors,atleastoneortwowhocouldaffordapintof

liquidforme.Yes,it’spricey,butthesepeople,they’remadeof

money.Andthey’llbebettingonmeaswell.PerhapsHaymitch

doesn’trealizehowdeepmyneedis.

IsayinavoiceasloudasIdare.“Water.”Iwait,hopefully,

foraparachutetodescendfromthesky.Butnothingis

forthcoming.

Somethingiswrong.AmIdeludedabouthavingsponsors?

OrhasPeeta’sbehaviormadethemallhangback?No,Idon’t

believeit.There’ssomeoneouttherewhowantstobuymewater

onlyHaymitchisrefusingtoletitgothrough.Asmymentor,he

getstocontroltheflowofgiftsfromthesponsors.Iknowhe

hatesme.He’smadethatclearenough.Butenoughtoletme

die?Fromthis?Hecan’tdothat,canhe?Ifamentormistreats

histributes,he’llbeheldaccountablebytheviewers,bythe

peoplebackinDistrict12.EvenHaymitchwouldn’triskthat,

wouldhe?SaywhatyouwillaboutmyfellowtradersintheHob,

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butIdon’tthinkthey’dwelcomehimbackthereifheletmedie

thisway.Andthenwherewouldhegethisliquor?So...what?

Ishetryingtomakemesufferfordefyinghim?Ishedirecting

allthesponsorstowardPeeta?Ishejusttoodrunktoevennotice

what’sgoingonatthemoment?SomehowIdon’tbelievethat

andIdon’tbelievehe’stryingtokillmeoffbyneglect,either.

Hehas,infact,inhisownunpleasantway,genuinelybeentrying

topreparemeforthis.Thenwhatisgoingon?

Iburymyfaceinmyhands.There’snodangeroftearsnow,

Icouldn’tproduceonetosavemylife.WhatisHaymitchdoing?

Despitemyanger,hatred,andsuspicions,asmallvoiceinthe

backofmyheadwhispersananswer.

Maybehe’ssendingyouamessage,itsays.Amessage.

Sayingwhat?ThenIknow.There’sonlyonegoodreason

Haymitchcouldbewithholdingwaterfromme.Becausehe

knowsI’vealmostfoundit.

Igritmyteethandpullmyselftomyfeet.Mybackpack

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seemstohavetripledinweight.Ifindabrokenbranchthatwill

doforawalkingstickandIstartoff.Thesun’sbeatingdown,

evenmoresearingthanthefirsttwodays.Ifeellikeanoldpiece

ofleather,dryingandcrackingintheheat.Everystepisan

effort,butIrefusetostop.Irefusetositdown.IfIsit,there’sa

goodchanceIwon’tbeabletogetupagain,thatIwon’teven

remembermytask.

WhateasypreyIam!Anytribute,eventinyRue,couldtake

merightnow,merelyshovemeoverandkillmewithmyown

knife,andI’dhavelittlestrengthtoresist.Butifanyoneisinmy

partofthewoods,theyignoreme.Thetruthis,Ifeelamillion

milesfromanotherlivingsoul.

Notalonethough.No,they’vesurelygotacameratracking

menow.Ithinkbacktotheyearsofwatchingtributesstarve,

freeze,bleed,anddehydratetodeath.Unlessthere’sareally

goodfightgoingonsomewhere,I’mbeingfeatured.

MythoughtsturntoPrim.It’slikelyshewon’tbewatching

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melive,butthey’llshowupdatesattheschoolduringlunch.For

hersake,ItrytolookasleastdesperateasIcan.

Butbyafternoon,Iknowtheendiscoming.Mylegsare

shakingandmyheartistooquick.Ikeepforgettingexactlywhat

I’mdoing.I’vestumbledrepeatedlyandmanagedtoregainmy

feet,butwhenthestickslidesoutfromunderme,Ifinally

tumbletothegroundunabletogetup.Iletmyeyesclose.

IhavemisjudgedHaymitch.Hehasnointentionofhelping

meatall.

Thisisallright,Ithink.Thisisnotsobadhere.Theairis

lesshot,signifyingevening’sapproach.There’saslight,sweet

scentthatremindsmeoflilies.Myfingersstrokethesmooth

ground,slidingeasilyacrossthetop.Thisisanokayplacetodie,

Ithink.

Myfingertipsmakesmallswirlingpatternsinthecool,

slipperyearth.Ilovemud,Ithink.HowmanytimesI’vetracked

gamewiththehelpofitssoft,readablesurface.Goodforbee

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stings,too.Mud.Mud.Mud!MyeyesflyopenandIdigmy

fingersintotheearth.Itismud!Mynoseliftsintheair.And

thosearelilies!Pondlilies!

Icrawlnow,throughthemud,draggingmyselftowardthe

scent.FiveyardsfromwhereIfell,Icrawlthroughatangleof

plantsintoapond.Floatingonthetop,yellowflowersinbloom,

aremybeautifullilies.

It’sallIcandonottoplungemyfaceintothewaterandgulp

downasmuchasIcanhold.ButIhavejustenoughsenseleftto

abstain.Withtremblinghands,Igetoutmyflaskandfillitwith

water.IaddwhatIremembertobetherightnumberofdropsof

iodineforpurifyingit.Thehalfanhourofwaitingisagony,butI

doit.Atleast,Ithinkit’sahalfanhour,butit’scertainlyaslong

asIcanstand.

Slowly,easynow,Itellmyself.Itakeoneswallowandmake

myselfwait.Thenanother.Overthenextcoupleofhours,Idrink

theentirehalfgallon.Thenasecond.IprepareanotherbeforeI

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retiretoatreewhereIcontinuesipping,eatingrabbit,andeven

indulgeinoneofmypreciouscrackers.Bythetimetheanthem

plays,Ifeelremarkablybetter.Therearenofacestonight,no

tributesdiedtoday.TomorrowI’llstayhere,resting,

camouflagingmybackpackwithmud,catchingsomeofthose

littlefishIsawasIsipped,digginguptherootsofthepondlilies

tomakeanicemeal.Isnuggledowninmysleepingbag,hanging

ontomywaterbottlefordearlife,which,ofcourse,itis.

Afewhourslater,thestampedeoffeetshakesmefrom

slumber.Ilookaroundinbewilderment.It’snotyetdawn,but

mystingingeyescanseeit.

Itwouldbehardtomissthewalloffiredescendingonme.

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Myfirstimpulseistoscramblefromthetree,butI’mbelted

in.SomehowmyfumblingfingersreleasethebuckleandIfallto

thegroundinaheap,stillsnarledinmysleepingbag.There’sno

timeforanykindofpacking.Fortunately,mybackpackand

waterbottlearealreadyinthebag.Ishoveinthebelt,hoistthe

bagovermyshoulder,andflee.

Theworldhastransformedtoflameandsmoke.Burning

branchescrackfromtreesandfallinshowersofsparksatmy

feet.AllIcandoisfollowtheothers,therabbitsanddeer,andI

evenspotawilddogpackshootingthroughthewoods.Itrust

theirsenseofdirectionbecausetheirinstinctsaresharperthan

mine.Buttheyaremuchfaster,flyingthroughtheunderbrushso

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gracefullyasmybootscatchonrootsandfallentreelimbs,that

there’snowayIcankeepapacewiththem.

Theheatishorrible,butworsethantheheatisthesmoke,

whichthreatenstosuffocatemeatanymoment.Ipullthetopof

myshirtupovermynose,gratefultofinditsoakedinsweat,and

itoffersathinveilofprotection.AndIrun,choking,mybag

bangingagainstmyback,myfacecutwithbranchesthat

materializefromthegrayhazewithoutwarning,becauseIknow

Iamsupposedtorun.

Thiswasnotribute’scampfiregoneoutofcontrol,no

accidentaloccurrence.Theflamesthatbeardownonmehavean

unnaturalheight,auniformitythatmarksthemashuman-made,

machine-made,Gamemaker-made.Thingshavebeentooquiet

today.Nodeaths,perhapsnofightsatall.Theaudienceinthe

Capitolwillbegettingbored,claimingthattheseGamesare

vergingondullness.ThisistheonethingtheGamesmustnotdo.

It’snothardtofollowtheGamemakers’motivation.Thereis

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theCareerpackandthentherearetherestofus,probablyspread

farandthinacrossthearena.Thisfireisdesignedtoflushusout,

todriveustogether.ItmaynotbethemostoriginaldeviceI’ve

seen,butit’svery,veryeffective.

Ihurdleoveraburninglog.Nothighenough.Thetailendof

myjacketcatchesonfireandIhavetostoptoripitfrommy

bodyandstampouttheflames.ButIdon’tdareleavethejacket,

scorchedandsmolderingasitis,Itaketheriskofshovingitin

mysleepingbag,hopingthelackofairwillquellwhatIhaven’t

extinguished.ThisisallIhave,whatIcarryonmyback,andit’s

littleenoughtosurvivewith.

Inamatterofminutes,mythroatandnoseareburning.The

coughingbeginssoonafterandmylungsbegintofeelasifthey

areactuallybeingcooked.Discomfortturnstodistressuntileach

breathsendsasearingpainthroughmychest.Imanagetotake

coverunderastoneoutcroppingjustasthevomitingbegins,and

Ilosemymeagersupperandwhateverwaterhasremainedinmy

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stomach.Crouchingonmyhandsandknees,Iretchuntilthere’s

nothinglefttocomeup.

IknowIneedtokeepmoving,butI’mtremblingandlight-

headednow,gaspingforair.Iallowmyselfaboutaspoonfulof

watertorinsemymouthandspitthentakeafewswallowsfrom

mybottle.Yougetoneminute,Itellmyself.Oneminutetorest.I

takethetimetoreordermysupplies,wadupthesleepingbag,

andmessilystuffeverythingintothebackpack.Myminute’sup.

Iknowit’stimetomoveon,butthesmokehascloudedmy

thoughts.Theswift-footedanimalsthatweremycompasshave

leftmebehind.IknowIhaven’tbeeninthispartofthewoods

before,therewerenosizablerocksliketheoneI’msheltering

againstonmyearliertravels.WherearetheGamemakersdriving

me?Backtothelake?Toawholenewterrainfilledwithnew

dangers?Ihadjustfoundafewhoursofpeaceatthepondwhen

thisattackbegan.WouldtherebeanywayIcouldtravelparallel

tothefireandworkmywaybackthere,toasourceofwaterat

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least?Thewalloffiremusthaveanendanditwon’tburn

indefinitely.NotbecausetheGamemakerscouldn’tkeepit

fueledbutbecause,again,thatwouldinviteaccusationsof

boredomfromtheaudience.IfIcouldgetbackbehindthefire

line,IcouldavoidmeetingupwiththeCareers.I’vejustdecided

totryandloopbackaround,althoughitwillrequiremilesof

travelawayfromtheinfernoandthenaverycircuitousroute

back,whenthefirstfireballblastsintotherockabouttwofeet

frommyhead.Ispringoutfromundermyledge,energizedby

renewedfear.

Thegamehastakenatwist.Thefirewasjusttogetus

moving,nowtheaudiencewillgettoseesomerealfun.WhenI

hearthenexthiss,Iflattenontheground,nottakingtimeto

look.Thefireballhitsatreeofftomyleft,engulfingitinflames.

Toremainstillisdeath.I’mbarelyonmyfeetbeforethethird

ballhitsthegroundwhereIwaslying,sendingapillaroffireup

behindme.TimelosesmeaningnowasIfranticallytrytododge

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theattacks.Ican’tseewherethey’rebeinglaunchedfrom,but

it’snotahovercraft.Theanglesarenotextremeenough.

Probablythiswholesegmentofthewoodshasbeenarmedwith

precisionlaunchersthatareconcealedintreesorrocks.

Somewhere,inacoolandspotlessroom,aGamemakersitsata

setofcontrols,fingersonthetriggersthatcouldendmylifeina

second.Allthatisneededisadirecthit.

WhatevervagueplanIhadconceivedregardingreturningto

mypondiswipedfrommymindasIzigzaganddiveandleapto

avoidthefireballs.Eachoneisonlythesizeofanapple,but

packstremendouspoweroncontact.EverysenseIhavegoesinto

overdriveastheneedtosurvivetakesover.There’snotimeto

judgeifamoveisthecorrectone.Whenthere’sahiss,Iactor

die.

Somethingkeepsmemovingforward,though.Alifetimeof

watchingtheHungerGamesletsmeknowthatcertainareasof

thearenaareriggedforcertainattacks.AndthatifIcanjustget

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awayfromthissection,Imightbeabletomoveoutofreachof

thelaunchers.Imightalsothenfallstraightintoapitofvipers,

butIcan’tworryaboutthatnow.

HowlongIscramblealongdodgingthefireballsIcan’tsay,

buttheattacksfinallybegintoabate.Whichisgood,because

I’mretchingagain.Thistimeit’sanacidicsubstancethatscalds

mythroatandmakesitswayintomynoseaswell.I’mforcedto

stopasmybodyconvulses,tryingdesperatelytoriditselfofthe

poisonsI’vebeensuckinginduringtheattack.Iwaitforthenext

hiss,thenextsignaltobolt.Itdoesn’tcome.Theforceofthe

retchinghassqueezedtearsoutofmystingingeyes.Myclothes

aredrenchedinsweat.Somehow,throughthesmokeandvomit,I

pickupthescentofsingedhair.Myhandfumblestomybraid

andfindsafireballhassearedoffatleastsixinchesofit.Strands

ofblackenedhaircrumbleinmyfingers.Istareatthem,

fascinatedbythetransformation,whenthehissingregisters.

Mymusclesreact,onlynotfastenoughthistime.The

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fireballcrashesintothegroundatmyside,butnotbeforeitskids

acrossmyrightcalf.Seeingmypantslegonfiresendsmeover

theedge.Itwistandscuttlebackwardonmyhandsandfeet,

shrieking,tryingtoremovemyselffromthehorror.WhenI

finallyregainenoughsense,Irollthelegbackandforthonthe

ground,whichstiflestheworstofit.Butthen,withoutthinking,I

ripawaytheremainingfabricwithmybarehands.

Isitontheground,afewyardsfromtheblazesetoffbythe

fireball.Mycalfisscreaming,myhandscoveredinredwelts.

I’mshakingtoohardtomove.IftheGamemakerswanttofinish

meoff,nowisthetime.

IhearCinna’svoice,carryingimagesofrichfabricand

sparklinggems.“Katniss,thegirlwhowasonfire.”Whatagood

laughtheGamemakersmustbehavingoverthatone.Perhaps,

Cinna’sbeautifulcostumeshaveevenbroughtonthisparticular

tortureforme.Iknowhecouldn’thaveforeseenthis,mustbe

hurtingformebecause,infact,Ibelievehecaresaboutme.But

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allinall,maybeshowingupstarknakedinthatchariotwould

havebeensaferforme.

Theattackisnowover.TheGamemakersdon’twantme

dead.Notyetanyway.Everyoneknowstheycoulddestroyusall

withinsecondsoftheopeninggong.TherealsportoftheHunger

Gamesiswatchingthetributeskilloneanother.Everysooften,

theydokillatributejusttoremindtheplayerstheycan.But

mostly,theymanipulateusintoconfrontingoneanotherface-to-

face.Whichmeans,ifIamnolongerbeingfiredat,thereisat

leastoneothertributecloseathand.

IwoulddragmyselfintoatreeandtakecovernowifIcould,

butthesmokeisstillthickenoughtokillme.Imakemyself

standandbegintolimpawayfromthewallofflamesthatlights

upthesky.Itdoesnotseemtobepursuingmeanylonger,except

withitsstinkingblackclouds.

Anotherlight,daylight,beginstosoftlyemerge.Swirlsof

smokecatchthesunbeams.Myvisibilityispoor.Icansee

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maybefifteenyardsinanydirection.Atributecouldeasilybe

concealedfrommehere.Ishoulddrawmyknifeasaprecaution,

butIdoubtmyabilitytoholditforlong.Thepaininmyhands

caninnowaycompetewiththatinmycalf.Ihateburns,have

alwayshatedthem,evenasmallonegottenfrompullingapanof

breadfromtheoven.Itistheworstkindofpaintome,butIhave

neverexperiencedanythinglikethis.

I’msowearyIdon’tevennoticeI’minthepooluntilI’m

ankle-deep.It’sspring-fed,bubblingupoutofacreviceinsome

rocks,andblissfullycool.Iplungemyhandsintotheshallow

waterandfeelinstantrelief.Isn’tthatwhatmymotheralways

says?Thefirsttreatmentforaburniscoldwater?Thatitdraws

outtheheat?Butshemeansminorburns.Probablyshe’d

recommenditformyhands.Butwhatofmycalf?AlthoughI

havenotyethadthecouragetoexamineit,I’mguessingthatit’s

aninjuryinawholedifferentclass.

Ilieonmystomachattheedgeofthepoolforawhile,

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danglingmyhandsinthewater,examiningthelittleflameson

myfingernailsthatarebeginningtochipoff.Good.I’vehad

enoughfireforalifetime.

Ibathethebloodandashfrommyface.ItrytorecallallI

knowaboutburns.TheyarecommoninjuriesintheSeamwhere

wecookandheatourhomeswithcoal.Thentherearethemine

accidents....Afamilyoncebroughtinanunconsciousyoung

manpleadingwithmymothertohelphim.Thedistrictdoctor

who’sresponsiblefortreatingtheminershadwrittenhimoff,

toldthefamilytotakehimhometodie.Buttheywouldn’t

acceptthis.Helayonourkitchentable,senselesstotheworld.I

gotaglimpseofthewoundonhisthigh,gaping,charredflesh,

burnedcleardowntothebone,beforeIranfromthehouse.I

wenttothewoodsandhuntedtheentireday,hauntedbythe

gruesomeleg,memoriesofmyfather’sdeath.What’sfunnywas,

Prim,who’sscaredofherownshadow,stayedandhelped.My

mothersayshealersareborn,notmade.Theydidtheirbest,but

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themandied,justlikethedoctorsaidhewould.

Mylegisinneedofattention,butIstillcan’tlookatit.

Whatifit’sasbadastheman’sandIcanseemybone?ThenI

remembermymothersayingthatifaburn’ssevere,thevictim

mightnotevenfeelpainbecausethenerveswouldbedestroyed.

Encouragedbythis,Isitupandswingmyleginfrontofme.

Ialmostfaintatthesightofmycalf.Thefleshisabrilliant

redcoveredwithblisters.Iforcemyselftotakedeep,slow

breaths,feelingquitecertainthecamerasareonmyface.Ican’t

showweaknessatthisinjury.NotifIwanthelp.Pitydoesnot

getyouaid.Admirationatyourrefusaltogiveindoes.Icutthe

remainsofthepantlegoffatthekneeandexaminetheinjury

moreclosely.Theburnedareaisaboutthesizeofmyhand.None

oftheskinisblackened.Ithinkit’snottoobadtosoak.Gingerly

Istretchoutmylegintothepool,proppingtheheelofmyboot

onarocksotheleatherdoesn’tgettoosodden,andsigh,because

thisdoesoffersomerelief.Iknowthereareherbs,ifIcouldfind

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them,thatwouldspeedthehealing,butIcan’tquitecallthemto

mind.WaterandtimewillprobablybeallIhavetoworkwith.

ShouldIbemovingon?Thesmokeisslowlyclearingbut

stilltooheavytobehealthy.IfIdocontinueawayfromthefire,

won’tIbewalkingstraightintotheweaponsoftheCareers?

Besides,everytimeIliftmylegfromthewater,thepain

reboundssointenselyIhavetoslideitbackin.Myhandsare

slightlylessdemanding.Theycanhandlesmallbreaksfromthe

pool.SoIslowlyputmygearbackinorder.FirstIfillmybottle

withthepoolwater,treatit,andwhenenoughtimehaspassed,

begintorehydratemybody.Afteratime,Iforcemyselfto

nibbleonacracker,whichhelpssettlemystomach.Irollupmy

sleepingbag.Exceptforafewblackmarks,it’srelatively

unscathed.Myjacket’sanothermatter.Stinkingandscorched,at

leastafootofthebackbeyondrepair.Icutoffthedamagedarea

leavingmewithagarmentthatcomesjusttothebottomofmy

ribs.Butthehood’sintactandit’sfarbetterthannothing.

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Despitethepain,drowsinessbeginstotakeover.I’dtaketoa

treeandtrytorest,exceptI’dbetooeasytospot.Besides,

abandoningmypoolseemsimpossible.Ineatlyarrangemy

supplies,evensettlemypackonmyshoulders,butIcan’tseem

toleave.Ispotsomewaterplantswithediblerootsandmakea

smallmealwithmylastpieceofrabbit.Sipwater.Watchthesun

makeitsslowarcacrossthesky.WherewouldIgoanywaythat

isanysaferthanhere?Ileanbackonmypack,overcomeby

drowsiness.IftheCareerswantme,letthemfindme,Ithink

beforedriftingintoastupor.Letthemfindme.

Andfindme,theydo.It’sluckyI’mreadytomoveon

becausewhenIhearthefeet,Ihavelessthanaminuteheadstart.

Eveninghasbeguntofall.ThemomentIawake,I’mupand

running,splashingacrossthepool,flyingintotheunderbrush.

Mylegslowsmedown,butIsensemypursuersarenotas

speedyastheywerebeforethefire,either.Iheartheircoughs,

theirraspyvoicescallingtooneanother.

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Still,theyareclosingin,justlikeapackofwilddogs,andso

IdowhatIhavedonemywholelifeinsuchcircumstances.I

pickahightreeandbegintoclimb.Ifrunninghurt,climbingis

agonizingbecauseitrequiresnotonlyexertionbutdirectcontact

ofmyhandsonthetreebark.I’mfast,though,andbythetime

they’vereachedthebaseofmytrunk,I’mtwentyfeetup.Fora

moment,westopandsurveyoneanother.Ihopetheycan’thear

thepoundingofmyheart.

Thiscouldbeit,Ithink.WhatchancedoIhaveagainst

them?Allsixarethere,thefiveCareersandPeeta,andmyonly

consolationisthey’reprettybeat-up,too.Evenso,lookattheir

weapons.Lookattheirfaces,grinningandsnarlingatme,asure

killabovethem.Itseemsprettyhopeless.Butthensomething

elseregisters.They’rebiggerandstrongerthanIam,nodoubt,

butthey’realsoheavier.There’sareasonit’smeandnotGale

whoventuresuptopluckthehighestfruit,orrobthemost

remotebirdnests.Imustweighatleastfiftyorsixtypoundsless

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thanthesmallestCareer.

NowIsmile.“How’severythingwithyou?”Icalldown

cheerfully.

Thistakesthemaback,butIknowthecrowdwillloveit.

“Wellenough,”saystheboyfromDistrict2.“Yourself?”

“It’sbeenabitwarmformytaste,”Isay.Icanalmosthear

thelaughterfromtheCapitol.“Theair’sbetteruphere.Why

don’tyoucomeonup?”

“ThinkIwill,”saysthesameboy.

“Here,takethis,Cato,”saysthegirlfromDistrict1,andshe

offershimthesilverbowandsheathofarrows.Mybow!My

arrows!JustthesightofthemmakesmesoangryIwantto

scream,atmyself,atthattraitorPeetafordistractingmefrom

havingthem.Itrytomakeeyecontactwithhimnow,buthe

seemstobeintentionallyavoidingmygazeashepolisheshis

knifewiththeedgeofhisshirt.

“No,”saysCato,pushingawaythebow.“I’lldobetterwith

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mysword.”Icanseetheweapon,ashort,heavybladeathisbelt.

IgiveCatotimetohoisthimselfintothetreebeforeIbegin

toclimbagain.GalealwayssaysIremindhimofasquirrelthe

wayIcanscurryupeventheslenderestlimbs.Partofit’smy

weight,butpartofit’spractice.Youhavetoknowwheretoplace

yourhandsandfeet.I’manotherthirtyfeetintheairwhenIhear

thecrackandlookdowntoseeCatoflailingasheandabranch

godown.HehitsthegroundhardandI’mhopinghepossibly

brokehisneckwhenhegetsbacktohisfeet,swearinglikea

fiend.

Thegirlwiththearrows,GlimmerIhearsomeonecallher

—ugh,thenamesthepeopleinDistrict1givetheirchildrenare

soridiculous—anywayGlimmerscalesthetreeuntilthe

branchesbegintocrackunderherfeetandthenhasthegood

sensetostop.I’matleasteightyfeethighnow.Shetriestoshoot

meandit’simmediatelyevidentthatshe’sincompetentwitha

bow.Oneofthearrowsgetslodgedinthetreenearmethough

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andI’mabletoseizeit.Iwaveitteasinglyaboveherhead,asif

thiswasthesolepurposeofretrievingit,whenactuallyImeanto

useitifIevergetthechance.Icouldkillthem,everyoneof

them,ifthosesilverweaponswereinmyhands.

TheCareersregrouponthegroundandIcanhearthem

growlingconspiratoriallyamongthemselves,furiousIhave

madethemlookfoolish.Buttwilighthasarrivedandtheir

windowofattackonmeisclosing.Finally,IhearPeetasay

harshly,“Oh,letherstayupthere.It’snotlikeshe’sgoing

anywhere.We’lldealwithherinthemorning.”

Well,he’srightaboutonething.I’mgoingnowhere.Allthe

relieffromthepoolwaterhasgone,leavingmetofeelthefull

potencyofmyburns.Iscootdowntoaforkinthetreeand

clumsilyprepareforbed.Putonmyjacket.Layoutmysleeping

bed.Beltmyselfinandtrytokeepfrommoaning.Theheatof

thebag’stoomuchformyleg.Icutaslashinthefabricand

hangmycalfoutintheopenair.Idrizzlewateronthewound,

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myhands.

Allmybravadoisgone.I’mweakfrompainandhungerbut

can’tbringmyselftoeat.EvenifIcanlastthenight,whatwill

themorningbring?Istareintothefoliagetryingtowillmyself

torest,buttheburnsforbidit.Birdsaresettlingdownforthe

night,singinglullabiestotheiryoung.Nightcreaturesemerge.

Anowlhoots.Thefaintscentofaskunkcutsthroughthesmoke.

Theeyesofsomeanimalpeeratmefromtheneighboringtree—

apossummaybe—catchingthefirelightfromtheCareers’

torches.Suddenly,I’mupononeelbow.Thosearenopossum’s

eyes,Iknowtheirglassyreflectiontoowell.Infact,thoseare

notanimaleyesatall.Inthelastdimraysoflight,Imakeher

out,watchingmesilentlyfrombetweenthebranches.

Rue.

Howlonghasshebeenhere?Thewholetimeprobably.Still

andunobservedastheactionunfoldedbeneathher.Perhapsshe

headeduphertreeshortlybeforeIdid,hearingthepackwasso

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

close.

Forawhileweholdeachother’sgaze.Then,withouteven

rustlingaleaf,herlittlehandslidesintotheopenandpointsto

somethingabovemyhead.

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Myeyesfollowthelineofherfingerupintothefoliage

aboveme.Atfirst,Ihavenoideawhatshe’spointingto,but

then,aboutfifteenfeetup,Imakeoutthevagueshapeinthe

dimminglight.Butof...ofwhat?Somesortofanimal?Itlooks

aboutthesizeofaraccoon,butithangsfromthebottomofa

branch,swayingeversoslightly.There’ssomethingelse.Among

thefamiliareveningsoundsofthewoods,myearsregisteralow

hum.ThenIknow.It’sawaspnest.

Fearshootsthroughme,butIhaveenoughsensetokeep

still.Afterall,Idon’tknowwhatkindofwasplivesthere.It

couldbetheordinaryleave-us-alone-and-we’ll-leave-you-alone

type.ButthesearetheHungerGames,andordinaryisn’tthe

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norm.MorelikelytheywillbeoneoftheCapitol’smuttations,

trackerjackers.Likethejabberjays,thesekillerwaspswere

spawnedinalabandstrategicallyplaced,likelandmines,

aroundthedistrictsduringthewar.Largerthanregularwasps,

theyhaveadistinctivesolidgoldbodyandastingthatraisesa

lumpthesizeofaplumoncontact.Mostpeoplecan’ttolerate

morethanafewstings.Somedieatonce.Ifyoulive,the

hallucinationsbroughtonbythevenomhaveactuallydriven

peopletomadness.Andthere’sanotherthing,thesewaspswill

huntdownanyonewhodisturbstheirnestandattempttokill

them.That’swherethetrackerpartofthenamecomesfrom.

Afterthewar,theCapitoldestroyedallthenestssurrounding

theircity,buttheonesnearthedistrictswereleftuntouched.

Anotherreminderofourweakness,Isuppose,justlikethe

HungerGames.Anotherreasontokeepinsidethefenceof

District12.WhenGaleandIcomeacrossatrackerjackernest,

weimmediatelyheadintheoppositedirection.

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Soisthatwhathangsaboveme?IlookbacktoRueforhelp,

butshe’smeltedintohertree.

Givenmycircumstances,Iguessitdoesn’tmatterwhattype

ofwaspnestitis.I’mwoundedandtrapped.Darknesshasgiven

meabriefreprieve,butbythetimethesunrises,theCareers

willhaveformulatedaplantokillme.There’snowaythey

coulddootherwiseafterI’vemadethemlooksostupid.That

nestmaybethesoleoptionIhaveleft.IfIcandropitdownon

them,Imaybeabletoescape.ButI’llriskmylifeinthe

process.

Ofcourse,I’llneverbeabletogetincloseenoughtothe

actualnesttocutitfree.I’llhavetosawoffthebranchatthe

trunkandsendthewholethingdown.Theserratedportionofmy

knifeshouldbeabletomanagethat.Butcanmyhands?Andwill

thevibrationfromthesawingraisetheswarm?Andwhatifthe

CareersfigureoutwhatI’mdoingandmovetheircamp?That

woulddefeatthewholepurpose.

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IrealizethatthebestchanceI’llhavetodothesawing

withoutdrawingnoticewillbeduringtheanthem.Thatcould

beginanytime.Idragmyselfoutofmybag,makesuremyknife

issecuredinmybelt,andbegintomakemywayupthetree.

Thisinitselfisdangeroussincethebranchesarebecoming

precariouslythinevenforme,butIpersevere.WhenIreachthe

limbthatsupportsthenest,thehummingbecomesmore

distinctive.Butit’sstilloddlysubduedifthesearetracker

jackers.It’sthesmoke,Ithink.It’ssedatedthem.Thiswasthe

onedefensetherebelsfoundtobattlethewasps.

ThesealoftheCapitolshinesabovemeandtheanthem

blaresout.It’snowornever,Ithink,andbegintosaw.Blisters

burstonmyrighthandasIawkwardlydragtheknifebackand

forth.OnceI’vegotagroove,theworkrequireslesseffortbutis

almostmorethanIcanhandle.Igritmyteethandsawaway,

occasionallyglancingattheskytoregisterthattherewereno

deathstoday.That’sallright.Theaudiencewillbesatedseeing

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meinjuredandtreedandthepackbelowme.Buttheanthem’s

runningoutandI’monlythreequartersofthewaythroughthe

woodwhenthemusicends,theskygoesdark,andI’mforcedto

stop.

Nowwhat?Icouldprobablyfinishoffthejobbysenseof

feelbutthatmaynotbethesmartestplan.Ifthewaspsaretoo

groggy,ifthenestcatchesonitswaydown,ifItrytoescape,

thiscouldallbeadeadlywasteoftime.Better,Ithink,tosneak

uphereatdawnandsendthenestintomyenemies.

InthefaintlightoftheCareers’torches,Iinchbackdownto

myforktofindthebestsurpriseI’veeverhad.Sittingonmy

sleepingbagisasmallplasticpotattachedtoasilverparachute.

Myfirstgiftfromasponsor!Haymitchmusthavehaditsentin

duringtheanthem.Thepoteasilyfitsinthepalmofmyhand.

Whatcanitbe?Notfoodsurely.IunscrewthelidandIknowby

thescentthatit’smedicine.Cautiously,Iprobethesurfaceofthe

ointment.Thethrobbinginmyfingertipvanishes.

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“Oh,Haymitch,”Iwhisper.“Thankyou.”Hehasnot

abandonedme.Notleftmetofendentirelyformyself.Thecost

ofthismedicinemustbeastronomical.Probablynotonebut

manysponsorshavecontributedtobuythisonetinypot.Tome,

itispriceless.

Idiptwofingersinthejarandgentlyspreadthebalmover

mycalf.Theeffectisalmostmagical,erasingthepainon

contact,leavingapleasantcoolingsensationbehind.Thisisno

herbalconcoctionthatmymothergrindsupoutofwoodland

plants,it’shigh-techmedicinebrewedupintheCapitol’slabs.

Whenmycalfistreated,Irubathinlayerintomyhands.After

wrappingthepotintheparachute,Inestleitsafelyawayinmy

pack.Nowthatthepainhaseased,it’sallIcandotoreposition

myselfinmybagbeforeIplungeintosleep.

Abirdperchedjustafewfeetfrommealertsmethatanew

dayisdawning.Inthegraymorninglight,Iexaminemyhands.

Themedicinehastransformedalltheangryredpatchestoasoft

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baby-skinpink.Mylegstillfeelsinflamed,butthatburnwasfar

deeper.Iapplyanothercoatofmedicineandquietlypackupmy

gear.Whateverhappens,I’mgoingtohavetomoveandmove

fast.Ialsomakemyselfeatacrackerandastripofbeefand

drinkafewcupsofwater.Almostnothingstayedinmystomach

yesterday,andI’malreadystartingtofeeltheeffectsofhunger.

Belowme,IcanseetheCareerpackandPeetaasleeponthe

ground.Byherposition,leaningupagainstthetrunkofthetree,

I’dguessGlimmerwassupposedtobeonguard,butfatigue

overcameher.

Myeyessquintastheytrytopenetratethetreenexttome,

butIcan’tmakeoutRue.Sinceshetippedmeoff,itonlyseems

fairtowarnher.Besides,ifI’mgoingtodietoday,it’sRueI

wanttowin.Evenifitmeansalittleextrafoodformyfamily,

theideaofPeetabeingcrownedvictorisunbearable.

IcallRue’snameinahushedwhisperandtheeyesappear,

wideandalert,atonce.Shepointsuptothenestagain.Iholdup

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myknifeandmakeasawingmotion.Shenodsanddisappears.

There’sarustlinginanearbytree.Thenthesamenoiseagaina

bitfartheroff.Irealizeshe’sleapingfromtreetotree.It’sallI

candonottolaughoutloud.Isthiswhatsheshowedthe

Gamemakers?Iimagineherflyingaroundthetraining

equipmentnevertouchingthefloor.Sheshouldhavegottenat

leastaten.

Rosystreaksarebreakingthroughintheeast.Ican’tafford

towaitanylonger.Comparedtotheagonyoflastnight’sclimb,

thisoneisacinch.Atthetreelimbthatholdsthenest,Iposition

theknifeinthegrooveandI’mabouttodrawtheteethacrossthe

woodwhenIseesomethingmoving.There,onthenest.The

brightgoldgleamofatrackerjackerlazilymakingitsway

acrossthepaperygraysurface.Noquestion,it’sactingalittle

subdued,butthewaspisupandmovingandthatmeansthe

otherswillbeoutsoonaswell.Sweatbreaksoutonthepalmsof

myhands,beadingupthroughtheointment,andIdomybestto

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patthemdryonmyshirt.IfIdon’tgetthroughthisbranchina

matterofseconds,theentireswarmcouldemergeandattackme.

There’snosenseinputtingitoff.Itakeadeepbreath,grip

theknifehandleandbeardownashardasIcan.Back,forth,

back,forth!ThetrackerjackersbegintobuzzandIhearthem

comingout.Back,forth,back,forth!Astabbingpainshoots

throughmykneeandIknowonehasfoundmeandtheothers

willbehoningin.Back,forth,back,forth.Andjustastheknife

cutsthrough,Ishovetheendofthebranchasfarawayfromme

asIcan.Itcrashesdownthroughthelowerbranches,snagging

temporarilyonafewbutthentwistingfreeuntilitsmasheswith

athudontheground.Thenestburstsopenlikeanegg,anda

furiousswarmoftrackerjackerstakestotheair.

Ifeelasecondstingonthecheek,athirdonmyneck,and

theirvenomalmostimmediatelymakesmewoozy.Iclingtothe

treewithonearmwhileIripthebarbedstingersoutofmyflesh.

Fortunately,onlythesethreetrackerjackershadidentifiedme

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beforethenestwentdown.Therestoftheinsectshavetargeted

theirenemiesontheground.

It’smayhem.TheCareershavewokentoafull-scaletracker

jackerattack.Peetaandafewothershavethesensetodrop

everythingandbolt.Icanhearcriesof“Tothelake!Tothe

lake!”andknowtheyhopetoevadethewaspsbytakingtothe

water.Itmustbecloseiftheythinktheycanoutdistancethe

furiousinsects.Glimmerandanothergirl,theonefromDistrict

4,arenotsolucky.Theyreceivemultiplestingsbeforethey’re

evenoutofmyview.Glimmerappearstogocompletelymad,

shriekingandtryingtobatthewaspsoffwithherbow,whichis

pointless.Shecallstotheothersforhelpbut,ofcourse,noone

returns.ThegirlfromDistrict4staggersoutofsight,althoughI

wouldn’tbetonhermakingittothelake.IwatchGlimmerfall,

twitchhystericallyaroundonthegroundforafewminutes,and

thengostill.

Thenestisnothingbutanemptyshell.Thewaspshave

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vanishedinpursuitoftheothers.Idon’tthinkthey’llreturn,but

Idon’twanttoriskit.Iscamperdownthetreeandhittheground

runningintheoppositedirectionofthelake.Thepoisonfromthe

stingersmakesmewobbly,butIfindmywaybacktomyown

littlepoolandsubmergemyselfinthewater,justincaseany

waspsarestillonmytrail.Afteraboutfiveminutes,Idrag

myselfontotherocks.Peoplehavenotexaggeratedtheeffectsof

thetrackerjackerstings.Actually,theoneonmykneeiscloser

toanorangethanapluminsize.Afoul-smellinggreenliquid

oozesfromtheplaceswhereIpulledoutthestingers.

Theswelling.Thepain.Theooze.WatchingGlimmer

twitchingtodeathontheground.It’salottohandlebeforethe

sunhasevenclearedthehorizon.Idon’twanttothinkabout

whatGlimmermustlooklikenow.Herbodydisfigured.Her

swollenfingersstiffeningaroundthebow...

Thebow!Somewhereinmybefuddledmindonethought

connectstoanotherandI’monmyfeet,teeteringthroughthe

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treesbacktoGlimmer.Thebow.Thearrows.Imustgetthem.I

haven’theardthecannonsfireyet,soperhapsGlimmerisin

somesortofcoma,herheartstillstrugglingagainstthewasp

venom.Butonceitstopsandthecannonsignalsherdeath,a

hovercraftwillmoveinandretrieveherbody,takingtheonly

bowandsheathofarrowsI’veseenoutoftheGamesforgood.

AndIrefusetoletthemslipthroughmyfingersagain!

IreachGlimmerjustasthecannonfires.Thetrackerjackers

havevanished.Thisgirl,sobreathtakinglybeautifulinher

goldendressthenightoftheinterviews,isunrecognizable.Her

featureseradicated,herlimbsthreetimestheirnormalsize.The

stingerlumpshavebeguntoexplode,spewingputridgreenliquid

aroundher.Ihavetobreakseveralofwhatusedtobeherfingers

withastonetofreethebow.Thesheathofarrowsispinned

underherback.Itrytorolloverherbodybypullingononearm,

butthefleshdisintegratesinmyhandsandIfallbackonthe

ground.

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Isthisreal?Orhavethehallucinationsbegun?Isqueezemy

eyestightandtrytobreathethroughmymouth,orderingmyself

nottobecomesick.Breakfastmuststaydown,itmightbedays

beforeIcanhuntagain.AsecondcannonfiresandI’mguessing

thegirlfromDistrict4hasjustdied.Ihearthebirdsfallsilent

andthenonegivethewarningcall,whichmeansahovercraftis

abouttoappear.Confused,Ithinkit’sforGlimmer,althoughthis

doesn’tquitemakesensebecauseI’mstillinthepicture,still

fightingforthearrows.Ilurchbackontomykneesandthetrees

aroundmebegintospinincircles.Inthemiddleofthesky,I

spotthehovercraft.IthrowmyselfoverGlimmer’sbodyasifto

protectitbutthenIseethegirlfromDistrict4beingliftedinto

theairandvanishing.

“Dothis!”Icommandmyself.Clenchingmyjaw,Idigmy

handsunderGlimmer’sbody,getaholdonwhatmustbeherrib

cage,andforceherontoherstomach.Ican’thelpit,I’m

hyperventilatingnow,thewholethingissonightmarishandI’m

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losingmygrasponwhat’sreal.Itugonthesilversheathof

arrows,butit’scaughtonsomething,hershoulderblade,

something,andfinallyyankitfree.I’vejustencircledthesheath

withmyarmswhenIhearthefootsteps,severalpairs,coming

throughtheunderbrush,andIrealizetheCareershavecome

back.They’vecomebacktokillmeorgettheirweaponsorboth.

Butit’stoolatetorun.Ipullaslimyarrowfromthesheath

andtrytopositionitonthebowstringbutinsteadofonestringI

seethreeandthestenchfromthestingsissorepulsiveIcan’tdo

it.Ican’tdoit.Ican’tdoit.

I’mhelplessasthefirsthuntercrashesthroughthetrees,

spearlifted,poisedtothrow.TheshockonPeeta’sfacemakesno

sensetome.Iwaitfortheblow.Insteadhisarmdropstohis

side.

“Whatareyoustilldoinghere?”hehissesatme.Istare

uncomprehendinglyasatrickleofwaterdripsoffastingunder

hisear.Hiswholebodystartssparklingasifhe’sbeendippedin

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dew.“Areyoumad?”He’sproddingmewiththeshaftofthe

spearnow.“Getup!Getup!”Irise,buthe’sstillpushingatme.

What?Whatisgoingon?Heshovesmeawayfromhimhard.

“Run!”hescreams.“Run!”

Behindhim,Catoslasheshiswaythroughthebrush.He’s

sparklingwet,too,andbadlystungunderoneeye.Icatchthe

gleamofsunlightonhisswordanddoasPeetasays.Holding

tightlytomybowandarrows,bangingintotreesthatappearout

ofnowhere,trippingandfallingasItrytokeepmybalance.

Backpastmypoolandintounfamiliarwoods.Theworldbegins

tobendinalarmingways.Abutterflyballoonstothesizeofa

housethenshattersintoamillionstars.Treestransformtoblood

andsplashdownovermyboots.Antsbegintocrawloutofthe

blistersonmyhandsandIcan’tshakethemfree.They’re

climbingupmyarms,myneck.Someone’sscreaming,along

high-pitchedscreamthatneverbreaksforbreath.Ihaveavague

ideaitmightbeme.Itripandfallintoasmallpitlinedwithtiny

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orangebubblesthathumlikethetrackerjackernest.Tuckingmy

kneesuptomychin,Iwaitfordeath.

Sickanddisoriented,I’mabletoformonlyonethought:

PeetaMellarkjustsavedmylife.

ThentheantsboreintomyeyesandIblackout.

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IenteranightmarefromwhichIwakerepeatedlyonlyto

findagreaterterrorawaitingme.AllthethingsIdreadmost,all

thethingsIdreadforothersmanifestinsuchvividdetailIcan’t

helpbutbelievethey’rereal.EachtimeIwake,Ithink,Atlast,

thisisover,butitisn’t.It’sonlythebeginningofanewchapter

oftorture.HowmanywaysdoIwatchPrimdie?Relivemy

father’slastmoments?Feelmyownbodyrippedapart?Thisis

thenatureofthetrackerjackervenom,socarefullycreatedto

targettheplacewherefearlivesinyourbrain.

WhenIfinallydocometomysenses,Iliestill,waitingfor

thenextonslaughtofimagery.ButeventuallyIacceptthatthe

poisonmusthavefinallyworkeditswayoutofmysystem,

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leavingmybodywrackedandfeeble.I’mstilllyingonmyside,

lockedinthefetalposition.Iliftahandtomyeyestofindthem

sound,untouchedbyantsthatneverexisted.Simplystretching

outmylimbsrequiresanenormouseffort.Somanypartsofme

hurt,itdoesn’tseemworthwhiletakinginventoryofthem.Very,

veryslowlyImanagetositup.I’minashallowhole,notfilled

withthehummingorangebubblesofmyhallucinationbutwith

old,deadleaves.Myclothing’sdamp,butIdon’tknowwhether

pondwater,dew,rain,orsweatisthecause.Foralongtime,allI

candoistaketinysipsfrommybottleandwatchabeetlecrawl

upthesideofahoneysucklebush.

HowlonghaveIbeenout?ItwasmorningwhenIlost

reason.Nowit’safternoon.Butthestiffnessinmyjoints

suggestsmorethanadayhaspassed,eventwopossibly.Ifso,

I’llhavenowayofknowingwhichtributessurvivedthattracker

jackerattack.NotGlimmerorthegirlfromDistrict4.Butthere

wastheboyfromDistrict1,bothtributesfromDistrict2,and

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Peeta.Didtheydiefromthestings?Certainlyiftheylived,their

lastdaysmusthavebeenashorridasmyown.Andwhatabout

Rue?She’ssosmall,itwouldn’ttakemuchvenomtodoherin.

Butthenagain...thetrackerjackerswould’vehadtocatchher,

andshehadagoodheadstart.

Afoul,rottentastepervadesmymouth,andthewaterhas

littleeffectonit.Idragmyselfovertothehoneysucklebushand

pluckaflower.Igentlypullthestamenthroughtheblossomand

setthedropofnectaronmytongue.Thesweetnessspreads

throughmymouth,downmythroat,warmingmyveinswith

memoriesofsummer,andmyhomewoodsandGale’spresence

besideme.Forsomereason,ourdiscussionfromthatlast

morningcomesbacktome.

“Wecoulddoit,youknow.”

“What?”

“Leavethedistrict.Runoff.Liveinthewoods.YouandI,we

couldmakeit.”

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Andsuddenly,I’mnotthinkingofGalebutofPeetaand...

Peeta!Hesavedmylife!Ithink.Becausebythetimewemetup,

Icouldn’ttellwhatwasrealandwhatthetrackerjackervenom

hadcausedmetoimagine.Butifhedid,andmyinstinctstellme

hedid,whatfor?IshesimplyworkingtheLoverBoyanglehe

initiatedattheinterview?Orwasheactuallytryingtoprotect

me?Andifhewas,whatwashedoingwiththoseCareersinthe

firstplace?Noneofitmakessense.

IwonderwhatGalemadeoftheincidentforamomentand

thenIpushthewholethingoutofmymindbecauseforsome

reasonGaleandPeetadonotcoexistwelltogetherinmy

thoughts.

SoIfocusontheonereallygoodthingthat’shappenedsince

Ilandedinthearena.Ihaveabowandarrows!Afulldozen

arrowsifyoucounttheoneIretrievedinthetree.Theybearno

traceofthenoxiousgreenslimethatcamefromGlimmer’sbody

—whichleadsmetobelievethatmightnothavebeenwholly

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real—buttheyhaveafairamountofdriedbloodonthem.Ican

cleanthemlater,butIdotakeaminutetoshootafewintoa

nearbytree.TheyaremoreliketheweaponsintheTraining

Centerthanmyonesathome,butwhocares?ThatIcanwork

with.

Theweaponsgivemeanentirelynewperspectiveonthe

Games.IknowIhavetoughopponentslefttoface.ButIamno

longermerelypreythatrunsandhidesortakesdesperate

measures.IfCatobrokethroughthetreesrightnow,Iwouldn’t

flee,I’dshoot.IfindI’mactuallyanticipatingthemomentwith

pleasure.

Butfirst,Ihavetogetsomestrengthbackinmybody.I’m

verydehydratedagainandmywatersupplyisdangerouslylow.

ThelittlepaddingIwasabletoputonbygorgingmyselfduring

preptimeintheCapitolisgone,plusseveralmorepoundsas

well.MyhipbonesandribsaremoreprominentthanIremember

thembeingsincethoseawfulmonthsaftermyfather’sdeath.

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Andthentherearemywoundstocontendwith—burns,cuts,

andbruisesfromsmashingintothetrees,andthreetrackerjacker

stings,whichareassoreandswollenasever.Itreatmyburns

withtheointmentandtrydabbingabitonmystingsaswell,but

ithasnoeffectonthem.Mymotherknewatreatmentforthem,

sometypeofleafthatcoulddrawoutthepoison,butsheseldom

hadcausetouseit,andIdon’tevenrememberitsnameletalone

itsappearance.

Waterfirst,Ithink.Youcanhuntalongthewaynow.It’s

easytoseethedirectionIcamefrombythepathofdestruction

mycrazedbodymadethroughthefoliage.SoIwalkoffinthe

otherdirection,hopingmyenemiesstilllielockedinthesurreal

worldoftrackerjackervenom.

Ican’tmovetooquickly,myjointsrejectanyabrupt

motions.ButIestablishtheslowhunter’streadIusewhen

trackinggame.Withinafewminutes,Ispotarabbitandmake

myfirstkillwiththebowandarrow.It’snotmyusualcleanshot

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throughtheeye,butI’lltakeit.Afteraboutanhour,Ifinda

stream,shallowbutwide,andmorethansufficientformyneeds.

Thesun’shotandsevere,sowhileIwaitformywatertopurifyI

stripdowntomyunderclothesandwadeintothemildcurrent.

I’mfilthyfromheadtotoe.Itrysplashingmyselfbuteventually

justliedowninthewaterforafewminutes,lettingitwashoff

thesootandbloodandskinthathasstartedtopeeloffmyburns.

Afterrinsingoutmyclothesandhangingthemonbushestodry,

Isitonthebankinthesunforabit,untanglingmyhairwithmy

fingers.MyappetitereturnsandIeatacrackerandastripof

beef.Withahandfulofmoss,Ipolishthebloodfrommysilver

weapons.

Refreshed,Itreatmyburnsagain,braidbackmyhair,and

dressinthedampclothes,knowingthesunwilldrythemsoon

enough.Followingthestreamagainstitscurrentseemsthe

smartestcourseofaction.I’mtravelinguphillnow,whichI

prefer,withasourceoffreshwaternotonlyformyselfbut

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possiblegame.Ieasilytakeoutastrangebirdthatmustbesome

formofwildturkey.Anyway,itlooksplentyedibletome.By

lateafternoon,Idecidetobuildasmallfiretocookthemeat,

bettingthatduskwillhelpconcealthesmokeandIcanquench

thefirebynightfall.Icleanthegame,takingextracarewiththe

bird,butthere’snothingalarmingaboutit.Oncethefeathersare

plucked,it’snobiggerthanachicken,butit’splumpandfirm.

I’vejustplacedthefirstlotoverthecoalswhenIhearthetwig

snap.

Inonemotion,Iturntothesound,bringingthebowand

arrowtomyshoulder.There’snoonethere.NooneIcansee

anyway.ThenIspotthetipofachild’sbootjustpeekingout

frombehindthetrunkofatree.MyshouldersrelaxandIgrin.

Shecanmovethroughthewoodslikeashadow,youhavetogive

herthat.Howelsecouldshehavefollowedme?Thewordscome

outofmymouthbeforeIcanstopthem.

“Youknow,they’renottheonlyoneswhocanform

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alliances,”Isay.

Foramoment,noresponse.ThenoneofRue’seyesedges

aroundthetrunk.“Youwantmeforanally?”

“Whynot?Yousavedmewiththosetrackerjackers.You’re

smartenoughtostillbealive.AndIcan’tseemtoshakeyou

anyway,”Isay.Sheblinksatme,tryingtodecide.“You

hungry?”Icanseeherswallowhard,hereyeflickeringtothe

meat.“Comeonthen,I’vehadtwokillstoday.”

Ruetentativelystepsoutintotheopen.“Icanfixyour

stings.”

“Canyou?”Iask.“How?”

Shedigsinthepackshecarriesandpullsoutahandfulof

leaves.I’malmostcertainthey’retheonesmymotheruses.

“Where’dyoufindthose?”

“Justaround.Weallcarrythemwhenweworkinthe

orchards.Theyleftalotofneststhere,”saysRue.“Therearea

lothere,too.”

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“That’sright.You’reDistrictEleven.Agriculture,”Isay.

“Orchards,huh?Thatmustbehowyoucanflyaroundthetrees

likeyou’vegotwings.”Ruesmiles.I’velandedononeofthe

fewthingsshe’lladmitpridein.“Well,comeon,then.Fixme

up.”

Iplunkdownbythefireandrollupmypantlegtorevealthe

stingonmyknee.Tomysurprise,Rueplacesthehandfulof

leavesintohermouthandbeginstochewthem.Mymother

woulduseothermethods,butit’snotlikewehavealotof

options.Afteraminuteorso,Ruepressesagloppygreenwadof

chewedleavesandspitonmyknee.

“Ohhh.”ThesoundcomesoutofmymouthbeforeIcanstop

it.It’sasiftheleavesareactuallyleachingthepainrightoutof

thesting.

Ruegivesagiggle.“Luckyyouhadthesensetopullthe

stingersoutoryou’dbealotworse.”

“Domyneck!Domycheek!”Ialmostbeg.

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Ruestuffsanotherhandfulofleavesinhermouth,andsoon

I’mlaughingbecausethereliefissosweet.Inoticealongburn

onRue’sforearm.“I’vegotsomethingforthat.”Isetasidemy

weaponsandanointherarmwiththeburnmedicine.

“Youhavegoodsponsors,”shesayslongingly.

“Haveyougottenanythingyet?”Iask.Sheshakesherhead.

“Youwill,though.Watch.Thecloserwegettotheend,themore

peoplewillrealizehowcleveryouare.”Iturnthemeatover.

“Youweren’tjoking,aboutwantingmeforanally?”she

asks.

“No,Imeantit,”Isay.IcanalmosthearHaymitchgroaning

asIteamupwiththiswispychild.ButIwanther.Becauseshe’s

asurvivor,andItrusther,andwhynotadmitit?Sheremindsme

ofPrim.

“Okay,”shesays,andholdsoutherhand.Weshake.“It’sa

deal.”

Ofcourse,thiskindofdealcanonlybetemporary,but

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neitherofusmentionsthat.

Ruecontributesabighandfulofsomesortofstarchyrootto

themeal.Roastedoverthefire,theyhavethesharpsweettaste

ofaparsnip.Sherecognizesthebird,too,somewildthingthey

callagrooslinginherdistrict.Shesayssometimesaflockwill

wanderintotheorchardandtheygetadecentlunchthatday.For

awhile,allconversationstopsaswefillourstomachs.The

grooslinghasdeliciousmeatthat’ssofatty,thegreasedrips

downyourfacewhenyoubiteintoit.

“Oh,”saysRuewithasigh.“I’veneverhadawholelegto

myselfbefore.”

I’llbetshehasn’t.I’llbetmeathardlyevercomesherway.

“Taketheother,”Isay.

“Really?”sheasks.

“Takewhateveryouwant.NowthatI’vegotabowand

arrows,Icangetmore.PlusI’vegotsnares.Icanshowyouhow

tosetthem,”Isay.Ruestilllooksuncertainlyattheleg.“Oh,

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takeit,”Isay,puttingthedrumstickinherhands.“Itwillonly

keepafewdaysanyway,andwe’vegotthewholebirdplusthe

rabbit.”Onceshe’sgotholdofit,herappetitewinsoutandshe

takesahugemouthful.

“I’dhavethought,inDistrictEleven,you’dhaveabitmore

toeatthanus.Youknow,sinceyougrowthefood,”Isay.

Rue’seyeswiden.“Oh,no,we’renotallowedtoeatthe

crops.”

“Theyarrestyouorsomething?”Iask.

“Theywhipyouandmakeeveryoneelsewatch,”saysRue.

“Themayor’sverystrictaboutit.”

Icantellbyherexpressionthatit’snotthatuncommonan

occurrence.Apublicwhipping’sararethinginDistrict12,

althoughoccasionallyoneoccurs.Technically,GaleandIcould

bewhippedonadailybasisforpoachinginthewoods—well,

technically,wecouldgetawholelotworse—exceptallthe

officialsbuyourmeat.Besides,ourmayor,Madge’sfather,

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doesn’tseemtohavemuchtasteforsuchevents.Maybebeing

theleastprestigious,poorest,mostridiculeddistrictinthe

countryhasitsadvantages.Suchas,beinglargelyignoredbythe

Capitolaslongasweproduceourcoalquotas.

“Doyougetallthecoalyouwant?”Rueasks.

“No,”Ianswer.“Justwhatwebuyandwhateverwetrackin

onourboots.”

“Theyfeedusabitextraduringharvest,sothatpeoplecan

keepgoinglonger,”saysRue.

“Don’tyouhavetobeinschool?”Iask.

“Notduringharvest.Everyoneworksthen,”saysRue.

It’sinteresting,hearingaboutherlife.Wehavesolittle

communicationwithanyoneoutsideourdistrict.Infact,I

wonderiftheGamemakersareblockingoutourconversation,

becauseeventhoughtheinformationseemsharmless,theydon’t

wantpeopleindifferentdistrictstoknowaboutoneanother.

AtRue’ssuggestion,welayoutallourfoodtoplanahead.

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She’sseenmostofmine,butIaddthelastcoupleofcrackers

andbeefstripstothepile.She’sgatheredquiteacollectionof

roots,nuts,greens,andevensomeberries.

Irollanunfamiliarberryinmyfingers.“Yousurethisis

safe?”

“Oh,yes,wehavethembackhome.I’vebeeneatingthem

fordays,”shesays,poppingahandfulinhermouth.Itentatively

biteintoone,andit’sasgoodasourblackberries.TakingRueon

asanallyseemsabetterchoiceallthetime.Wedivideupour

foodsupplies,soincasewe’reseparated,we’llbothbesetfora

fewdays.Apartfromthefood,Ruehasasmallwaterskin,a

homemadeslingshot,andanextrapairofsocks.Shealsohasa

sharpshardofrocksheusesasaknife.“Iknowit’snotmuch,”

shesaysasifembarrassed,“butIhadtogetawayfromthe

Cornucopiafast.”

“Youdidjustright,”Isay.WhenIspreadoutmygear,she

gaspsalittlewhensheseesthesunglasses.

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“Howdidyougetthose?”sheasks.

“Inmypack.They’vebeenuselesssofar.Theydon’tblock

thesunandtheymakeithardertosee,”Isaywithashrug.

“Thesearen’tforsun,they’refordarkness,”exclaimsRue.

“Sometimes,whenweharvestthroughthenight,they’llpassout

afewpairstothoseofushighestinthetrees.Wherethe

torchlightdoesn’treach.Onetime,thisboyMartin,hetriedto

keephispair.Hiditinhispants.Theykilledhimonthespot.”

“Theykilledaboyfortakingthese?”Isay.

“Yes,andeveryoneknewhewasnodanger.Martinwasn’t

rightinthehead.Imean,hestillactedlikeathree-year-old.He

justwantedtheglassestoplaywith,”saysRue.

HearingthismakesmefeellikeDistrict12issomesortof

safehaven.Ofcourse,peoplekeeloverfromstarvationallthe

time,butIcan’timaginethePeacekeepersmurderinga

simplemindedchild.There’salittlegirl,oneofGreasySae’s

grandkids,whowandersaroundtheHob.She’snotquiteright,

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butshe’streatedasasortofpet.Peopletossherscrapsand

things.

“Sowhatdothesedo?”IaskRue,takingtheglasses.

“Theyletyouseeincompletedarkness,”saysRue.“Try

themtonightwhenthesungoesdown.”

IgiveRuesomematchesandshemakessureIhaveplentyof

leavesincasemystingsflareupagain.Weextinguishourfire

andheadupstreamuntilit’salmostnightfall.

“Wheredoyousleep?”Iaskher.“Inthetrees?”Shenods.

“Injustyourjacket?”

Rueholdsupherextrapairofsocks.“Ihavetheseformy

hands.”

Ithinkofhowcoldthenightshavebeen.“Youcansharemy

sleepingbagifyouwant.We’llbotheasilyfit.”Herfacelights

up.Icantellthisismorethanshedaredhopefor.

Wepickaforkhighinatreeandsettleinforthenightjust

astheanthembeginstoplay.Therewerenodeathstoday.

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“Rue,Ionlywokeuptoday.HowmanynightsdidImiss?”

Theanthemshouldblockoutourwords,butstillIwhisper.I

eventaketheprecautionofcoveringmylipswithmyhand.I

don’twanttheaudiencetoknowwhatI’mplanningtotellher

aboutPeeta.Takingacuefromme,shedoesthesame.

“Two,”shesays.“ThegirlsfromDistrictsOneandFourare

dead.There’stenofusleft.”

“Somethingstrangehappened.Atleast,Ithinkitdid.It

mighthavebeenthetrackerjackervenommakingmeimagine

things,”Isay.“Youknowtheboyfrommydistrict?Peeta?I

thinkhesavedmylife.ButhewaswiththeCareers.”

“He’snotwiththemnow,”shesays.“I’vespiedontheirbase

campbythelake.Theymadeitbackbeforetheycollapsedfrom

thestingers.Buthe’snotthere.Maybehedidsaveyouandhad

torun.”

Idon’tanswer.If,infact,Peetadidsaveme,I’minhisdebt

again.Andthiscan’tbepaidback.“Ifhedid,itwasallprobably

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justpartofhisact.Youknow,tomakepeoplethinkhe’sinlove

withme.”

“Oh,”saysRuethoughtfully.“Ididn’tthinkthatwasanact.”

“Courseitis,”Isay.“Heworkeditoutwithourmentor.”

Theanthemendsandtheskygoesdark.“Let’stryoutthese

glasses.”Ipullouttheglassesandslipthemon.Ruewasn’t

kidding.Icanseeeverythingfromtheleavesonthetreestoa

skunkstrollingthroughthebushesagoodfiftyfeetaway.Icould

killitfromhereifIhadamindto.Icouldkillanyone.

“Iwonderwhoelsegotapairofthese,”Isay.

“TheCareershavetwopairs.Butthey’vegoteverything

downbythelake,”Ruesays.“Andthey’resostrong.”

“We’restrong,too,”Isay.“Justinadifferentway.”

“Youare.Youcanshoot,”shesays.“WhatcanIdo?”

“Youcanfeedyourself.Canthey?”Iask.

“Theydon’tneedto.Theyhaveallthosesupplies,”Ruesays.

“Saytheydidn’t.Saythesuppliesweregone.Howlong

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wouldtheylast?”Isay.“Imean,it’stheHungerGames,right?”

“But,Katniss,they’renothungry,”saysRue.

“No,they’renot.That’stheproblem,”Iagree.Andforthe

firsttime,Ihaveaplan.Aplanthatisn’tmotivatedbytheneed

forflightandevasion.Anoffensiveplan.“Ithinkwe’regoingto

havetofixthat,Rue.”

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Ruehasdecidedtotrustmewholeheartedly.Iknowthis

becauseassoonastheanthemfinishesshesnugglesupagainst

meandfallsasleep.NordoIhaveanymisgivingsabouther,asI

takenoparticularprecautions.Ifshe’dwantedmedead,allshe

wouldhavehadtodowasdisappearfromthattreewithout

pointingoutthetrackerjackernest.Needlingme,atthevery

backofmymind,istheobvious.Bothofuscan’twinthese

Games.Butsincetheoddsarestillagainsteitherofussurviving,

Imanagetoignorethethought.

Besides,I’mdistractedbymylatestideaabouttheCareers

andtheirsupplies.SomehowRueandImustfindawayto

destroytheirfood.I’mprettysurefeedingthemselveswillbea

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tremendousstruggle.Traditionally,theCareertributes’strategy

istogetholdofallthefoodearlyonandworkfromthere.The

yearswhentheyhavenotprotecteditwell—oneyearapackof

hideousreptilesdestroyedit,anotheraGamemakers’flood

washeditaway—thoseareusuallytheyearsthattributesfrom

otherdistrictshavewon.ThattheCareershavebeenbetterfed

growingupisactuallytotheirdisadvantage,becausetheydon’t

knowhowtobehungry.NotthewayRueandIdo.

ButI’mtooexhaustedtobeginanydetailedplantonight.My

woundsrecovering,mymindstillabitfoggyfromthevenom,

andthewarmthofRueatmyside,herheadcradledonmy

shoulder,havegivenmeasenseofsecurity.Irealize,forthe

firsttime,howverylonelyI’vebeeninthearena.How

comfortingthepresenceofanotherhumanbeingcanbe.Igivein

tomydrowsiness,resolvingthattomorrowthetableswillturn.

Tomorrow,it’stheCareerswhowillhavetowatchtheirbacks.

Theboomofthecannonjoltsmeawake.Thesky’sstreaked

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withlight,thebirdsalreadychattering.Rueperchesinabranch

acrossfromme,herhandscuppingsomething.Wewait,

listeningformoreshots,buttherearen’tany.

“Whodoyouthinkthatwas?”Ican’thelpthinkingofPeeta.

“Idon’tknow.Itcouldhavebeenanyoftheothers,”says

Rue.“Iguesswe’llknowtonight.”

“Who’sleftagain?”Iask.

“TheboyfromDistrictOne.BothtributesfromTwo.The

boyfromThree.Threshandme.AndyouandPeeta,”saysRue.

“That’seight.Wait,andtheboyfromTen,theonewiththebad

leg.Hemakesnine.”

There’ssomeoneelse,butneitherofuscanrememberwhoit

is.

“Iwonderhowthatlastonedied,”saysRue.

“Notelling.Butit’sgoodforus.Adeathshouldholdthe

crowdforabit.Maybewe’llhavetimetodosomethingbefore

theGamemakersdecidethingshavebeenmovingtooslowly,”I

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say.“What’sinyourhands?”

“Breakfast,”saysRue.Sheholdsthemoutrevealingtwobig

eggs.

“Whatkindarethose?”Iask.

“Notsure.There’samarshyareaoverthatway.Somekind

ofwaterbird,”shesays.

It’dbenicetocookthem,butneitherofuswantstoriska

fire.Myguessisthetributewhodiedtodaywasavictimofthe

Careers,whichmeansthey’verecoveredenoughtobebackinthe

Games.Weeachsuckouttheinsidesofanegg,eatarabbitleg

andsomeberries.It’sagoodbreakfastanywhere.

“Readytodoit?”Isay,pullingonmypack.

“Dowhat?”saysRue,butbythewayshebouncesup,you

cantellshe’supforwhateverIpropose.

“TodaywetakeouttheCareers’food,”Isay.

“Really?How?”Youcanseetheglintofexcitementinher

eyes.Inthisway,she’sexactlytheoppositeofPrim,forwhom

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adventuresareanordeal.

“Noidea.Comeon,we’llfigureoutaplanwhilewehunt,”I

say.

Wedon’tgetmuchhuntingdonethoughbecauseI’mtoo

busygettingeveryscrapofinformationIcanoutofRueabout

theCareers’base.She’sonlybeenintospyonthembriefly,but

she’sobservant.Theyhavesetuptheircampbesidethelake.

Theirsupplystashisaboutthirtyyardsaway.Duringtheday,

they’vebeenleavinganothertribute,theboyfromDistrict3,to

watchoverthesupplies.

“TheboyfromDistrictThree?”Iask.“He’sworkingwith

them?”

“Yes,hestaysatthecampfull-time.Hegotstung,too,when

theydrewthetrackerjackersinbythelake,”saysRue.“Iguess

theyagreedtolethimliveifheactedastheirguard.Buthe’snot

verybig.”

“Whatweaponsdoeshehave?”Iask.

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“NotmuchthatIcouldsee.Aspear.Hemightbeableto

holdafewofusoffwiththat,butThreshcouldkillhimeasily,”

saysRue.

“Andthefood’sjustoutintheopen?”Isay.Shenods.

“Something’snotquiterightaboutthatwholesetup.”

“Iknow.ButIcouldn’ttellwhatexactly,”saysRue.

“Katniss,evenifyoucouldgettothefood,howwouldyouget

ridofit?”

“Burnit.Dumpitinthelake.Soakitinfuel.”IpokeRuein

thebelly,justlikeIwouldPrim.“Eatit!”Shegiggles.“Don’t

worry,I’llthinkofsomething.Destroyingthingsismucheasier

thanmakingthem.”

Forawhile,wedigroots,wegatherberriesandgreens,we

deviseastrategyinhushedvoices.AndIcometoknowRue,the

oldestofsixkids,fiercelyprotectiveofhersiblings,whogives

herrationstotheyoungerones,whoforagesinthemeadowsina

districtwherethePeacekeepersarefarlessobligingthanours.

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Rue,whowhenyouaskherwhatshelovesmostintheworld,

replies,ofallthings,“Music.”

“Music?”Isay.Inourworld,Irankmusicsomewhere

betweenhairribbonsandrainbowsintermsofusefulness.At

leastarainbowgivesyouatipabouttheweather.“Youhavea

lotoftimeforthat?”

“Wesingathome.Atwork,too.That’swhyIloveyourpin,”

shesays,pointingtothemockingjaythatI’veagainforgotten

about.

“Youhavemockingjays?”Iask.

“Oh,yes.Ihaveafewthataremyspecialfriends.Wecan

singbackandforthforhours.Theycarrymessagesforme,”she

says.

“Whatdoyoumean?”Isay.

“I’musuallyuphighest,soI’mthefirsttoseetheflagthat

signalsquittingtime.There’saspeciallittlesongIdo,”says

Rue.Sheopenshermouthandsingsalittlefour-noterunina

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sweet,clearvoice.“Andthemockingjaysspreaditaroundthe

orchard.That’showeveryoneknowstoknockoff,”she

continues.“Theycanbedangerousthough,ifyougettoonear

theirnests.Butyoucan’tblamethemforthat.”

Iunclaspthepinandholditouttoher.“Here,youtakeit.It

hasmoremeaningforyouthanme.”

“Oh,no,”saysRue,closingmyfingersbackoverthepin.“I

liketoseeitonyou.That’showIdecidedIcouldtrustyou.

Besides,Ihavethis.”Shepullsanecklacewovenoutofsome

kindofgrassfromhershirt.Onit,hangsaroughlycarved

woodenstar.Ormaybeit’saflower.“It’sagoodluckcharm.”

“Well,it’sworkedsofar,”Isay,pinningthemockingjay

backonmyshirt.“Maybeyoushouldjuststickwiththat.”

Bylunch,wehaveaplan.Byearlyafternoon,wearepoised

tocarryitout.IhelpRuecollectandplacethewoodforthefirst

twocampfires,thethirdshe’llhavetimeforonherown.We

decidetomeetafterwardatthesitewhereweateourfirstmeal

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together.Thestreamshouldhelpguidemebacktoit.BeforeI

leave,ImakesureRue’swellstockedwithfoodandmatches.I

eveninsistshetakemysleepingbag,incaseit’snotpossibleto

rendezvousbynightfall.

“Whataboutyou?Won’tyoubecold?”sheasks.

“NotifIpickupanotherbagdownbythelake,”Isay.“You

know,stealingisn’tillegalhere,”Isaywithagrin.

Atthelastminute,Ruedecidestoteachmehermockingjay

signal,theoneshegivestoindicatetheday’sworkisdone.“It

mightnotwork.Butifyouhearthemockingjayssingingit,

you’llknowI’mokay,onlyIcan’tgetbackrightaway.”

“Aretheremanymockingjayshere?”Iask.

“Haven’tyouseenthem?They’vegotnestseverywhere,”she

says.IhavetoadmitIhaven’tnoticed.

“Okay,then.Ifallgoesaccordingtoplan,I’llseeyoufor

dinner,”Isay.

Unexpectedly,Ruethrowsherarmsaroundme.Ionly

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hesitateamomentbeforeIhugherback.

“Youbecareful,”shesaystome.

“You,too,”Isay.Iturnandheadbacktothestream,feeling

somehowworried.AboutRuebeingkilled,aboutRuenotbeing

killedandthetwoofusbeingleftforlast,aboutleavingRue

alone,aboutleavingPrimalonebackhome.No,Primhasmy

motherandGaleandabakerwhohaspromisedshewon’tgo

hungry.Ruehasonlyme.

OnceIreachthestream,Ihaveonlytofollowitdownhillto

theplaceIinitiallypickeditupafterthetrackerjackerattack.I

havetobecautiousasImovealongthewaterthough,becauseI

findmythoughtspreoccupiedwithunansweredquestions,most

ofwhichconcernPeeta.Thecannonthatfiredearlythis

morning,didthatsignifyhisdeath?Ifso,howdidhedie?Atthe

handofaCareer?Andwasthatinrevengeforlettingmelive?I

struggleagaintorememberthatmomentoverGlimmer’sbody,

whenheburstthroughthetrees.Butjustthefactthathewas

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sparklingleadsmetodoubteverythingthathappened.

ImusthavebeenmovingveryslowlyyesterdaybecauseI

reachtheshallowstretchwhereItookmybathinjustafew

hours.Istoptoreplenishmywaterandaddalayerofmudtomy

backpack.Itseemsbentonrevertingtoorangenomatterhow

manytimesIcoverit.

MyproximitytotheCareers’campsharpensmysenses,and

thecloserIgettothem,themoreguardedIam,pausing

frequentlytolistenforunnaturalsounds,anarrowalreadyfitted

intothestringofmybow.Idon’tseeanyothertributes,butIdo

noticesomeofthethingsRuehasmentioned.Patchesofthe

sweetberries.Abushwiththeleavesthathealedmystings.

ClustersoftrackerjackernestsinthevicinityofthetreeIwas

trappedin.Andhereandthere,theblack-and-whiteflashofa

mockingjaywinginthebrancheshighovermyhead.

WhenIreachthetreewiththeabandonednestatthefoot,I

pauseamoment,togathermycourage.Ruehasgivenspecific

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instructionsonhowtoreachthebestspyingplacenearthelake

fromthispoint.Remember,Itellmyself.You’rethehunternow,

notthem.Igetafirmergrasponmybowandgoon.Imakeitto

thecopseRuehastoldmeaboutandagainhavetoadmireher

cleverness.It’srightattheedgeofthewood,butthebushy

foliageissothickdownlowIcaneasilyobservetheCareer

campwithoutbeingspotted.Betweenusliestheflatexpanse

wheretheGamesbegan.

Therearefourtributes.TheboyfromDistrict1,Catoandthe

girlfromDistrict2,andascrawny,ashen-skinnedboywhomust

befromDistrict3.Hemadealmostnoimpressiononmeatall

duringourtimeintheCapitol.Icanrememberalmostnothing

abouthim,nothiscostume,nothistrainingscore,nothis

interview.Evennow,ashesitstherefiddlingwithsomekindof

plasticbox,he’seasilyignoredinthepresenceofhislargeand

domineeringcompanions.Buthemustbeofsomevalueorthey

wouldn’thavebotheredtolethimlive.Still,seeinghimonly

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addstomysenseofuneaseoverwhytheCareerswouldpossibly

leavehimasaguard,whytheyhaveallowedhimtoliveatall.

Allfourtributesseemtostillberecoveringfromthetracker

jackerattack.Evenfromhere,Icanseethelargeswollenlumps

ontheirbodies.Theymustnothavehadthesensetoremovethe

stingers,oriftheydid,notknownabouttheleavesthathealed

them.Apparently,whatevermedicinestheyfoundinthe

Cornucopiahavebeenineffective.

TheCornucopiasitsinitsoriginalposition,butitsinsides

havebeenpickedclean.Mostofthesupplies,heldincrates,

burlapsacks,andplasticbins,arepiledneatlyinapyramidin

whatseemsaquestionabledistancefromthecamp.Othersare

sprinkledaroundtheperimeterofthepyramid,almost

mimickingthelayoutofsuppliesaroundtheCornucopiaatthe

onsetoftheGames.Acanopyofnettingthat,asidefrom

discouragingbirds,seemstobeuselesssheltersthepyramid

itself.

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Thewholesetupiscompletelyperplexing.Thedistance,the

netting,andthepresenceoftheboyfromDistrict3.Onething’s

forsure,destroyingthosesuppliesisnotgoingtobeassimpleas

itlooks.Someotherfactorisatplayhere,andI’dbetterstayput

untilIfigureoutwhatitis.Myguessisthepyramidisbooby-

trappedinsomemanner.Ithinkofconcealedpits,descending

nets,athreadthatwhenbrokensendsapoisonousdartintoyour

heart.Really,thepossibilitiesareendless.

WhileIammullingovermyoptions,IhearCatoshoutout.

He’spointinguptothewoods,farbeyondme,andwithout

turningIknowthatRuemusthavesetthefirstcampfire.We’d

madesuretogatherenoughgreenwoodtomakethesmoke

noticeable.TheCareersbegintoarmthemselvesatonce.

Anargumentbreaksout.It’sloudenoughformetohearthat

itconcernswhetherornottheboyfromDistrict3shouldstayor

accompanythem.

“He’scoming.Weneedhiminthewoods,andhisjob’sdone

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hereanyway.Noonecantouchthosesupplies,”saysCato.

“WhataboutLoverBoy?”saystheboyfromDistrict1.

“Ikeeptellingyou,forgetabouthim.IknowwhereIcut

him.It’samiraclehehasn’tbledtodeathyet.Atanyrate,he’s

innoshapetoraidus,”saysCato.

SoPeetaisoutthereinthewoods,woundedbadly.ButIam

stillinthedarkonwhatmotivatedhimtobetraytheCareers.

“Comeon,”saysCato.Hethrustsaspearintothehandsof

theboyfromDistrict3,andtheyheadoffinthedirectionofthe

fire.ThelastthingIhearastheyenterthewoodsisCatosaying,

“Whenwefindher,Ikillherinmyownway,andnoone

interferes.”

SomehowIdon’tthinkhe’stalkingaboutRue.Shedidn’t

dropanestoftrackerjackersonhim.

Istayputforahalfanhourorso,tryingtofigureoutwhatto

doaboutthesupplies.TheoneadvantageIhavewiththebow

andarrowisdistance.Icouldsendaflamingarrowintothe

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pyramideasilyenough—I’magoodenoughshottogetit

throughthoseopeningsinthenet—butthere’snoguaranteeit

wouldcatch.Morelikelyit’djustburnitselfoutandthenwhat?

I’dhaveachievednothingandgiventhemfartoomuch

informationaboutmyself.ThatIwashere,thatIhavean

accomplice,thatIcanusethebowandarrowwithaccuracy.

There’snoalternative.I’mgoingtohavetogetincloserand

seeifIcan’tdiscoverwhatexactlyprotectsthesupplies.Infact,

I’mjustabouttorevealmyselfwhenamovementcatchesmy

eye.Severalhundredyardstomyright,Iseesomeoneemerge

fromthewoods.Forasecond,Ithinkit’sRue,butthenI

recognizeFoxface—she’stheonewecouldn’trememberthis

morning—creepingoutontotheplain.Whenshedecidesit’s

safe,sherunsforthepyramid,withquick,smallsteps.Just

beforeshereachesthecircleofsuppliesthathavebeenlittered

aroundthepyramid,shestops,searchestheground,andcarefully

placesherfeetonaspot.Thenshebeginstoapproachthe

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pyramidwithstrangelittlehops,sometimeslandingononefoot,

teeteringslightly,sometimesriskingafewsteps.Atonepoint,

shelaunchesupintheair,overasmallbarrelandlandspoised

onhertiptoes.Butsheovershotslightly,andhermomentum

throwsherforward.Ihearhergiveasharpsquealasherhands

hittheground,butnothinghappens.Inamoment,she’sregained

herfeetandcontinuesuntilshehasreachedthebulkofthe

supplies.

So,I’mrightabouttheboobytrap,butit’sclearlymore

complexthanIhadimagined.Iwasrightaboutthegirl,too.How

wilyisshetohavediscoveredthispathintothefoodandtobe

abletoreplicateitsoneatly?Shefillsherpack,takingafew

itemsfromavarietyofcontainers,crackersfromacrate,a

handfulofapplesfromaburlapsackthathangssuspendedfrom

aropeoffthesideofabin.Butonlyahandfulfromeach,not

enoughtotipoffthatthefoodismissing.Notenoughtocause

suspicion.Andthenshe’sdoingheroddlittledancebackoutof

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thecircleandscamperingintothewoodsagain,safeandsound.

IrealizeI’mgrindingmyteethinfrustration.Foxfacehas

confirmedwhatI’dalreadyguessed.Butwhatsortoftraphave

theylaidthatrequiressuchdexterity?Hassomanytrigger

points?Whydidshesquealsoasherhandsmadecontactwith

theearth?You’dhavethought...andslowlyitbeginstodawn

onme...you’dhavethoughttheverygroundwasgoingto

explode.

“It’smined,”Iwhisper.Thatexplainseverything.The

Careers’willingnesstoleavetheirsupplies,Foxface’sreaction,

theinvolvementoftheboyfromDistrict3,wheretheyhavethe

factories,wheretheymaketelevisionsandautomobilesand

explosives.Butwheredidhegetthem?Inthesupplies?That’s

notthesortofweapontheGamemakersusuallyprovide,given

thattheyliketoseethetributesdrawbloodpersonally.Islipout

ofthebushesandcrosstooneoftheroundmetalplatesthat

liftedthetributesintothearena.Thegroundaroundithasbeen

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dugupandpattedbackdown.Thelandminesweredisabledafter

thesixtysecondswestoodontheplates,buttheboyfrom

District3musthavemanagedtoreactivatethem.I’veneverseen

anyoneintheGamesdothat.Ibetitcameasashockeventothe

Gamemakers.

Well,hurrayfortheboyfromDistrict3forputtingoneover

onthem,butwhatamIsupposedtodonow?Obviously,Ican’t

gostrollingintothatmesswithoutblowingmyselfsky-high.As

forsendinginaburningarrow,that’smorelaughablethanever.

Theminesaresetoffbypressure.Itdoesn’thavetobealot,

either.Oneyear,agirldroppedhertoken,asmallwoodenball,

whileshewasatherplate,andtheyliterallyhadtoscrapebitsof

herofftheground.

Myarm’sprettygood,Imightbeabletochucksomerocks

inthereandsetoffwhat?Maybeonemine?Thatcouldstarta

chainreaction.Orcouldit?WouldtheboyfromDistrict3have

placedtheminesinsuchawaythatasingleminewouldnot

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disturbtheothers?Therebyprotectingthesuppliesbutensuring

thedeathoftheinvader.EvenifIonlyblewuponemine,I’d

drawtheCareersbackdownonmeforsure.Andanyway,what

amIthinking?There’sthatnet,clearlystrungtodeflectanysuch

attack.Besides,whatI’dreallyneedistothrowaboutthirty

rocksinthereatonce,settingoffabigchainreaction,

demolishingthewholelot.

Iglancebackupatthewoods.ThesmokefromRue’ssecond

fireiswaftingtowardthesky.Bynow,theCareershave

probablybeguntosuspectsomesortoftrick.Timeisrunning

out.

Thereisasolutiontothis,Iknowthereis,ifIcanonlyfocus

hardenough.Istareatthepyramid,thebins,thecrates,too

heavytotoppleoverwithanarrow.Maybeonecontainscooking

oil,andtheburningarrowideaisrevivingwhenIrealizeIcould

enduplosingalltwelveofmyarrowsandnotgetadirecthiton

anoilbin,sinceI’djustbeguessing.I’mgenuinelythinkingof

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tryingtore-createFoxface’stripuptothepyramidinhopesof

findinganewmeansofdestructionwhenmyeyeslightonthe

burlapbagofapples.Icouldsevertheropeinoneshot,didn’tI

doasmuchintheTrainingCenter?It’sabigbag,butitstill

mightonlybegoodforoneexplosion.IfonlyIcouldfreethe

applesthemselves...

Iknowwhattodo.Imoveintorangeandgivemyselfthree

arrowstogetthejobdone.Iplacemyfeetcarefully,blockout

therestoftheworldasItakemeticulousaim.Thefirstarrow

tearsthroughthesideofthebagnearthetop,leavingasplitin

theburlap.Thesecondwidensittoagapinghole.Icanseethe

firstappleteeteringwhenIletthethirdarrowgo,catchingthe

tornflapofburlapandrippingitfromthebag.

Foramoment,everythingseemsfrozenintime.Thenthe

applesspilltothegroundandI’mblownbackwardintotheair.

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Theimpactwiththehard-packedearthoftheplainknocks

thewindoutofme.Mybackpackdoeslittletosoftentheblow.

Fortunatelymyquiverhascaughtinthecrookofmyelbow,

sparingbothitselfandmyshoulder,andmybowislockedinmy

grasp.Thegroundstillshakeswithexplosions.Ican’thearthem.

Ican’thearanythingatthemoment.Buttheapplesmusthave

setoffenoughmines,causingdebristoactivatetheothers.I

managetoshieldmyfacewithmyarmsasshatteredbitsof

matter,someofitburning,raindownaroundme.Anacrid

smokefillstheair,whichisnotthebestremedyforsomeone

tryingtoregaintheabilitytobreathe.

Afteraboutaminute,thegroundstopsvibrating.Irollonmy

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sideandallowmyselfamomentofsatisfactionatthesightofthe

smolderingwreckagethatwasrecentlythepyramid.TheCareers

aren’tlikelytosalvageanythingoutofthat.

I’dbettergetoutofhere,Ithink.They’llbemakingabeeline

fortheplace.ButonceI’monmyfeet,Irealizeescapemaynot

besosimple.I’mdizzy.Nottheslightlywobblykind,butthe

kindthatsendsthetreesswoopingaroundyouandcausesthe

earthtomoveinwavesunderyourfeet.Itakeafewstepsand

somehowwinduponmyhandsandknees.Iwaitafewminutes

toletitpass,butitdoesn’t.

Panicbeginstosetin.Ican’tstayhere.Flightisessential.

ButIcanneitherwalknorhear.Iplaceahandtomyleftear,the

onethatwasturnedtowardtheblast,anditcomesawaybloody.

HaveIgonedeaffromtheexplosion?Theideafrightensme.I

relyasmuchonmyearsasmyeyesasahunter,maybemoreat

times.ButIcan’tletmyfearshow.Absolutely,positively,Iam

liveoneveryscreeninPanem.

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Nobloodtrails,Itellmyself,andmanagetopullmyhoodup

overmyhead,tiethecordundermychinwithuncooperative

fingers.Thatshouldhelpsoakuptheblood.Ican’twalk,butcan

Icrawl?Imoveforwardtentatively.Yes,ifIgoveryslowly,I

cancrawl.Mostofthewoodswillofferinsufficientcover.My

onlyhopeistomakeitbacktoRue’scopseandconcealmyself

ingreenery.Ican’tgetcaughtouthereonmyhandsandkneesin

theopen.NotonlywillIfacedeath,it’ssuretobealongand

painfuloneatCato’shand.ThethoughtofPrimhavingtowatch

thatkeepsmedoggedlyinchingmywaytowardthehideout.

Anotherblastknocksmeflatonmyface.Astraymine,set

offbysomecollapsingcrate.Thishappenstwicemore.I’m

remindedofthoselastfewkernelsthatburstwhenPrimandI

popcornoverthefireathome.

TosayImakeitinthenickoftimeisanunderstatement.I

haveliterallyjustdraggedmyselfintothetangleofbushesatthe

baseofthetreeswhenthere’sCato,barrelingontotheplain,

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soonfollowedbyhiscompanions.Hisrageissoextremeit

mightbecomical—sopeoplereallydotearouttheirhairand

beatthegroundwiththeirfists—ifIdidn’tknowthatitwas

aimedatme,atwhatIhavedonetohim.Addtothatmy

proximity,myinabilitytorunordefendmyself,andinfact,the

wholethinghasmeterrified.I’mgladmyhidingplacemakesit

impossibleforthecamerastogetacloseshotofmebecauseI’m

bitingmynailslikethere’snotomorrow.Gnawingoffthelast

bitsofnailpolish,tryingtokeepmyteethfromchattering.

TheboyfromDistrict3throwsstonesintotheruinsand

musthavedeclaredalltheminesactivatedbecausetheCareers

areapproachingthewreckage.

Catohasfinishedthefirstphaseofhistantrumandtakesout

hisangeronthesmokingremainsbykickingopenvarious

containers.Theothertributesarepokingaroundinthemess,

lookingforanythingtosalvage,butthere’snothing.Theboy

fromDistrict3hasdonehisjobtoowell.Thisideamustoccurto

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Cato,too,becauseheturnsontheboyandappearstobeshouting

athim.TheboyfromDistrict3onlyhastimetoturnandrun

beforeCatocatcheshiminaheadlockfrombehind.Icanseethe

musclesrippleinCato’sarmsashesharplyjerkstheboy’shead

totheside.

It’sthatquick.ThedeathoftheboyfromDistrict3.

TheothertwoCareersseemtobetryingtocalmCatodown.

Icantellhewantstoreturntothewoods,buttheykeeppointing

atthesky,whichpuzzlesmeuntilIrealize,Ofcourse.Theythink

whoeversetofftheexplosionsisdead.Theydon’tknowabout

thearrowsandtheapples.Theyassumetheboobytrapwas

faulty,butthatthetributewhoblewupthesupplieswaskilled

doingit.Iftherewasacannonshot,itcouldhavebeeneasilylost

inthesubsequentexplosions.Theshatteredremainsofthethief

removedbyhovercraft.Theyretiretothefarsideofthelaketo

allowtheGamemakerstoretrievethebodyoftheboyfrom

District3.Andtheywait.

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Isupposeacannongoesoff.Ahovercraftappearsandtakes

thedeadboy.Thesundipsbelowthehorizon.Nightfalls.Upin

thesky,Iseethesealandknowtheanthemmusthavebegun.A

momentofdarkness.TheyshowtheboyfromDistrict3.They

showtheboyfromDistrict10,whomusthavediedthismorning.

Thenthesealreappears.So,nowtheyknow.Thebomber

survived.Intheseal’slight,IcanseeCatoandthegirlfrom

District2putontheirnight-visionglasses.TheboyfromDistrict

1ignitesatreebranchforatorch,illuminatingthegrim

determinationonalltheirfaces.TheCareersstridebackintothe

woodstohunt.

Thedizzinesshassubsidedandwhilemyleftearisstill

deafened,Icanheararinginginmyright,whichseemsagood

sign.There’snopointinleavingmyhidingplace,though.I’m

aboutassafeasIcanbe,hereatthecrimescene.Theyprobably

thinkthebomberhasatwo-orthree-hourleadonthem.Stillit’s

alongtimebeforeIriskmoving.

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ThefirstthingIdoisdigoutmyownglassesandputthem

on,whichrelaxesmealittle,tohaveatleastoneofmyhunter’s

sensesworking.Idrinksomewaterandwashthebloodfrommy

ear.Fearingthesmellofmeatwilldrawunwantedpredators—

freshbloodisbadenough—Imakeagoodmealoutofthe

greensandrootsandberriesRueandIgatheredtoday.

Whereismylittleally?Didshemakeitbacktothe

rendezvouspoint?Issheworriedaboutme?Atleast,theskyhas

shownwe’rebothalive.

Irunthroughthesurvivingtributesonmyfingers.Theboy

from1,bothfrom2,Foxface,bothfrom11and12.Justeightof

us.ThebettingmustbegettingreallyhotintheCapitol.They’ll

bedoingspecialfeaturesoneachofusnow.Probably

interviewingourfriendsandfamilies.It’sbeenalongtimesince

atributefromDistrict12madeitintothetopeight.Andnow

therearetwoofus.AlthoughfromwhatCatosaid,Peeta’sonhis

wayout.NotthatCatoisthefinalwordonanything.Didn’the

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justlosehisentirestashofsupplies?

LettheSeventy-fourthHungerGamesbegin,Cato,Ithink.

Letthembeginforreal.

Acoldbreezehassprungup.Ireachformysleepingbag

beforeIrememberIleftitwithRue.Iwassupposedtopickup

anotherone,butwhatwiththeminesandall,Iforgot.Ibeginto

shiver.Sinceroostingovernightinatreeisn’tsensibleanyway,I

scoopoutahollowunderthebushesandcovermyselfwith

leavesandpineneedles.I’mstillfreezing.Ilaymysheetof

plasticovermyupperbodyandpositionmybackpacktoblock

thewind.It’salittlebetter.Ibegintohavemoresympathyfor

thegirlfromDistrict8thatlitthefirethatfirstnight.Butnow

it’smewhoneedstogritmyteethandtoughitoutuntil

morning.Moreleaves,morepineneedles.Ipullmyarmsinside

myjacketandtuckmykneesuptomychest.Somehow,Idrift

offtosleep.

WhenIopenmyeyes,theworldlooksslightlyfractured,and

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ittakesaminutetorealizethatthesunmustbewellupandthe

glassesfragmentingmyvision.AsIsitupandremovethem,I

hearalaughsomewherenearthelakeandfreeze.Thelaugh’s

distorted,butthefactthatitregisteredatallmeansImustbe

regainingmyhearing.Yes,myrightearcanhearagain,although

it’sstillringing.Asformyleftear,well,atleastthebleeding

hasstopped.

Ipeerthroughthebushes,afraidtheCareershavereturned,

trappingmehereforanindefinitetime.No,it’sFoxface,

standingintherubbleofthepyramidandlaughing.She’s

smarterthantheCareers,actuallyfindingafewusefulitemsin

theashes.Ametalpot.Aknifeblade.I’mperplexedbyher

amusementuntilIrealizethatwiththeCareers’stores

eliminated,shemightactuallystandachance.Justliketherest

ofus.Itcrossesmymindtorevealmyselfandenlistherasa

secondallyagainstthatpack.ButIruleitout.There’ssomething

aboutthatslygrinthatmakesmesurethatbefriendingFoxface

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wouldultimatelygetmeaknifeintheback.Withthatinmind,

thismightbeanexcellenttimetoshoother.Butshe’sheard

something,notme,becauseherheadturnsaway,towardthe

drop-off,andshesprintsforthewoods.Iwait.Noone,nothing

showsup.Still,ifFoxfacethoughtitwasdangerous,maybeit’s

timeformetogetoutofhere,too.Besides,I’meagertotellRue

aboutthepyramid.

SinceI’venoideawheretheCareersare,theroutebackby

thestreamseemsasgoodasany.Ihurry,loadedbowinone

hand,ahunkofcoldgrooslingintheother,becauseI’m

famishednow,andnotjustforleavesandberriesbutforthefat

andproteininthemeat.Thetriptothestreamisuneventful.

Oncethere,Irefillmywaterandwash,takingparticularcare

withmyinjuredear.ThenItraveluphillusingthestreamasa

guide.Atonepoint,Ifindbootprintsinthemudalongthebank.

TheCareershavebeenhere,butnotforawhile.Theprintsare

deepbecausetheyweremadeinsoftmud,butnowthey’renearly

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dryinthehotsun.Ihaven’tbeencarefulenoughaboutmyown

tracks,countingonalighttreadandthepineneedlestoconceal

myprints.NowIstripoffmybootsandsocksandgobarefootup

thebedofthestream.

Thecoolwaterhasaninvigoratingeffectonmybody,my

spirits.Ishoottwofish,easypickingsinthisslow-moving

stream,andgoaheadandeatoneraweventhoughI’vejusthad

thegroosling.ThesecondI’llsaveforRue.

Gradually,subtly,theringinginmyrighteardiminishes

untilit’sgoneentirely.Ifindmyselfpawingatmyleftear

periodically,tryingtocleanawaywhateverdeadensitsabilityto

collectsounds.Ifthere’simprovement,it’sundetectable.Ican’t

adjusttodeafnessintheear.Itmakesmefeeloff-balancedand

defenselesstomyleft.Blindeven.Myheadkeepsturningtothe

injuredside,asmyrighteartriestocompensateforthewallof

nothingnesswhereyesterdaytherewasaconstantflowof

information.Themoretimethatpasses,thelesshopefulIam

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thatthisisaninjurythatwillheal.

WhenIreachthesiteofourfirstmeeting,Ifeelcertainit’s

beenundisturbed.There’snosignofRue,notonthegroundorin

thetrees.Thisisodd.Bynowsheshouldhavereturned,asit’s

midday.Undoubtedly,shespentthenightinatreesomewhere.

WhatelsecouldshedowithnolightandtheCareerswiththeir

night-visionglassestrompingaroundthewoods.Andthethird

fireshewassupposedtoset—althoughIforgottocheckforit

lastnight—wasthefarthestfromoursiteofall.She’sprobably

justbeingcautiousaboutmakingherwayback.Iwishshe’d

hurry,becauseIdon’twanttohangaroundheretoolong.Iwant

tospendtheafternoontravelingtohigherground,huntingaswe

go.Butthere’snothingreallyformetodobutwait.

Iwashthebloodoutofmyjacketandhairandcleanmy

ever-growinglistofwounds.TheburnsaremuchbetterbutIuse

abitofmedicineonthemanyway.Themainthingtoworry

aboutnowiskeepingoutinfection.Igoaheadandeatthesecond

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fish.Itisn’tgoingtolastlonginthishotsun,butitshouldbe

easyenoughtospearafewmoreforRue.Ifshewouldjustshow

up.

Feelingtoovulnerableonthegroundwithmylopsided

hearing,Iscaleatreetowait.IftheCareersshowup,thiswillbe

afineplacetoshootthemfrom.Thesunmovesslowly.Ido

thingstopassthetime.Chewleavesandapplythemtomystings

thataredeflatedbutstilltender.Combthroughmydamphair

withmyfingersandbraidit.Lacemybootsbackup.Checkover

mybowandremainingninearrows.Testmyleftearrepeatedly

forsignsoflifebyrustlingaleafnearit,butwithoutgood

results.

Despitethegrooslingandthefish,mystomach’sgrowling,

andIknowI’mgoingtohavewhatwecallahollowdaybackin

District12.That’sadaywherenomatterwhatyouputinyour

belly,it’sneverenough.Havingnothingtodobutsitinatree

makesitworse,soIdecidetogiveintoit.Afterall,I’velosta

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lotofweightinthearena,Ineedsomeextracalories.Andhaving

thebowandarrowsmakesmefarmoreconfidentaboutmy

futureprospects.

Islowlypeelandeatahandfulofnuts.Mylastcracker.The

grooslingneck.That’sgoodbecauseittakestimetopickclean.

Finally,agrooslingwingandthebirdishistory.Butit’sa

hollowday,andevenwithallthatIstartdaydreamingabout

food.ParticularlythedecadentdishesservedintheCapitol.The

chickenincreamyorangesauce.Thecakesandpudding.Bread

withbutter.Noodlesingreensauce.Thelambanddriedplum

stew.Isuckonafewmintleavesandtellmyselftogetoverit.

Mintisgoodbecausewedrinkmintteaaftersupperoften,soit

tricksmystomachintothinkingeatingtimeisover.Sortof.

Danglingupinthetree,withthesunwarmingme,a

mouthfulofmint,mybowandarrowsathand...thisisthemost

relaxedI’vebeensinceI’veenteredthearena.IfonlyRuewould

showup,andwecouldclearout.Astheshadowsgrow,sodoes

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myrestlessness.Bylateafternoon,I’veresolvedtogolooking

forher.Icanatleastvisitthespotwhereshesetthethirdfire

andseeifthereareanycluestoherwhereabouts.

BeforeIgo,Iscatterafewmintleavesaroundourold

campfire.Sincewegatheredthesesomedistanceaway,Ruewill

understandI’vebeenhere,whilethey’llmeannothingtothe

Careers.

Inlessthananhour,I’mattheplacewhereweagreedto

havethethirdfireandIknowsomethinghasgoneamiss.The

woodhasbeenneatlyarranged,expertlyinterspersedwithtinder,

butithasneverbeenlit.Ruesetupthefirebutnevermadeit

backhere.SomewherebetweenthesecondcolumnofsmokeI

spiedbeforeIblewupthesuppliesandthispoint,sheraninto

trouble.

Ihavetoremindmyselfshe’sstillalive.Orisshe?Couldthe

cannonshotannouncingherdeathhavecomeintheweehoursof

themorningwhenevenmygoodearwastoobrokentopickit

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up?Willsheappearintheskytonight?No,Irefusetobelieveit.

Therecouldbeahundredotherexplanations.Shecouldhavelost

herway.Runintoapackofpredatorsoranothertribute,like

Thresh,andhadtohide.Whateverhappened,I’malmostcertain

she’sstuckoutthere,somewherebetweenthesecondfireandthe

unlitoneatmyfeet.Somethingiskeepingherupatree.

IthinkI’llgohuntitdown.

It’sarelieftobedoingsomethingaftersittingaroundall

afternoon.Icreepsilentlythroughtheshadows,lettingthem

concealme.Butnothingseemssuspicious.There’snosignof

anykindofstruggle,nodisruptionoftheneedlesontheground.

I’vestoppedforjustamomentwhenIhearit.Ihavetocockmy

headaroundtothesidetobesure,butthereitisagain.Rue’s

four-notetunecomingoutofamockingjay’smouth.Theone

thatmeansshe’sallright.

Igrinandmoveinthedirectionofthebird.Anotherjusta

shortdistanceahead,picksuponthehandfulofnotes.Ruehas

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beensingingtothem,andrecently.Otherwisethey’dhavetaken

upsomeothersong.Myeyesliftupintothetrees,searchingfor

asignofher.Iswallowandsingsoftlyback,hopingshe’llknow

it’ssafetojoinme.Amockingjayrepeatsthemelodytome.And

that’swhenIhearthescream.

It’sachild’sscream,ayounggirl’sscream,there’snoonein

thearenacapableofmakingthatsoundexceptRue.AndnowI’m

running,knowingthismaybeatrap,knowingthethreeCareers

maybepoisedtoattackme,butIcan’thelpmyself.There’s

anotherhigh-pitchedcry,thistimemyname.“Katniss!Katniss!”

“Rue!”Ishoutback,sosheknowsI’mnear.So,theyknow

I’mnear,andhopefullythegirlwhohasattackedthemwith

trackerjackersandgottenaneleventheystillcan’texplainwill

beenoughtopulltheirattentionawayfromher.“Rue!I’m

coming!”

WhenIbreakintotheclearing,she’sontheground,

hopelesslyentangledinanet.Shejusthastimetoreachherhand

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throughthemeshandsaymynamebeforethespearentersher

body.

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TheboyfromDistrict1diesbeforehecanpulloutthespear.

Myarrowdrivesdeeplyintothecenterofhisneck.Hefallsto

hiskneesandhalvesthebriefremainderofhislifebyyanking

outthearrowanddrowninginhisownblood.I’mreloaded,

shiftingmyaimfromsidetoside,whileIshoutatRue,“Are

theremore?Aretheremore?”

ShehastosaynoseveraltimesbeforeIhearit.

Ruehasrolledtoherside,herbodycurvedinandaroundthe

spear.Ishovetheboyawayfromherandpulloutmyknife,

freeingherfromthenet.OnelookatthewoundandIknowit’s

farbeyondmycapacitytoheal.Beyondanyone’sprobably.The

spearheadisburieduptotheshaftinherstomach.Icrouch

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beforeher,staringhelplesslyattheembeddedweapon.There’s

nopointincomfortingwords,intellinghershe’llbeallright.

She’snofool.HerhandreachesoutandIclutchitlikealifeline.

Asifit’smewho’sdyinginsteadofRue.

“Youblewupthefood?”shewhispers.

“Everylastbit,”Isay.

“Youhavetowin,”shesays.

“I’mgoingto.Goingtowinforbothofusnow,”Ipromise.I

hearacannonandlookup.ItmustbefortheboyfromDistrict1.

“Don’tgo.”Ruetightenshergriponmyhand.

“Coursenot.Stayingrighthere,”Isay.Imoveincloserto

her,pullingherheadontomylap.Igentlybrushthedark,thick

hairbackbehindherear.

“Sing,”shesays,butIbarelycatchtheword.

Sing?Ithink.Singwhat?Idoknowafewsongs.Believeit

ornot,therewasoncemusicinmyhouse,too.MusicIhelped

make.Myfatherpulledmeinwiththatremarkablevoice—but

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Ihaven’tsungmuchsincehedied.ExceptwhenPrimisvery

sick.ThenIsingherthesamesongsshelikedasababy.

Sing.Mythroatistightwithtears,hoarsefromsmokeand

fatigue.ButifthisisPrim’s,Imean,Rue’slastrequest,Ihaveto

atleasttry.Thesongthatcomestomeisasimplelullaby,one

wesingfretful,hungrybabiestosleepwith.It’sold,veryoldI

think.Madeuplongagoinourhills.Whatmymusicteacher

callsamountainair.Butthewordsareeasyandsoothing,

promisingtomorrowwillbemorehopefulthanthisawfulpiece

oftimewecalltoday.

Igiveasmallcough,swallowhard,andbegin:



Deepinthemeadow,underthewillow

Abedofgrass,asoftgreenpillow

Laydownyourhead,andcloseyoursleepyeyes

Andwhenagaintheyopen,thesunwillrise.



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Hereit’ssafe,hereit’swarm

Herethedaisiesguardyoufromeveryharm

Hereyourdreamsaresweetandtomorrowbringsthemtrue

HereistheplacewhereIloveyou.



Rue’seyeshaveflutteredshut.Herchestmovesbutonly

slightly.Mythroatreleasesthetearsandtheyslidedownmy

cheeks.ButIhavetofinishthesongforher.



Deepinthemeadow,hiddenfaraway

Acloakofleaves,amoonbeamray

Forgetyourwoesandletyourtroubleslay

Andwhenagainit’smorning,they’llwashaway.



Hereit’ssafe,hereit’swarm

Herethedaisiesguardyoufromeveryharm



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Thefinallinesarebarelyaudible.



Hereyourdreamsaresweetandtomorrowbringsthemtrue

HereistheplacewhereIloveyou.



Everything’sstillandquiet.Then,almosteerily,the

mockingjaystakeupmysong.

Foramoment,Isitthere,watchingmytearsdripdownon

herface.Rue’scannonfires.Ileanforwardandpressmylips

againsthertemple.Slowly,asifnottowakeher,Ilayherhead

backonthegroundandreleaseherhand.

They’llwantmetoclearoutnow.Sotheycancollectthe

bodies.Andthere’snothingtostayfor.Irolltheboyfrom

District1ontohisfaceandtakehispack,retrievethearrowthat

endedhislife.IcutRue’spackfromherbackaswell,knowing

she’dwantmetohaveitbutleavethespearinherstomach.

Weaponsinbodieswillbetransportedtothehovercraft.I’veno

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useforaspear,sothesoonerit’sgonefromthearenathebetter.

Ican’tstoplookingatRue,smallerthanever,ababyanimal

curledupinanestofnetting.Ican’tbringmyselftoleaveher

likethis.Pastharm,butseemingutterlydefenseless.Tohatethe

boyfromDistrict1,whoalsoappearssovulnerableindeath,

seemsinadequate.It’stheCapitolIhate,fordoingthistoallof

us.

Gale’svoiceisinmyhead.HisravingsagainsttheCapitol

nolongerpointless,nolongertobeignored.Rue’sdeathhas

forcedmetoconfrontmyownfuryagainstthecruelty,the

injusticetheyinflictuponus.Buthere,evenmorestronglythan

athome,Ifeelmyimpotence.There’snowaytotakerevengeon

theCapitol.Isthere?

ThenIrememberPeeta’swordsontheroof.“OnlyIkeep

wishingIcouldthinkofawayto...toshowtheCapitolthey

don’townme.ThatI’mmorethanjustapieceintheirGames.”

Andforthefirsttime,Iunderstandwhathemeans.

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Iwanttodosomething,righthere,rightnow,toshamethem,

tomakethemaccountable,toshowtheCapitolthatwhatever

theydoorforceustodothereisapartofeverytributetheycan’t

own.ThatRuewasmorethanapieceintheirGames.Andsoam

Afewstepsintothewoodsgrowsabankofwildflowers.

Perhapstheyarereallyweedsofsomesort,buttheyhave

blossomsinbeautifulshadesofvioletandyellowandwhite.I

gatherupanarmfulandcomebacktoRue’sside.Slowly,one

stematatime,Idecorateherbodyintheflowers.Coveringthe

uglywound.Wreathingherface.Weavingherhairwithbright

colors.

They’llhavetoshowit.Or,eveniftheychoosetoturnthe

cameraselsewhereatthismoment,they’llhavetobringthem

backwhentheycollectthebodiesandeveryonewillseeherthen

andknowIdidit.IstepbackandtakealastlookatRue.She

couldreallybeasleepinthatmeadowafterall.

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“Bye,Rue,”Iwhisper.Ipressthethreemiddlefingersofmy

lefthandagainstmylipsandholdthemoutinherdirection.

ThenIwalkawaywithoutlookingback.

Thebirdsfallsilent.Somewhere,amockingjaygivesthe

warningwhistlethatprecedesthehovercraft.Idon’tknowhowit

knows.Itmusthearthingsthathumanscan’t.Ipause,myeyes

focusedonwhat’sahead,notwhat’shappeningbehindme.It

doesn’ttakelong,thenthegeneralbirdsongbeginsagainandI

knowshe’sgone.

Anothermockingjay,ayoungonebythelookofit,landson

abranchbeforemeandburstsoutRue’smelody.Mysong,the

hovercraft,weretoounfamiliarforthisnovicetopickup,butit

hasmasteredherhandfulofnotes.Theonesthatmeanshe’ssafe.

“Goodandsafe,”IsayasIpassunderitsbranch.“Wedon’t

havetoworryabouthernow.”Goodandsafe.

I’venoideawheretogo.ThebriefsenseofhomeIhadthat

onenightwithRuehasvanished.Myfeetwanderthiswayand

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thatuntilsunset.I’mnotafraid,notevenwatchful.Whichmakes

meaneasytarget.ExceptI’dkillanyoneImetonsight.Without

emotionortheslightesttremorinmyhands.Myhatredofthe

Capitolhasnotlessenedmyhatredofmycompetitorsinthe

least.EspeciallytheCareers.They,atleast,canbemadetopay

forRue’sdeath.

Noonematerializesthough.Therearen’tmanyofusleftand

it’sabigarena.Soonthey’llbepullingoutsomeotherdeviceto

forceustogether.Butthere’sbeenenoughgoretoday.Perhaps

we’llevengettosleep.

I’mabouttohaulmypacksintoatreetomakecampwhena

silverparachutefloatsdownandlandsinfrontofme.Agift

fromasponsor.Butwhynow?I’vebeeninfairlygoodshape

withsupplies.MaybeHaymitch’snoticedmydespondencyand

istryingtocheermeupabit.Orcoulditbesomethingtohelp

myear?

Iopentheparachuteandfindasmallloafofbread.It’snot

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thefinewhiteCapitolstuff.It’smadeofdarkrationgrainand

shapedinacrescent.Sprinkledwithseeds.IflashbacktoPeeta’s

lessononthevariousdistrictbreadsintheTrainingCenter.This

breadcamefromDistrict11.Icautiouslyliftthestillwarmloaf.

WhatmustithavecostthepeopleofDistrict11whocan’teven

feedthemselves?Howmanywould’vehadtodowithoutto

scrapeupacointoputinthecollectionforthisoneloaf?Ithad

beenmeantforRue,surely.Butinsteadofpullingthegiftwhen

shedied,they’dauthorizedHaymitchtogiveittome.Asa

thank-you?Orbecause,likeme,theydon’tliketoletdebtsgo

unpaid?Forwhateverreason,thisisafirst.Adistrictgifttoa

tributewho’snotyourown.

Iliftmyfaceandstepintothelastfallingraysofsunlight.

“MythankstothepeopleofDistrictEleven,”Isay.Iwantthem

toknowIknowwhereitcamefrom.Thatthefullvalueoftheir

gifthasbeenrecognized.

Iclimbdangerouslyhighintoatree,notforsafetybuttoget

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asfarawayfromtodayasIcan.Mysleepingbagisrolledneatly

inRue’spack.TomorrowI’llsortthroughthesupplies.

TomorrowI’llmakeanewplan.Buttonight,allIcandoisstrap

myselfinandtaketinybitesofthebread.It’sgood.Ittastesof

home.

Soontheseal’sinthesky,theanthemplaysinmyrightear.I

seetheboyfromDistrict1,Rue.That’sallfortonight.Sixofus

left,Ithink.Onlysix.Withthebreadstilllockedinmyhands,I

fallasleepatonce.

Sometimeswhenthingsareparticularlybad,mybrainwill

givemeahappydream.Avisitwithmyfatherinthewoods.An

hourofsunlightandcakewithPrim.TonightitsendsmeRue,

stilldeckedinherflowers,perchedinahighseaoftrees,trying

toteachmetotalktothemockingjays.Iseenosignofher

wounds,noblood,justabright,laughinggirl.Shesingssongs

I’veneverheardinaclear,melodicvoice.Onandon.Through

thenight.There’sadrowsyin-betweenperiodwhenIcanhear

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thelastfewstrainsofhermusicalthoughshe’slostintheleaves.

WhenIfullyawaken,I’mmomentarilycomforted.Itrytohold

ontothepeacefulfeelingofthedream,butitquicklyslipsaway,

leavingmesadderandlonelierthanever.

Heavinessinfusesmywholebody,asifthere’sliquidleadin

myveins.I’velostthewilltodothesimplesttasks,todo

anythingbutliehere,staringunblinkinglythroughthecanopyof

leaves.Forseveralhours,Iremainmotionless.Asusual,it’sthe

thoughtofPrim’sanxiousfaceasshewatchesmeonthescreens

backhomethatbreaksmefrommylethargy.

Igivemyselfaseriesofsimplecommandstofollow,like

“Nowyouhavetositup,Katniss.Nowyouhavetodrinkwater,

Katniss.”Iactontheorderswithslow,roboticmotions.“Now

youhavetosortthepacks,Katniss.”

Rue’spackholdsmysleepingbag,hernearlyemptywater

skin,ahandfulofnutsandroots,abitofrabbit,herextrasocks,

andherslingshot.TheboyfromDistrict1hasseveralknives,

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twosparespearheads,aflashlight,asmallleatherpouch,afirst-

aidkit,afullbottleofwater,andapackofdriedfruit.Apackof

driedfruit!Outofallhemighthavechosenfrom.Tome,thisis

asignofextremearrogance.Whybothertocarryfoodwhenyou

havesuchabountybackatcamp?Whenyouwillkillyour

enemiessoquicklyyou’llbehomebeforeyou’rehungry?Ican

onlyhopetheotherCareerstraveledsolightlywhenitcameto

foodandnowfindthemselveswithnothing.

Speakingofwhich,myownsupplyisrunninglow.Ifinish

offtheloaffromDistrict11andthelastoftherabbit.How

quicklythefooddisappears.AllIhaveleftareRue’srootsand

nuts,theboy’sdriedfruit,andonestripofbeef.Nowyouhaveto

hunt,Katniss,Itellmyself.

IobedientlyconsolidatethesuppliesIwantintomypack.

AfterIclimbdownthetree,Iconcealtheboy’sknivesand

spearheadsinapileofrockssothatnooneelsecanusethem.

I’velostmybearingswhatwithallthewanderingaroundIdid

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yesterdayevening,butItryandheadbackinthegeneral

directionofthestream.IknowI’moncoursewhenIcome

acrossRue’sthird,unlitfire.Shortlythereafter,Idiscovera

flockofgrooslingsperchedinthetreesandtakeoutthreebefore

theyknowwhathitthem.IreturntoRue’ssignalfireandstartit

up,notcaringabouttheexcessivesmoke.Whereareyou,Cato?

IthinkasIroastthebirdsandRue’sroots.I’mwaitingright

here.

WhoknowswheretheCareersarenow?Eithertoofarto

reachmeortoosurethisisatrickor...isitpossible?Too

scaredofme?TheyknowIhavethebowandarrows,ofcourse,

CatosawmetakethemfromGlimmer’sbody.Buthavetheyput

twoandtwotogetheryet?FiguredoutIblewupthesuppliesand

killedtheirfellowCareer?PossiblytheythinkThreshdidthis.

Wouldn’thebemorelikelytorevengeRue’sdeaththanIwould?

Beingfromthesamedistrict?Notthatheevertookanyinterest

inher.

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AndwhataboutFoxface?Didshehangaroundtowatchme

blowupthesupplies?No.WhenIcaughtherlaughinginthe

ashesthenextmorning,itwasasifsomeonehadgivenhera

lovelysurprise.

IdoubttheythinkPeetahaslitthissignalfire.Cato’ssure

he’sasgoodasdead.IfindmyselfwishingIcouldtellPeeta

abouttheflowersIputonRue.ThatInowunderstandwhathe

wastryingtosayontheroof.PerhapsifhewinstheGames,he’ll

seemeonvictor’snight,whentheyreplaythehighlightsofthe

Gamesonascreenoverthestagewherewedidourinterviews.

Thewinnersitsinaplaceofhonorontheplatform,surrounded

bytheirsupportcrew.

ButItoldRueI’dbethere.Forbothofus.Andsomehow

thatseemsevenmoreimportantthanthevowIgavePrim.

IreallythinkIstandachanceofdoingitnow.Winning.It’s

notjusthavingthearrowsoroutsmartingtheCareersafew

times,althoughthosethingshelp.SomethinghappenedwhenI

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washoldingRue’shand,watchingthelifedrainoutofher.NowI

amdeterminedtoavengeher,tomakeherlossunforgettable,and

Icanonlydothatbywinningandtherebymakingmyself

unforgettable.

Iovercookthebirdshopingsomeonewillshowuptoshoot,

butnoonedoes.Maybetheothertributesareouttherebeating

oneanothersenseless.Whichwouldbefine.Eversincethe

bloodbath,I’vebeenfeaturedonscreensmorethanIcare.

Eventually,Iwrapupmyfoodandgobacktothestreamto

replenishmywaterandgathersome.Buttheheavinessfromthe

morningdrapesbackovermeandeventhoughit’sonlyearly

evening,Iclimbatreeandsettleinforthenight.Mybrain

beginstoreplaytheeventsfromyesterday.IkeepseeingRue

speared,myarrowpiercingtheboy’sneck.Idon’tknowwhyI

shouldevencareabouttheboy.

ThenIrealize...hewasmyfirstkill.

Alongwithotherstatisticstheyreporttohelppeopleplace

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theirbets,everytributehasalistofkills.IguesstechnicallyI’d

getcreditedforGlimmerandthegirlfromDistrict4,too,for

dumpingthatnestonthem.ButtheboyfromDistrict1wasthe

firstpersonIknewwoulddiebecauseofmyactions.Numerous

animalshavelosttheirlivesatmyhands,butonlyonehuman.I

hearGalesaying,“Howdifferentcanitbe,really?”

Amazinglysimilarintheexecution.Abowpulled,anarrow

shot.Entirelydifferentintheaftermath.Ikilledaboywhose

nameIdon’tevenknow.Somewherehisfamilyisweepingfor

him.Hisfriendscallformyblood.Maybehehadagirlfriend

whoreallybelievedhewouldcomeback....

ButthenIthinkofRue’sstillbodyandI’mabletobanish

theboyfrommymind.Atleast,fornow.

It’sbeenanuneventfuldayaccordingtothesky.Nodeaths.I

wonderhowlongwe’llgetuntilthenextcatastrophedrivesus

backtogether.Ifit’sgoingtobetonight,Iwanttogetsomesleep

first.Icovermygoodeartoblockoutthestrainsoftheanthem,

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butthenIhearthetrumpetsandsitstraightupinanticipation.

Forthemostpart,theonlycommunicationthetributesget

fromoutsidethearenaisthenightlydeathtoll.Butoccasionally,

therewillbetrumpetsfollowedbyanannouncement.Usually,

thiswillbeacalltoafeast.Whenfoodisscarce,the

Gamemakerswillinvitetheplayerstoabanquet,somewhere

knowntoallliketheCornucopia,asaninducementtogatherand

fight.Sometimesthereisafeastandsometimesthere’snothing

butaloafofstalebreadforthetributestocompetefor.I

wouldn’tgoinforthefood,butthiscouldbeanidealtimeto

takeoutafewcompetitors.

ClaudiusTemplesmith’svoiceboomsdownfromoverhead,

congratulatingthesixofuswhoremain.Butheisnotinvitingus

toafeast.He’ssayingsomethingveryconfusing.There’sbeena

rulechangeintheGames.Arulechange!Thatinitselfismind

bendingsincewedon’treallyhaveanyrulestospeakofexcept

don’tstepoffyourcircleforsixtysecondsandtheunspokenrule

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aboutnoteatingoneanother.Underthenewrule,bothtributes

fromthesamedistrictwillbedeclaredwinnersiftheyarethe

lasttwoalive.Claudiuspauses,asifheknowswe’renotgetting

it,andrepeatsthechangeagain.

Thenewssinksin.Twotributescanwinthisyear.Ifthey’re

fromthesamedistrict.Bothcanlive.Bothofuscanlive.

BeforeIcanstopmyself,IcalloutPeeta’sname.

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Iclapmyhandsovermymouth,butthesoundhasalready

escaped.TheskygoesblackandIhearachorusoffrogsbeginto

sing.Stupid!Itellmyself.Whatastupidthingtodo!Iwait,

frozen,forthewoodstocomealivewithassailants.ThenI

rememberthere’salmostnooneleft.

Peeta,who’sbeenwounded,isnowmyally.Whatever

doubtsI’vehadabouthimdissipatebecauseifeitherofustook

theother’slifenowwe’dbepariahswhenwereturnedtoDistrict

12.Infact,IknowifIwaswatchingI’dloatheanytributewho

didn’timmediatelyallywiththeirdistrictpartner.Besides,it

justmakessensetoprotecteachother.Andinmycase—being

oneofthestar-crossedloversfromDistrict12—it’sanabsolute

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requirementifIwantanymorehelpfromsympatheticsponsors.

Thestar-crossedlovers...Peetamusthavebeenplaying

thatangleallalong.WhyelsewouldtheGamemakershavemade

thisunprecedentedchangeintherules?Fortwotributestohave

ashotatwinning,our“romance”mustbesopopularwiththe

audiencethatcondemningitwouldjeopardizethesuccessofthe

Games.Nothankstome.AllI’vedoneismanagednottokill

Peeta.Butwhateverhe’sdoneinthearena,hemusthavethe

audienceconvinceditwastokeepmealive.Shakinghisheadto

keepmefromrunningtotheCornucopia.FightingCatotoletme

escape.EvenhookingupwiththeCareersmusthavebeena

movetoprotectme.Peeta,itturnsout,hasneverbeenadanger

tome.

Thethoughtmakesmesmile.Idropmyhandsandholdmy

faceuptothemoonlightsothecamerascanbesuretocatchit.

So,whoistherelefttobeafraidof?Foxface?Theboy

tributefromherdistrictisdead.She’soperatingalone,atnight.

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Andherstrategyhasbeentoevade,notattack.Idon’treally

thinkthat,evenifsheheardmyvoice,she’ddoanythingbut

hopesomeoneelsewouldkillme.

Thenthere’sThresh.Allright,he’sadistinctthreat.ButI

haven’tseenhim,notonce,sincetheGamesbegan.Ithinkabout

howFoxfacegrewalarmedwhensheheardasoundatthesiteof

theexplosion.Butshedidn’tturntothewoods,sheturnedto

whateverliesacrossfromit.Tothatareaofthearenathatdrops

offintoIdon’tknowwhat.Ifeelalmostcertainthattheperson

sheranfromwasThreshandthatishisdomain.He’dneverhave

heardmefromthereand,evenifhedid,I’muptoohighfor

someonehissizetoreach.

SothatleavesCatoandthegirlfromDistrict2,whoarenow

surelycelebratingthenewrule.They’retheonlyonesleftwho

benefitfromitbesidesPeetaandmyself.DoIrunfromthem

now,onthechancetheyheardmecallPeeta’sname?No,Ithink.

Letthemcome.Letthemcomewiththeirnight-visionglasses

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andtheirheavy,branch-breakingbodies.Rightintotherangeof

myarrows.ButIknowtheywon’t.Iftheydidn’tcomein

daylighttomyfire,theywon’triskwhatcouldbeanothertrapat

night.Whentheycome,itwillbeontheirownterms,not

becauseI’veletthemknowmywhereabouts.

Stayputandgetsomesleep,Katniss,Iinstructmyself,

althoughIwishIcouldstarttrackingPeetanow.Tomorrow,

you’llfindhim.

Idosleep,butinthemorningI’mextra-cautious,thinking

thatwhiletheCareersmighthesitatetoattackmeinatree,

they’recompletelycapableofsettinganambushforme.Imake

suretofullypreparemyselffortheday—eatingabigbreakfast,

securingmypack,readyingmyweapons—beforeIdescend.

Butallseemspeacefulandundisturbedontheground.

TodayI’llhavetobescrupulouslycareful.TheCareerswill

knowI’mtryingtolocatePeeta.Theymaywellwanttowait

untilIdobeforetheymovein.Ifhe’sasbadlywoundedasCato

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thinks,I’dbeinthepositionofhavingtodefendusbothwithout

anyassistance.Butifhe’sthatincapacitated,howhashe

managedtostayalive?AndhowonearthwillIfindhim?

ItrytothinkofanythingPeetaeversaidthatmightgiveme

anindicationastowherehe’shidingout,butnothingringsa

bell.SoIgobacktothelastmomentIsawhimsparklinginthe

sunlight,yellingatmetorun.ThenCatoappeared,hissword

drawn.AndafterIwasgone,hewoundedPeeta.Buthowdid

Peetagetaway?Maybehe’dheldoutbetteragainstthetracker

jackerpoisonthanCato.Maybethatwasthevariablethat

allowedhimtoescape.Buthe’dbeenstung,too.Sohowfar

couldhehavegotten,stabbedandfilledwithvenom?Andhow

hashestayedaliveallthesedayssince?Ifthewoundandthe

stingershaven’tkilledhim,surelythirstwouldhavetakenhim

bynow.

Andthat’swhenIgetmyfirstcluetohiswhereabouts.He

couldn’thavesurvivedwithoutwater.Iknowthatfrommyfirst

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fewdayshere.Hemustbehiddensomewherenearasource.

There’sthelake,butIfindthatanunlikelyoptionsinceit’sso

closetotheCareers’basecamp.Afewspring-fedpools.But

you’dreallybeasittingduckatoneofthose.Andthestream.

TheonethatleadsfromthecampRueandImadealltheway

downnearthelakeandbeyond.Ifhestucktothestream,he

couldchangehislocationandalwaysbenearwater.Hecould

walkinthecurrentanderaseanytracks.Hemightevenbeable

togetafishortwo.

Well,it’saplacetostart,anyway.

Toconfusemyenemies’minds,Istartafirewithplentyof

greenwood.Eveniftheythinkit’saruse,Ihopethey’lldecide

I’mhiddensomewherenearit.Whileinreality,I’llbetracking

Peeta.

Thesunburnsoffthemorninghazealmostimmediatelyand

Icantellthedaywillbehotterthanusual.Thewater’scooland

pleasantonmybarefeetasIheaddownstream.I’mtemptedto

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calloutPeeta’snameasIgobutdecideagainstit.Iwillhaveto

findhimwithmyeyesandonegoodearorhewillhavetofind

me.Buthe’llknowI’llbelooking,right?Hewon’thavesolow

ofanopinionofmeastothinkI’dignorethenewruleandkeep

tomyself.Wouldhe?He’sveryhardtopredict,whichmightbe

interestingunderdifferentcircumstances,butatthemoment

onlyprovidesanextraobstacle.

Itdoesn’ttakelongtoreachthespotwhereIpeeledofftogo

totheCareers’camp.There’sbeennosignofPeeta,butthis

doesn’tsurpriseme.I’vebeenupanddownthisstretchthree

timessincethetrackerjackerincident.Ifhewerenearby,surely

I’dhavehadsomesuspicionofit.Thestreambeginstocurveto

theleftintoapartofthewoodsthat’snewtome.Muddybanks

coveredintangledwaterplantsleadtolargerocksthatincrease

insizeuntilIbegintofeelsomewhattrapped.Itwouldbeno

smallmattertoescapethestreamnow.FightingoffCatoor

ThreshasIclimbedoverthisrockyterrain.Infact,I’vejust

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aboutdecidedI’monthewrongtrackentirely,thatawounded

boywouldbeunabletonavigategettingtoandfromthiswater

source,whenIseethebloodystreakgoingdownthecurveofa

boulder.It’slongdriednow,butthesmearylinesrunningsideto

sidesuggestsomeone—whoperhapswasnotfullyincontrolof

hismentalfaculties—triedtowipeitaway.

Huggingtherocks,Imoveslowlyinthedirectionofthe

blood,searchingforhim.Ifindafewmorebloodstains,onewith

afewthreadsoffabricgluedtoit,butnosignoflife.Ibreak

downandsayhisnameinahushedvoice.“Peeta!Peeta!”Thena

mockingjaylandsonascruffytreeandbeginstomimicmytones

soIstop.Igiveupandclimbbackdowntothestreamthinking,

Hemusthavemovedon.Somewherefartherdown.

MyfoothasjustbrokenthesurfaceofthewaterwhenIhear

avoice.

“Youheretofinishmeoff,sweetheart?”

Iwhiparound.It’scomefromtheleft,soIcan’tpickitup

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verywell.Andthevoicewashoarseandweak.Still,itmusthave

beenPeeta.Whoelseinthearenawouldcallmesweetheart?My

eyesperusethebank,butthere’snothing.Justmud,theplants,

thebaseoftherocks.

“Peeta?”Iwhisper.“Whereareyou?”There’snoanswer.

CouldIjusthaveimaginedit?No,I’mcertainitwasrealand

verycloseathand,too.“Peeta?”Icreepalongthebank.

“Well,don’tsteponme.”

Ijumpback.Hisvoicewasrightundermyfeet.Stillthere’s

nothing.Thenhiseyesopen,unmistakablyblueinthebrown

mudandgreenleaves.Igaspandamrewardedwithahintof

whiteteethashelaughs.

It’sthefinalwordincamouflage.Forgetchuckingweights

around.Peetashouldhavegoneintohisprivatesessionwiththe

Gamemakersandpaintedhimselfintoatree.Oraboulder.Ora

muddybankfullofweeds.

“Closeyoureyesagain,”Iorder.Hedoes,andhismouth,

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too,andcompletelydisappears.MostofwhatIjudgetobehis

bodyisactuallyunderalayerofmudandplants.Hisfaceand

armsaresoartfullydisguisedastobeinvisible.Ikneelbeside

him.“Iguessallthosehoursdecoratingcakespaidoff.”

Peetasmiles.“Yes,frosting.Thefinaldefenseofthedying.”

“You’renotgoingtodie,”Itellhimfirmly.

“Sayswho?”Hisvoiceissoragged.

“Saysme.We’reonthesameteamnow,youknow,”Itell

him.

Hiseyesopen.“So,Iheard.Niceofyoutofindwhat’sleftof

me.”

Ipulloutmywaterbottleandgivehimadrink.“DidCato

cutyou?”Iask.

“Leftleg.Uphigh,”heanswers.

“Let’sgetyouinthestream,washyouoffsoIcanseewhat

kindofwoundsyou’vegot,”Isay.

“Leandownaminutefirst,”hesays.“Needtotellyou

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something.”Ileanoverandputmygoodeartohislips,which

tickleashewhispers.“Remember,we’remadlyinlove,soit’s

allrighttokissmeanytimeyoufeellikeit.”

Ijerkmyheadbackbutenduplaughing.“Thanks,I’llkeep

itinmind.”Atleast,he’sstillabletojokearound.ButwhenI

starttohelphimtothestream,allthelevitydisappears.It’sonly

twofeetaway,howhardcanitbe?VeryhardwhenIrealizehe’s

unabletomoveaninchonhisown.He’ssoweakthatthebesthe

candoisnottoresist.Itrytodraghim,butdespitethefactthatI

knowhe’sdoingallhecantokeepquiet,sharpcriesofpain

escapehim.Themudandplantsseemtohaveimprisonedhim

andIfinallyhavetogiveagigantictugtobreakhimfromtheir

clutches.He’sstilltwofeetfromthewater,lyingthere,teeth

gritted,tearscuttingtrailsinthedirtonhisface.

“Look,Peeta,I’mgoingtorollyouintothestream.It’svery

shallowhere,okay?”Isay.

“Excellent,”hesays.

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Icrouchdownbesidehim.Nomatterwhathappens,Itell

myself,don’tstopuntilhe’sinthewater.“Onthree,”Isay.

“One,two,three!”IcanonlymanageonefullrollbeforeIhave

tostopbecauseofthehorriblesoundhe’smaking.Nowhe’son

theedgeofthestream.Maybethisisbetteranyway.

“Okay,changeofplans.I’mnotgoingtoputyoualltheway

in,”Itellhim.Besides,ifIgethimin,whoknowsifI’deverbe

abletogethimout?

“Nomorerolling?”heasks.

“That’salldone.Let’sgetyoucleanedup.Keepaneyeon

thewoodsforme,okay?”Isay.It’shardtoknowwheretostart.

He’ssocakedwithmudandmattedleaves,Ican’tevenseehis

clothes.Ifhe’swearingclothes.Thethoughtmakesmehesitatea

moment,butthenIplungein.Nakedbodiesarenobigdealinthe

arena,right?

I’vegottwowaterbottlesandRue’swaterskin.Ipropthem

againstrocksinthestreamsothattwoarealwaysfillingwhileI

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pourthethirdoverPeeta’sbody.Ittakesawhile,butIfinallyget

ridofenoughmudtofindhisclothes.Igentlyunziphisjacket,

unbuttonhisshirtandeasethemoffhim.Hisundershirtisso

plasteredintohiswoundsIhavetocutitawaywithmyknifeand

drenchhimagaintoworkitloose.He’sbadlybruisedwithalong

burnacrosshischestandfourtrackerjackerstings,ifyoucount

theoneunderhisear.ButIfeelabitbetter.ThismuchIcanfix.

Idecidetotakecareofhisupperbodyfirst,toalleviatesome

pain,beforeItacklewhateverdamageCatodidtohisleg.

Sincetreatinghiswoundsseemspointlesswhenhe’slyingin

what’sbecomeamudpuddle,Imanagetoprophimupagainsta

boulder.Hesitsthere,uncomplaining,whileIwashawayallthe

tracesofdirtfromhishairandskin.Hisfleshisverypaleinthe

sunlightandhenolongerlooksstrongandstocky.Ihavetodig

thestingersoutofhistrackerjackerlumps,whichcauseshimto

wince,buttheminuteIapplytheleaveshesighsinrelief.While

hedriesinthesun,Iwashhisfilthyshirtandjacketandspread

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themoverboulders.ThenIapplytheburncreamtohischest.

ThisiswhenInoticehowhothisskinisbecoming.Thelayerof

mudandthebottlesofwaterhavedisguisedthefactthathe’s

burningwithfever.Idigthroughthefirst-aidkitIgotfromthe

boyfromDistrict1andfindpillsthatreduceyourtemperature.

Mymotheractuallybreaksdownandbuystheseonoccasion

whenherhomeremediesfail.

“Swallowthese,”Itellhim,andheobedientlytakesthe

medicine.“Youmustbehungry.”

“Notreally.It’sfunny,Ihaven’tbeenhungryfordays,”says

Peeta.Infact,whenIofferhimgroosling,hewrinkleshisnoseat

itandturnsaway.That’swhenIknowhowsickheis.

“Peeta,weneedtogetsomefoodinyou,”Iinsist.

“It’lljustcomerightbackup,”hesays.ThebestIcandois

togethimtoeatafewbitsofdriedapple.“Thanks.I’mmuch

better,really.CanIsleepnow,Katniss?”heasks.

“Soon,”Ipromise.“Ineedtolookatyourlegfirst.”Trying

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tobeasgentleasIcan,Iremovehisboots,hissocks,andthen

veryslowlyinchhispantsoffofhim.IcanseethetearCato’s

swordmadeinthefabricoverhisthigh,butitinnowayprepares

meforwhatliesunderneath.Thedeepinflamedgashoozingboth

bloodandpus.Theswellingoftheleg.Andworstofall,the

smelloffesteringflesh.

Iwanttorunaway.DisappearintothewoodslikeIdidthat

daytheybroughttheburnvictimtoourhouse.Goandhuntwhile

mymotherandPrimattendtowhatIhaveneithertheskillnor

thecouragetoface.Butthere’snooneherebutme.Itryto

capturethecalmdemeanormymotherassumeswhenhandling

particularlybadcases.

“Prettyawful,huh?”saysPeeta.He’swatchingmeclosely.

“So-so.”Ishruglikeit’snobigdeal.“Youshouldseesome

ofthepeopletheybringmymotherfromthemines.”Irefrain

fromsayinghowIusuallyclearoutofthehousewhenevershe’s

treatinganythingworsethanacold.Cometothinkofit,Idon’t

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evenmuchliketobearoundcoughing.“Firstthingistocleanit

well.”

I’veleftonPeeta’sundershortsbecausethey’renotinbad

shapeandIdon’twanttopullthemovertheswollenthighand,

allright,maybetheideaofhimbeingnakedmakesme

uncomfortable.That’sanotherthingaboutmymotherandPrim.

Nakednesshasnoeffectonthem,givesthemnocausefor

embarrassment.Ironically,atthispointintheGames,mylittle

sisterwouldbeoffarmoreusetoPeetathanIam.Iscootmy

squareofplasticunderhimsoIcanwashdowntherestofhim.

WitheachbottleIpouroverhim,theworsethewoundlooks.

Therestofhislowerbodyhasfaredprettywell,justonetracker

jackerstingandafewsmallburnsthatItreatquickly.Butthe

gashonhisleg...whatonearthcanIdoforthat?

“Whydon’twegiveitsomeairandthen...”Itrailoff.

“Andthenyou’llpatchitup?”saysPeeta.Helooksalmost

sorryforme,asifheknowshowlostIam.

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“That’sright,”Isay.“Inthemeantime,youeatthese.”Iput

afewdriedpearhalvesinhishandandgobackinthestreamto

washtherestofhisclothes.Whenthey’reflattenedoutand

drying,Iexaminethecontentsofthefirst-aidkit.It’spretty

basicstuff.Bandages,feverpills,medicinetocalmstomachs.

NothingofthecaliberI’llneedtotreatPeeta.

“We’regoingtohavetoexperimentsome,”Iadmit.Iknow

thetrackerjackerleavesdrawoutinfection,soIstartwiththose.

Withinminutesofpressingthehandfulofchewed-upgreenstuff

intothewound,pusbeginsrunningdownthesideofhisleg.Itell

myselfthisisagoodthingandbitetheinsideofmycheekhard

becausemybreakfastisthreateningtomakeareappearance.

“Katniss?”Peetasays.Imeethiseyes,knowingmyface

mustbesomeshadeofgreen.Hemouthsthewords.“Howabout

thatkiss?”

IburstoutlaughingbecausethewholethingissorevoltingI

can’tstandit.

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“Somethingwrong?”heasksalittletooinnocently.

“I...I’mnogoodatthis.I’mnotmymother.I’venoidea

whatI’mdoingandIhatepus,”Isay.“Euh!”Iallowmyselfto

letoutagroanasIrinseawaythefirstroundofleavesandapply

thesecond.“Euuuh!”

“Howdoyouhunt?”heasks.

“Trustme.Killingthingsismucheasierthanthis,”Isaid.

“AlthoughforallIknow,Iamkillingyou.”

“Canyouspeeditupalittle?”heasks.

“No.Shutupandeatyourpears,”Isay.

Afterthreeapplicationsandwhatseemslikeabucketofpus,

thewounddoeslookbetter.Nowthattheswellinghasgone

down,IcanseehowdeepCato’sswordcut.Rightdowntothe

bone.

“Whatnext,Dr.Everdeen?”heasks.

“MaybeI’llputsomeoftheburnointmentonit.Ithinkit

helpswithinfectionanyway.Andwrapitup?”Isay.Idoandthe

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wholethingseemsalotmoremanageable,coveredinclean

whitecotton.Although,againstthesterilebandage,thehemof

hisundershortslooksfilthyandteemingwithcontagion.Ipull

outRue’sbackpack.“Here,coveryourselfwiththisandI’llwash

yourshorts.”

“Oh,Idon’tcareifyouseeme,”saysPeeta.

“You’rejustliketherestofmyfamily,”Isay.“Icare,all

right?”Iturnmybackandlookatthestreamuntilthe

undershortssplashintothecurrent.Hemustbefeelingabit

betterifhecanthrow.

“Youknow,you’rekindofsqueamishforsuchalethal

person,”saysPeetaasIbeattheshortscleanbetweentworocks.

“IwishI’dletyougiveHaymitchashowerafterall.”

Iwrinklemynoseatthememory.“What’shesentyouso

far?”

“Notathing,”saysPeeta.Thenthere’sapauseasithitshim.

“Why,didyougetsomething?”

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“Burnmedicine,”Isayalmostsheepishly.“Oh,andsome

bread.”

“Ialwaysknewyouwerehisfavorite,”saysPeeta.

“Please,hecan’tstandbeinginthesameroomwithme,”I

say.

“Becauseyou’rejustalike,”muttersPeeta.Iignoreitthough

becausethisreallyisn’tthetimeformetobeinsulting

Haymitch,whichismyfirstimpulse.

IletPeetadozeoffwhilehisclothesdryout,butbylate

afternoon,Idon’tdarewaitanylonger.Igentlyshakehis

shoulder.“Peeta,we’vegottogonow.”

“Go?”Heseemsconfused.“Gowhere?”

“Awayfromhere.Downstreammaybe.Somewherewecan

hideyouuntilyou’restronger,”Isay.Ihelphimdress,leaving

hisfeetbaresowecanwalkinthewater,andpullhimupright.

Hisfacedrainsofcolorthemomentheputsweightonhisleg.

“Comeon.Youcandothis.”

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Buthecan’t.Notforlonganyway.Wemakeitaboutfifty

yardsdownstream,withhimproppedupbymyshoulder,andI

cantellhe’sgoingtoblackout.Isithimonthebank,pushhis

headbetweenhisknees,andpathisbackawkwardlyasIsurvey

thearea.Ofcourse,I’dlovetogethimupinatree,butthat’snot

goingtohappen.Itcouldbeworsethough.Someoftherocks

formsmallcavelikestructures.Isetmysightsononeabout

twentyyardsabovethestream.WhenPeeta’sabletostand,I

half-guide,half-carryhimuptothecave.Really,I’dliketolook

aroundforabetterplace,butthisonewillhavetodobecausemy

allyisshot.Paperwhite,panting,and,eventhoughit’sonlyjust

coolingoff,he’sshivering.

Icoverthefloorofthecavewithalayerofpineneedles,

unrollmysleepingbag,andtuckhimintoit.Igetacoupleof

pillsandsomewaterintohimwhenhe’snotnoticing,buthe

refusestoeateventhefruit.Thenhejustliesthere,hiseyes

trainedonmyfaceasIbuildasortofblindoutofvinesto

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concealthemouthofthecave.Theresultisunsatisfactory.An

animalmightnotquestionit,butahumanwouldseehandshad

manufactureditquicklyenough.Itearitdowninfrustration.

“Katniss,”hesays.Igoovertohimandbrushthehairback

fromhiseyes.“Thanksforfindingme.”

“Youwouldhavefoundmeifyoucould,”Isay.His

forehead’sburningup.Likethemedicine’shavingnoeffectat

all.Suddenly,outofnowhere,I’mscaredhe’sgoingtodie.

“Yes.Look,ifIdon’tmakeitback—”hebegins.

“Don’ttalklikethat.Ididn’tdrainallthatpusfornothing,”I

say.

“Iknow.ButjustincaseIdon’t—”hetriestocontinue.

“No,Peeta,Idon’tevenwanttodiscussit,”Isay,placing

myfingersonhislipstoquiethim.

“ButI—”heinsists.

Impulsively,Ileanforwardandkisshim,stoppinghiswords.

Thisisprobablyoverdueanywaysincehe’sright,weare

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supposedtobemadlyinlove.It’sthefirsttimeI’veeverkissed

aboy,whichshouldmakesomesortofimpressionIguess,but

allIcanregisterishowunnaturallyhothislipsarefromthe

fever.Ibreakawayandpulltheedgeofthesleepingbagup

aroundhim.“You’renotgoingtodie.Iforbidit.Allright?”

“Allright,”hewhispers.

Istepoutinthecooleveningairjustastheparachutefloats

downfromthesky.Myfingersquicklyundothetie,hopingfor

somerealmedicinetotreatPeeta’sleg.InsteadIfindapotof

hotbroth.

Haymitchcouldn’tbesendingmeaclearermessage.One

kissequalsonepotofbroth.Icanalmosthearhissnarl.“You’re

supposedtobeinlove,sweetheart.Theboy’sdying.Giveme

somethingIcanworkwith!”

Andhe’sright.IfIwanttokeepPeetaalive,I’vegottogive

theaudiencesomethingmoretocareabout.Star-crossedlovers

desperatetogethometogether.Twoheartsbeatingasone.

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Romance.

Neverhavingbeeninlove,thisisgoingtobearealtrick.I

thinkofmyparents.Thewaymyfatherneverfailedtobringher

giftsfromthewoods.Thewaymymother’sfacewouldlightup

atthesoundofhisbootsatthedoor.Thewayshealmoststopped

livingwhenhedied.

“Peeta!”Isay,tryingforthespecialtonethatmymother

usedonlywithmyfather.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.He’sgreatatthisstuff.

Iholdupthepot.“Peeta,lookwhatHaymitchhassentyou.”

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GettingthebrothintoPeetatakesanhourofcoaxing,

begging,threatening,andyes,kissing,butfinally,sipbysip,he

emptiesthepot.Ilethimdriftofftosleepthenandattendtomy

ownneeds,wolfingdownasupperofgrooslingandrootswhileI

watchthedailyreportinthesky.Nonewcasualties.Still,Peeta

andIhavegiventheaudienceafairlyinterestingday.Hopefully,

theGamemakerswillallowusapeacefulnight.

IautomaticallylookaroundforagoodtreetonestinbeforeI

realizethat’sover.Atleastforawhile.Ican’tverywellleave

Peetaunguardedontheground.Ileftthesceneofhislasthiding

placeonthebankofthestreamuntouched—howcouldI

concealit?—andwe’reascantfiftyyardsdownstream.Iputon

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myglasses,placemyweaponsinreadiness,andsettledownto

keepwatch.

ThetemperaturedropsrapidlyandsoonI’mchilledtothe

bone.Eventually,Igiveinandslideintothesleepingbagwith

Peeta.It’stoastywarmandIsnuggledowngratefullyuntilI

realizeit’smorethanwarm,it’soverlyhotbecausethebagis

reflectingbackhisfever.Icheckhisforeheadandfinditburning

anddry.Idon’tknowwhattodo.Leavehiminthebagandhope

theexcessiveheatbreaksthefever?Takehimoutandhopethe

nightaircoolshimoff?Iendupjustdampeningastripof

bandageandplacingitonhisforehead.Itseemsweak,butI’m

afraidtodoanythingtoodrastic.

Ispendthenighthalf-sitting,half-lyingnexttoPeeta,

refreshingthebandage,andtryingnottodwellonthefactthatby

teamingupwithhim,I’vemademyselffarmorevulnerablethan

whenIwasalone.Tetheredtotheground,onguard,withavery

sickpersontotakecareof.ButIknewhewasinjured.AndstillI

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cameafterhim.I’mjustgoingtohavetotrustthatwhatever

instinctsentmetofindhimwasagoodone.

Whentheskyturnsrosy,Inoticethesheenofsweaton

Peeta’slipanddiscoverthefeverhasbroken.He’snotbackto

normal,butit’scomedownafewdegrees.Lastnight,whenI

wasgatheringvines,IcameuponabushofRue’sberries.Istrip

offthefruitandmashitupinthebrothpotwithcoldwater.

Peeta’sstrugglingtogetupwhenIreachthecave.“Iwoke

upandyouweregone,”hesays.“Iwasworriedaboutyou.”

IhavetolaughasIeasehimbackdown.“Youwereworried

aboutme?Haveyoutakenalookatyourselflately?”

“IthoughtCatoandClovemighthavefoundyou.Theylike

tohuntatnight,”hesays,stillserious.

“Clove?Whichoneisthat?”Iask.

“ThegirlfromDistrictTwo.She’sstillalive,right?”he

says.

“Yes,there’sjustthemandusandThreshandFoxface,”I

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say.“That’swhatInicknamedthegirlfromFive.Howdoyou

feel?”

“Betterthanyesterday.Thisisanenormousimprovement

overthemud,”hesays.“Cleanclothesandmedicineanda

sleepingbag...andyou.”

Oh,right,thewholeromancething.Ireachouttotouchhis

cheekandhecatchesmyhandandpressesitagainsthislips.I

remembermyfatherdoingthisverythingtomymotherandI

wonderwherePeetapickeditup.Surelynotfromhisfatherand

thewitch.

“Nomorekissesforyouuntilyou’veeaten,”Isay.

Wegethimproppedupagainstthewallandheobediently

swallowsthespoonfulsoftheberrymushIfeedhim.Herefuses

thegrooslingagain,though.

“Youdidn’tsleep,”Peetasays.

“I’mallright,”Isay.Butthetruthis,I’mexhausted.

“Sleepnow.I’llkeepwatch.I’llwakeyouifanything

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happens,”hesays.Ihesitate.“Katniss,youcan’tstayup

forever.”

He’sgotapointthere.I’llhavetosleepeventually.And

probablybettertodoitnowwhenheseemsrelativelyalertand

wehavedaylightonourside.“Allright,”Isay.“Butjustfora

fewhours.Thenyouwakeme.”

It’stoowarmforthesleepingbagnow.Ismoothitouton

thecavefloorandliedown,onehandonmyloadedbowincaseI

havetoshootatamoment’snotice.Peetasitsbesideme,leaning

againstthewall,hisbadlegstretchedoutbeforehim,hiseyes

trainedontheworldoutside.“Gotosleep,”hesayssoftly.His

handbrushestheloosestrandsofmyhairoffmyforehead.

Unlikethestagedkissesandcaressessofar,thisgestureseems

naturalandcomforting.Idon’twanthimtostopandhedoesn’t.

He’sstillstrokingmyhairwhenIfallasleep.

Toolong.Isleeptoolong.IknowfromthemomentIopen

myeyesthatwe’reintotheafternoon.Peeta’srightbesideme,

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hispositionunchanged.Isitup,feelingsomehowdefensivebut

betterrestedthanI’vebeenindays.

“Peeta,youweresupposedtowakemeafteracoupleof

hours,”Isay.

“Forwhat?Nothing’sgoingonhere,”hesays.“BesidesI

likewatchingyousleep.Youdon’tscowl.Improvesyourlooksa

lot.”

This,ofcourse,bringsonascowlthatmakeshimgrin.

That’swhenInoticehowdryhislipsare.Itesthischeek.Hotas

acoalstove.Heclaimshe’sbeendrinking,butthecontainers

stillfeelfulltome.Igivehimmorefeverpillsandstandover

himwhilehedrinksfirstone,thenasecondquartofwater.Then

Itendtohisminorwounds,theburns,thestings,whichare

showingimprovement.Isteelmyselfandunwraptheleg.

Myheartdropsintomystomach.It’sworse,muchworse.

There’snomorepusinevidence,buttheswellinghasincreased

andthetightshinyskinisinflamed.ThenIseetheredstreaks

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startingtocrawluphisleg.Bloodpoisoning.Unchecked,itwill

killhimforsure.Mychewed-upleavesandointmentwon’t

makeadentinit.We’llneedstronganti-infectiondrugsfrom

theCapitol.Ican’timaginethecostofsuchpotentmedicine.If

Haymitchpooledeverydonationfromeverysponsor,wouldhe

haveenough?Idoubtit.Giftsgoupinpricethelongerthe

Gamescontinue.Whatbuysafullmealondayonebuysa

crackerondaytwelve.AndthekindofmedicinePeetaneeds

wouldhavebeenatapremiumfromthebeginning.

“Well,there’smoreswelling,butthepusisgone,”Isayin

anunsteadyvoice.

“Iknowwhatbloodpoisoningis,Katniss,”saysPeeta.“Even

ifmymotherisn’tahealer.”

“You’rejustgoingtohavetooutlasttheothers,Peeta.

They’llcureitbackattheCapitolwhenwewin,”Isay.

“Yes,that’sagoodplan,”hesays.ButIfeelthisismostly

formybenefit.

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“Youhavetoeat.Keepyourstrengthup.I’mgoingtomake

yousoup,”Isay.

“Don’tlightafire,”hesays.“It’snotworthit.”

“We’llsee,”Isay.AsItakethepotdowntothestream,I’m

struckbyhowbrutallyhotitis.IsweartheGamemakersare

progressivelyratchetingupthetemperatureinthedaytimeand

sendingitplummetingatnight.Theheatofthesun-bakedstones

bythestreamgivesmeanideathough.MaybeIwon’tneedto

lightafire.

Isettledownonabigflatrockhalfwaybetweenthestream

andthecave.Afterpurifyinghalfapotofwater,Iplaceitin

directsunlightandaddseveralegg-sizehotstonestothewater.

I’mthefirsttoadmitI’mnotmuchofacook.Butsincesoup

mainlyinvolvestossingeverythinginapotandwaiting,it’sone

ofmybetterdishes.Imincegrooslinguntilit’spracticallymush

andmashsomeofRue’sroots.Fortunately,they’vebothbeen

roastedalreadysotheymostlyneedtobeheatedup.Already,

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betweenthesunlightandtherocks,thewater’swarm.Iputinthe

meatandroots,swapinfreshrocks,andgofindsomethinggreen

tospiceitupalittle.Beforelong,Idiscoveratuftofchives

growingatthebaseofsomerocks.Perfect.Ichopthemveryfine

andaddthemtothepot,switchouttherocksagain,putonthe

lid,andletthewholethingstew.

I’veseenveryfewsignsofgamearound,butIdon’tfeel

comfortableleavingPeetaalonewhileIhunt,soIrighalfa

dozensnaresandhopeIgetlucky.Iwonderabouttheother

tributes,howthey’remanagingnowthattheirmainsourceof

foodhasbeenblownup.Atleastthreeofthem,Cato,Clove,and

Foxface,hadbeenrelyingonit.ProbablynotThreshthough.I’ve

gotafeelinghemustsharesomeofRue’sknowledgeonhowto

feedyourselffromtheearth.Aretheyfightingeachother?

Lookingforus?Maybeoneofthemhaslocatedusandisjust

waitingfortherightmomenttoattack.Theideasendsmeback

tothecave.

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Peeta’sstretchedoutontopofthesleepingbagintheshade

oftherocks.AlthoughhebrightensabitwhenIcomein,it’s

clearhefeelsmiserable.Iputcoolclothsonhishead,butthey

warmupalmostassoonastheytouchhisskin.

“Doyouwantanything?”Iask.

“No,”hesays.“Thankyou.Wait,yes.Tellmeastory.”

“Astory?Whatabout?”Isay.I’mnotmuchforstorytelling.

It’skindoflikesinging.Butonceinawhile,Primwheedlesone

outofme.

“Somethinghappy.Tellmeaboutthehappiestdayyoucan

remember,”saysPeeta.

Somethingbetweenasighandahuffofexasperationleaves

mymouth.Ahappystory?Thiswillrequirealotmoreeffort

thanthesoup.Irackmybrainsforgoodmemories.Mostofthem

involveGaleandmeouthuntingandsomehowIdon’tthink

thesewillplaywellwitheitherPeetaortheaudience.That

leavesPrim.

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“DidIevertellyouabouthowIgotPrim’sgoat?”Iask.

Peetashakeshishead,andlooksatmeexpectantly.SoIbegin.

Butcarefully.BecausemywordsaregoingoutalloverPanem.

AndwhilepeoplehavenodoubtputtwoandtwotogetherthatI

huntillegally,Idon’twanttohurtGaleorGreasySaeorthe

butcheroreventhePeacekeepersbackhomewhoaremy

customersbypubliclyannouncingthey’rebreakingthelaw,too.

Here’stherealstoryofhowIgotthemoneyforPrim’sgoat,

Lady.ItwasaFridayevening,thedaybeforePrim’stenth

birthdayinlateMay.Assoonasschoolended,GaleandIhitthe

woods,becauseIwantedtogetenoughtotradeforapresentfor

Prim.Maybesomenewclothforadressorahairbrush.Our

snareshaddonewellenoughandthewoodswereflushwith

greens,butthiswasreallynomorethanouraverageFriday-night

haul.Iwasdisappointedasweheadedback,eventhoughGale

saidwe’dbesuretodobettertomorrow.Wewererestinga

momentbyastreamwhenwesawhim.Ayoungbuck,probably

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ayearlingbyhissize.Hisantlerswerejustgrowingin,still

smallandcoatedinvelvet.Poisedtorunbutunsureofus,

unfamiliarwithhumans.Beautiful.

Lessbeautifulperhapswhenthetwoarrowscaughthim,one

intheneck,theotherinthechest.GaleandIhadshotatthe

sametime.Thebucktriedtorunbutstumbled,andGale’sknife

slithisthroatbeforeheknewwhathadhappened.Momentarily,

I’dfeltapangatkillingsomethingsofreshandinnocent.And

thenmystomachrumbledatthethoughtofallthatfreshand

innocentmeat.

Adeer!GaleandIhaveonlybroughtdownthreeinall.The

firstone,adoethathadinjuredherlegsomehow,almostdidn’t

count.Butweknewfromthatexperiencenottogodraggingthe

carcassintotheHob.Ithadcausedchaoswithpeoplebiddingon

partsandactuallytryingtohackoffpiecesthemselves.Greasy

Saehadintervenedandsentuswithourdeertothebutcher,but

notbeforeit’dbeenbadlydamaged,hunksofmeattaken,the

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hideriddledwithholes.Althougheverybodypaidupfairly,it

hadloweredthevalueofthekill.

Thistime,wewaiteduntildarkfellandslippedunderahole

inthefenceclosetothebutcher.Eventhoughwewereknown

hunters,itwouldn’thavebeengoodtogocarryinga150-pound

deerthroughthestreetsofDistrict12indaylightlikewewere

rubbingitintheofficials’faces.

Thebutcher,ashort,chunkywomannamedRooba,cameto

thebackdoorwhenweknocked.Youdon’thagglewithRooba.

Shegivesyouoneprice,whichyoucantakeorleave,butit’sa

fairprice.Wetookherofferonthedeerandshethrewina

coupleofvenisonsteakswecouldpickupafterthebutchering.

Evenwiththemoneydividedintwo,neitherGalenorIhadheld

somuchatonetimeinourlives.Wedecidedtokeepitasecret

andsurpriseourfamilieswiththemeatandmoneyattheendof

thenextday.

ThisiswhereIreallygotthemoneyforthegoat,butItell

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PeetaIsoldanoldsilverlocketofmymother’s.Thatcan’thurt

anyone.ThenIpickupthestoryinthelateafternoonofPrim’s

birthday.

GaleandIwenttothemarketonthesquaresothatIcould

buydressmaterials.AsIwasrunningmyfingersoveralengthof

thickbluecottoncloth,somethingcaughtmyeye.There’sanold

manwhokeepsasmallherdofgoatsontheothersideofthe

Seam.Idon’tknowhisrealname,everyonejustcallshimthe

GoatMan.Hisjointsareswollenandtwistedinpainfulangles,

andhe’sgotahackingcoughthatproveshespentyearsinthe

mines.Buthe’slucky.Somewherealongthewayhesavedup

enoughforthesegoatsandnowhassomethingtodoinhisold

agebesidesslowlystarvetodeath.He’sfilthyandimpatient,but

thegoatsarecleanandtheirmilkisrichifyoucanaffordit.

Oneofthegoats,awhiteonewithblackpatches,waslying

downinacart.Itwaseasytoseewhy.Something,probablya

dog,hadmauledhershoulderandinfectionhadsetin.Itwas

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bad,theGoatManhadtoholdheruptomilkher.ButIthoughtI

knewsomeonewhocouldfixit.

“Gale,”Iwhispered.“IwantthatgoatforPrim.”

OwninganannygoatcanchangeyourlifeinDistrict12.The

animalscanliveoffalmostanything,theMeadow’saperfect

feedingplace,andtheycangivefourquartsofmilkaday.To

drink,tomakeintocheese,tosell.It’snotevenagainstthelaw.

“She’shurtprettybad,”saidGale.“Webettertakeacloser

look.”

Wewentoverandboughtacupofmilktoshare,thenstood

overthegoatasifidlycurious.

“Letherbe,”saidtheman.

“Justlooking,”saidGale.

“Well,lookfast.Shegoestothebutchersoon.Hardly

anyonewillbuyhermilk,andthentheyonlypayhalfprice,”

saidtheman.

“What’sthebutchergivingforher?”Iasked.

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Themanshrugged.“Hangaroundandsee.”Iturnedandsaw

Roobacomingacrossthesquaretowardus.“Luckythingyou

showedup,”saidtheGoatManwhenshearrived.“Girl’sgother

eyeonyourgoat.”

“Notifshe’sspokenfor,”Isaidcarelessly.

Roobalookedmeupanddownthenfrownedatthegoat.

“She’snot.Lookatthatshoulder.Betyouhalfthecarcasswill

betoorottenforevensausage.”

“What?”saidtheGoatMan.“Wehadadeal.”

“Wehadadealonananimalwithafewteethmarks.Not

thatthing.Sellhertothegirlifshe’sstupidenoughtotakeher,”

saidRooba.Asshemarchedoff,Icaughtherwink.

TheGoatManwasmad,buthestillwantedthatgoatoffhis

hands.Ittookushalfanhourtoagreeontheprice.Quiteacrowd

hadgatheredbythentohandoutopinions.Itwasanexcellent

dealifthegoatlived;I’dbeenrobbedifshedied.Peopletook

sidesintheargument,butItookthegoat.

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Galeofferedtocarryher.Ithinkhewantedtoseethelook

onPrim’sfaceasmuchasIdid.Inamomentofcomplete

giddiness,Iboughtapinkribbonandtieditaroundherneck.

Thenwehurriedbacktomyhouse.

YoushouldhaveseenPrim’sreactionwhenwewalkedin

withthatgoat.Rememberthisisagirlwhowepttosavethat

awfuloldcat,Buttercup.Shewassoexcitedshestartedcrying

andlaughingallatonce.Mymotherwaslesssure,seeingthe

injury,butthepairofthemwenttoworkonit,grindingupherbs

andcoaxingbrewsdowntheanimal’sthroat.

“Theysoundlikeyou,”saysPeeta.Ihadalmostforgottenhe

wasthere.

“Oh,no,Peeta.Theyworkmagic.Thatthingcouldn’thave

diedifittried,”Isay.ButthenIbitemytongue,realizingwhat

thatmustsoundliketoPeeta,whoisdying,inmyincompetent

hands.

“Don’tworry.I’mnottrying,”hejokes.“Finishthestory.”

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“Well,that’sit.OnlyIrememberthatnight,Priminsistedon

sleepingwithLadyonablanketnexttothefire.Andjustbefore

theydriftedoff,thegoatlickedhercheek,likeitwasgivingher

agoodnightkissorsomething,”Isay.“Itwasalreadymadabout

her.”

“Wasitstillwearingthepinkribbon?”heasks.

“Ithinkso,”Isay.“Why?”

“I’mjusttryingtogetapicture,”hesaysthoughtfully.“Ican

seewhythatdaymadeyouhappy.”

“Well,Iknewthatgoatwouldbealittlegoldmine,”Isay.

“Yes,ofcourseIwasreferringtothat,notthelastingjoyyou

gavethesisteryoulovesomuchyoutookherplaceinthe

reaping,”saysPeetadrily.

“Thegoathaspaidforitself.Severaltimesover,”Isayina

superiortone.

“Well,itwouldn’tdaredoanythingelseafteryousavedits

life,”saysPeeta.“Iintendtodothesamething.”

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“Really?Whatdidyoucostmeagain?”Iask.

“Alotoftrouble.Don’tworry.You’llgetitallback,”he

says.

“You’renotmakingsense,”Isay.Itesthisforehead.The

fever’sgoingnowherebutup.“You’realittlecoolerthough.”

Thesoundofthetrumpetsstartlesme.I’monmyfeetandat

themouthofthecaveinaflash,notwantingtomissasyllable.

It’smynewbestfriend,ClaudiusTemplesmith,andasI

expected,he’sinvitingustoafeast.Well,we’renotthathungry

andIactuallywavehisofferawayinindifferencewhenhesays,

“Nowholdon.Someofyoumayalreadybedecliningmy

invitation.Butthisisnoordinaryfeast.Eachofyouneeds

somethingdesperately.”

Idoneedsomethingdesperately.SomethingtohealPeeta’s

leg.

“Eachofyouwillfindthatsomethinginabackpack,marked

withyourdistrictnumber,attheCornucopiaatdawn.Thinkhard

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aboutrefusingtoshowup.Forsomeofyou,thiswillbeyourlast

chance,”saysClaudius.

There’snothingelse,justhiswordshangingintheair.I

jumpasPeetagripsmyshoulderfrombehind.“No,”hesays.

“You’renotriskingyourlifeforme.”

“WhosaidIwas?”Isay.

“So,you’renotgoing?”heasks.

“Ofcourse,I’mnotgoing.Givemesomecredit.Doyou

thinkI’mrunningstraightintosomefree-for-allagainstCato

andCloveandThresh?Don’tbestupid,”Isay,helpinghimback

tobed.“I’llletthemfightitout,we’llseewho’sinthesky

tomorrownightandworkoutaplanfromthere.”

“You’resuchabadliar,Katniss.Idon’tknowhowyou’ve

survivedthislong.”Hebeginstomimicme.“Iknewthatgoat

wouldbealittlegoldmine.You’realittlecoolerthough.Of

course,I’mnotgoing.”Heshakeshishead.“Nevergambleat

cards.You’llloseyourlastcoin,”hesays.

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Angerflushesmyface.“Allright,Iamgoing,andyoucan’t

stopme!”

“Icanfollowyou.Atleastpartway.Imaynotmakeittothe

Cornucopia,butifI’myellingyourname,Ibetsomeonecanfind

me.AndthenI’llbedeadforsure,”hesays.

“Youwon’tgetahundredyardsfromhereonthatleg,”Isay.

“ThenI’lldragmyself,”saysPeeta.“YougoandI’mgoing,

too.”

He’sjuststubbornenoughandmaybejuststrongenoughto

doit.Comehowlingaftermeinthewoods.Evenifatribute

doesn’tfindhim,somethingelsemight.Hecan’tdefendhimself.

I’dprobablyhavetowallhimupinthecavejusttogomyself.

Andwhoknowswhattheexertionwilldotohim?

“WhatamIsupposedtodo?Sithereandwatchyoudie?”I

say.Hemustknowthat’snotanoption.Thattheaudiencewould

hateme.Andfrankly,Iwouldhatemyself,too,ifIdidn’teven

try.

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“Iwon’tdie.Ipromise.Ifyoupromisenottogo,”hesays.

We’reatsomethingofastalemate.IknowIcan’targuehim

outofthisone,soIdon’ttry.Ipretend,reluctantly,togoalong.

“ThenyouhavetodowhatIsay.Drinkyourwater,wakeme

whenItellyou,andeateverybiteofthesoupnomatterhow

disgustingitis!”Isnapathim.

“Agreed.Isitready?”heasks.

“Waithere,”Isay.Theair’sgonecoldeventhoughthesun’s

stillup.I’mrightabouttheGamemakersmessingwiththe

temperature.Iwonderifthethingsomeoneneedsdesperatelyis

agoodblanket.Thesoupisstillniceandwarminitsironpot.

Andactuallydoesn’ttastetoobad.

Peetaeatswithoutcomplaint,evenscrapingoutthepotto

showhisenthusiasm.Heramblesonabouthowdeliciousitis,

whichshouldbeencouragingifyoudon’tknowwhatfeverdoes

topeople.He’slikelisteningtoHaymitchbeforethealcoholhas

soakedhimintoincoherence.Igivehimanotherdoseoffever

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medicinebeforehegoesoffhisheadcompletely.

AsIgodowntothestreamtowashup,allIcanthinkisthat

he’sgoingtodieifIdon’tgettothatfeast.I’llkeephimgoing

foradayortwo,andthentheinfectionwillreachhisheartorhis

brainorhislungsandhe’llbegone.AndI’llbehereallalone.

Again.Waitingfortheothers.

I’msolostinthoughtthatIalmostmisstheparachute,even

thoughitfloatsrightbyme.ThenIspringafterit,yankingit

fromthewater,tearingoffthesilverfabrictoretrievethevial.

Haymitchhasdoneit!He’sgottenthemedicine—Idon’tknow

how,persuadedsomegaggleofromanticfoolstoselltheir

jewels—andIcansavePeeta!It’ssuchatinyvialthough.It

mustbeverystrongtocuresomeoneasillasPeeta.Arippleof

doubtrunsthroughme.Iuncorkthevialandtakeadeepsniff.

Myspiritsfallatthesicklysweetscent.Justtobesure,Iplacea

droponthetipofmytongue.There’snoquestion,it’ssleep

syrup.It’sacommonmedicineinDistrict12.Cheap,as

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medicinegoes,butveryaddictive.Almosteveryone’shadadose

atonetimeoranother.Wehavesomeinabottleathome.My

mothergivesittohystericalpatientstoknockthemouttostitch

upabadwoundorquiettheirmindsorjusttohelpsomeonein

paingetthroughthenight.Itonlytakesalittle.Avialthissize

couldknockPeetaoutforafullday,butwhatgoodisthat?I’m

sofuriousI’mabouttothrowHaymitch’slastofferingintothe

streamwhenithitsme.Afullday?That’smorethanIneed.

Imashupahandfulofberriessothetastewon’tbeas

noticeableandaddsomemintleavesforgoodmeasure.ThenI

headbackuptothecave.“I’vebroughtyouatreat.Ifoundanew

patchofberriesalittlefartherdownstream.”

Peetaopenshismouthforthefirstbitewithouthesitation.

Heswallowsthenfrownsslightly.“They’reverysweet.”

“Yes,they’resugarberries.Mymothermakesjamfrom

them.Haven’tyoueverhadthembefore?”Isay,pokingthenext

spoonfulinhismouth.

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“No,”hesays,almostpuzzled.“Buttheytastefamiliar.

Sugarberries?”

“Well,youcan’tgettheminthemarketmuch,theyonly

growwild,”Isay.Anothermouthfulgoesdown.Justonemoreto

go.

“They’resweetassyrup,”hesays,takingthelastspoonful.

“Syrup.”Hiseyeswidenasherealizesthetruth.Iclampmy

handoverhismouthandnosehard,forcinghimtoswallow

insteadofspit.Hetriestomakehimselfvomitthestuffup,but

it’stoolate,he’salreadylosingconsciousness.Evenashefades

away,IcanseeinhiseyeswhatI’vedoneisunforgivable.

Isitbackonmyheelsandlookathimwithamixtureof

sadnessandsatisfaction.AstrayberrystainshischinandIwipe

itaway.“Whocan’tlie,Peeta?”Isay,eventhoughhecan’thear

me.

Itdoesn’tmatter.TherestofPanemcan.

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Intheremaininghoursbeforenightfall,Igatherrocksanddo

mybesttocamouflagetheopeningofthecave.It’saslowand

arduousprocess,butafteralotofsweatingandshiftingthings

around,I’mprettypleasedwithmywork.Thecavenowappears

tobepartofalargerpileofrocks,likesomanyinthevicinity.I

canstillcrawlintoPeetathroughasmallopening,butit’s

undetectablefromtheoutside.That’sgood,becauseI’llneedto

sharethatsleepingbagagaintonight.Also,ifIdon’tmakeit

backfromthefeast,Peetawillbehiddenbutnotentirely

imprisoned.AlthoughIdoubthecanhangonmuchlonger

withoutmedicine.IfIdieatthefeast,District12isn’tlikelyto

haveavictor.

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Imakeamealoutofthesmaller,bonierfishthatinhabitthe

streamdownhere,filleverywatercontainerandpurifyit,and

cleanmyweapons.I’veninearrowsleftinall.Idebateleaving

theknifewithPeetasohe’llhavesomeprotectionwhileI’m

gone,butthere’sreallynopoint.Hewasrightaboutcamouflage

beinghisfinaldefense.ButIstillmighthaveusefortheknife.

WhoknowswhatI’llencounter?

HerearesomethingsI’mfairlycertainof.ThatatleastCato,

Clove,andThreshwillbeonhandwhenthefeaststarts.I’mnot

sureaboutFoxfacesincedirectconfrontationisn’therstyleor

herforte.She’sevensmallerthanIamandunarmed,unless

she’spickedupsomeweaponsrecently.She’llprobablybe

hangingsomewherenearby,seeingwhatshecanscavenge.But

theotherthree...I’mgoingtohavemyhandsfull.Myabilityto

killatadistanceismygreatestasset,butIknowI’llhavetogo

rightintothethickofthingstogetthatbackpack,theonewith

thenumber12onitthatClaudiusTemplesmithmentioned.

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Iwatchthesky,hopingforonelessopponentatdawn,but

nobodyappearstonight.Tomorrowtherewillbefacesupthere.

Feastsalwaysresultinfatalities.

Icrawlintothecave,securemyglasses,andcurlupnextto

Peeta.LuckilyIhadthatgoodlongsleeptoday.Ihavetostay

awake.Idon’treallythinkanyonewillattackourcavetonight,

butIcan’triskmissingthedawn.

Socold,sobitterlycoldtonight.AsiftheGamemakershave

sentaninfusionoffrozenairacrossthearena,whichmaybe

exactlywhatthey’vedone.IlienexttoPeetainthebag,tryingto

absorbeverybitofhisfeverheat.It’sstrangetobesophysically

closetosomeonewho’ssodistant.Peetamightaswellbeback

intheCapitol,orinDistrict12,oronthemoonrightnow,he’d

benohardertoreach.I’veneverfeltloneliersincetheGames

began.

Justacceptitwillbeabadnight,Itellmyself.Itrynotto,

butIcan’thelpthinkingofmymotherandPrim,wonderingif

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they’llsleepawinktonight.AtthislatestageintheGames,with

animportanteventlikethefeast,schoolwillprobablybe

canceled.Myfamilycaneitherwatchonthatstatic-filledold

clunkerofatelevisionathomeorjointhecrowdsinthesquare

towatchonthebig,clearscreens.They’llhaveprivacyathome

butsupportinthesquare.Peoplewillgivethemakindword,a

bitoffoodiftheycanspareit.Iwonderifthebakerhassought

themout,especiallynowthatPeetaandIareateam,andmade

goodonhispromisetokeepmysister’sbellyfull.

SpiritsmustberunninghighinDistrict12.Wesorarely

haveanyonetorootforatthispointintheGames.Surely,people

areexcitedaboutPeetaandme,especiallynowthatwe’re

together.IfIclosemyeyes,Icanimaginetheirshoutsatthe

screens,urginguson.Iseetheirfaces—GreasySaeandMadge

andeventhePeacekeeperswhobuymymeat—cheeringforus.

AndGale.Iknowhim.Hewon’tbeshoutingandcheering.

Buthe’llbewatching,everymoment,everytwistandturn,and

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willingmetocomehome.Iwonderifhe’shopingthatPeeta

makesitaswell.Gale’snotmyboyfriend,butwouldhebe,ifI

openedthatdoor?Hetalkedaboutusrunningawaytogether.

Wasthatjustapracticalcalculationofourchancesofsurvival

awayfromthedistrict?Orsomethingmore?

Iwonderwhathemakesofallthiskissing.

Throughacrackintherocks,Iwatchthemooncrossthesky.

AtwhatIjudgetobeaboutthreehoursbeforedawn,Ibeginfinal

preparations.I’mcarefultoleavePeetawithwaterandthe

medicalkitrightbesidehim.Nothingelsewillbeofmuchuseif

Idon’treturn,andeventhesewouldonlyprolonghislifeashort

time.Aftersomedebate,Istriphimofhisjacketandzipiton

overmyown.Hedoesn’tneedit.Notnowinthesleepingbag

withhisfever,andduringtheday,ifI’mnottheretoremoveit,

he’llberoastinginit.Myhandsarealreadystifffromcold,soI

takeRue’ssparepairofsocks,cutholesformyfingersand

thumbs,andpullthemon.Ithelpsanyway.Ifillhersmallpack

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withsomefood,awaterbottle,andbandages,tucktheknifein

mybelt,getmybowandarrows.I’mabouttoleavewhenI

remembertheimportanceofsustainingthestar-crossedlover

routineandIleanoverandgivePeetaalong,lingeringkiss.I

imaginethetearysighsemanatingfromtheCapitolandpretend

tobrushawayatearofmyown.ThenIsqueezethroughthe

openingintherocksoutintothenight.

Mybreathmakessmallwhitecloudsasithitstheair.It’sas

coldasaNovembernightathome.OnewhereI’veslippedinto

thewoods,lanterninhand,tojoinGaleatsomeprearranged

placewherewe’llsitbundledtogether,sippingherbteafrom

metalflaskswrappedinquilting,hopinggamewillpassourway

asthemorningcomeson.Oh,Gale,Ithink.Ifonlyyouhadmy

backnow...

ImoveasfastasIdare.Theglassesarequiteremarkable,

butIstillsorelymisshavingtheuseofmyleftear.Idon’tknow

whattheexplosiondid,butitdamagedsomethingdeepand

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irreparable.Nevermind.IfIgethome,I’llbesostinkingrich,

I’llbeabletopaysomeonetodomyhearing.

Thewoodsalwayslookdifferentatnight.Evenwiththe

glasses,everythinghasanunfamiliarslanttoit.Asifthe

daytimetreesandflowersandstoneshadgonetobedandsent

slightlymoreominousversionsofthemselvestotaketheir

places.Idon’ttryanythingtricky,liketakinganewroute.I

makemywaybackupthestreamandfollowthesamepathback

toRue’shidingplacenearthelake.Alongtheway,Iseenosign

ofanothertribute,notapuffofbreath,notaquiverofabranch.

EitherI’mthefirsttoarriveortheotherspositionedthemselves

lastnight.There’sstillmorethananhour,maybetwo,whenI

wriggleintotheunderbrushandwaitforthebloodtobeginto

flow.

Ichewafewmintleaves,mystomachisn’tupformuch

more.Thankgoodness,IhavePeeta’sjacketaswellasmyown.

Ifnot,I’dbeforcedtomovearoundtostaywarm.Theskyturns

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amistymorninggrayandstillthere’snosignoftheother

tributes.It’snotsurprisingreally.Everyonehasdistinguished

themselveseitherbystrengthordeadlinessorcunning.Dothey

suppose,Iwonder,thatIhavePeetawithme?IdoubtFoxface

andThreshevenknowhewaswounded.Allthebetterifthey

thinkhe’scoveringmewhenIgoinforthebackpack.

Butwhereisit?Thearenahaslightenedenoughformeto

removemyglasses.Icanhearthemorningbirdssinging.Isn’tit

time?Forasecond,I’mpanickedthatI’matthewronglocation.

Butno,I’mcertainIrememberClaudiusTemplesmith

specifyingtheCornucopia.Andthereitis.AndhereIam.So

where’smyfeast?

JustasthefirstrayofsunglintsoffthegoldCornucopia,

there’sadisturbanceontheplain.Thegroundbeforethemouth

ofthehornsplitsintwoandaroundtablewithasnowywhite

clothrisesintothearena.Onthetablesitfourbackpacks,two

largeblackoneswiththenumbers2and11,amedium-sizegreen

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onewiththenumber5,andatinyorangeone—reallyIcould

carryitaroundmywrist—thatmustbemarkedwitha12.

Thetablehasjustclickedintoplacewhenafiguredartsout

oftheCornucopia,snagsthegreenbackpack,andspeedsoff.

Foxface!Leaveittohertocomeupwithsuchacleverandrisky

idea!Therestofusarestillpoisedaroundtheplain,sizingup

thesituation,andshe’sgothers.She’sgotustrapped,too,

becausenoonewantstochaseherdown,notwhiletheirown

packsitssovulnerableonthetable.Foxfacemusthave

purposefullylefttheotherpacksalone,knowingthattostealone

withouthernumberwoulddefinitelybringonapursuer.That

shouldhavebeenmystrategy!BythetimeI’veworkedthrough

theemotionsofsurprise,admiration,anger,jealousy,and

frustration,I’mwatchingthatreddishmaneofhairdisappear

intothetreeswelloutofshootingrange.Huh.I’malways

dreadingtheothers,butmaybeFoxfaceistherealopponenthere.

She’scostmetime,too,becausebynowit’sclearthatImust

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gettothetablenext.Anyonewhobeatsmetoitwilleasilyscoop

upmypackandbegone.Withouthesitation,Isprintforthe

table.IcansensetheemergenceofdangerbeforeIseeit.

Fortunately,thefirstknifecomeswhizzinginonmyrightside

soIcanhearitandI’mabletodeflectitwithmybow.Iturn,

drawingbackthebowstringandsendanarrowstraightatClove’s

heart.Sheturnsjustenoughtoavoidafatalhit,butthepoint

puncturesherupperleftarm.Unfortunately,shethrowswithher

right,butit’senoughtoslowherdownafewmoments,havingto

pullthearrowfromherarm,takeintheseverityofthewound.I

keepmoving,positioningthenextarrowautomatically,asonly

someonewhohashuntedforyearscando.

I’matthetablenow,myfingersclosingoverthetinyorange

backpack.MyhandslipsbetweenthestrapsandIyankitupon

myarm,it’sreallytoosmalltofitonanyotherpartofmy

anatomy,andI’mturningtofireagainwhenthesecondknife

catchesmeintheforehead.Itslicesabovemyrighteyebrow,

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openingagashthatsendsagushrunningdownmyface,blinding

myeye,fillingmymouthwiththesharp,metallictasteofmy

ownblood.Istaggerbackwardbutstillmanagetosendmy

readiedarrowinthegeneraldirectionofmyassailant.Iknowas

itleavesmyhandsitwillmiss.AndthenCloveslamsintome,

knockingmeflatonmyback,pinningmyshoulderstothe

groundwithherknees.

Thisisit,Ithink,andhopeforPrim’ssakeitwillbefast.

ButClovemeanstosavorthemoment.Evenfeelsshehastime.

NodoubtCatoissomewherenearby,guardingher,waitingfor

ThreshandpossiblyPeeta.

“Where’syourboyfriend,DistrictTwelve?Stillhanging

on?”sheasks.

Well,aslongaswe’retalkingI’malive.“He’soutthere

now.HuntingCato,”Isnarlather.ThenIscreamatthetopof

mylungs.“Peeta!”

Clovejamsherfistintomywindpipe,veryeffectively

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cuttingoffmyvoice.Butherhead’swhippingfromsidetoside,

andIknowforamomentshe’satleastconsideringI’mtelling

thetruth.SincenoPeetaappearstosaveme,sheturnsbackto

me.

“Liar,”shesayswithagrin.“He’snearlydead.Catoknows

wherehecuthim.You’veprobablygothimstrappedupinsome

treewhileyoutrytokeephisheartgoing.What’sinthepretty

littlebackpack?ThatmedicineforLoverBoy?Toobadhe’ll

nevergetit.”

Cloveopensherjacket.It’slinedwithanimpressivearrayof

knives.Shecarefullyselectsanalmostdainty-lookingnumber

withacruel,curvedblade.“IpromisedCatoifheletmehave

you,I’dgivetheaudienceagoodshow.”

I’mstrugglingnowinanefforttounseather,butit’snouse.

She’stooheavyandherlockonmetootight.

“Forgetit,DistrictTwelve.We’regoingtokillyou.Justlike

wedidyourpatheticlittleally...whatwashername?Theone

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whohoppedaroundinthetrees?Rue?Well,firstRue,thenyou,

andthenIthinkwe’lljustletnaturetakecareofLoverBoy.How

doesthatsound?”Cloveasks.“Now,wheretostart?”

Shecarelesslywipesawaythebloodfrommywoundwith

herjacketsleeve.Foramoment,shesurveysmyface,tiltingit

fromsidetosideasifit’sablockofwoodandshe’sdeciding

exactlywhatpatterntocarveonit.Iattempttobiteherhand,but

shegrabsthehaironthetopofmyhead,forcingmebacktothe

ground.“Ithink...”shealmostpurrs.“Ithinkwe’llstartwith

yourmouth.”Iclampmyteethtogetherassheteasinglytraces

theoutlineofmylipswiththetipoftheblade.

Iwon’tclosemyeyes.ThecommentaboutRuehasfilledme

withfury,enoughfuryIthinktodiewithsomedignity.Asmy

lastactofdefiance,IwillstareherdownaslongasIcansee,

whichwillprobablynotbeanextendedperiodoftime,butIwill

stareherdown,Iwillnotcryout,Iwilldie,inmyownsmall

way,undefeated.

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“Yes,Idon’tthinkyou’llhavemuchuseforyourlips

anymore.WanttoblowLoverBoyonelastkiss?”sheasks.I

workupamouthfulofbloodandsalivaandspititinherface.

Sheflusheswithrage.“Allrightthen.Let’sgetstarted.”

Ibracemyselffortheagonythat’ssuretofollow.ButasI

feelthetipopenthefirstcutatmylip,somegreatforceyanks

Clovefrommybodyandthenshe’sscreaming.I’mtoostunned

atfirst,toounabletoprocesswhathashappened.HasPeeta

somehowcometomyrescue?HavetheGamemakerssentin

somewildanimaltoaddtothefun?Hasahovercraft

inexplicablypluckedherintotheair?

ButwhenIpushmyselfuponmynumbarms,Iseeit’snone

oftheabove.Cloveisdanglingafootofftheground,imprisoned

inThresh’sarms.Iletoutagasp,seeinghimlikethat,towering

overme,holdingClovelikearagdoll.Irememberhimasbig,

butheseemsmoremassive,morepowerfulthanIevenrecall.If

anything,heseemstohavegainedweightinthearena.Heflips

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Clovearoundandflingsherontotheground.

Whenheshouts,Ijump,neverhavingheardhimspeakabove

amutter.“What’dyoudotothatlittlegirl?Youkillher?”

Cloveisscramblingbackwardonallfours,likeafrantic

insect,tooshockedtoevencallforCato.“No!No,itwasn’tme!”

“Yousaidhername.Iheardyou.Youkillher?”Another

thoughtbringsafreshwaveofragetohisfeatures.“Youcuther

uplikeyouweregoingtocutupthisgirlhere?”

“No!No,I—”Cloveseesthestone,aboutthesizeofasmall

loafofbreadinThresh’shandandlosesit.“Cato!”she

screeches.“Cato!”

“Clove!”IhearCato’sanswer,buthe’stoofaraway,Ican

tellthatmuch,todoheranygood.Whatwashedoing?Tryingto

getFoxfaceorPeeta?OrhadhebeenlyinginwaitforThresh

andjustbadlymisjudgedhislocation?

ThreshbringstherockdownhardagainstClove’stemple.

It’snotbleeding,butIcanseethedentinherskullandIknow

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thatshe’sagoner.There’sstilllifeinhernowthough,inthe

rapidriseandfallofherchest,thelowmoanescapingherlips.

WhenThreshwhirlsaroundonme,therockraised,Iknow

it’snogoodtorun.Andmybowisempty,thelastloadedarrow

havinggoneinClove’sdirection.I’mtrappedintheglareofhis

strangegoldenbrowneyes.“What’dshemean?AboutRuebeing

yourally?”

“I—I—weteamedup.Blewupthesupplies.Itriedtosave

her,Idid.Buthegottherefirst.DistrictOne,”Isay.Maybeifhe

knowsIhelpedRue,hewon’tchoosesomeslow,sadisticendfor

me.

“Andyoukilledhim?”hedemands.

“Yes.Ikilledhim.Andburiedherinflowers,”Isay.“AndI

sanghertosleep.”

Tearsspringinmyeyes.Thetension,thefightgoesoutof

meatthememory.AndI’moverwhelmedbyRue,andthepain

inmyhead,andmyfearofThresh,andthemoaningofthedying

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girlafewfeetaway.

“Tosleep?”Threshsaysgruffly.

“Todeath.Isanguntilshedied,”Isay.“Yourdistrict...

theysentmebread.”Myhandreachesupbutnotforanarrow

thatIknowI’llneverreach.Justtowipemynose.“Doitfast,

okay,Thresh?”

ConflictingemotionscrossThresh’sface.Helowerstherock

andpointsatme,almostaccusingly.“Justthisonetime,Iletyou

go.Forthelittlegirl.Youandme,we’reeventhen.Nomore

owed.Youunderstand?”

InodbecauseIdounderstand.Aboutowing.Abouthatingit.

IunderstandthatifThreshwins,he’llhavetogobackandfacea

districtthathasalreadybrokenalltherulestothankme,andhe

isbreakingtherulestothankme,too.AndIunderstandthat,for

themoment,Threshisnotgoingtosmashinmyskull.

“Clove!”Cato’svoiceismuchnearernow.Icantellbythe

paininitthatheseesherontheground.

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“Youbetterrunnow,FireGirl,”saysThresh.

Idon’tneedtobetoldtwice.Iflipoverandmyfeetdiginto

thehard-packedearthasIrunawayfromThreshandCloveand

thesoundofCato’svoice.OnlywhenIreachthewoodsdoIturn

backforaninstant.Threshandbothlargebackpacksare

vanishingovertheedgeoftheplainintotheareaI’veneverseen.

CatokneelsbesideClove,spearinhand,begginghertostaywith

him.Inamoment,hewillrealizeit’sfutile,shecan’tbesaved.I

crashintothetrees,repeatedlyswipingawaythebloodthat’s

pouringintomyeye,fleeinglikethewild,woundedcreatureI

am.Afterafewminutes,IhearthecannonandIknowthatClove

hasdied,thatCatowillbeononeofourtrails.EitherThresh’sor

mine.I’mseizedwithterror,weakfrommyheadwound,

shaking.Iloadanarrow,butCatocanthrowthatspearalmostas

farasIcanshoot.

Onlyonethingcalmsmedown.ThreshhasCato’sbackpack

containingthethingheneedsdesperately.IfIhadtobet,Cato

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headedoutafterThresh,notme.StillIdon’tslowdownwhenI

reachthewater.Iplungerightin,bootsstillon,andflounder

downstream.IpulloffRue’ssocksthatI’vebeenusingfor

glovesandpressthemintomyforehead,tryingtostaunchthe

flowofblood,butthey’resoakedinminutes.

SomehowImakeitbacktothecave.Isqueezethroughthe

rocks.Inthedappledlight,Ipullthelittleorangebackpackfrom

myarm,cutopentheclasp,anddumpthecontentsonthe

ground.Oneslimboxcontainingonehypodermicneedle.

Withouthesitating,IjamtheneedleintoPeeta’sarmandslowly

pressdownontheplunger.

Myhandsgotomyheadandthendroptomylap,slickwith

blood.

ThelastthingIrememberisanexquisitelybeautifulgreen-

and-silvermothlandingonthecurveofmywrist.

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Thesoundofraindrummingontheroofofourhousegently

pullsmetowardconsciousness.Ifighttoreturntosleepthough,

wrappedinawarmcocoonofblankets,safeathome.I’m

vaguelyawarethatmyheadaches.PossiblyIhavethefluand

thisiswhyI’mallowedtostayinbed,eventhoughIcantellI’ve

beenasleepalongtime.Mymother’shandstrokesmycheekand

Idon’tpushitawayasIwouldinwakefulness,neverwanting

hertoknowhowmuchIcravethatgentletouch.HowmuchI

misshereventhoughIstilldon’ttrusther.Thenthere’savoice,

thewrongvoice,notmymother’s,andI’mscared.

“Katniss,”itsays.“Katniss,canyouhearme?”

Myeyesopenandthesenseofsecurityvanishes.I’mnot

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home,notwithmymother.I’minadim,chillycave,mybare

feetfreezingdespitethecover,theairtaintedwiththe

unmistakablesmellofblood.Thehaggard,palefaceofaboy

slidesintoview,andafteraninitialjoltofalarm,Ifeelbetter.

“Peeta.”

“Hey,”hesays.“Goodtoseeyoureyesagain.”

“HowlonghaveIbeenout?”Iask.

“Notsure.Iwokeupyesterdayeveningandyouwerelying

nexttomeinaveryscarypoolofblood,”hesays.“Ithinkit’s

stoppedfinally,butIwouldn’tsituporanything.”

Igingerlyliftmyhandtomyheadandfinditbandaged.This

simplegestureleavesmeweakanddizzy.Peetaholdsabottleto

mylipsandIdrinkthirstily.

“You’rebetter,”Isay.

“Muchbetter.Whateveryoushotintomyarmdidthetrick,”

hesays.“Bythismorning,almostalltheswellinginmylegwas

gone.”

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Hedoesn’tseemangryaboutmytrickinghim,drugginghim,

andrunningofftothefeast.MaybeI’mjusttoobeat-upandI’ll

hearaboutitlaterwhenI’mstronger.Butforthemoment,he’s

allgentleness.

“Didyoueat?”Iask.

“I’msorrytosayIgobbleddownthreepiecesofthat

grooslingbeforeIrealizeditmighthavetolastawhile.Don’t

worry,I’mbackonastrictdiet,”hesays.

“No,it’sgood.Youneedtoeat.I’llgohuntingsoon,”Isay.

“Nottoosoon,allright?”hesays.“Youjustletmetakecare

ofyouforawhile.”

Idon’treallyseemtohavemuchchoice.Peetafeedsme

bitesofgrooslingandraisinsandmakesmedrinkplentyof

water.Herubssomewarmthbackintomyfeetandwrapsthem

inhisjacketbeforetuckingthesleepingbagbackuparoundmy

chin.

“Yourbootsandsocksarestilldampandtheweather’snot

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helpingmuch,”hesays.There’saclapofthunder,andIsee

lightningelectrifytheskythroughanopeningintherocks.Rain

dripsthroughseveralholesintheceiling,butPeetahasbuilta

sortofcanopyovermyheadandupperbodybywedgingthe

squareofplasticintotherocksaboveme.

“Iwonderwhatbroughtonthisstorm?Imean,who’sthe

target?”saysPeeta.

“CatoandThresh,”Isaywithoutthinking.“Foxfacewillbe

inherdensomewhere,andClove...shecutmeandthen...”

Myvoicetrailsoff.

“IknowClove’sdead.Isawitintheskylastnight,”hesays.

“Didyoukillher?”

“No.Threshbrokeherskullwitharock,”Isay.

“Luckyhedidn’tcatchyou,too,”saysPeeta.

Thememoryofthefeastreturnsfull-forceandIfeelsick.

“Hedid.Butheletmego.”Then,ofcourse,Ihavetotellhim.

AboutthingsI’vekepttomyselfbecausehewastoosicktoask

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andIwasn’treadytoreliveanyway.Liketheexplosionandmy

earandRue’sdyingandtheboyfromDistrict1andthebread.

AllofwhichleadstowhathappenedwithThreshandhowhewas

payingoffadebtofsorts.

“Heletyougobecausehedidn’twanttooweyouanything?”

asksPeetaindisbelief.

“Yes.Idon’texpectyoutounderstandit.You’vealwayshad

enough.Butifyou’dlivedintheSeam,Iwouldn’thaveto

explain,”Isay.

“Anddon’ttry.ObviouslyI’mtoodimtogetit,”hesays.

“It’slikethebread.HowIneverseemtogetoverowingyou

forthat,”Isay.

“Thebread?What?Fromwhenwewerekids?”hesays.“I

thinkwecanletthatgo.Imean,youjustbroughtmebackfrom

thedead.”

“Butyoudidn’tknowme.Wehadneverevenspoken.

Besides,it’sthefirstgiftthat’salwaysthehardesttopayback.I

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wouldn’tevenhavebeenheretodoitifyouhadn’thelpedme

then,”Isay.“Whydidyou,anyway?”

“Why?Youknowwhy,”Peetasays.Igivemyheadaslight,

painfulshake.“Haymitchsaidyouwouldtakealotof

convincing.”

“Haymitch?”Iask.“What’shegottodowithit?”

“Nothing,”Peetasays.“So,CatoandThresh,huh?Iguess

it’stoomuchtohopethatthey’llsimultaneouslydestroyeach

other?”

Butthethoughtonlyupsetsme.“Ithinkwewouldlike

Thresh.Ithinkhe’dbeourfriendbackinDistrictTwelve,”Isay.

“Thenlet’shopeCatokillshim,sowedon’thaveto,”says

Peetagrimly.

Idon’twantCatotokillThreshatall.Idon’twantanyone

elsetodie.Butthisisabsolutelynotthekindofthingthat

victorsgoaroundsayinginthearena.Despitemybestefforts,I

canfeeltearsstartingtopoolinmyeyes.

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Peetalooksatmeinconcern.“Whatisit?Areyouinalotof

pain?”

Igivehimanotheranswer,becauseitisequallytruebutcan

betakenasabriefmomentofweaknessinsteadofaterminal

one.“Iwanttogohome,Peeta,”Isayplaintively,likeasmall

child.

“Youwill.Ipromise,”hesays,andbendsovertogivemea

kiss.

“Iwanttogohomenow,”Isay.

“Tellyouwhat.Yougobacktosleepanddreamofhome.

Andyou’llbethereforrealbeforeyouknowit,”hesays.

“Okay?”

“Okay,”Iwhisper.“Wakemeifyouneedmetokeep

watch.”

“I’mgoodandrested,thankstoyouandHaymitch.Besides,

whoknowshowlongthiswilllast?”hesays.

Whatdoeshemean?Thestorm?Thebriefrespiteitbrings

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us?TheGamesthemselves?Idon’tknow,butI’mtoosadand

tiredtoask.

It’seveningwhenPeetawakesmeagain.Therainhasturned

toadownpour,sendingstreamsofwaterthroughourceiling

whereearliertherehadbeenonlydrips.Peetahasplacedthe

brothpotundertheworstoneandrepositionedtheplasticto

deflectmostofitfromme.Ifeelabitbetter,abletositup

withoutgettingtoodizzy,andI’mabsolutelyfamished.Sois

Peeta.It’sclearhe’sbeenwaitingformetowakeuptoeatandis

eagertogetstarted.

There’snotmuchleft.Twopiecesofgroosling,asmall

mishmashofroots,andahandfulofdriedfruit.

“Shouldwetryandrationit?”Peetaasks.

“No,let’sjustfinishit.Thegroosling’sgettingoldanyway,

andthelastthingweneedistogetsickoffspoiledfood,”Isay,

dividingthefoodintotwoequalpiles.Wetryandeatslowly,but

we’rebothsohungrywe’redoneinacoupleofminutes.My

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stomachisinnowaysatisfied.

“Tomorrow’sahuntingday,”Isay.

“Iwon’tbemuchhelpwiththat,”Peetasays.“I’venever

huntedbefore.”

“I’llkillandyoucook,”Isay.“Andyoucanalwaysgather.”

“Iwishtherewassomesortofbreadbushoutthere,”says

Peeta.

“ThebreadtheysentmefromDistrictElevenwasstill

warm,”Isaywithasigh.“Here,chewthese.”Ihandhima

coupleofmintleavesandpopafewinmyownmouth.

It’shardtoevenseetheprojectioninthesky,butit’sclear

enoughtoknowtherewerenomoredeathstoday.SoCatoand

Threshhaven’thaditoutyet.

“WheredidThreshgo?Imean,what’sonthefarsideofthe

circle?”IaskPeeta.

“Afield.Asfarasyoucanseeit’sfullofgrassesashighas

myshoulders.Idon’tknow,maybesomeofthemaregrain.

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Therearepatchesofdifferentcolors.Buttherearenopaths,”

saysPeeta.

“Ibetsomeofthemaregrain.IbetThreshknowswhich

ones,too,”Isay.“Didyougointhere?”

“No.NobodyreallywantedtotrackThreshdowninthat

grass.Ithasasinisterfeelingtoit.EverytimeIlookatthat

field,allIcanthinkofarehiddenthings.Snakes,andrabid

animals,andquicksand,”Peetasays.“Therecouldbeanythingin

there.”

Idon’tsaysobutPeeta’swordsremindmeofthewarnings

theygiveusaboutnotgoingbeyondthefenceinDistrict12.I

can’thelp,foramoment,comparinghimwithGale,whowould

seethatfieldasapotentialsourceoffoodaswellasathreat.

Threshcertainlydid.It’snotthatPeeta’ssoftexactly,andhe’s

provedhe’snotacoward.Buttherearethingsyoudon’tquestion

toomuch,Iguess,whenyourhomealwayssmellslikebaking

bread,whereasGalequestionseverything.WhatwouldPeeta

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thinkoftheirreverentbanterthatpassesbetweenusaswebreak

thelaweachday?Woulditshockhim?Thethingswesayabout

Panem?Gale’stiradesagainsttheCapitol?

“Maybethereisabreadbushinthatfield,”Isay.“Maybe

that’swhyThreshlooksbetterfednowthanwhenwestartedthe

Games.”

“Eitherthatorhe’sgotverygeneroussponsors,”saysPeeta.

“Iwonderwhatwe’dhavetodotogetHaymitchtosendussome

bread.”

IraisemyeyebrowsbeforeIrememberhedoesn’tknow

aboutthemessageHaymitchsentusacoupleofnightsago.One

kissequalsonepotofbroth.It’snotthesortofthingIcanblurt

out,either.Tosaymythoughtsaloudwouldbetippingoffthe

audiencethattheromancehasbeenfabricatedtoplayontheir

sympathiesandthatwouldresultinnofoodatall.Somehow,

believably,I’vegottogetthingsbackontrack.Something

simpletostartwith.Ireachoutandtakehishand.

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“Well,heprobablyusedupalotofresourceshelpingme

knockyouout,”Isaymischievously.

“Yeah,aboutthat,”saysPeeta,entwininghisfingersinmine.

“Don’ttrysomethinglikethatagain.”

“Orwhat?”Iask.

“Or...or...”Hecan’tthinkofanythinggood.“Justgive

meaminute.”

“What’stheproblem?”Isaywithagrin.

“Theproblemiswe’rebothstillalive.Whichonlyreinforces

theideainyourmindthatyoudidtherightthing,”saysPeeta.

“Ididdotherightthing,”Isay.

“No!Justdon’t,Katniss!”Hisgriptightens,hurtingmy

hand,andthere’srealangerinhisvoice.“Don’tdieforme.You

won’tbedoingmeanyfavors.Allright?”

I’mstartledbyhisintensitybutrecognizeanexcellent

opportunityforgettingfood,soItrytokeepup.“MaybeIdidit

formyself,Peeta,didyoueverthinkofthat?Maybeyouaren’t

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theonlyonewho...whoworriesabout...whatitwouldbelike

if...”

Ifumble.I’mnotassmoothwithwordsasPeeta.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back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.

“Ifwhat,Katniss?”hesayssoftly.

IwishIcouldpulltheshuttersclosed,blockingoutthis

momentfromthepryingeyesofPanem.Evenifitmeanslosing

food.WhateverI’mfeeling,it’snoone’sbusinessbutmine.

“That’sexactlythekindoftopicHaymitchtoldmetosteer

clearof,”Isayevasively,althoughHaymitchneversaidanything

ofthekind.Infact,he’sprobablycursingmeoutrightnowfor

droppingtheballduringsuchanemotionallychargedmoment.

ButPeetasomehowcatchesit.

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“ThenI’lljusthavetofillintheblanksmyself,”hesays,and

movesintome.

Thisisthefirstkissthatwe’rebothfullyawareof.Neither

ofushobbledbysicknessorpainorsimplyunconscious.Our

lipsneitherburningwithfeveroricycold.Thisisthefirstkiss

whereIactuallyfeelstirringinsidemychest.Warmandcurious.

Thisisthefirstkissthatmakesmewantanother.

ButIdon’tgetit.Well,Idogetasecondkiss,butit’sjusta

lightoneonthetipofmynosebecausePeeta’sbeendistracted.

“Ithinkyourwoundisbleedingagain.Comeon,liedown,it’s

bedtimeanyway,”hesays.

Mysocksaredryenoughtowearnow.ImakePeetaputhis

jacketbackon.Thedampcoldseemstocutrightdowntomy

bones,sohemustbehalffrozen.Iinsistontakingthefirst

watch,too,althoughneitherofusthinkit’slikelyanyonewill

comeinthisweather.Buthewon’tagreeunlessI’minthebag,

too,andI’mshiveringsohardthatit’spointlesstoobject.In

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starkcontrasttotwonightsago,whenIfeltPeetawasamillion

milesaway,I’mstruckbyhisimmediacynow.Aswesettlein,

hepullsmyheaddowntousehisarmasapillow;theotherrests

protectivelyovermeevenwhenhegoestosleep.Noonehas

heldmelikethisinsuchalongtime.SincemyfatherdiedandI

stoppedtrustingmymother,nooneelse’sarmshavemademe

feelthissafe.

Withtheaidoftheglasses,Iliewatchingthedripsofwater

splatteronthecavefloor.Rhythmicandlulling.Severaltimes,I

driftoffbrieflyandthensnapawake,guiltyandangrywith

myself.Afterthreeorfourhours,Ican’thelpit,Ihavetorouse

PeetabecauseIcan’tkeepmyeyesopen.Hedoesn’tseemto

mind.

“Tomorrow,whenit’sdry,I’llfindusaplacesohighinthe

treeswecanbothsleepinpeace,”IpromiseasIdriftoff.

Buttomorrowisnobetterintermsofweather.Thedeluge

continuesasiftheGamemakersareintentonwashingusall

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away.Thethunder’ssopowerfulitseemstoshaketheground.

Peeta’sconsideringheadingoutanywaytoscavengeforfood,

butItellhiminthisstormitwouldbepointless.Hewon’tbe

abletoseethreefeetinfrontofhisfaceandhe’llonlyendup

gettingsoakedtotheskinforhistroubles.HeknowsI’mright,

butthegnawinginourstomachsisbecomingpainful.

Thedaydragsonturningintoeveningandthere’snobreak

intheweather.Haymitchisouronlyhope,butnothingis

forthcoming,eitherfromlackofmoney—everythingwillcost

anexorbitantamount—orbecausehe’sdissatisfiedwithour

performance.Probablythelatter.I’dbethefirsttoadmitwe’re

notexactlyrivetingtoday.Starving,weakfrominjuries,trying

nottoreopenwounds.We’resittinghuddledtogetherwrappedin

thesleepingbag,yes,butmostlytokeepwarm.Themost

excitingthingeitherofusdoesisnap.

I’mnotreallysurehowtorampuptheromance.Thekiss

lastnightwasnice,butworkinguptoanotherwilltakesome

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forethought.TherearegirlsintheSeam,someofthemerchant

girls,too,whonavigatethesewaterssoeasily.ButI’venever

hadmuchtimeoruseforit.Anyway,justakissisn’tenough

anymoreclearlybecauseifitwaswe’dhavegottenfoodlast

night.MyinstinctstellmeHaymitchisn’tjustlookingfor

physicalaffection,hewantssomethingmorepersonal.Thesort

ofstuffhewastryingtogetmetotellaboutmyselfwhenwe

werepracticingfortheinterview.I’mrottenatit,butPeeta’s

not.Maybethebestapproachistogethimtalking.

“Peeta,”Isaylightly.“Yousaidattheinterviewyou’dhada

crushonmeforever.Whendidforeverstart?”

“Oh,let’ssee.Iguessthefirstdayofschool.Wewerefive.

Youhadonaredplaiddressandyourhair...itwasintwo

braidsinsteadofone.Myfatherpointedyououtwhenwewere

waitingtolineup,”Peetasays.

“Yourfather?Why?”Iask.

“Hesaid,‘Seethatlittlegirl?Iwantedtomarryhermother,

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butsheranoffwithacoalminer,’”Peetasays.

“What?You’remakingthatup!”Iexclaim.

“No,truestory,”Peetasays.“AndIsaid,‘Acoalminer?

Whydidshewantacoalminerifshecould’vehadyou?’Andhe

said,‘Becausewhenhesings...eventhebirdsstoptolisten.’”

“That’strue.Theydo.Imean,theydid,”Isay.I’mstunned

andsurprisinglymoved,thinkingofthebakertellingthisto

Peeta.Itstrikesmethatmyownreluctancetosing,myown

dismissalofmusicmightnotreallybethatIthinkit’sawasteof

time.Itmightbebecauseitremindsmetoomuchofmyfather.

“Sothatday,inmusicassembly,theteacheraskedwhoknew

thevalleysong.Yourhandshotrightupintheair.Shestoodyou

uponastoolandhadyousingitforus.AndIswear,everybird

outsidethewindowsfellsilent,”Peetasays.

“Oh,please,”Isay,laughing.

“No,ithappened.Andrightwhenyoursongended,Iknew

—justlikeyourmother—Iwasagoner,”Peetasays.“Thenfor

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thenextelevenyears,Itriedtoworkupthenervetotalktoyou.”

“Withoutsuccess,”Iadd.

“Withoutsuccess.So,inaway,mynamebeingdrawninthe

reapingwasarealpieceofluck,”saysPeeta.

Foramoment,I’malmostfoolishlyhappyandthen

confusionsweepsoverme.Becausewe’resupposedtobe

makingupthisstuff,playingatbeinginlove,notactuallybeing

inlove.ButPeeta’sstoryhasaringoftruthtoit.Thatpartabout

myfatherandthebirds.AndIdidsingthefirstdayofschool,

althoughIdon’trememberthesong.Andthatredplaiddress...

therewasone,ahand-me-downtoPrimthatgotwashedtorags

aftermyfather’sdeath.

Itwouldexplainanotherthing,too.WhyPeetatooka

beatingtogivemethebreadonthatawfulhollowday.So,if

thosedetailsaretrue...coulditallbetrue?

“Youhavea...remarkablememory,”Isayhaltingly.

“Iremembereverythingaboutyou,”saysPeeta,tuckinga

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loosestrandofhairbehindmyear.“You’retheonewhowasn’t

payingattention.”

“Iamnow,”Isay.

“Well,Idon’thavemuchcompetitionhere,”hesays.

Iwanttodrawaway,toclosethoseshuttersagain,butI

knowIcan’t.It’sasifIcanhearHaymitchwhisperinginmyear,

“Sayit!Sayit!”

Iswallowhardandgetthewordsout.“Youdon’thavemuch

competitionanywhere.”Andthistime,it’smewholeansin.

Ourlipshavejustbarelytouchedwhentheclunkoutside

makesusjump.Mybowcomesup,thearrowreadytofly,but

there’snoothersound.Peetapeersthroughtherocksandthen

givesawhoop.BeforeIcanstophim,he’soutintherain,then

handingsomethingintome.Asilverparachuteattachedtoa

basket.Iripitopenatonceandinsidethere’safeast—fresh

rolls,goatcheese,apples,andbestofall,atureenofthat

incrediblelambstewonwildrice.TheverydishItoldCaesar

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FlickermanwasthemostimpressivethingtheCapitolhadto

offer.

Peetawrigglesbackinside,hisfacelituplikethesun.“I

guessHaymitchfinallygottiredofwatchingusstarve.”

“Iguessso,”Ianswer.

ButinmyheadIcanhearHaymitch’ssmug,ifslightly

exasperated,words,“Yes,that’swhatI’mlookingfor,

sweetheart.”

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Everycellinmybodywantsmetodigintothestewand

cramit,handfulbyhandfulintomymouth.ButPeeta’svoice

stopsme.“Webettertakeitslowonthatstew.Rememberthe

firstnightonthetrain?TherichfoodmademesickandIwasn’t

evenstarvingthen.”

“You’reright.AndIcouldjustinhalethewholething!”Isay

regretfully.ButIdon’t.Wearequitesensible.Weeachhavea

roll,halfanapple,andanegg-sizeservingofstewandrice.I

makemyselfeatthestewintinyspoonfuls—theyevensentus

silverwareandplates—savoringeachbite.Whenwefinish,I

starelonginglyatthedish.“Iwantmore.”

“Me,too.Tellyouwhat.Wewaitanhour,ifitstaysdown,

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thenwegetanotherserving,”Peetasays.

“Agreed,”Isay.“It’sgoingtobealonghour.”

“Maybenotthatlong,”saysPeeta.“Whatwasthatyouwere

sayingjustbeforethefoodarrived?Somethingaboutme...no

competition...bestthingthateverhappenedtoyou...”

“Idon’trememberthatlastpart,”Isay,hopingit’stoodim

inhereforthecamerastopickupmyblush.

“Oh,that’sright.That’swhatIwasthinking,”hesays.

“Scootover,I’mfreezing.”

Imakeroomforhiminthesleepingbag.Weleanback

againstthecavewall,myheadonhisshoulder,hisarmswrapped

aroundme.IcanfeelHaymitchnudgingmetokeepuptheact.

“So,sincewewerefive,youneverevennoticedanyothergirls?”

Iaskhim.

“No,Inoticedjustabouteverygirl,butnoneofthemmadea

lastingimpressionbutyou,”hesays.

“I’msurethatwouldthrillyourparents,youlikingagirl

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fromtheSeam,”Isay.

“Hardly.ButIcouldn’tcareless.Anyway,ifwemakeit

back,youwon’tbeagirlfromtheSeam,you’llbeagirlfrom

theVictor’sVillage,”hesays.

That’sright.Ifwewin,we’lleachgetahouseinthepartof

townreservedforHungerGames’victors.Longago,whenthe

Gamesbegan,theCapitolhadbuiltadozenfinehousesineach

district.Ofcourse,inoursonlyoneisoccupied.Mostofthe

othershaveneverbeenlivedinatall.

Adisturbingthoughthitsme.“Butthen,ouronlyneighbor

willbeHaymitch!”

“Ah,that’llbenice,”saysPeeta,tighteninghisarmsaround

me.“YouandmeandHaymitch.Verycozy.Picnics,birthdays,

longwinternightsaroundthefireretellingoldHungerGames

tales.”

“Itoldyou,hehatesme!”Isay,butIcan’thelplaughingat

theimageofHaymitchbecomingmynewpal.

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“Onlysometimes.Whenhe’ssober,I’veneverheardhim

sayonenegativethingaboutyou,”saysPeeta.

“He’sneversober!”Iprotest.

“That’sright.WhoamIthinkingof?Oh,Iknow.It’sCinna

wholikesyou.Butthat’smainlybecauseyoudidn’ttrytorun

whenhesetyouonfire,”saysPeeta.“Ontheotherhand,

Haymitch...well,ifIwereyou,I’davoidHaymitch

completely.Hehatesyou.”

“IthoughtyousaidIwashisfavorite,”Isay.

“Hehatesmemore,”saysPeeta.“Idon’tthinkpeoplein

generalarehissortofthing.”

IknowtheaudiencewillenjoyourhavingfunatHaymitch’s

expense.Hehasbeenaroundsolong,he’spracticallyanold

friendtosomeofthem.Andafterhishead-diveoffthestageat

thereaping,everybodyknowshim.Bythistime,they’llhave

draggedhimoutofthecontrolroomforinterviewsaboutus.No

tellingwhatsortoflieshe’smadeup.He’satsomethingofa

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disadvantagebecausemostmentorshaveapartner,another

victortohelpthemwhereasHaymitchhastobereadytogointo

actionatanymoment.KindoflikemewhenIwasaloneinthe

arena.Iwonderhowhe’sholdingup,withthedrinking,the

attention,andthestressoftryingtokeepusalive.

It’sfunny.HaymitchandIdon’tgetalongwellinperson,

butmaybePeetaisrightaboutusbeingalikebecauseheseems

abletocommunicatewithmebythetimingofhisgifts.Like

howIknewImustbeclosetowaterwhenhewithhelditandhow

Iknewthesleepsyrupjustwasn’tsomethingtoeasePeeta’spain

andhowIknownowthatIhavetoplayuptheromance.He

hasn’tmademuchefforttoconnectwithPeetareally.Perhapshe

thinksabowlofbrothwouldjustbeabowlofbrothtoPeeta,

whereasI’llseethestringsattachedtoit.

Athoughthitsme,andI’mamazedthequestion’stakenso

longtosurface.Maybeit’sbecauseI’veonlyrecentlybegunto

viewHaymitchwithadegreeofcuriosity.“Howdoyouthinkhe

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didit?”

“Who?Didwhat?”Peetaasks.

“Haymitch.HowdoyouthinkhewontheGames?”Isay.

Peetaconsidersthisquiteawhilebeforeheanswers.

Haymitchissturdilybuilt,butnophysicalwonderlikeCatoor

Thresh.He’snotparticularlyhandsome.Notinthewaythat

causessponsorstoraingiftsonyou.Andhe’ssosurly,it’shard

toimagineanyoneteamingupwithhim.There’sonlyoneway

Haymitchcouldhavewon,andPeetasaysitjustasI’mreaching

thisconclusionmyself.

“Heoutsmartedtheothers,”saysPeeta.

Inod,thenlettheconversationdrop.ButsecretlyI’m

wonderingifHaymitchsobereduplongenoughtohelpPeetaand

mebecausehethoughtwejustmighthavethewitstosurvive.

Maybehewasn’talwaysadrunk.Maybe,inthebeginning,he

triedtohelpthetributes.Butthenitgotunbearable.Itmustbe

helltomentortwokidsandthenwatchthemdie.Yearafteryear

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afteryear.IrealizethatifIgetoutofhere,thatwillbecomemy

job.TomentorthegirlfromDistrict12.Theideaissorepellent,

Ithrustitfrommymind.

AbouthalfanhourhaspassedbeforeIdecideIhavetoeat

again.Peeta’stoohungryhimselftoputupanargument.While

I’mdishinguptwomoresmallservingsoflambstewandrice,

weheartheanthembegintoplay.Peetapresseshiseyesagainst

acrackintherockstowatchthesky.

“Therewon’tbeanythingtoseetonight,”Isay,farmore

interestedinthestewthanthesky.“Nothing’shappenedorwe

would’veheardacannon.”

“Katniss,”Peetasaysquietly.

“What?Shouldwesplitanotherroll,too?”Iask.

“Katniss,”herepeats,butIfindmyselfwantingtoignore

him.

“I’mgoingtosplitone.ButI’llsavethecheesefor

tomorrow,”Isay.IseePeetastaringatme.“What?”

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“Threshisdead,”saysPeeta.

“Hecan’tbe,”Isay.

“Theymusthavefiredthecannonduringthethunderandwe

missedit,”saysPeeta.

“Areyousure?Imean,it’spouringbucketsoutthere.Idon’t

knowhowyoucanseeanything,”Isay.Ipushhimawayfrom

therocksandsquintoutintothedark,rainysky.Foraboutten

seconds,IcatchadistortedglimpseofThresh’spictureandthen

he’sgone.Justlikethat.

Islumpdownagainsttherocks,momentarilyforgetting

aboutthetaskathand.Threshdead.Ishouldbehappy,right?

Onelesstributetoface.Andapowerfulone,too.ButI’mnot

happy.AllIcanthinkaboutisThreshlettingmego,lettingme

runbecauseofRue,whodiedwiththatspearinherstomach....

“Youallright?”asksPeeta.

Igiveanoncommittalshrugandcupmyelbowsinmy

hands,huggingthemclosetomybody.Ihavetoburythereal

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painbecausewho’sgoingtobetonatributewhokeepssniveling

overthedeathsofheropponents.Ruewasonething.Wewere

allies.Shewassoyoung.Butnoonewillunderstandmysorrow

atThresh’smurder.Thewordpullsmeupshort.Murder!

Thankfully,Ididn’tsayitaloud.That’snotgoingtowinmeany

pointsinthearena.WhatIdosayis,“It’sjust...ifwedidn’t

win...IwantedThreshto.Becauseheletmego.Andbecause

ofRue.”

“Yeah,Iknow,”saysPeeta.“Butthismeanswe’reonestep

closertoDistrictTwelve.”Henudgesaplateoffoodintomy

hands.“Eat.It’sstillwarm.”

ItakeabiteofthestewtoshowIdon’treallycare,butit’s

likeglueinmymouthandtakesalotofefforttoswallow.“It

alsomeansCatowillbebackhuntingus.”

“Andhe’sgotsuppliesagain,”saysPeeta.

“He’llbewounded,Ibet,”Isay.

“Whatmakesyousaythat?”Peetaasks.

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“BecauseThreshwouldhavenevergonedownwithouta

fight.He’ssostrong,Imean,hewas.Andtheywereinhis

territory,”Isay.

“Good,”saysPeeta.“ThemorewoundedCatoisthebetter.I

wonderhowFoxfaceismakingout.”

“Oh,she’sfine,”Isaypeevishly.I’mstillangryshethought

ofhidingintheCornucopiaandIdidn’t.“Probablybeeasierto

catchCatothanher.”

“Maybethey’llcatcheachotherandwecanjustgohome,”

saysPeeta.“Butwebetterbeextracarefulaboutthewatches.I

dozedoffafewtimes.”

“Me,too,”Iadmit.“Butnottonight.”

WefinishourfoodinsilenceandthenPeetaofferstotake

thefirstwatch.Iburrowdowninthesleepingbagnexttohim,

pullingmyhoodupovermyfacetohideitfromthecameras.I

justneedafewmomentsofprivacywhereIcanletanyemotion

crossmyfacewithoutbeingseen.Underthehood,Isilentlysay

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good-byetoThreshandthankhimformylife.Ipromiseto

rememberhimand,ifIcan,dosomethingtohelphisfamilyand

Rue’s,ifIwin.ThenIescapeintosleep,comfortedbyafull

bellyandthesteadywarmthofPeetabesideme.

WhenPeetawakesmelater,thefirstthingIregisteristhe

smellofgoatcheese.He’sholdingouthalfarollspreadwiththe

creamywhitestuffandtoppedwithappleslices.“Don’tbemad,”

hesays.“Ihadtoeatagain.Here’syourhalf.”

“Oh,good,”Isay,immediatelytakingahugebite.The

strongfattycheesetastesjustlikethekindPrimmakes,the

applesaresweetandcrunchy.“Mm.”

“Wemakeagoatcheeseandappletartatthebakery,”he

says.

“Betthat’sexpensive,”Isay.

“Tooexpensiveformyfamilytoeat.Unlessit’sgonevery

stale.Ofcourse,practicallyeverythingweeatisstale,”says

Peeta,pullingthesleepingbaguparoundhim.Inlessthana

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minute,he’ssnoring.

Huh.Ialwaysassumedtheshopkeepersliveasoftlife.And

it’strue,Peetahasalwayshadenoughtoeat.Butthere’s

somethingkindofdepressingaboutlivingyourlifeonstale

bread,thehard,dryloavesthatnooneelsewanted.Onething

aboutus,sinceIbringourfoodhomeonadailybasis,mostofit

issofreshyouhavetomakesureitisn’tgoingtomakearunfor

it.

Somewhereduringmyshift,therainstopsnotgraduallybut

allatonce.Thedownpourendsandthere’sonlytheresidual

drippingsofwaterfrombranches,therushofthenow

overflowingstreambelowus.Afull,beautifulmoonemerges,

andevenwithouttheglassesIcanseeoutside.Ican’tdecideif

themoonisrealormerelyaprojectionoftheGamemakers.I

knowitwasfullshortlybeforeIlefthome.GaleandIwatchedit

riseaswehuntedintothelatehours.

HowlonghaveIbeengone?I’mguessingit’sbeenabout

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twoweeksinthearena,andtherewasthatweekofpreparationin

theCapitol.Maybethemoonhascompleteditscycle.Forsome

reason,Ibadlywantittobemymoon,thesameoneIseefrom

thewoodsaroundDistrict12.Thatwouldgivemesomethingto

clingtointhesurrealworldofthearenawheretheauthenticity

ofeverythingistobedoubted.

Fourofusleft.

Forthefirsttime,Iallowmyselftotrulythinkaboutthe

possibilitythatImightmakeithome.Tofame.Towealth.To

myownhouseintheVictor’sVillage.MymotherandPrim

wouldlivetherewithme.Nomorefearofhunger.Anewkindof

freedom.Butthen...what?Whatwouldmylifebelikeona

dailybasis?Mostofithasbeenconsumedwiththeacquisitionof

food.TakethatawayandI’mnotreallysurewhoIam,whatmy

identityis.Theideascaresmesome.IthinkofHaymitch,with

allhismoney.Whatdidhislifebecome?Helivesalone,nowife

orchildren,mostofhiswakinghoursdrunk.Idon’twanttoend

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uplikethat.

“Butyouwon’tbealone,”Iwhispertomyself.Ihavemy

motherandPrim.Well,forthetimebeing.Andthen...Idon’t

wanttothinkaboutthen,whenPrimhasgrownup,mymother

passedaway.IknowI’llnevermarry,neverriskbringingachild

intotheworld.Becauseifthere’sonethingbeingavictor

doesn’tguarantee,it’syourchildren’ssafety.Mykids’names

wouldgorightintothereapingballswitheveryoneelse’s.AndI

swearI’llneverletthathappen.

Thesuneventuallyrises,itslightslippingthroughthecracks

andilluminatingPeeta’sface.Whowillhetransformintoifwe

makeithome?Thisperplexing,good-naturedboywhocanspin

outliessoconvincinglythewholeofPanembelieveshimtobe

hopelesslyinlovewithme,andI’lladmitit,therearemoments

whenhemakesmebelieveitmyself?Atleast,we’llbefriends,I

think.Nothingwillchangethefactthatwe’vesavedeachother’s

livesinhere.Andbeyondthat,hewillalwaysbetheboywiththe

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bread.Goodfriends.Anythingbeyondthatthough...andIfeel

Gale’sgrayeyeswatchingmewatchingPeeta,allthewayfrom

District12.

Discomfortcausesmetomove.Iscootoverandshake

Peeta’sshoulder.Hiseyesopensleepilyandwhentheyfocuson

me,hepullsmedownforalongkiss.

“We’rewastinghuntingtime,”IsaywhenIfinallybreak

away.

“Iwouldn’tcallitwasting,”hesays,givingabigstretchas

hesitsup.“Sodowehuntonemptystomachstogiveusan

edge?”

“Notus,”Isay.“Westuffourselvestogiveusstaying

power.”

“Countmein,”Peetasays.ButIcanseehe’ssurprisedwhen

Idividetherestofthestewandriceandhandaheapingplateto

him.“Allthis?”

“We’llearnitbacktoday,”Isay,andwebothplowintoour

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plates.Evencold,it’soneofthebestthingsI’veevertasted.I

abandonmyforkandscrapeupthelastdabsofgravywithmy

finger.“IcanfeelEffieTrinketshudderingatmymanners.”

“Hey,Effie,watchthis!”saysPeeta.Hetosseshisforkover

hisshoulderandliterallylickshisplatecleanwithhistongue

makingloud,satisfiedsounds.Thenheblowsakissouttoherin

generalandcalls,“Wemissyou,Effie!”

Icoverhismouthwithmyhand,butI’mlaughing.“Stop!

Catocouldberightoutsideourcave.”

Hegrabsmyhandaway.“WhatdoIcare?I’vegotyouto

protectmenow,”saysPeeta,pullingmetohim.

“Comeon,”Isayinexasperation,extricatingmyselffrom

hisgraspbutnotbeforehegetsinanotherkiss.

Oncewe’repackedupandstandingoutsideourcave,our

moodshiftstoserious.It’sasthoughforthelastfewdays,

shelteredbytherocksandtherainandCato’spreoccupationwith

Thresh,weweregivenarespite,aholidayofsorts.Now,

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althoughthedayissunnyandwarm,webothsensewe’rereally

backintheGames.IhandPeetamyknife,sincewhatever

weaponsheoncehadarelonggone,andheslipsitintohisbelt.

Mylastsevenarrows—ofthetwelveIsacrificedthreeinthe

explosion,twoatthefeast—rattleabittoolooselyinthe

quiver.Ican’taffordtoloseanymore.

“He’llbehuntingusbynow,”saysPeeta.“Catoisn’toneto

waitforhispreytowanderby.”

“Ifhe’swounded—”Ibegin.

“Itwon’tmatter,”Peetabreaksin.“Ifhecanmove,he’s

coming.”

Withalltherain,thestreamhasoverrunitsbanksbyseveral

feetoneitherside.Westoptheretoreplenishourwater.Icheck

thesnaresIsetdaysagoandcomeupempty.Notsurprisingwith

theweather.Besides,Ihaven’tseenmanyanimalsorsignsof

theminthisarea.

“Ifwewantfood,webetterheadbackuptomyoldhunting

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grounds,”Isay.

“Yourcall.Justtellmewhatyouneedmetodo,”Peetasays.

“Keepaneyeout,”Isay.“Stayontherocksasmuchas

possible,nosenseinleavinghimtrackstofollow.Andlistenfor

bothofus.”It’sclear,atthispoint,thattheexplosiondestroyed

thehearinginmyleftearforgood.

I’dwalkinthewatertocoverourtrackscompletely,butI’m

notsurePeeta’slegcouldtakethecurrent.Althoughthedrugs

haveerasedtheinfection,he’sstillprettyweak.Myforehead

hurtsalongtheknifecut,butafterthreedaysthebleedinghas

stopped.Iwearabandagearoundmyheadthough,justincase

physicalexertionshouldbringitback.

Asweheadupalongsidethestream,wepasstheplacewhere

IfoundPeetacamouflagedintheweedsandmud.Onegood

thing,betweenthedownpourandthefloodedbanks,allsignsof

hishidingplacehavebeenwipedout.Thatmeansthat,ifneed

be,wecancomebacktoourcave.Otherwise,Iwouldn’triskit

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withCatoafterus.

Thebouldersdiminishtorocksthateventuallyturnto

pebbles,andthen,tomyrelief,we’rebackonpineneedlesand

thegentleinclineoftheforestfloor.Forthefirsttime,Irealize

wehaveaproblem.Navigatingtherockyterrainwithabadleg

—well,you’renaturallygoingtomakesomenoise.Butevenon

thesmoothbedofneedles,Peetaisloud.AndImeanloudloud,

asifhe’sstompinghisfeetorsomething.Iturnandlookathim.

“What?”heasks.

“You’vegottomovemorequietly,”Isay.“Forgetabout

Cato,you’rechasingoffeveryrabbitinaten-mileradius.”

“Really?”hesays.“Sorry,Ididn’tknow.”

So,westartupagainandhe’satinybitbetter,butevenwith

onlyoneworkingear,he’smakingmejump.

“Canyoutakeyourbootsoff?”Isuggest.

“Here?”heasksindisbelief,asifI’daskedhimtowalk

barefootonhotcoalsorsomething.Ihavetoremindmyselfthat

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he’sstillnotusedtothewoods,thatit’sthescary,forbidden

placebeyondthefencesofDistrict12.IthinkofGale,withhis

velvettread.It’seeriehowlittlesoundhemakes,evenwhenthe

leaveshavefallenandit’sachallengetomoveatallwithout

chasingoffthegame.Ifeelcertainhe’slaughingbackhome.

“Yes,”Isaypatiently.“Iwill,too.Thatwaywe’llbothbe

quieter.”LikeIwasmakinganynoise.Sowebothstripoffour

bootsandsocksand,whilethere’ssomeimprovement,Icould

swearhe’smakinganefforttosnapeverybranchweencounter.

Needlesstosay,althoughittakesseveralhourstoreachmy

oldcampwithRue,I’veshotnothing.Ifthestreamwouldsettle

down,fishmightbeanoption,butthecurrentisstilltoostrong.

Aswestoptorestanddrinkwater,Itrytoworkoutasolution.

Ideally,I’ddumpPeetanowwithsomesimpleroot-gathering

choreandgohunt,butthenhe’dbeleftwithonlyaknifeto

defendhimselfagainstCato’sspearsandsuperiorstrength.So

whatI’dreallylikeistotryandconcealhimsomewheresafe,

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thengohunt,andcomebackandcollecthim.ButIhavea

feelinghisegoisn’tgoingtogoforthatsuggestion.

“Katniss,”hesays.“Weneedtosplitup.IknowI’mchasing

awaythegame.”

“Onlybecauseyourleg’shurt,”Isaygenerously,because

really,youcantellthat’sonlyasmallpartoftheproblem.

“Iknow,”hesays.“So,whydon’tyougoon?Showmesome

plantstogatherandthatwaywe’llbothbeuseful.”

“NotifCatocomesandkillsyou.”Itriedtosayitinanice

way,butitstillsoundslikeIthinkhe’saweakling.

Surprisingly,hejustlaughs.“Look,IcanhandleCato.I

foughthimbefore,didn’tI?”

Yeah,andthatturnedoutgreat.Youendedupdyingina

mudbank.That’swhatIwanttosay,butIcan’t.Hedidsavemy

lifebytakingonCatoafterall.Itryanothertactic.“Whatifyou

climbedupinatreeandactedasalookoutwhileIhunted?”I

say,tryingtomakeitsoundlikeveryimportantwork.

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

“Whatifyoushowmewhat’sediblearoundhereandgoget

ussomemeat?”hesays,mimickingmytone.“Justdon’tgofar,

incaseyouneedhelp.”

Isighandshowhimsomerootstodig.Wedoneedfood,no

question.Oneapple,tworolls,andablobofcheesethesizeofa

plumwon’tlastlong.I’lljustgoashortdistanceandhopeCato

isalongwayoff.

Iteachhimabirdwhistle—notamelodylikeRue’sbuta

simpletwo-notewhistle—whichwecanusetocommunicate

thatwe’reallright.Fortunately,he’sgoodatthis.Leavinghim

withthepack,Iheadoff.

IfeellikeI’melevenagain,tetherednottothesafetyofthe

fencebuttoPeeta,allowingmyselftwenty,maybethirtyyardsof

huntingspace.Awayfromhimthough,thewoodscomealive

withanimalsounds.Reassuredbyhisperiodicwhistles,Iallow

myselftodriftfartheraway,andsoonhavetworabbitsandafat

squirreltoshowforit.Idecideit’senough.Icansetsnaresand

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maybegetsomefish.WithPeeta’sroots,thiswillbeenoughfor

now.

AsItraveltheshortdistanceback,Irealizewehaven’t

exchangedsignalsinawhile.Whenmywhistlereceivesno

response,Irun.Innotime,Ifindthepack,aneatpileofroots

besideit.Thesheetofplastichasbeenlaidonthegroundwhere

thesuncanreachthesinglelayerofberriesthatcoversit.But

whereishe?

“Peeta!”Icalloutinapanic.“Peeta!”Iturntotherustleof

brushandalmostsendanarrowthroughhim.Fortunately,Ipull

mybowatthelastsecondanditsticksinanoaktrunktohisleft.

Hejumpsback,flingingahandfulofberriesintothefoliage.

Myfearcomesoutasanger.“Whatareyoudoing?You’re

supposedtobehere,notrunningaroundinthewoods!”

“Ifoundsomeberriesdownbythestream,”hesays,clearly

confusedbymyoutburst.

“Iwhistled.Whydidn’tyouwhistleback?”Isnapathim.

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“Ididn’thear.Thewater’stooloud,Iguess,”hesays.He

crossesandputshishandsonmyshoulders.That’swhenIfeel

thatI’mtrembling.

“IthoughtCatokilledyou!”Ialmostshout.

“No,I’mfine.”Peetawrapshisarmsaroundme,butIdon’t

respond.“Katniss?”

Ipushaway,tryingtosortoutmyfeelings.“Iftwopeople

agreeonasignal,theystayinrange.Becauseifoneofthem

doesn’tanswer,they’reintrouble,allright?”

“Allright!”hesays.

“Allright.Becausethat’swhathappenedwithRue,andI

watchedherdie!”Isay.Iturnawayfromhim,gotothepackand

openafreshbottleofwater,althoughIstillhavesomeinmine.

ButI’mnotreadytoforgivehim.Inoticethefood.Therollsand

applesareuntouched,butsomeone’sdefinitelypickedawaypart

ofthecheese.“Andyouatewithoutme!”Ireallydon’tcare,I

justwantsomethingelsetobemadabout.

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“What?No,Ididn’t,”Peetasays.

“Oh,andIsupposetheapplesatethecheese,”Isay.

“Idon’tknowwhatatethecheese,”Peetasaysslowlyand

distinctly,asiftryingnottolosehistemper,“butitwasn’tme.

I’vebeendownbythestreamcollectingberries.Wouldyoucare

forsome?”

Iwouldactually,butIdon’twanttorelenttoosoon.Ido

walkoverandlookatthem.I’veneverseenthistypebefore.No,

Ihave.Butnotinthearena.Thesearen’tRue’sberries,although

theyresemblethem.NordotheymatchanyIlearnedaboutin

training.Ileandownandscoopupafew,rollingthembetween

myfingers.

Myfather’svoicecomesbacktome.“Notthese,Katniss.

Neverthese.They’renightlock.You’llbedeadbeforetheyreach

yourstomach.”

Justthen,thecannonfires.Iwhiparound,expectingPeetato

collapsetotheground,butheonlyraiseshiseyebrows.The

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hovercraftappearsahundredyardsorsoaway.What’sleftof

Foxface’semaciatedbodyisliftedintotheair.Icanseethered

glintofherhairinthesunlight.

IshouldhaveknownthemomentIsawthemissingcheese..

..

Peetahasmebythearm,pushingmetowardatree.“Climb.

He’llbehereinasecond.We’llstandabetterchancefighting

himfromabove.”

Istophim,suddenlycalm.“No,Peeta,she’syourkill,not

Cato’s.”

“What?Ihaven’tevenseenhersincethefirstday,”hesays.

“HowcouldIhavekilledher?”

Inanswer,Iholdouttheberries.

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IttakesawhiletoexplainthesituationtoPeeta.How

FoxfacestolethefoodfromthesupplypilebeforeIblewitup,

howshetriedtotakeenoughtostayalivebutnotenoughthat

anyonewouldnoticeit,howshewouldn’tquestionthesafetyof

berrieswewerepreparingtoeatourselves.

“Iwonderhowshefoundus,”saysPeeta.“Myfault,Iguess,

ifI’masloudasyousay.”

Wewereaboutashardtofollowasaherdofcattle,butItry

tobekind.“Andshe’sveryclever,Peeta.Well,shewas.Until

yououtfoxedher.”

“Notonpurpose.Doesn’tseemfairsomehow.Imean,we

wouldhavebothbeendead,too,ifshehadn’teatentheberries

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first.”Hecheckshimself.“No,ofcourse,wewouldn’t.You

recognizedthem,didn’tyou?”

Igiveanod.“Wecallthemnightlock.”

“Eventhenamesoundsdeadly,”hesays.“I’msorry,Katniss.

Ireallythoughttheywerethesameonesyou’dgathered.”

“Don’tapologize.Itjustmeanswe’reonestepcloserto

home,right?”Iask.

“I’llgetridoftherest,”Peetasays.Hegathersupthesheet

ofblueplastic,carefultotraptheberriesinside,andgoestotoss

themintothewoods.

“Wait!”Icry.Ifindtheleatherpouchthatbelongedtothe

boyfromDistrict1andfillitwithafewhandfulsofberriesfrom

theplastic.“IftheyfooledFoxface,maybetheycanfoolCatoas

well.Ifhe’schasingusorsomething,wecanactlikewe

accidentallydropthepouchandifheeatsthem—”

“ThenhelloDistrictTwelve,”saysPeeta.

“That’sit,”Isay,securingthepouchtomybelt.

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“He’llknowwherewearenow,”saysPeeta.“Ifhewas

anywherenearbyandsawthathovercraft,he’llknowwekilled

herandcomeafterus.”

Peeta’sright.ThiscouldbejusttheopportunityCato’sbeen

waitingfor.Butevenifwerunnow,there’sthemeattocookand

ourfirewillbeanothersignofourwhereabouts.“Let’smakea

fire.Rightnow.”Ibegintogatherbranchesandbrush.

“Areyoureadytofacehim?”Peetaasks.

“I’mreadytoeat.Bettertocookourfoodwhilewehavethe

chance.Ifheknowswe’rehere,heknows.Buthealsoknows

there’stwoofusandprobablyassumeswewerehunting

Foxface.Thatmeansyou’rerecovered.Andthefiremeanswe’re

nothiding,we’reinvitinghimhere.Wouldyoushowup?”Iask.

“Maybenot,”hesays.

Peeta’sawhizwithfires,coaxingablazeoutofthedamp

wood.Innotime,Ihavetherabbitsandsquirrelroasting,the

roots,wrappedinleaves,bakinginthecoals.Wetaketurns

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gatheringgreensandkeepingacarefulwatchforCato,butasI

anticipated,hedoesn’tmakeanappearance.Whenthefood’s

cooked,Ipackmostofitup,leavinguseacharabbit’slegtoeat

aswewalk.

Iwanttomovehigherintothewoods,climbagoodtree,and

makecampforthenight,butPeetaresists.“Ican’tclimblike

you,Katniss,especiallywithmyleg,andIdon’tthinkIcould

everfallasleepfiftyfeetabovetheground.”

“It’snotsafetostayintheopen,Peeta,”Isay.

“Can’twegobacktothecave?”heasks.“It’snearwaterand

easytodefend.”

Isigh.Severalmorehoursofwalking—orshouldIsay

crashing—throughthewoodstoreachanareawe’lljusthaveto

leaveinthemorningtohunt.ButPeetadoesn’taskformuch.

He’sfollowedmyinstructionsalldayandI’msureifthingswere

reversed,hewouldn’tmakemespendthenightinatree.It

dawnsonmethatIhaven’tbeenverynicetoPeetatoday.

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Nagginghimabouthowloudhewas,screamingathimover

disappearing.Theplayfulromancewehadsustainedinthecave

hasdisappearedoutintheopen,underthehotsun,withthe

threatofCatoloomingoverus.Haymitchhasprobablyjust

abouthaditwithme.Andasfortheaudience...

Ireachupandgivehimakiss.“Sure.Let’sgobacktothe

cave.”

Helookspleasedandrelieved.“Well,thatwaseasy.”

Iworkmyarrowoutoftheoak,carefulnottodamagethe

shaft.Thesearrowsarefood,safety,andlifeitselfnow.

Wetossabunchmorewoodonthefire.Itshouldbesending

offsmokeforafewmorehours,althoughIdoubtCatoassumes

anythingatthispoint.Whenwereachthestream,Iseethewater

hasdroppedconsiderablyandmovesatitsoldleisurelypace,so

Isuggestwewalkbackinit.Peeta’shappytoobligeandsince

he’salotquieterinwaterthanonland,it’sadoublygoodidea.

It’salongwalkbacktothecavethough,evengoingdownward,

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evenwiththerabbittogiveusaboost.We’rebothexhaustedby

ourhiketodayandstillwaytoounderfed.Ikeepmybowloaded,

bothforCatoandanyfishImightsee,butthestreamseems

strangelyemptyofcreatures.

Bythetimewereachourdestination,ourfeetaredragging

andthesunsitslowonthehorizon.Wefillupourwaterbottles

andclimbthelittleslopetoourden.It’snotmuch,butouthere

inthewilderness,it’stheclosestthingwehavetoahome.Itwill

bewarmerthanatree,too,becauseitprovidessomeshelterfrom

thewindthathasbeguntoblowsteadilyinfromthewest.Iseta

gooddinnerout,buthalfwaythroughPeetabeginstonodoff.

Afterdaysofinactivity,thehunthastakenitstoll.Iorderhim

intothesleepingbagandsetasidetherestofhisfoodforwhen

hewakes.Hedropsoffimmediately.Ipullthesleepingbagupto

hischinandkisshisforehead,notfortheaudience,butforme.

BecauseI’msogratefulthathe’sstillhere,notdeadbythe

streamasI’dthought.SogladthatIdon’thavetofaceCato

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alone.

Brutal,bloodyCatowhocansnapaneckwithatwistofhis

arm,whohadthepowertoovercomeThresh,whohashaditout

formesincethebeginning.Heprobablyhashadaspecialhatred

formeeversinceIoutscoredhimintraining.AboylikePeeta

wouldsimplyshrugthatoff.ButIhaveafeelingitdroveCatoto

distraction.Whichisnotthathard.Ithinkofhisridiculous

reactiontofindingthesuppliesblownup.Theotherswereupset,

ofcourse,buthewascompletelyunhinged.IwondernowifCato

mightnotbeentirelysane.

Theskylightsupwiththeseal,andIwatchFoxfaceshinein

theskyandthendisappearfromtheworldforever.Hehasn’tsaid

it,butIdon’tthinkPeetafeltgoodaboutkillingher,evenifit

wasessential.Ican’tpretendI’llmissher,butIhavetoadmire

her.Myguessisiftheyhadgivenussomesortoftest,shewould

havebeenthesmartestofallthetributes.If,infact,wehadbeen

settingatrapforher,Ibetshe’dhavesenseditandavoidedthe

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berries.ItwasPeeta’sownignorancethatbroughtherdown.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.

ThatbringsmebacktoCato.ButwhileIthinkIhadasense

ofFoxface,whoshewasandhowsheoperated,he’salittlemore

slippery.Powerful,welltrained,butsmart?Idon’tknow.Not

likeshewas.AndutterlylackinginthecontrolFoxface

demonstrated.IbelieveCatocouldeasilylosehisjudgmentina

fitoftemper.NotthatIcanfeelsuperioronthatpoint.Ithinkof

themomentIsentthearrowflyingintotheappleinthepig’s

mouthwhenIwassoenraged.MaybeIdounderstandCatobetter

thanIthink.

Despitethefatigueinmybody,mymind’salert,soIlet

Peetasleeplongpastourusualswitch.Infact,asoftgrayday

hasbegunwhenIshakehisshoulder.Helooksout,almostin

alarm.“Isleptthewholenight.That’snotfair,Katniss,you

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shouldhavewokenme.”

Istretchandburrowdownintothebag.“I’llsleepnow.

Wakemeifanythinginterestinghappens.”

Apparentlynothingdoes,becausewhenIopenmyeyes,

brighthotafternoonlightgleamsthroughtherocks.“Anysignof

ourfriend?”Iask.

Peetashakeshishead.“No,he’skeepingadisturbinglylow

profile.”

“Howlongdoyouthinkwe’llhavebeforetheGamemakers

driveustogether?”Iask.

“Well,Foxfacediedalmostadayago,sothere’sbeenplenty

oftimefortheaudiencetoplacebetsandgetbored.Iguessit

couldhappenatanymoment,”saysPeeta.

“Yeah,Ihaveafeelingtoday’stheday,”Isay.Isitupand

lookoutatthepeacefulterrain.“Iwonderhowthey’lldoit.”

Peetaremainssilent.There’snotreallyanygoodanswer.

“Well,untiltheydo,nosenseinwastingahuntingday.But

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weshouldprobablyeatasmuchaswecanholdjustincasewe

runintotrouble,”Isay.

PeetapacksupourgearwhileIlayoutabigmeal.Therest

oftherabbits,roots,greens,therollsspreadwiththelastbitof

cheese.TheonlythingIleaveinreserveisthesquirrelandthe

apple.

Bythetimewe’redone,allthat’sleftisapileofrabbit

bones.Myhandsaregreasy,whichonlyaddstomygrowing

feelingofgrubbiness.Maybewedon’tbathedailyintheSeam,

butwekeepcleanerthanIhaveoflate.Exceptformyfeet,

whichhavewalkedinthestream,I’mcoveredinalayerof

grime.

Leavingthecavehasasenseoffinalityaboutit.Idon’tthink

therewillbeanothernightinthearenasomehow.Onewayorthe

other,deadoralive,IhavethefeelingI’llescapeittoday.Igive

therocksapatgood-byeandweheaddowntothestreamtowash

up.Icanfeelmyskin,itchingforthecoolwater.Imaydomy

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hairandbraiditbackwet.I’mwonderingifwemightevenbe

abletogiveourclothesaquickscrubwhenwereachthestream.

Orwhatusedtobethestream.Nowthere’sonlyabone-drybed.

Iputmyhanddowntofeelit.

“Notevenalittledamp.Theymusthavedraineditwhilewe

slept,”Isay.Afearofthecrackedtongue,achingbodyandfuzzy

mindbroughtonbymypreviousdehydrationcreepsintomy

consciousness.Ourbottlesandskinarefairlyfull,butwithtwo

drinkingandthishotsunitwon’ttakelongtodepletethem.

“Thelake,”saysPeeta.“That’swheretheywantustogo.”

“Maybethepondsstillhavesome,”Isayhopefully.

“Wecancheck,”hesays,buthe’sjusthumoringme.I’m

humoringmyselfbecauseIknowwhatI’llfindwhenwereturn

tothepondwhereIsoakedmyleg.Adusty,gapingmouthofa

hole.Butwemakethetripanywayjusttoconfirmwhatwe

alreadyknow.

“You’reright.They’redrivingustothelake,”Isay.Where

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there’snocover.Wherethey’reguaranteedabloodyfighttothe

deathwithnothingtoblocktheirview.“Doyouwanttogo

straightawayorwaituntilthewater’stappedout?”

“Let’sgonow,whilewe’vehadfoodandrest.Let’sjustgo

endthisthing,”hesays.

Inod.It’sfunny.Ifeelalmostasifit’sthefirstdayofthe

Gamesagain.ThatI’minthesameposition.Twenty-onetributes

aredead,butIstillhaveyettokillCato.Andreally,wasn’the

alwaystheonetokill?Nowitseemstheothertributeswerejust

minorobstacles,distractions,keepingusfromtherealbattleof

theGames.Catoandme.

Butno,there’stheboywaitingbesideme.Ifeelhisarms

wraparoundme.

“Twoagainstone.Shouldbeapieceofcake,”hesays.

“Nexttimeweeat,itwillbeintheCapitol,”Ianswer.

“Youbetitwill,”hesays.

Westandthereawhile,lockedinanembrace,feelingeach

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other,thesunlight,therustleoftheleavesatourfeet.Then

withoutaword,webreakapartandheadforthelake.

Idon’tcarenowthatPeeta’sfootfallssendrodents

scurrying,makebirdstakewing.WehavetofightCatoandI’d

justassoondoithereasontheplain.ButIdoubtI’llhavethat

choice.IftheGamemakerswantusintheopen,thenintheopen

wewillbe.

Westoptorestforafewmomentsunderthetreewherethe

Careerstrappedme.Thehuskofthetrackerjackernest,beaten

toapulpbytheheavyrainsanddriedintheburningsun,

confirmsthelocation.Itouchitwiththetipofmyboot,andit

dissolvesintodustthatisquicklycarriedoffbythebreeze.I

can’thelplookingupinthetreewhereRuesecretlyperched,

waitingtosavemylife.Trackerjackers.Glimmer’sbloated

body.Theterrifyinghallucinations...

“Let’smoveon,”Isay,wantingtoescapethedarknessthat

surroundsthisplace.Peetadoesn’tobject.

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Givenourlatestarttotheday,whenwereachtheplainit’s

alreadyearlyevening.There’snosignofCato.Nosignof

anythingexceptthegoldCornucopiaglowingintheslantingsun

rays.JustincaseCatodecidedtopullaFoxfaceonus,wecircle

theCornucopiatomakesureit’sempty.Thenobediently,asif

followinginstructions,wecrosstothelakeandfillourwater

containers.

Ifrownattheshrinkingsun.“Wedon’twanttofighthim

afterdark.There’sonlytheonepairofglasses.”

Peetacarefullysqueezesdropsofiodineintothewater.

“Maybethat’swhathe’swaitingfor.Whatdoyouwanttodo?

Gobacktothecave?”

“Eitherthatorfindatree.Butlet’sgivehimanotherhalfan

hourorso.Thenwe’lltakecover,”Ianswer.

Wesitbythelake,infullsight.There’snopointinhiding

now.Inthetreesattheedgeoftheplain,Icanseethe

mockingjaysflittingabout.Bouncingmelodiesbackandforth

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betweenthemlikebrightlycoloredballs.Iopenmymouthand

singoutRue’sfour-noterun.Icanfeelthempausecuriouslyat

thesoundofmyvoice,listeningformore.Irepeatthenotesin

thesilence.Firstonemockingjaytrillsthetuneback,then

another.Thenthewholeworldcomesalivewiththesound.

“Justlikeyourfather,”saysPeeta.

Myfingersfindthepinonmyshirt.“That’sRue’ssong,”I

say.“Ithinktheyrememberit.”

ThemusicswellsandIrecognizethebrillianceofit.Asthe

notesoverlap,theycomplementoneanother,formingalovely,

unearthlyharmony.Itwasthissoundthen,thankstoRue,that

senttheorchardworkersofDistrict11homeeachnight.Does

someonestartitatquittingtime,Iwonder,nowthatsheisdead?

Forawhile,Ijustclosemyeyesandlisten,mesmerizedby

thebeautyofthesong.Thensomethingbeginstodisruptthe

music.Runscutoffinjagged,imperfectlines.Dissonantnotes

interspersewiththemelody.Themockingjays’voicesriseupin

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ashriekingcryofalarm.

We’reonourfeet,Peetawieldinghisknife,mepoisedto

shoot,whenCatosmashesthroughthetreesandbearsdownon

us.Hehasnospear.Infact,hishandsareempty,yetheruns

straightforus.Myfirstarrowhitshischestandinexplicably

fallsaside.

“He’sgotsomekindofbodyarmor!”IshouttoPeeta.

Justintime,too,becauseCatoisuponus.Ibracemyself,but

herocketsrightbetweenuswithnoattempttocheckhisspeed.I

cantellfromhispanting,thesweatpouringoffhispurplishface,

thathe’sbeenrunninghardalongtime.Nottowardus.From

something.Butwhat?

Myeyesscanthewoodsjustintimetoseethefirstcreature

leapontotheplain.AsI’mturningaway,Iseeanotherhalf

dozenjoinit.ThenIamstumblingblindlyafterCatowithno

thoughtofanythingbuttosavemyself.

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Muttations.Noquestionaboutit.I’veneverseenthese

mutts,butthey’renonatural-bornanimals.Theyresemblehuge

wolves,butwhatwolflandsandthenbalanceseasilyonitshind

legs?Whatwolfwavestherestofthepackforwardwithitsfront

pawasthoughithadawrist?ThesethingsIcanseeatadistance.

Upclose,I’msuretheirmoremenacingattributeswillbe

revealed.

CatohasmadeabeelinefortheCornucopia,andwithout

questionIfollowhim.Ifhethinksit’sthesafestplace,whoamI

toargue?Besides,evenifIcouldmakeittothetrees,itwould

beimpossibleforPeetatooutrunthemonthatleg—Peeta!My

handshavejustlandedonthemetalatthepointedtailofthe

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CornucopiawhenIrememberI’mpartofateam.He’sabout

fifteenyardsbehindme,hobblingasfastashecan,butthemutts

areclosinginonhimfast.Isendanarrowintothepackandone

goesdown,butthereareplentytotakeitsplace.

Peeta’swavingmeupthehorn,“Go,Katniss!Go!”

He’sright.Ican’tprotecteitherofusontheground.Istart

climbing,scalingtheCornucopiaonmyhandsandfeet.Thepure

goldsurfacehasbeendesignedtoresemblethewovenhornthat

wefillatharvest,sotherearelittleridgesandseamstogeta

decentholdon.Butafteradayinthearenasun,themetalfeels

hotenoughtoblistermyhands.

Catoliesonhissideattheverytopofthehorn,twentyfeet

abovetheground,gaspingtocatchhisbreathashegagsoverthe

edge.Now’smychancetofinishhimoff.Istopmidwayupthe

hornandloadanotherarrow,butjustasI’mabouttoletitfly,I

hearPeetacryout.Itwistaroundandseehe’sjustreachedthe

tail,andthemuttsarerightonhisheels.

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“Climb!”Iyell.Peetastartsuphamperedbynotonlytheleg

buttheknifeinhishand.Ishootmyarrowdownthethroatofthe

firstmuttthatplacesitspawsonthemetal.Asitdiesthe

creaturelashesout,inadvertentlyopeninggashesonafewofits

companions.That’swhenIgetalookattheclaws.Fourinches

andclearlyrazor-sharp.

PeetareachesmyfeetandIgrabhisarmandpullhimalong.

ThenIrememberCatowaitingatthetopandwhiparound,but

he’sdoubledoverwithcrampsandapparentlymorepreoccupied

withthemuttsthanus.Hecoughsoutsomethingunintelligible.

Thesnuffling,growlingsoundcomingfromthemuttsisn’t

helping.

“What?”Ishoutathim.

“Hesaid,‘Cantheyclimbit?’”answersPeeta,drawingmy

focusbacktothebaseofthehorn.

Themuttsarebeginningtoassemble.Astheyjointogether,

theyraiseupagaintostandeasilyontheirbacklegsgivingthem

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aneerilyhumanquality.Eachhasathickcoat,somewithfur

thatisstraightandsleek,otherscurly,andthecolorsvaryfrom

jetblacktowhatIcanonlydescribeasblond.There’ssomething

elseaboutthem,somethingthatmakesthehairriseuponthe

backofmyneck,butIcan’tputmyfingeronit.

Theyputtheirsnoutsonthehorn,sniffingandtastingthe

metal,scrapingpawsoverthesurfaceandthenmakinghigh-

pitchedyippingsoundstooneanother.Thismustbehowthey

communicatebecausethepackbacksupasiftomakeroom.

Thenoneofthem,agood-sizemuttwithsilkywavesofblondfur

takesarunningstartandleapsontothehorn.Itsbacklegsmust

beincrediblypowerfulbecauseitlandsameretenfeetbelowus,

itspinklipspulledbackinasnarl.Foramomentithangsthere,

andinthatmomentIrealizewhatelseunsettledmeaboutthe

mutts.Thegreeneyesgloweringatmeareunlikeanydogor

wolf,anycanineI’veeverseen.Theyareunmistakablyhuman.

AndthatrevelationhasbarelyregisteredwhenInoticethecollar

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withthenumber1inlaidwithjewelsandthewholehorrible

thinghitsme.Theblondehair,thegreeneyes,thenumber...

it’sGlimmer.

AshriekescapesmylipsandI’mhavingtroubleholdingthe

arrowinplace.Ihavebeenwaitingtofire,onlytooawareofmy

dwindlingsupplyofarrows.Waitingtoseeifthecreaturescan,

infact,climb.Butnow,eventhoughthemutthasbeguntoslide

backward,unabletofindanypurchaseonthemetal,eventhough

Icanheartheslowscreechingoftheclawslikenailsona

blackboard,Ifireintoitsthroat.Itsbodytwitchesandflopsonto

thegroundwithathud.

“Katniss?”IcanfeelPeeta’sgriponmyarm.

“It’sher!”Igetout.

“Who?”asksPeeta.

MyheadsnapsfromsidetosideasIexaminethepack,

takinginthevarioussizesandcolors.Thesmallonewiththered

coatandambereyes...Foxface!Andthere,theashenhairand

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hazeleyesoftheboyfromDistrict9whodiedaswestruggled

forthebackpack!Andworstofall,thesmallestmutt,withdark

glossyfur,hugebrowneyesandacollarthatreads11inwoven

straw.Teethbaredinhatred.Rue...

“Whatisit,Katniss?”Peetashakesmyshoulder.

“It’sthem.It’sallofthem.Theothers.RueandFoxfaceand

...alloftheothertributes,”Ichokeout.

IhearPeeta’sgaspofrecognition.“Whatdidtheydoto

them?Youdon’tthink...thosecouldbetheirrealeyes?”

Theireyesaretheleastofmyworries.Whatabouttheir

brains?Havetheybeengivenanyoftherealtributesmemories?

Havetheybeenprogrammedtohateourfacesparticularly

becausewehavesurvivedandtheyweresocallouslymurdered?

Andtheonesweactuallykilled...dotheybelievethey’re

avengingtheirowndeaths?

BeforeIcangetthisout,themuttsbeginanewassaulton

thehorn.They’vesplitintotwogroupsatthesidesofthehorn

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andareusingthosepowerfulhindquarterstolaunchthemselves

atus.Apairofteethringtogetherjustinchesfrommyhandand

thenIhearPeetacryout,feeltheyankonhisbody,theheavy

weightofboyandmuttpullingmeovertheside.Ifnotforthe

griponmyarm,he’dbeontheground,butasitis,ittakesall

mystrengthtokeepusbothonthecurvedbackofthehorn.And

moretributesarecoming.

“Killit,Peeta!Killit!”I’mshouting,andalthoughIcan’t

quiteseewhat’shappening,Iknowhemusthavestabbedthe

thingbecausethepulllessens.I’mabletohaulhimbackontothe

hornwherewedragourselvestowardthetopwherethelesserof

twoevilsawaits.

Catohasstillnotregainedhisfeet,buthisbreathingis

slowingandIknowsoonhe’llberecoveredenoughtocomefor

us,tohurlusoverthesidetoourdeaths.Iarmmybow,butthe

arrowendsuptakingoutamuttthatcanonlybeThresh.Who

elsecouldjumpsohigh?Ifeelamoment’sreliefbecausewe

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mustfinallybeupabovethemuttlineandI’mjustturningback

tofaceCatowhenPeeta’sjerkedfrommyside.I’msurethepack

hasgothimuntilhisbloodsplattersmyface.

Catostandsbeforeme,almostatthelipofthehorn,holding

Peetainsomekindofheadlock,cuttingoffhisair.Peeta’s

clawingatCato’sarm,butweakly,asifconfusedoverwhether

it’smoreimportanttobreatheortryandstemthegushofblood

fromthegapingholeamuttleftinhiscalf.

IaimoneofmylasttwoarrowsatCato’shead,knowingit’ll

havenoeffectonhistrunkorlimbs,whichIcannowseeare

clothedinaskintight,flesh-coloredmesh.Somehigh-gradebody

armorfromtheCapitol.Wasthatwhatwasinhispackatthe

feast?Bodyarmortodefendagainstmyarrows?Well,they

neglectedtosendafaceguard.

Catojustlaughs.“Shootmeandhegoesdownwithme.”

He’sright.IfItakehimoutandhefallstothemutts,Peetais

suretodiewithhim.We’vereachedastalemate.Ican’tshoot

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CatowithoutkillingPeeta,too.Hecan’tkillPeetawithout

guaranteeinganarrowinhisbrain.Westandlikestatues,bothof

usseekinganout.

Mymusclesarestrainedsotightly,theyfeeltheymightsnap

atanymoment.Myteethclenchedtothebreakingpoint.The

muttsgosilentandtheonlythingIcanhearistheblood

poundinginmygoodear.

Peeta’slipsareturningblue.IfIdon’tdosomethingquickly,

he’lldieofasphyxiationandthenI’llhavelosthimandCato

willprobablyusehisbodyasaweaponagainstme.Infact,I’m

surethisisCato’splanbecausewhilehe’sstoppedlaughing,his

lipsaresetinatriumphantsmile.

Asifinalast-ditcheffort,Peetaraiseshisfingers,dripping

withbloodfromhisleg,uptoCato’sarm.Insteadoftryingto

wrestlehiswayfree,hisforefingerveersoffandmakesa

deliberateXonthebackofCato’shand.Catorealizeswhatit

meansexactlyonesecondafterIdo.Icantellbythewaythe

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smiledropsfromhislips.Butit’sonesecondtoolatebecause,

bythattime,myarrowispiercinghishand.Hecriesoutand

reflexivelyreleasesPeetawhoslamsbackagainsthim.Fora

horriblemoment,Ithinkthey’rebothgoingover.Idiveforward

justcatchingholdofPeetaasCatoloseshisfootingonthe

blood-slickhornandplummetstotheground.

Wehearhimhit,theairleavinghisbodyonimpact,andthen

themuttsattackhim.PeetaandIholdontoeachother,waiting

forthecannon,waitingforthecompetitiontofinish,waitingto

bereleased.Butitdoesn’thappen.Notyet.Becausethisisthe

climaxoftheHungerGames,andtheaudienceexpectsashow.

Idon’twatch,butIcanhearthesnarls,thegrowls,thehowls

ofpainfrombothhumanandbeastasCatotakesonthemutt

pack.Ican’tunderstandhowhecanbesurvivinguntilI

rememberthebodyarmorprotectinghimfromankletoneckand

Irealizewhatalongnightthiscouldbe.Catomusthaveaknife

orswordorsomething,too,somethinghehadhiddeninhis

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clothes,becauseonoccasionthere’sthedeathscreamofamutt

orthesoundofmetalonmetalasthebladecollideswiththe

goldenhorn.Thecombatmovesaroundthesideofthe

Cornucopia,andIknowCatomustbeattemptingtheone

maneuverthatcouldsavehislife—tomakehiswayback

aroundtothetailofthehornandrejoinus.Butintheend,

despitehisremarkablestrengthandskill,heissimply

overpowered.

Idon’tknowhowlongithasbeen,maybeanhourorso,

whenCatohitsthegroundandwehearthemuttsdragginghim,

dragginghimbackintotheCornucopia.Nowthey’llfinishhim

off,Ithink.Butthere’sstillnocannon.

Nightfallsandtheanthemplaysandthere’snopictureof

Catointhesky,onlythefaintmoanscomingthroughthemetal

beneathus.Theicyairblowingacrosstheplainremindsmethat

theGamesarenotoverandmaynotbeforwhoknowshowlong,

andthereisstillnoguaranteeofvictory.

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IturnmyattentiontoPeetaanddiscoverhislegisbleeding

asbadlyasever.Alloursupplies,ourpacks,remaindownbythe

lakewhereweabandonedthemwhenwefledfromthemutts.I

havenobandage,nothingtostaunchtheflowofbloodfromhis

calf.AlthoughI’mshakinginthebitingwind,Iripoffmy

jacket,removemyshirt,andzipbackintothejacketasswiftlyas

possible.Thatbriefexposuresetsmyteethchatteringbeyond

control.

Peeta’sfaceisgrayinthepalemoonlight.Imakehimlie

downbeforeIprobehiswound.Warm,slipperybloodrunsover

myfingers.Abandagewillnotbeenough.I’veseenmymother

tieatourniquetahandfuloftimesandtrytoreplicateit.Icut

freeasleevefrommyshirt,wrapittwicearoundhislegjust

underhisknee,andtieahalfknot.Idon’thaveastick,soItake

myremainingarrowandinsertitintheknot,twistingitas

tightlyasIdare.It’sriskybusiness—Peetamayenduplosing

hisleg—butwhenIweighthisagainsthimlosinghislife,what

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alternativedoIhave?Ibandagethewoundintherestofmyshirt

andliedownwithhim.

“Don’tgotosleep,”Itellhim.I’mnotsureifthisisexactly

medicalprotocol,butI’mterrifiedthatifhedriftsoffhe’llnever

wakeagain.

“Areyoucold?”heasks.HeunzipshisjacketandIpress

againsthimashefastensitaroundme.It’sabitwarmer,sharing

ourbodyheatinsidemydoublelayerofjackets,butthenightis

young.Thetemperaturewillcontinuetodrop.EvennowIcan

feeltheCornucopia,whichburnedsowhenIfirstclimbedit,

slowlyturningtoice.

“Catomaywinthisthingyet,”IwhispertoPeeta.

“Don’tyoubelieveit,”hesays,pullingupmyhood,buthe’s

shakingharderthanIam.

Thenexthoursaretheworstinmylife,whichifyouthink

aboutit,issayingsomething.Thecoldwouldbetortureenough,

buttherealnightmareislisteningtoCato,moaning,begging,

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andfinallyjustwhimperingasthemuttsworkawayathim.After

averyshorttime,Idon’tcarewhoheisorwhathe’sdone,allI

wantisforhissufferingtoend.

“Whydon’ttheyjustkillhim?”IaskPeeta.

“Youknowwhy,”hesays,andpullsmeclosertohim.

AndIdo.Noviewercouldturnawayfromtheshownow.

FromtheGamemakers’pointofview,thisisthefinalwordin

entertainment.

Itgoesonandonandonandeventuallycompletely

consumesmymind,blockingoutmemoriesandhopesof

tomorrow,erasingeverythingbutthepresent,whichIbeginto

believewillneverchange.Therewillneverbeanythingbutcold

andfearandtheagonizedsoundsoftheboydyinginthehorn.

Peetabeginstodozeoffnow,andeachtimehedoes,Ifind

myselfyellinghisnamelouderandlouderbecauseifhegoesand

diesonmenow,IknowI’llgocompletelyinsane.He’sfighting

it,probablymoreformethanforhim,andit’shardbecause

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unconsciousnesswouldbeitsownformofescape.Butthe

adrenalinepumpingthroughmybodywouldneverallowmeto

followhim,soIcan’tlethimgo.Ijustcan’t.

Theonlyindicationofthepassageoftimeliesinthe

heavens,thesubtleshiftofthemoon.SoPeetabeginspointingit

outtome,insistingIacknowledgeitsprogressandsometimes,

forjustamomentIfeelaflickerofhopebeforetheagonyofthe

nightengulfsmeagain.

Finally,Ihearhimwhisperthatthesunisrising.Iopenmy

eyesandfindthestarsfadinginthepalelightofdawn.Icansee,

too,howbloodlessPeeta’sfacehasbecome.Howlittletimehe

hasleft.AndIknowIhavetogethimbacktotheCapitol.

Still,nocannonhasfired.Ipressmygoodearagainstthe

hornandcanjustmakeoutCato’svoice.

“Ithinkhe’sclosernow.Katniss,canyoushoothim?”Peeta

asks.

Ifhe’snearthemouth,Imaybeabletotakehimout.It

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wouldbeanactofmercyatthispoint.

“Mylastarrow’sinyourtourniquet,”Isay.

“Makeitcount,”saysPeeta,unzippinghisjacket,lettingme

loose.

SoIfreethearrow,tyingthetourniquetbackastightlyas

myfrozenfingerscanmanage.Irubmyhandstogether,tryingto

regaincirculation.WhenIcrawltothelipofthehornandhang

overtheedge,IfeelPeeta’shandsgripmeforsupport.

IttakesafewmomentstofindCatointhedimlight,inthe

blood.Thentherawhunkofmeatthatusedtobemyenemy

makesasound,andIknowwherehismouthis.AndIthinkthe

wordhe’stryingtosayisplease.

Pity,notvengeance,sendsmyarrowflyingintohisskull.

Peetapullsmebackup,bowinhand,quiverempty.

“Didyougethim?”hewhispers.

Thecannonfiresinanswer.

“Thenwewon,Katniss,”hesayshollowly.

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“Hurrayforus,”Igetout,butthere’snojoyofvictoryinmy

voice.

Aholeopensintheplainandasifoncue,theremaining

muttsboundintoit,disappearingastheearthclosesabovethem.

Wewait,forthehovercrafttotakeCato’sremains,forthe

trumpetsofvictorythatshouldfollow,butnothinghappens.

“Hey!”Ishoutintoair.“What’sgoingon?”Theonly

responseisthechatterofwakingbirds.

“Maybeit’sthebody.Maybewehavetomoveawayfrom

it,”saysPeeta.

Itrytoremember.Doyouhavetodistanceyourselffromthe

deadtributeonthefinalkill?Mybrainistoomuddledtobesure,

butwhatelsecouldbethereasonforthedelay?

“Okay.Thinkyoucouldmakeittothelake?”Iask.

“ThinkIbettertry,”saysPeeta.Weinchdowntothetailof

thehornandfalltotheground.Ifthestiffnessinmylimbsisthis

bad,howcanPeetaevenmove?Irisefirst,swingingandbending

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myarmsandlegsuntilIthinkIcanhelphimup.Somehow,we

makeitbacktothelake.Iscoopupahandfulofthecoldwater

forPeetaandbringasecondtomylips.

Amockingjaygivesthelong,lowwhistle,andtearsofrelief

fillmyeyesasthehovercraftappearsandtakesCato’sbody

away.Nowtheywilltakeus.Nowwecangohome.

Butagainthere’snoresponse.

“Whataretheywaitingfor?”saysPeetaweakly.Betweenthe

lossofthetourniquetandtheeffortittooktogettothelake,his

woundhasopenedupagain.

“Idon’tknow,”Isay.Whatevertheholdupis,Ican’twatch

himloseanymoreblood.Igetuptofindastickbutalmost

immediatelycomeacrossthearrowthatbouncedoffCato’sbody

armor.Itwilldoaswellastheotherarrow.AsIstooptopickit

up,ClaudiusTemplesmith’svoiceboomsintothearena.

“GreetingstothefinalcontestantsoftheSeventy-fourth

HungerGames.Theearlierrevisionhasbeenrevoked.Closer

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examinationoftherulebookhasdisclosedthatonlyonewinner

maybeallowed,”hesays.“Goodluckandmaytheoddsbeever

inyourfavor.”

There’sasmallburstofstaticandthennothingmore.Istare

atPeetaindisbeliefasthetruthsinksin.Theyneverintendedto

letusbothlive.ThishasallbeendevisedbytheGamemakersto

guaranteethemostdramaticshowdowninhistory.Andlikea

fool,Iboughtintoit.

“Ifyouthinkaboutit,it’snotthatsurprising,”hesayssoftly.

Iwatchashepainfullymakesittohisfeet.Thenhe’smoving

towardme,asifinslowmotion,hishandispullingtheknife

fromhisbelt—

BeforeIamevenawareofmyactions,mybowisloaded

withthearrowpointedstraightathisheart.Peetaraiseshis

eyebrowsandIseetheknifehasalreadylefthishandonitsway

tothelakewhereitsplashesinthewater.Idropmyweaponsand

takeastepback,myfaceburninginwhatcanonlybeshame.

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“No,”hesays.“Doit.”Peetalimpstowardmeandthrusts

theweaponsbackinmyhands.

“Ican’t,”Isay.“Iwon’t.”

“Doit.Beforetheysendthosemuttsbackorsomething.I

don’twanttodielikeCato,”hesays.

“Thenyoushootme,”Isayfuriously,shovingtheweapons

backathim.“Youshootmeandgohomeandlivewithit!”And

asIsayit,Iknowdeathrighthere,rightnowwouldbetheeasier

ofthetwo.

“YouknowIcan’t,”Peetasays,discardingtheweapons.

“Fine,I’llgofirstanyway.”Heleansdownandripsthebandage

offhisleg,eliminatingthefinalbarrierbetweenhisbloodand

theearth.

“No,youcan’tkillyourself,”Isay.I’monmyknees,

desperatelyplasteringthebandagebackontohiswound.

“Katniss,”hesays.“It’swhatIwant.”

“You’renotleavingmeherealone,”Isay.Becauseifhe

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dies,I’llnevergohome,notreally.I’llspendtherestofmylife

inthisarenatryingtothinkmywayout.

“Listen,”hesays,pullingmetomyfeet.“Webothknow

theyhavetohaveavictor.Itcanonlybeoneofus.Please,take

it.Forme.”Andhegoesonabouthowhelovesme,whatlife

wouldbewithoutmebutI’vestoppedlisteningbecausehis

previouswordsaretrappedinmyhead,thrashingdesperately

around.

Webothknowtheyhavetohaveavictor.

Yes,theyhavetohaveavictor.Withoutavictor,thewhole

thingwouldblowupintheGamemakers’faces.They’dhave

failedtheCapitol.Mightpossiblyevenbeexecuted,slowlyand

painfullywhilethecamerasbroadcastittoeveryscreeninthe

country.

IfPeetaandIwerebothtodie,ortheythoughtwewere...

Myfingersfumblewiththepouchonmybelt,freeingit.

Peetaseesitandhishandclampsonmywrist.“No,Iwon’tlet

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you.”

“Trustme,”Iwhisper.Heholdsmygazeforalongmoment

thenletsmego.Iloosenthetopofthepouchandpourafew

spoonfulsofberriesintohispalm.ThenIfillmyown.“Onthe

countofthree?”

Peetaleansdownandkissesmeonce,verygently.“The

countofthree,”hesays.

Westand,ourbackspressedtogether,ouremptyhands

lockedtight.

“Holdthemout.Iwanteveryonetosee,”hesays.

Ispreadoutmyfingers,andthedarkberriesglisteninthe

sun.IgivePeeta’shandonelastsqueezeasasignal,asagood-

bye,andwebegincounting.“One.”MaybeI’mwrong.“Two.”

Maybetheydon’tcareifwebothdie.“Three!”It’stoolateto

changemymind.Iliftmyhandtomymouth,takingonelast

lookattheworld.Theberrieshavejustpassedmylipswhenthe

trumpetsbegintoblare.

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ThefranticvoiceofClaudiusTemplesmithshoutsabove

them.“Stop!Stop!Ladiesandgentlemen,Iampleasedto

presentthevictorsoftheSeventy-fourthHungerGames,Katniss

EverdeenandPeetaMellark!Igiveyou—thetributesof

DistrictTwelve!”

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Ispewtheberriesfrommymouth,wipingmytonguewith

theendofmyshirttomakesurenojuiceremains.Peetapullsme

tothelakewherewebothflushourmouthswithwaterandthen

collapseintoeachother’sarms.

“Youdidn’tswallowany?”Iaskhim.

Heshakeshishead.“You?”

“GuessI’dbedeadbynowifIdid,”Isay.Icanseehislips

movinginreply,butIcan’thearhimovertheroarofthecrowd

intheCapitolthatthey’replayingliveoverthespeakers.

Thehovercraftmaterializesoverheadandtwoladdersdrop,

onlythere’snowayI’mlettinggoofPeeta.Ikeeponearm

aroundhimasIhelphimup,andweeachplaceafootonthefirst

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rungoftheladder.Theelectriccurrentfreezesusinplace,and

thistimeI’mgladbecauseI’mnotreallysurePeetacanhangon

forthewholeride.Andsincemyeyeswerelookingdown,Ican

seethatwhileourmusclesareimmobile,nothingispreventing

thebloodfromdrainingoutofPeeta’sleg.Sureenough,the

minutethedoorclosesbehindusandthecurrentstops,he

slumpstothefloorunconscious.

Myfingersarestillgrippingthebackofhisjacketsotightly

thatwhentheytakehimawayittearsleavingmewithafistfulof

blackfabric.Doctorsinsterilewhite,maskedandgloved,

alreadypreppedtooperate,gointoaction.Peeta’ssopaleand

stillonasilvertable,tubesandwiresspringingoutofhimevery

whichway,andforamomentIforgetwe’reoutoftheGames

andIseethedoctorsasjustonemorethreat,onemorepackof

muttsdesignedtokillhim.Petrified,Ilungeforhim,butI’m

caughtandthrustbackintoanotherroom,andaglassdoorseals

betweenus.Ipoundontheglass,screamingmyheadoff.

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EveryoneignoresmeexceptforsomeCapitolattendantwho

appearsbehindmeandoffersmeabeverage.

Islumpdownonthefloor,myfaceagainstthedoor,staring

uncomprehendinglyatthecrystalglassinmyhand.Icycold,

filledwithorangejuice,astrawwithafrillywhitecollar.How

wrongitlooksinmybloody,filthyhandwithitsdirt-cakednails

andscars.Mymouthwatersatthesmell,butIplaceitcarefully

onthefloor,nottrustinganythingsocleanandpretty.

Throughtheglass,Iseethedoctorsworkingfeverishlyon

Peeta,theirbrowscreasedinconcentration.Iseetheflowof

liquids,pumpingthroughthetubes,watchawallofdialsand

lightsthatmeannothingtome.I’mnotsure,butIthinkhisheart

stopstwice.

It’slikebeinghomeagain,whentheybringinthehopelessly

mangledpersonfromthemineexplosion,orthewomaninher

thirddayoflabor,orthefamishedchildstrugglingagainst

pneumoniaandmymotherandPrim,theywearthatsamelook

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ontheirfaces.Nowisthetimetorunawaytothewoods,tohide

inthetreesuntilthepatientislonggoneandinanotherpartof

theSeamthehammersmakethecoffin.ButI’mheldhereboth

bythehovercraftwallsandthesameforcethatholdstheloved

onesofthedying.HowoftenI’veseenthem,ringedaroundour

kitchentableandIthought,Whydon’ttheyleave?Whydothey

staytowatch?

AndnowIknow.It’sbecauseyouhavenochoice.

IstartlewhenIcatchsomeonestaringatmefromonlyafew

inchesawayandthenrealizeit’smyownfacereflectingbackin

theglass.Wildeyes,hollowcheeks,myhairinatangledmat.

Rabid.Feral.Mad.Nowondereveryoneiskeepingasafe

distancefromme.

ThenextthingIknowwe’velandedbackontheroofofthe

TrainingCenterandthey’retakingPeetabutleavingmebehind

thedoor.Istarthurlingmyselfagainsttheglass,shriekingandI

thinkIjustcatchaglimpseofpinkhair—itmustbeEffie,ithas

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tobeEffiecomingtomyrescue—whentheneedlejabsme

frombehind.

WhenIwake,I’mafraidtomoveatfirst.Theentireceiling

glowswithasoftyellowlightallowingmetoseethatI’mina

roomcontainingjustmybed.Nodoors,nowindowsarevisible.

Theairsmellsofsomethingsharpandantiseptic.Myrightarm

hasseveraltubesthatextendintothewallbehindme.I’mnaked,

butthebedclothesaresoothingagainstmyskin.Itentativelylift

mylefthandabovethecover.Notonlyhasitbeenscrubbed

clean,thenailsarefiledinperfectovals,thescarsfromtheburns

arelessprominent.Itouchmycheek,mylips,thepuckeredscar

abovemyeyebrow,andamjustrunningmyfingersthroughmy

silkenhairwhenIfreeze.ApprehensivelyIrufflethehairbymy

leftear.No,itwasn’tanillusion.Icanhearagain.

Itryandsitup,butsomesortofwiderestrainingband

aroundmywaistkeepsmefromrisingmorethanafewinches.

ThephysicalconfinementmakesmepanicandI’mtryingtopull

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myselfupandwrigglemyhipsthroughthebandwhenaportion

ofthewallslidesopenandinstepstheredheadedAvoxgirl

carryingatray.ThesightofhercalmsmeandIstoptryingto

escape.Iwanttoaskheramillionquestions,butI’mafraidany

familiaritywouldcauseherharm.ObviouslyIambeingclosely

monitored.Shesetsthetrayacrossmythighsandpresses

somethingthatraisesmetoasittingposition.Whilesheadjusts

mypillows,Iriskonequestion.Isayitoutloud,asclearlyasmy

rustyvoicewillallow,sonothingwillseemsecretive.“DidPeeta

makeit?”Shegivesmeanod,andassheslipsaspoonintomy

hand,Ifeelthepressureoffriendship.

Iguessshedidnotwishmedeadafterall.AndPeetahas

madeit.Ofcourse,hedid.Withalltheirexpensiveequipment

here.Still,Ihadn’tbeensureuntilnow.

AstheAvoxleaves,thedoorclosesnoiselesslyafterherand

Iturnhungrilytothetray.Abowlofclearbroth,asmallserving

ofapplesauce,andaglassofwater.Thisisit?Ithinkgrouchily.

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Shouldn’tmyhomecomingdinnerbealittlemorespectacular?

ButIfindit’sanefforttofinishthesparemealbeforeme.My

stomachseemstohaveshrunktothesizeofachestnut,andI

havetowonderhowlongI’vebeenoutbecauseIhadnotrouble

eatingafairlysizablebreakfastthatlastmorninginthearena.

There’susuallyalagofafewdaysbetweentheendofthe

competitionandthepresentationofthevictorsothattheycan

putthestarving,wounded,messofapersonbacktogetheragain.

Somewhere,CinnaandPortiawillbecreatingourwardrobesfor

thepublicappearances.HaymitchandEffiewillbearrangingthe

banquetforoursponsors,reviewingthequestionsforourfinal

interviews.Backhome,District12isprobablyinchaosasthey

tryandorganizethehomecomingcelebrationsforPeetaandme,

giventhatthelastonewasclosetothirtyyearsago.

Home!Primandmymother!Gale!Eventhethoughtof

Prim’sscruffyoldcatmakesmesmile.SoonIwillbehome!

Iwanttogetoutofthisbed.ToseePeetaandCinna,tofind

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outmoreaboutwhat’sbeengoingon.Andwhyshouldn’tI?I

feelfine.ButasIstarttoworkmywayoutoftheband,Ifeela

coldliquidseepingintomyveinfromoneofthetubesand

almostimmediatelyloseconsciousness.

Thishappensonandoffforanindeterminateamountof

time.Mywaking,eating,and,eventhoughIresisttheimpulseto

tryandescapethebed,beingknockedoutagain.Iseemtobeina

strange,continualtwilight.Onlyafewthingsregister.The

redheadedAvoxgirlhasnotreturnedsincethefeeding,myscars

aredisappearing,anddoIimagineit?OrdoIhearaman’svoice

yelling?NotintheCapitolaccent,butintheroughercadencesof

home.AndIcan’thelphavingavague,comfortingfeelingthat

someoneislookingoutforme.

Thenfinally,thetimearriveswhenIcometoandthere’s

nothingpluggedintomyrightarm.Therestraintaroundmy

middlehasbeenremovedandIamfreetomoveabout.Istartto

situpbutamarrestedbythesightofmyhands.Theskin’s

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perfection,smoothandglowing.Notonlyarethescarsfromthe

arenagone,butthoseaccumulatedoveryearsofhuntinghave

vanishedwithoutatrace.Myforeheadfeelslikesatin,andwhen

Itrytofindtheburnonmycalf,there’snothing.

Islipmylegsoutofbed,nervousabouthowtheywillbear

myweight,andfindthemstrongandsteady.Lyingatthefootof

thebedisanoutfitthatmakesmeflinch.It’swhatallofus

tributesworeinthearena.IstareatitasifithadteethuntilI

rememberthat,ofcourse,thisiswhatIwillweartogreetmy

team.

I’mdressedinlessthanaminuteandfidgetinginfrontof

thewallwhereIknowthere’sadoorevenifIcan’tseeitwhen

suddenlyitslidesopen.Istepintoawide,desertedhallthat

appearstohavenootherdoorsonit.Butitmust.Andbehindone

ofthemmustbePeeta.NowthatI’mconsciousandmoving,I’m

growingmoreandmoreanxiousabouthim.Hemustbeallright

ortheAvoxgirlwouldn’thavesaidso.ButIneedtoseehimfor

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myself.

“Peeta!”Icallout,sincethere’snoonetoask.Ihearmy

nameinresponse,butit’snothisvoice.It’savoicethat

provokesfirstirritationandtheneagerness.Effie.

Iturnandseethemallwaitinginabigchamberattheendof

thehall—Effie,Haymitch,andCinna.Myfeettakeoffwithout

hesitation.Maybeavictorshouldshowmorerestraint,more

superiority,especiallywhensheknowsthiswillbeontape,butI

don’tcare.IrunforthemandsurpriseevenmyselfwhenI

launchintoHaymitch’sarmsfirst.Whenhewhispersinmyear,

“Nicejob,sweetheart,”itdoesn’tsoundsarcastic.Effie’s

somewhattearyandkeepspattingmyhairandtalkingabouthow

shetoldeveryonewewerepearls.Cinnajusthugsmetightand

doesn’tsayanything.ThenInoticePortiaisabsentandgetabad

feeling.

“Where’sPortia?IsshewithPeeta?Heisallright,isn’the?

Imean,he’salive?”Iblurtout.

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“He’sfine.Onlytheywanttodoyourreunionliveonairat

theceremony,”saysHaymitch.

“Oh.That’sall,”Isay.Theawfulmomentofthinking

Peeta’sdeadagainpasses.“IguessI’dwanttoseethatmyself.”

“GoonwithCinna.Hehastogetyouready,”saysHaymitch.

It’sarelieftobealonewithCinna,tofeelhisprotectivearm

aroundmyshouldersasheguidesmeawayfromthecameras,

downafewpassagesandtoanelevatorthatleadstothelobbyof

theTrainingCenter.Thehospitalthenisfarunderground,even

beneaththegymwherethetributespracticedtyingknotsand

throwingspears.Thewindowsofthelobbyaredarkened,anda

handfulofguardsstandonduty.Nooneelseistheretoseeus

crosstothetributeelevator.Ourfootstepsechointheemptiness.

Andwhenwerideuptothetwelfthfloor,thefacesofallthe

tributeswhowillneverreturnflashacrossmymindandthere’sa

heavy,tightplaceinmychest.

Whentheelevatordoorsopen,Venia,Flavius,andOctavia

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engulfme,talkingsoquicklyandecstaticallyIcan’tmakeout

theirwords.Thesentimentisclearthough.Theyaretruly

thrilledtoseemeandI’mhappytoseethem,too,althoughnot

likeIwastoseeCinna.It’smoreinthewayonemightbegladto

seeanaffectionatetrioofpetsattheendofaparticularly

difficultday.

TheysweepmeintothediningroomandIgetarealmeal—

roastbeefandpeasandsoftrolls—althoughmyportionsare

stillbeingstrictlycontrolled.BecausewhenIaskforseconds,

I’mrefused.

“No,no,no.Theydon’twantitallcomingbackuponthe

stage,”saysOctavia,butshesecretlyslipsmeanextrarollunder

thetabletoletmeknowshe’sonmyside.

WegobacktomyroomandCinnadisappearsforawhileas

theprepteamgetsmeready.

“Oh,theydidafullbodypolishonyou,”saysFlavius

enviously.“Notaflawleftonyourskin.”

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ButwhenIlookatmynakedbodyinthemirror,allIcansee

ishowskinnyIam.Imean,I’msureIwasworsewhenIcame

outofthearena,butIcaneasilycountmyribs.

Theytakecareoftheshowersettingsforme,andtheygoto

workonmyhair,nails,andmakeupwhenI’mdone.Theychatter

socontinuouslythatIbarelyhavetoreply,whichisgood,sinceI

don’tfeelverytalkative.It’sfunny,becauseeventhoughthey’re

rattlingonabouttheGames,it’sallaboutwheretheywereor

whattheyweredoingorhowtheyfeltwhenaspecificevent

occurred.“Iwasstillinbed!”“Ihadjusthadmyeyebrows

dyed!”“IswearInearlyfainted!”Everythingisaboutthem,not

thedyingboysandgirlsinthearena.

Wedon’twallowaroundintheGamesthiswayinDistrict

12.Wegritourteethandwatchbecausewemustandtrytoget

backtobusinessassoonaspossiblewhenthey’reover.Tokeep

fromhatingtheprepteam,Ieffectivelytuneoutmostofwhat

they’resaying.

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Cinnacomesinwithwhatappearstobeanunassuming

yellowdressacrosshisarms.

“Haveyougivenupthewhole‘girlonfire’thing?”Iask.

“Youtellme,”hesays,andslipsitovermyhead.I

immediatelynoticethepaddingovermybreasts,addingcurves

thathungerhasstolenfrommybody.Myhandsgotomychest

andIfrown.

“Iknow,”saysCinnabeforeIcanobject.“Butthe

Gamemakerswantedtoalteryousurgically.Haymitchhada

hugefightwiththemoverit.Thiswasthecompromise.”He

stopsmebeforeIcanlookatmyreflection.“Wait,don’tforget

theshoes.”Veniahelpsmeintoapairofflatleathersandalsand

Iturntothemirror.

Iamstillthe“girlonfire.”Thesheerfabricsoftlyglows.

Eventheslightmovementintheairsendsarippleupmybody.

Bycomparison,thechariotcostumeseemsgarish,theinterview

dresstoocontrived.Inthisdress,Igivetheillusionofwearing

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candlelight.

“Whatdoyouthink?”asksCinna.

“Ithinkit’sthebestyet,”Isay.WhenImanagetopullmy

eyesawayfromtheflickeringfabric,I’minforsomethingofa

shock.Myhair’sloose,heldbackbyasimplehairband.The

makeuproundsandfillsoutthesharpanglesofmyface.Aclear

polishcoatsmynails.Thesleevelessdressisgatheredatmy

ribs,notmywaist,largelyeliminatinganyhelpthepadding

wouldhavegivenmyfigure.Thehemfallsjusttomyknees.

Withoutheels,youcanseemytruestature.Ilook,verysimply,

likeagirl.Ayoungone.Fourteenatthemost.Innocent.

Harmless.Yes,itisshockingthatCinnahaspulledthisoffwhen

yourememberI’vejustwontheGames.

Thisisaverycalculatedlook.NothingCinnadesignsis

arbitrary.Ibitemyliptryingtofigureouthismotivation.

“Ithoughtit’dbesomethingmore...sophisticated-

looking,”Isay.

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“IthoughtPeetawouldlikethisbetter,”heanswers

carefully.

Peeta?No,it’snotaboutPeeta.It’sabouttheCapitolandthe

Gamemakersandtheaudience.AlthoughIdonotyetunderstand

Cinna’sdesign,it’saremindertheGamesarenotquitefinished.

Andbeneathhisbenignreply,Isenseawarning.Ofsomething

hecan’tevenmentioninfrontofhisownteam.

Wetaketheelevatortothelevelwherewetrained.It’s

customaryforthevictorandhisorhersupportteamtorisefrom

beneaththestage.Firsttheprepteam,followedbytheescort,the

stylist,thementor,andfinallythevictor.Onlythisyear,with

twovictorswhosharebothanescortandamentor,thewhole

thinghashadtoberethought.Ifindmyselfinapoorlylitarea

underthestage.Abrand-newmetalplatehasbeeninstalledto

transportmeupward.Youcanstillseesmallpilesofsawdust,

smellfreshpaint.Cinnaandtheprepteampeelofftochange

intotheirowncostumesandtaketheirpositions,leavingme

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alone.Inthegloom,Iseeamakeshiftwallabouttenyardsaway

andassumePeeta’sbehindit.

Therumblingofthecrowdisloud,soIdon’tnotice

Haymitchuntilhetouchesmyshoulder.Ispringaway,startled,

stillhalfinthearena,Iguess.

“Easy,justme.Let’shavealookatyou,”Haymitchsays.I

holdoutmyarmsandturnonce.“Goodenough.”

It’snotmuchofacompliment.“Butwhat?”Isay.

Haymitch’seyesshiftaroundmymustyholdingspace,and

heseemstomakeadecision.“Butnothing.Howaboutahugfor

luck?”

Okay,that’sanoddrequestfromHaymitchbut,afterall,we

arevictors.Maybeahugforluckisinorder.Only,whenIput

myarmsaroundhisneck,Ifindmyselftrappedinhisembrace.

Hebeginstalking,veryfast,veryquietlyinmyear,myhair

concealinghislips.

“Listenup.You’reintrouble.WordistheCapitol’sfurious

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aboutyoushowingthemupinthearena.Theonethingtheycan’t

standisbeinglaughedatandthey’rethejokeofPanem,”says

Haymitch.

Ifeeldreadcoursingthroughmenow,butIlaughasthough

Haymitchissayingsomethingcompletelydelightfulbecause

nothingiscoveringmymouth.“So,what?”

“Youronlydefensecanbeyouweresomadlyinloveyou

weren’tresponsibleforyouractions.”Haymitchpullsbackand

adjustsmyhairband.“Gotit,sweetheart?”Hecouldbetalking

aboutanythingnow.

“Gotit,”Isay.“DidyoutellPeetathis?”

“Don’thaveto,”saysHaymitch.“He’salreadythere.”

“ButyouthinkI’mnot?”Isay,takingtheopportunityto

straightenabrightredbowtieCinnamusthavewrestledhim

into.

“SincewhendoesitmatterwhatIthink?”saysHaymitch.

“Bettertakeourplaces.”Heleadsmetothemetalcircle.“Thisis

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yournight,sweetheart.Enjoyit.”Hekissesmeontheforehead

anddisappearsintothegloom.

Itugonmyskirt,willingittobelonger,wantingittocover

theknockinginmyknees.ThenIrealizeit’spointless.My

wholebody’sshakinglikealeaf.Hopefully,itwillbeputdown

toexcitement.Afterall,it’smynight.

Thedamp,moldysmellbeneaththestagethreatenstochoke

me.Acold,clammysweatbreaksoutonmyskinandIcan’trid

myselfofthefeelingthattheboardsabovemyheadareaboutto

collapse,toburymealiveundertherubble.WhenIleftthe

arena,whenthetrumpetsplayed,Iwassupposedtobesafe.

Fromthenon.Fortherestofmylife.ButifwhatHaymitchsays

istrue,andhe’sgotnoreasontolie,I’veneverbeeninsucha

dangerousplaceinmylife.

It’ssomuchworsethanbeinghuntedinthearena.There,I

couldonlydie.Endofstory.ButoutherePrim,mymother,

Gale,thepeopleofDistrict12,everyoneIcareaboutbackhome

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couldbepunishedifIcan’tpulloffthegirl-driven-crazy-by-love

scenarioHaymitchhassuggested.

SoIstillhaveachance,though.Funny,inthearena,whenI

pouredoutthoseberries,Iwasonlythinkingofoutsmartingthe

Gamemakers,nothowmyactionswouldreflectontheCapitol.

ButtheHungerGamesaretheirweaponandyouarenot

supposedtobeabletodefeatit.SonowtheCapitolwillactasif

they’vebeenincontrolthewholetime.Asiftheyorchestrated

thewholeevent,rightdowntothedoublesuicide.Butthatwill

onlyworkifIplayalongwiththem.

AndPeeta...Peetawillsuffer,too,ifthisgoeswrong.But

whatwasitHaymitchsaidwhenIaskedifhehadtoldPeetathe

situation?Thathehadtopretendtobedesperatelyinlove?

“Don’thaveto.He’salreadythere.”

AlreadythinkingaheadofmeintheGamesagainandwell

awareofthedangerwe’rein?Or...alreadydesperatelyinlove?

Idon’tknow.Ihaven’tevenbeguntoseparateoutmyfeelings

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aboutPeeta.It’stoocomplicated.WhatIdidaspartofthe

Games.AsopposedtowhatIdidoutofangerattheCapitol.Or

becauseofhowitwouldbeviewedbackinDistrict12.Orsimply

becauseitwastheonlydecentthingtodo.OrwhatIdidbecause

Icaredabouthim.

Thesearequestionstobeunraveledbackhome,inthepeace

andquietofthewoods,whennooneiswatching.Notherewith

everyeyeuponme.ButIwon’thavethatluxuryforwhoknows

howlong.Andrightnow,themostdangerouspartoftheHunger

Gamesisabouttobegin.

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Theanthemboomsinmyears,andthenIhearCaesar

Flickermangreetingtheaudience.Doesheknowhowcrucialitis

togeteverywordrightfromnowon?Hemust.Hewillwantto

helpus.Thecrowdbreaksintoapplauseastheprepteamsare

presented.IimagineFlavius,Venia,andOctaviabouncing

aroundandtakingridiculous,bobbingbows.It’sasafebet

they’reclueless.ThenEffie’sintroduced.Howlongshe’swaited

forthismoment.Ihopeshe’sabletoenjoyitbecauseas

misguidedasEffiecanbe,shehasaverykeeninstinctabout

certainthingsandmustatleastsuspectwe’reintrouble.Portia

andCinnareceivehugecheers,ofcourse,they’vebeenbrilliant,

hadadazzlingdebut.InowunderstandCinna’schoiceofdress

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formefortonight.I’llneedtolookasgirlishandinnocentas

possible.Haymitch’sappearancebringsaroundofstompingthat

goesonatleastfiveminutes.Well,he’saccomplishedafirst.

Keepingnotonlyonebuttwotributesalive.Whatifhehadn’t

warnedmeintime?WouldIhaveacteddifferently?Flauntedthe

momentwiththeberriesintheCapitol’sface?No,Idon’tthink

so.ButIcouldeasilyhavebeenalotlessconvincingthanIneed

tobenow.Rightnow.BecauseIcanfeeltheplateliftingmeup

tothestage.

Blindinglights.Thedeafeningroarrattlesthemetalunder

myfeet.Thenthere’sPeetajustafewyardsaway.Helooksso

cleanandhealthyandbeautiful,Icanhardlyrecognizehim.But

hissmileisthesamewhetherinmudorintheCapitolandwhen

Iseeit,Itakeaboutthreestepsandflingmyselfintohisarms.

Hestaggersback,almostlosinghisbalance,andthat’swhenI

realizetheslim,metalcontraptioninhishandissomekindof

cane.Herightshimselfandwejustclingtoeachotherwhilethe

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audiencegoesinsane.He’skissingmeandallthetimeI’m

thinking,Doyouknow?Doyouknowhowmuchdangerwe’re

in?Afterabouttenminutesofthis,CaesarFlickermantapson

hisshouldertocontinuetheshow,andPeetajustpusheshim

asidewithoutevenglancingathim.Theaudiencegoesberserk.

Whetherheknowsornot,Peetais,asusual,playingthecrowd

exactlyright.

Finally,Haymitchinterruptsusandgivesusagood-natured

shovetowardthevictor’schair.Usually,thisisasingle,ornate

chairfromwhichthewinningtributewatchesafilmofthe

highlightsoftheGames,butsincetherearetwoofus,the

Gamemakershaveprovidedaplushredvelvetcouch.Asmall

one,mymotherwouldcallitaloveseat,Ithink.Isitsocloseto

PeetathatI’mpracticallyonhislap,butonelookfromHaymitch

tellsmeitisn’tenough.Kickingoffmysandals,Ituckmyfeet

tothesideandleanmyheadagainstPeeta’sshoulder.Hisarm

goesaroundmeautomatically,andIfeellikeI’mbackinthe

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cave,curledupagainsthim,tryingtokeepwarm.Hisshirtis

madeofthesameyellowmaterialasmydress,butPortia’sput

himinlongblackpants.Nosandals,either,butapairofsturdy

blackbootshekeepssolidlyplantedonthestage.IwishCinna

hadgivenmeasimilaroutfit,Ifeelsovulnerableinthisflimsy

dress.ButIguessthatwasthepoint.

CaesarFlickermanmakesafewmorejokes,andthenit’s

timefortheshow.Thiswilllastexactlythreehoursandis

requiredviewingforallofPanem.Asthelightsdimandtheseal

appearsonthescreen,IrealizeI’munpreparedforthis.Idonot

wanttowatchmytwenty-twofellowtributesdie.Isawenough

ofthemdiethefirsttime.MyheartstartspoundingandIhavea

strongimpulsetorun.Howhavetheothervictorsfacedthis

alone?Duringthehighlights,theyperiodicallyshowthe

winner’sreactionuponaboxinthecornerofthescreen.Ithink

backtoearlieryears...somearetriumphant,pumpingtheir

fistsintheair,beatingtheirchests.Mostjustseemstunned.AllI

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knowisthattheonlythingkeepingmeonthisloveseatisPeeta

—hisarmaroundmyshoulder,hisotherhandclaimedbyboth

ofmine.Ofcourse,thepreviousvictorsdidn’thavetheCapitol

lookingforawaytodestroythem.

Condensingseveralweeksintothreehoursisquiteafeat,

especiallywhenyouconsiderhowmanycamerasweregoingat

once.Whoeverputstogetherthehighlightshastochoosewhat

sortofstorytotell.Thisyear,forthefirsttime,theytellalove

story.IknowPeetaandIwon,butadisproportionateamountof

timeisspentonus,rightfromthebeginning.I’mgladthough,

becauseitsupportsthewholecrazy-in-lovethingthat’smy

defensefordefyingtheCapitol,plusitmeanswewon’thaveas

muchtimetolingeroverthedeaths.

Thefirsthalfhourorsofocusesonthepre-arenaevents,the

reaping,thechariotridethroughtheCapitol,ourtrainingscores,

andourinterviews.There’sthissortofupbeatsoundtrack

playingunderitthatmakesittwiceasawfulbecause,ofcourse,

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almosteveryoneon-screenisdead.

Oncewe’reinthearena,there’sdetailedcoverageofthe

bloodbathandthenthefilmmakersbasicallyalternatebetween

shotsoftributesdyingandshotsofus.MostlyPeetareally,

there’snoquestionhe’scarryingthisromancethingonhis

shoulders.NowIseewhattheaudiencesaw,howhemisledthe

Careersaboutme,stayedawaketheentirenightunderthetracker

jackertree,foughtCatotoletmeescapeandevenwhilehelayin

thatmudbank,whisperedmynameinhissleep.Iseemheartless

incomparison—dodgingfireballs,droppingnests,andblowing

upsupplies—untilIgohuntingforRue.Theyplayherdeathin

full,thespearing,myfailedrescueattempt,myarrowthrough

theboyfromDistrict1’sthroat,Ruedrawingherlastbreathin

myarms.Andthesong.Igettosingeverynoteofthesong.

SomethinginsidemeshutsdownandI’mtoonumbtofeel

anything.It’slikewatchingcompletestrangersinanother

HungerGames.ButIdonoticetheyomitthepartwhereI

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coveredherinflowers.

Right.Becauseeventhatsmacksofrebellion.

Thingspickupformeoncethey’veannouncedtwotributes

fromthesamedistrictcanliveandIshoutoutPeeta’snameand

thenclapmyhandsovermymouth.IfI’veseemedindifferentto

himearlier,Imakeupforitnow,byfindinghim,nursinghim

backtohealth,goingtothefeastforthemedicine,andbeing

veryfreewithmykisses.Objectively,Icanseethemuttsand

Cato’sdeathareasgruesomeasever,butagain,Ifeelithappens

topeopleIhavenevermet.

Andthencomesthemomentwiththeberries.Icanhearthe

audiencehushingoneanother,notwantingtomissanything.A

waveofgratitudetothefilmmakerssweepsovermewhenthey

endnotwiththeannouncementofourvictory,butwithme

poundingontheglassdoorofthehovercraft,screamingPeeta’s

nameastheytrytorevivehim.

Intermsofsurvival,it’smybestmomentallnight.

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Theanthem’splayingyetagainandweriseasPresident

Snowhimselftakesthestagefollowedbyalittlegirlcarryinga

cushionthatholdsthecrown.There’sjustonecrown,though,

andyoucanhearthecrowd’sconfusion—whoseheadwillhe

placeiton?—untilPresidentSnowgivesitatwistandit

separatesintotwohalves.HeplacesthefirstaroundPeeta’s

browwithasmile.He’sstillsmilingwhenhesettlesthesecond

onmyhead,buthiseyes,justinchesfrommine,areas

unforgivingasasnake’s.

That’swhenIknowthateventhoughbothofuswouldhave

eatentheberries,Iamtoblameforhavingtheidea.I’mthe

instigator.I’mtheonetobepunished.

Muchbowingandcheeringfollows.Myarmisabouttofall

offfromwavingwhenCaesarFlickermanfinallybidsthe

audiencegoodnight,remindingthemtotuneintomorrowforthe

finalinterviews.Asiftheyhaveachoice.

PeetaandIarewhiskedtothepresident’smansionforthe

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VictoryBanquet,wherewehaveverylittletimetoeatasCapitol

officialsandparticularlygeneroussponsorselbowoneanother

outofthewayastheytrytogettheirpicturewithus.Faceafter

beamingfaceflashesby,becomingincreasinglyintoxicatedas

theeveningwearson.Occasionally,Icatchaglimpseof

Haymitch,whichisreassuring,orPresidentSnow,whichis

terrifying,butIkeeplaughingandthankingpeopleandsmiling

asmypictureistaken.TheonethingIneverdoisletgoof

Peeta’shand.

Thesunisjustpeekingoverthehorizonwhenwestraggle

backtothetwelfthflooroftheTrainingCenter.IthinknowI’ll

finallygetawordalonewithPeeta,butHaymitchsendshimoff

withPortiatogetsomethingfittedfortheinterviewand

personallyescortsmetomydoor.

“Whycan’tItalktohim?”Iask.

“Plentyoftimefortalkwhenwegethome,”saysHaymitch.

“Gotobed,you’reonairattwo.”

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DespiteHaymitch’srunninginterference,I’mdeterminedto

seePeetaprivately.AfterItossandturnforafewhours,Islip

intothehall.Myfirstthoughtistochecktheroof,butit’sempty.

Eventhecitystreetsfarbelowaredesertedafterthecelebration

lastnight.Igobacktobedforawhileandthendecidetogo

directlytohisroom,butwhenItrytoturntheknob,Ifindmy

ownbedroomdoorhasbeenlockedfromtheoutside.Isuspect

Haymitchinitially,butthenthere’samoreinsidiousfearthatthe

Capitolmaybemonitoringandconfiningme.I’vebeenunable

toescapesincetheHungerGamesbegan,butthisfeelsdifferent,

muchmorepersonal.ThisfeelslikeI’vebeenimprisonedfora

crimeandI’mawaitingsentencing.Iquicklygetbackinbedand

pretendtosleepuntilEffieTrinketcomestoalertmetothestart

ofanother“big,big,bigday!”

Ihaveaboutfiveminutestoeatabowlofhotgrainandstew

beforetheprepteamdescends.AllIhavetosayis,“Thecrowd

lovedyou!”andit’sunnecessarytospeakforthenextcoupleof

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hours.WhenCinnacomesin,heshoosthemoutanddressesme

inawhite,gauzydressandpinkshoes.Thenhepersonally

adjustsmymakeupuntilIseemtoradiateasoft,rosyglow.We

makeidlechitchat,butI’mafraidtoaskhimanythingofreal

importancebecauseaftertheincidentwiththedoor,Ican’tshake

thefeelingthatI’mbeingwatchedconstantly.

Theinterviewtakesplacerightdownthehallinthesitting

room.Aspacehasbeenclearedandtheloveseathasbeenmoved

inandsurroundedbyvasesofredandpinkroses.Thereareonly

ahandfulofcamerastorecordtheevent.Noliveaudienceat

least.

CaesarFlickermangivesmeawarmhugwhenIcomein.

“Congratulations,Katniss.Howareyoufaring?”

“Fine.Nervousabouttheinterview,”Isay.

“Don’tbe.We’regoingtohaveafabuloustime,”hesays,

givingmycheekareassuringpat.

“I’mnotgoodattalkingaboutmyself,”Isay.

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“Nothingyousaywillbewrong,”hesays.

AndIthink,Oh,Caesar,ifonlythatweretrue.Butactually,

PresidentSnowmaybearrangingsomesortof“accident”forme

aswespeak.

ThenPeeta’stherelookinghandsomeinredandwhite,

pullingmeofftotheside.“Ihardlygettoseeyou.Haymitch

seemsbentonkeepingusapart.”

Haymitchisactuallybentonkeepingusalive,butthereare

toomanyearslistening,soIjustsay,“Yes,he’sgottenvery

responsiblelately.”

“Well,there’sjustthisandwegohome.Thenhecan’twatch

usallthetime,”saysPeeta.

Ifeelasortofshiverrunthroughmeandthere’snotimeto

analyzewhy,becausethey’rereadyforus.Wesitsomewhat

formallyontheloveseat,butCaesarsays,“Oh,goaheadand

curlupnexttohimifyouwant.Itlookedverysweet.”SoItuck

myfeetupandPeetapullsmeinclosetohim.

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Someonecountsbackwardandjustlikethat,we’rebeing

broadcastlivetotheentirecountry.CaesarFlickermanis

wonderful,teasing,joking,gettingchokedupwhentheoccasion

presentsitself.HeandPeetaalreadyhavetherapportthey

establishedthatnightofthefirstinterview,thateasybanter,soI

justsmilealotandtrytospeakaslittleaspossible.Imean,I

havetotalksome,butassoonasIcanIredirecttheconversation

backtoPeeta.

Eventuallythough,Caesarbeginstoposequestionsthat

insistonfulleranswers.“Well,Peeta,weknow,fromourdaysin

thecave,thatitwasloveatfirstsightforyoufromwhat,age

five?”Caesarsays.

“FromthemomentIlaideyesonher,”saysPeeta.

“But,Katniss,whatarideforyou.Ithinktherealexcitement

fortheaudiencewaswatchingyoufallforhim.Whendidyou

realizeyouwereinlovewithhim?”asksCaesar.

“Oh,that’sahardone...”Igiveafaint,breathylaughand

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lookdownatmyhands.Help.

“Well,Iknowwhenithitme.Thenightwhenyoushouted

outhisnamefromthattree,”saysCaesar.

Thankyou,Caesar!Ithink,andthengowithhisidea.“Yes,I

guessthatwasit.Imean,untilthatpoint,Ijusttriednottothink

aboutwhatmyfeelingsmightbe,honestly,becauseitwasso

confusinganditonlymadethingsworseifIactuallycaredabout

him.Butthen,inthetree,everythingchanged,”Isay.

“Whydoyouthinkthatwas?”urgesCaesar.

“Maybe...becauseforthefirsttime...therewasachance

Icouldkeephim,”Isay.

Behindacameraman,IseeHaymitchgiveasortofhuffwith

reliefandIknowI’vesaidtherightthing.Caesarpullsouta

handkerchiefandhastotakeamomentbecausehe’ssomoved.I

canfeelPeetapresshisforeheadintomytempleandheasks,“So

nowthatyou’vegotme,whatareyougoingtodowithme?”

Iturnintohim.“Putyousomewhereyoucan’tgethurt.”

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Andwhenhekissesme,peopleintheroomactuallysigh.

ForCaesar,thisisanaturalplacetosegueintoalltheways

wedidgethurtinthearena,fromburns,tostings,towounds.

Butit’snotuntilwegetaroundtothemuttsthatIforgetI’mon

camera.WhenCaesarasksPeetahowhis“newleg”isworking

out.

“Newleg?”Isay,andIcan’thelpreachingoutandpulling

upthebottomofPeeta’spants.“Oh,no,”Iwhisper,takinginthe

metal-and-plasticdevicethathasreplacedhisflesh.

“Noonetoldyou?”asksCaesargently.Ishakemyhead.

“Ihaven’thadthechance,”saysPeetawithaslightshrug.

“It’smyfault,”Isay.“BecauseIusedthattourniquet.”

“Yes,it’syourfaultI’malive,”saysPeeta.

“He’sright,”saysCaesar.“He’dhavebledtodeathforsure

withoutit.”

Iguessthisistrue,butIcan’thelpfeelingupsetaboutitto

theextentthatI’mafraidImightcryandthenIremember

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everyoneinthecountryiswatchingmesoIjustburymyfacein

Peeta’sshirt.Ittakesthemacoupleofminutestocoaxmeback

outbecauseit’sbetterintheshirt,wherenoonecanseeme,and

whenIdocomeout,CaesarbacksoffquestioningmesoIcan

recover.Infact,heprettymuchleavesmealoneuntiltheberries

comeup.

“Katniss,Iknowyou’vehadashock,butI’vegottoask.The

momentwhenyoupulledoutthoseberries.Whatwasgoingon

inyourmind...hm?”hesays.

ItakealongpausebeforeIanswer,tryingtocollectmy

thoughts.ThisisthecrucialmomentwhereIeitherchallenged

theCapitolorwentsocrazyattheideaoflosingPeetathatI

can’tbeheldresponsibleformyactions.Itseemstocallfora

big,dramaticspeech,butallIgetoutisonealmostinaudible

sentence.“Idon’tknow,Ijust...couldn’tbearthethoughtof..

.beingwithouthim.”

“Peeta?Anythingtoadd?”asksCaesar.

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“No.Ithinkthatgoesforbothofus,”hesays.

Caesarsignsoffandit’sover.Everyone’slaughingand

cryingandhugging,butI’mstillnotsureuntilIreachHaymitch.

“Okay?”Iwhisper.

“Perfect,”heanswers.

Igobacktomyroomtocollectafewthingsandfindthere’s

nothingtotakebutthemockingjaypinMadgegaveme.

SomeonereturnedittomyroomaftertheGames.Theydriveus

throughthestreetsinacarwithblackenedwindows,andthe

train’swaitingforus.Webarelyhavetimetosaygood-byeto

CinnaandPortia,althoughwe’llseetheminafewmonths,when

wetourthedistrictsforaroundofvictoryceremonies.It’sthe

Capitol’swayofremindingpeoplethattheHungerGamesnever

reallygoaway.We’llbegivenalotofuselessplaques,and

everyonewillhavetopretendtheyloveus.

Thetrainbeginsmovingandwe’replungedintonightuntil

weclearthetunnelandItakemyfirstfreebreathsincethe

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reaping.EffieisaccompanyingusbackandHaymitch,too,of

course.Weeatanenormousdinnerandsettleintosilencein

frontofthetelevisiontowatchareplayoftheinterview.With

theCapitolgrowingfartherawayeverysecond,Ibegintothink

ofhome.OfPrimandmymother.OfGale.Iexcusemyselfto

changeoutofmydressandintoaplainshirtandpants.AsI

slowly,thoroughlywashthemakeupfrommyfaceandputmy

hairinitsbraid,Ibegintransformingbackintomyself.Katniss

Everdeen.AgirlwholivesintheSeam.Huntsinthewoods.

TradesintheHob.IstareinthemirrorasItrytorememberwho

IamandwhoIamnot.BythetimeIjointheothers,thepressure

ofPeeta’sarmaroundmyshouldersfeelsalien.

Whenthetrainmakesabriefstopforfuel,we’reallowedto

gooutsideforsomefreshair.There’snolongeranyneedto

guardus.PeetaandIwalkdownalongthetrack,handinhand,

andIcan’tfindanythingtosaynowthatwe’realone.Hestopsto

gatherabunchofwildflowersforme.Whenhepresentsthem,I

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workhardtolookpleased.Becausehecan’tknowthatthepink-

and-whiteflowersarethetopsofwildonionsandonlyremind

meofthehoursI’vespentgatheringthemwithGale.

Gale.TheideaofseeingGaleinamatterofhoursmakesmy

stomachchurn.Butwhy?Ican’tquiteframeitinmymind.I

onlyknowthatIfeellikeI’vebeenlyingtosomeonewhotrusts

me.Ormoreaccurately,totwopeople.I’vebeengettingaway

withituptothispointbecauseoftheGames.Buttherewillbe

noGamestohidebehindbackhome.

“What’swrong?”Peetaasks.

“Nothing,”Ianswer.Wecontinuewalking,pasttheendof

thetrain,outwhereevenI’mfairlysuretherearenocameras

hiddeninthescrubbybushesalongthetrack.Stillnowords

come.

Haymitchstartlesmewhenhelaysahandonmyback.Even

now,inthemiddleofnowhere,hekeepshisvoicedown.“Great

job,youtwo.Justkeepitupinthedistrictuntilthecamerasare

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gone.Weshouldbeokay.”Iwatchhimheadbacktothetrain,

avoidingPeeta’seyes.

“What’shemean?”Peetaasksme.

“It’stheCapitol.Theydidn’tlikeourstuntwiththeberries,”

Iblurtout.

“What?Whatareyoutalkingabout?”hesays.

“Itseemedtoorebellious.So,Haymitchhasbeencoaching

methroughthelastfewdays.SoIdidn’tmakeitworse,”Isay.

“Coachingyou?Butnotme,”saysPeeta.

“Heknewyouweresmartenoughtogetitright,”Isay.

“Ididn’tknowtherewasanythingtogetright,”saysPeeta.

“So,whatyou’resayingis,theselastfewdaysandthenIguess.

..backinthearena...thatwasjustsomestrategyyoutwo

workedout.”

“No.Imean,Icouldn’teventalktohiminthearena,could

I?”Istammer.

“Butyouknewwhathewantedyoutodo,didn’tyou?”says

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Peeta.Ibitemylip.“Katniss?”HedropsmyhandandItakea

step,asiftocatchmybalance.

“ItwasallfortheGames,”Peetasays.“Howyouacted.”

“Notallofit,”Isay,tightlyholdingontomyflowers.

“Thenhowmuch?No,forgetthat.Iguesstherealquestionis

what’sgoingtobeleftwhenwegethome?”hesays.

“Idon’tknow.ThecloserwegettoDistrictTwelve,the

moreconfusedIget,”Isay.Hewaits,forfurtherexplanation,but

none’sforthcoming.

“Well,letmeknowwhenyouworkitout,”hesays,andthe

paininhisvoiceispalpable.

Iknowmyearsarehealedbecause,evenwiththerumbleof

theengine,Icanheareverystephetakesbacktothetrain.By

thetimeI’veclimbedaboard,Peetahasdisappearedintohis

roomforthenight.Idon’tseehimthenextmorning,either.In

fact,thenexttimeheturnsup,we’repullingintoDistrict12.He

givesmeanod,hisfaceexpressionless.

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Iwanttotellhimthathe’snotbeingfair.Thatwewere

strangers.ThatIdidwhatittooktostayalive,tokeepusboth

aliveinthearena.ThatIcan’texplainhowthingsarewithGale

becauseIdon’tknowmyself.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.ThatifIdohavefeelings

forhim,itdoesn’tmatterbecauseI’llneverbeabletoaffordthe

kindoflovethatleadstoafamily,tochildren.Andhowcanhe?

Howcanheafterwhatwe’vejustbeenthrough?

IalsowanttotellhimhowmuchIalreadymisshim.But

thatwouldn’tbefaironmypart.

Sowejuststandtheresilently,watchingourgrimylittle

stationriseuparoundus.Throughthewindow,Icanseethe

platform’sthickwithcameras.Everyonewillbeeagerly

watchingourhomecoming.

Outofthecornerofmyeye,IseePeetaextendhishand.I

lookathim,unsure.“Onemoretime?Fortheaudience?”he

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says.Hisvoiceisn’tangry.It’shollow,whichisworse.Already

theboywiththebreadisslippingawayfromme.

Itakehishand,holdingontightly,preparingforthecameras,

anddreadingthemomentwhenIwillfinallyhavetoletgo.

ENDOFBOOKONE

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Contents
TitlePage
Dedication
PartI:“TheSpark”
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
PartII:“TheQuell”
10
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11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
PartIII:“TheEnemy”
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
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Iclasptheflaskbetweenmyhandseventhoughthewarmth

fromtheteahaslongsinceleachedintothefrozenair.My

musclesareclenchedtightagainstthecold.Ifapackofwild

dogsweretoappearatthismoment,theoddsofscalingatree

beforetheyattackedarenotinmyfavor.Ishouldgetup,move

around,andworkthestiffnessfrommylimbs.ButinsteadIsit,

asmotionlessastherockbeneathme,whilethedawnbeginsto

lightenthewoods.Ican’tfightthesun.Icanonlywatch

helplesslyasitdragsmeintoadaythatI’vebeendreadingfor

months.

BynoontheywillallbeatmynewhouseintheVictor’s

Village.Thereporters,thecameracrews,evenEffieTrinket,my

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oldescort,willhavemadetheirwaytoDistrict12fromthe

Capitol.IwonderifEffiewillstillbewearingthatsillypinkwig,

orifshe’llbesportingsomeotherunnaturalcolorespeciallyfor

theVictoryTour.Therewillbeotherswaiting,too.Astaffto

catertomyeveryneedonthelongtraintrip.Aprepteamto

beautifymeforpublicappearances.Mystylistandfriend,Cinna,

whodesignedthegorgeousoutfitsthatfirstmadetheaudience

takenoticeofmeintheHungerGames.

Ifitwereuptome,IwouldtrytoforgettheHungerGames

entirely.Neverspeakofthem.Pretendtheywerenothingbuta

baddream.ButtheVictoryTourmakesthatimpossible.

StrategicallyplacedalmostmidwaybetweentheannualGames,

itistheCapitol’swayofkeepingthehorrorfreshand

immediate.Notonlyareweinthedistrictsforcedtoremember

theirongripoftheCapitol’spowereachyear,weareforcedto

celebrateit.Andthisyear,Iamoneofthestarsoftheshow.I

willhavetotravelfromdistricttodistrict,tostandbeforethe

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cheeringcrowdswhosecretlyloatheme,tolookdownintothe

facesofthefamilieswhosechildrenIhavekilled....

Thesunpersistsinrising,soImakemyselfstand.Allmy

jointscomplainandmyleftleghasbeenasleepforsolongthatit

takesseveralminutesofpacingtobringthefeelingbackintoit.

I’vebeeninthewoodsthreehours,butasI’vemadenoreal

attemptathunting,Ihavenothingtoshowforit.Itdoesn’t

matterformymotherandlittlesister,Prim,anymore.Theycan

affordtobuybutchermeatintown,althoughnoneofuslikesit

anybetterthanfreshgame.Butmybestfriend,GaleHawthorne,

andhisfamilywillbedependingontoday’shaulandIcan’tlet

themdown.Istartthehour-and-a-halftrekitwilltaketocover

oursnareline.Backwhenwewereinschool,wehadtimeinthe

afternoonstocheckthelineandhuntandgatherandstillget

backtotradeintown.ButnowthatGalehasgonetoworkinthe

coalmines—andIhavenothingtodoallday—I’vetakenover

thejob.

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BythistimeGalewillhaveclockedinatthemines,taken

thestomach-churningelevatorrideintothedepthsoftheearth,

andbepoundingawayatacoalseam.Iknowwhatit’slikedown

there.Everyyearinschool,aspartofourtraining,myclasshad

totourthemines.WhenIwaslittle,itwasjustunpleasant.The

claustrophobictunnels,foulair,suffocatingdarknessonall

sides.Butaftermyfatherandseveralotherminerswerekilledin

anexplosion,Icouldbarelyforcemyselfontotheelevator.The

annualtripbecameanenormoussourceofanxiety.TwiceImade

myselfsosickinanticipationofitthatmymotherkeptmehome

becauseshethoughtIhadcontractedtheflu.

IthinkofGale,whoisonlyreallyaliveinthewoods,withits

freshairandsunlightandclean,flowingwater.Idon’tknowhow

hestandsit.Well...yes,Ido.Hestandsitbecauseit’stheway

tofeedhismotherandtwoyoungerbrothersandsister.Andhere

Iamwithbucketsofmoney,farmorethanenoughtofeedboth

ourfamiliesnow,andhewon’ttakeasinglecoin.It’sevenhard

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forhimtoletmebringinmeat,althoughhe’dsurelyhavekept

mymotherandPrimsuppliedifI’dbeenkilledintheGames.I

tellhimhe’sdoingmeafavor,thatitdrivesmenutstosit

aroundallday.Evenso,Ineverdropoffthegamewhilehe’sat

home.Whichiseasysinceheworkstwelvehoursaday.

TheonlytimeIreallygettoseeGalenowisonSundays,

whenwemeetupinthewoodstohunttogether.It’sstillthebest

dayoftheweek,butit’snotlikeitusedtobebefore,whenwe

couldtelleachotheranything.TheGameshavespoiledeven

that.Ikeephopingthatastimepasseswe’llregaintheease

betweenus,butpartofmeknowsit’sfutile.There’snogoing

back.

Igetagoodhaulfromthetraps—eightrabbits,two

squirrels,andabeaverthatswamintoawirecontraptionGale

designedhimself.He’ssomethingofawhizwithsnares,rigging

themtobentsaplingssotheypullthekilloutofthereachof

predators,balancinglogsondelicatesticktriggers,weaving

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inescapablebasketstocapturefish.AsIgoalong,carefully

resettingeachsnare,IknowIcanneverquitereplicatehiseye

forbalance,hisinstinctforwherethepreywillcrossthepath.

It’smorethanexperience.It’sanaturalgift.LikethewayIcan

shootatananimalinalmostcompletedarknessandstilltakeit

downwithonearrow.

BythetimeImakeitbacktothefencethatsurrounds

District12,thesuniswellup.Asalways,Ilistenamoment,but

there’snotelltalehumofelectricalcurrentrunningthroughthe

chainlink.Therehardlyeveris,eventhoughthethingis

supposedtobechargedfull-time.Iwrigglethroughtheopening

atthebottomofthefenceandcomeupintheMeadow,justa

stone’sthrowfrommyhome.Myoldhome.Westillgettokeep

itsinceofficiallyit’sthedesignateddwellingofmymotherand

sister.IfIshoulddropdeadrightnow,theywouldhavetoreturn

toit.Butatpresent,they’rebothhappilyinstalledinthenew

houseintheVictor’sVillage,andI’mtheonlyonewhousesthe

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squatlittleplacewhereIwasraised.Tome,it’smyrealhome.

Igotherenowtoswitchmyclothes.Exchangemyfather’s

oldleatherjacketforafinewoolcoatthatalwaysseemstootight

intheshoulders.Leavemysoft,wornhuntingbootsforapairof

expensivemachine-madeshoesthatmymotherthinksaremore

appropriateforsomeoneofmystatus.I’vealreadystowedmy

bowandarrowsinahollowloginthewoods.Althoughtimeis

tickingaway,Iallowmyselfafewminutestositinthekitchen.

Ithasanabandonedqualitywithnofireonthehearth,nocloth

onthetable.Imournmyoldlifehere.Webarelyscrapedby,but

IknewwhereIfitin,Iknewwhatmyplacewasinthetightly

interwovenfabricthatwasourlife.IwishIcouldgobacktoit

because,inretrospect,itseemssosecurecomparedwithnow,

whenIamsorichandsofamousandsohatedbytheauthorities

intheCapitol.

Awailingatthebackdoordemandsmyattention.Iopenitto

findButtercup,Prim’sscruffyoldtomcat.Hedislikesthenew

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housealmostasmuchasIdoandalwaysleavesitwhenmy

sister’satschool.We’veneverbeenparticularlyfondofeach

other,butnowwehavethisnewbond.Ilethimin,feedhima

chunkofbeaverfat,andevenrubhimbetweentheearsforabit.

“You’rehideous,youknowthat,right?”Iaskhim.Buttercup

nudgesmyhandformorepetting,butwehavetogo.“Comeon,

you.”Iscoophimupwithonehand,grabmygamebagwiththe

other,andhaulthembothoutontothestreet.Thecatspringsfree

anddisappearsunderabush.

TheshoespinchmytoesasIcrunchalongthecinderstreet.

CuttingdownalleysandthroughbackyardsgetsmetoGale’s

houseinminutes.Hismother,Hazelle,seesmethroughthe

window,whereshe’sbentoverthekitchensink.Shedriesher

handsonherapronanddisappearstomeetmeatthedoor.

IlikeHazelle.Respecther.Theexplosionthatkilledmy

fathertookoutherhusbandaswell,leavingherwiththreeboys

andababydueanyday.Lessthanaweekaftershegavebirth,

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shewasouthuntingthestreetsforwork.Theminesweren’tan

option,whatwithababytolookafter,butshemanagedtoget

laundryfromsomeofthemerchantsintown.Atfourteen,Gale,

theeldestofthekids,becamethemainsupporterofthefamily.

Hewasalreadysignedupfortesserae,whichentitledthemtoa

meagersupplyofgrainandoilinexchangeforhisenteringhis

nameextratimesinthedrawingtobecomeatribute.Ontopof

that,evenbackthen,hewasaskilledtrapper.Butitwasn’t

enoughtokeepafamilyoffivewithoutHazelleworkingher

fingerstotheboneonthatwashboard.Inwinterherhandsgotso

redandcracked,theybledattheslightestprovocation.Still

wouldifitwasn’tforasalvemymotherconcocted.Buttheyare

determined,HazelleandGale,thattheotherboys,twelve-year-

oldRoryandten-year-oldVick,andthebaby,four-year-old

Posy,willneverhavetosignupfortesserae.

Hazellesmileswhensheseesthegame.Shetakesthebeaver

bythetail,feelingitsweight.“He’sgoingtomakeanicestew.”

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UnlikeGale,shehasnoproblemwithourhuntingarrangement.

“Goodpelt,too,”Ianswer.It’scomfortingherewith

Hazelle.Weighingthemeritsofthegame,justaswealways

have.Shepoursmeamugofherbtea,whichIwrapmychilled

fingersaroundgratefully.“Youknow,whenIgetbackfromthe

tour,IwasthinkingImighttakeRoryoutwithmesometimes.

Afterschool.Teachhimtoshoot.”

Hazellenods.“That’dbegood.Galemeansto,buthe’sonly

gothisSundays,andIthinkhelikessavingthoseforyou.”

Ican’tstoptherednessthatfloodsmycheeks.It’sstupid,of

course.HardlyanybodyknowsmebetterthanHazelle.Knows

thebondIsharewithGale.I’msureplentyofpeopleassumed

thatwe’deventuallygetmarriedevenifInevergaveitany

thought.ButthatwasbeforetheGames.Beforemyfellow

tribute,PeetaMellark,announcedhewasmadlyinlovewithme.

Ourromancebecameakeystrategyforoursurvivalinthearena.

Onlyitwasn’tjustastrategyforPeeta.I’mnotsurewhatitwas

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forme.ButIknownowitwasnothingbutpainfulforGale.My

chesttightensasIthinkabouthow,ontheVictoryTour,Peeta

andIwillhavetopresentourselvesasloversagain.

Igulpmyteaeventhoughit’stoohotandpushbackfrom

thetable.“Ibettergetgoing.Makemyselfpresentableforthe

cameras.”

Hazellehugsme.“Enjoythefood.”

“Absolutely,”Isay.

MynextstopistheHob,whereI’vetraditionallydonethe

bulkofmytrading.Yearsagoitwasawarehousetostorecoal,

butwhenitfellintodisuse,itbecameameetingplaceforillegal

tradesandthenblossomedintoafull-timeblackmarket.Ifit

attractsasomewhatcriminalelement,thenIbelonghere,I

guess.HuntinginthewoodssurroundingDistrict12violatesat

leastadozenlawsandispunishablebydeath.

Althoughtheynevermentionit,Iowethepeoplewho

frequenttheHob.GaletoldmethatGreasySae,theoldwoman

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whoservesupsoup,startedacollectiontosponsorPeetaandme

duringtheGames.ItwassupposedtobejustaHobthing,buta

lotofotherpeopleheardaboutitandchippedin.Idon’tknow

exactlyhowmuchitwas,andthepriceofanygiftinthearena

wasexorbitant.ButforallIknow,itmadethedifference

betweenmylifeanddeath.

It’sstilloddtodragopenthefrontdoorwithanemptygame

bag,withnothingtotrade,andinsteadfeeltheheavypocketof

coinsagainstmyhip.Itrytohitasmanystallsaspossible,

spreadingoutmypurchasesofcoffee,buns,eggs,yarn,andoil.

Asanafterthought,Ibuythreebottlesofwhiteliquorfroma

one-armedwomannamedRipper,avictimofamineaccident

whowassmartenoughtofindawaytostayalive.

Theliquorisn’tformyfamily.It’sforHaymitch,whoacted

asmentorforPeetaandmeintheGames.He’ssurly,violent,

anddrunkmostofthetime.Buthedidhisjob—morethanhis

job—becauseforthefirsttimeinhistory,twotributeswere

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allowedtowin.SonomatterwhoHaymitchis,Iowehim,too.

Andthat’sforalways.I’mgettingthewhiteliquorbecauseafew

weeksagoheranoutandtherewasnoneforsaleandhehada

withdrawal,shakingandscreamingatterrifyingthingsonlyhe

couldsee.HescaredPrimtodeathand,frankly,itwasn’tmuch

funformetoseehimlikethat,either.EversincethenI’vebeen

sortofstockpilingthestuffjustincasethere’sashortageagain.

Cray,ourHeadPeacekeeper,frownswhenheseesmewith

thebottles.He’sanoldermanwithafewstrandsofsilverhair

combedsidewaysabovehisbrightredface.“Thatstuff’stoo

strongforyou,girl.”Heshouldknow.NexttoHaymitch,Cray

drinksmorethananyoneI’veevermet.

“Aw,mymotherusesitinmedicines,”Isayindifferently.

“Well,it’dkilljustaboutanything,”hesays,andslapsdown

acoinforabottle.

WhenIreachGreasySae’sstall,Iboostmyselfuptositon

thecounterandordersomesoup,whichlookstobesomekindof

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gourdandbeanmixture.APeacekeepernamedDariuscomesup

andbuysabowlwhileI’meating.Aslawenforcersgo,he’sone

ofmyfavorites.Neverreallythrowinghisweightaround,

usuallygoodforajoke.He’sprobablyinhistwenties,buthe

doesn’tseemmucholderthanIdo.Somethingabouthissmile,

hisredhairthatsticksouteverywhichway,giveshimaboyish

quality.

“Aren’tyousupposedtobeonatrain?”heasksme.

“They’recollectingmeatnoon,”Ianswer.

“Shouldn’tyoulookbetter?”heasksinaloudwhisper.I

can’thelpsmilingathisteasing,inspiteofmymood.“Maybea

ribboninyourhairorsomething?”Heflicksmybraidwithhis

handandIbrushhimaway.

“Don’tworry.BythetimetheygetthroughwithmeI’llbe

unrecognizable,”Isay.

“Good,”hesays.“Let’sshowalittledistrictpridefora

change,MissEverdeen.Hm?”HeshakeshisheadatGreasySae

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inmockdisapprovalandwalksofftojoinhisfriends.

“I’llwantthatbowlback,”GreasySaecallsafterhim,but

sinceshe’slaughing,shedoesn’tsoundparticularlystern.“Gale

goingtoseeyouoff?”sheasksme.

“No,hewasn’tonthelist,”Isay.“IsawhimSunday,

though.”

“Thinkhe’dhavemadethelist.Himbeingyourcousinand

all,”shesayswryly.

It’sjustonemorepartofthelietheCapitolhasconcocted.

WhenPeetaandImadeitintothefinaleightintheHunger

Games,theysentreporterstodopersonalstoriesaboutus.When

theyaskedaboutmyfriends,everyonedirectedthemtoGale.

Butitwouldn’tdo,whatwiththeromanceIwasplayingoutin

thearena,tohavemybestfriendbeGale.Hewastoohandsome,

toomale,andnottheleastbitwillingtosmileandplaynicefor

thecameras.Wedoresembleeachother,though,quiteabit.We

havethatSeamlook.Darkstraighthair,oliveskin,grayeyes.So

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somegeniusmadehimmycousin.Ididn’tknowaboutituntil

wewerealreadyhome,ontheplatformatthetrainstation,and

mymothersaid,“Yourcousinscanhardlywaittoseeyou!”Then

IturnedandsawGaleandHazelleandallthekidswaitingfor

me,sowhatcouldIdobutgoalong?

GreasySaeknowswe’renotrelated,butevensomeofthe

peoplewhohaveknownusforyearsseemtohaveforgotten.

“Ijustcan’twaitforthewholethingtobeover,”Iwhisper.

“Iknow,”saysGreasySae.“Butyou’vegottogothroughit

togettotheendofit.Betternotbelate.”

AlightsnowstartstofallasImakemywaytotheVictor’s

Village.It’saboutahalf-milewalkfromthesquareinthecenter

oftown,butitseemslikeanotherworldentirely.It’saseparate

communitybuiltaroundabeautifulgreen,dottedwithflowering

bushes.Therearetwelvehouses,eachlargeenoughtoholdtenof

theoneIwasraisedin.Ninestandempty,astheyalwayshave.

ThethreeinusebelongtoHaymitch,Peeta,andme.

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ThehousesinhabitedbymyfamilyandPeetagiveoffa

warmglowoflife.Litwindows,smokefromthechimneys,

bunchesofbrightlycoloredcornaffixedtothefrontdoorsas

decorationfortheupcomingHarvestFestival.However,

Haymitch’shouse,despitethecaretakenbythegrounds-keeper,

exudesanairofabandonmentandneglect.Ibracemyselfathis

frontdoor,knowingitwillbefoul,thenpushinside.

Mynoseimmediatelywrinklesindisgust.Haymitchrefuses

toletanyoneintocleananddoesapoorjobhimself.Overthe

yearstheodorsofliquorandvomit,boiledcabbageandburned

meat,unwashedclothesandmousedroppingshaveintermingled

intoastenchthatbringstearstomyeyes.Iwadethroughalitter

ofdiscardedwrappings,brokenglass,andbonestowhereIknow

IwillfindHaymitch.Hesitsatthekitchentable,hisarms

sprawledacrossthewood,hisfaceinapuddleofliquor,snoring

hisheadoff.

Inudgehisshoulder.“Getup!”Isayloudly,becauseI’ve

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learnedthere’snosubtlewaytowakehim.Hissnoringstopsfor

amoment,questioningly,andthenresumes.Ipushhimharder.

“Getup,Haymitch.It’stourday!”Iforcethewindowup,

inhalingdeepbreathsofthecleanairoutside.Myfeetshift

throughthegarbageonthefloor,andIunearthatincoffeepot

andfillitatthesink.Thestoveisn’tcompletelyoutandI

managetocoaxthefewlivecoalsintoaflame.Ipoursome

groundcoffeeintothepot,enoughtomakesuretheresulting

brewwillbegoodandstrong,andsetitonthestovetoboil.

Haymitchisstilldeadtotheworld.Sincenothingelsehas

worked,Ifillabasinwithicycoldwater,dumpitonhishead,

andspringoutoftheway.Agutturalanimalsoundcomesfrom

histhroat.Hejumpsup,kickinghischairtenfeetbehindhim

andwieldingaknife.Iforgothealwayssleepswithoneclutched

inhishand.Ishouldhaveprieditfromhisfingers,butI’vehada

lotonmymind.Spewingprofanity,heslashestheairafew

momentsbeforecomingtohissenses.Hewipeshisfaceonhis

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shirtsleeveandturnstothewindowsillwhereIperch,justincase

Ineedtomakeaquickexit.

“Whatareyoudoing?”hesputters.

“Youtoldmetowakeyouanhourbeforethecameras

come,”Isay.

“What?”hesays.

“Youridea,”Iinsist.

Heseemstoremember.“WhyamIallwet?”

“Icouldn’tshakeyouawake,”Isay.“Look,ifyouwantedto

bebabied,youshouldhaveaskedPeeta.”

“Askedmewhat?”Justthesoundofhisvoicetwistsmy

stomachintoaknotofunpleasantemotionslikeguilt,sadness,

andfear.Andlonging.Imightaswelladmitthere’ssomeof

that,too.Onlyithastoomuchcompetitiontoeverwinout.

IwatchasPeetacrossestothetable,thesunlightfromthe

windowpickinguptheglintoffreshsnowinhisblondhair.He

looksstrongandhealthy,sodifferentfromthesick,starvingboy

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Iknewinthearena,andyoucanbarelyevennoticehislimpnow.

Hesetsaloafoffresh-bakedbreadonthetableandholdsouthis

handtoHaymitch.

“Askedyoutowakemewithoutgivingmepneumonia,”says

Haymitch,passingoverhisknife.Hepullsoffhisfilthyshirt,

revealinganequallysoiledundershirt,andrubshimselfdown

withthedrypart.

PeetasmilesanddousesHaymitch’sknifeinwhiteliquor

fromabottleonthefloor.Hewipesthebladecleanonhis

shirttailandslicesthebread.Peetakeepsallofusinfreshbaked

goods.Ihunt.Hebakes.Haymitchdrinks.Wehaveourown

waystostaybusy,tokeepthoughtsofourtimeascontestantsin

theHungerGamesatbay.It’snotuntilhe’shandedHaymitch

theheelthatheevenlooksatmeforthefirsttime.“Wouldyou

likeapiece?”

“No,IateattheHob,”Isay.“Butthankyou.”Myvoice

doesn’tsoundlikemyown,it’ssoformal.Justasit’sbeenevery

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timeI’vespokentoPeetasincethecamerasfinishedfilmingour

happyhomecomingandwereturnedtoourreallives.

“You’rewelcome,”hesaysbackstiffly.

Haymitchtosseshisshirtsomewhereintothemess.“Brrr.

Youtwohavegotalotofwarminguptodobeforeshowtime.”

He’sright,ofcourse.Theaudiencewillbeexpectingthepair

oflovebirdswhowontheHungerGames.Nottwopeoplewho

canbarelylookeachotherintheeye.ButallIsayis,“Takea

bath,Haymitch.”ThenIswingoutthewindow,droptothe

ground,andheadacrossthegreentomyhouse.

ThesnowhasbeguntostickandIleaveatrailoffootprints

behindme.Atthefrontdoor,Ipausetoknockthewetstufffrom

myshoesbeforeIgoin.Mymother’sbeenworkingdayand

nighttomakeeverythingperfectforthecameras,soit’snotime

tobetrackinguphershinyfloors.I’vebarelysteppedinside

whenshe’sthere,holdingmyarmasiftostopme.

“Don’tworry,I’mtakingthemoffhere,”Isay,leavingmy

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shoesonthemat.

Mymothergivesanodd,breathylaughandremovesthe

gamebagloadedwithsuppliesfrommyshoulder.“It’sjust

snow.Didyouhaveanicewalk?”

“Walk?”SheknowsI’vebeeninthewoodshalfthenight.

ThenIseethemanstandingbehindherinthekitchendoorway.

Onelookathistailoredsuitandsurgicallyperfectedfeaturesand

Iknowhe’sfromtheCapitol.Somethingiswrong.“Itwasmore

likeskating.It’sreallygettingslipperyoutthere.”

“Someone’sheretoseeyou,”saysmymother.Herfaceis

toopaleandIcanheartheanxietyshe’stryingtohide.

“Ithoughttheyweren’tdueuntilnoon.”Ipretendnotto

noticeherstate.“DidCinnacomeearlytohelpmegetready?”

“No,Katniss,it’s—”mymotherbegins.

“Thisway,please,MissEverdeen,”saystheman.He

gesturesdownthehallway.It’sweirdtobeusheredaroundyour

ownhome,butIknowbetterthantocommentonit.

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AsIgo,Igivemymotherareassuringsmileovermy

shoulder.“Probablymoreinstructionsforthetour.”They’ve

beensendingmeallkindsofstuffaboutmyitineraryandwhat

protocolwillbeobservedineachdistrict.ButasIwalktoward

thedoorofthestudy,adoorIhaveneverevenseencloseduntil

thismoment,Icanfeelmymindbegintorace.Whoishere?

Whatdotheywant?Whyismymothersopale?

“Gorightin,”saystheCapitolman,whohasfollowedme

downthehallway.

Itwistthepolishedbrassknobandstepinside.Mynose

registerstheconflictingscentsofrosesandblood.Asmall,

white-hairedmanwhoseemsvaguelyfamiliarisreadingabook.

Heholdsupafingerasiftosay,“Givemeamoment.”Thenhe

turnsandmyheartskipsabeat.

I’mstaringintothesnakelikeeyesofPresidentSnow.

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Inmymind,PresidentSnowshouldbeviewedinfrontof

marblepillarshungwithoversizedflags.It’sjarringtoseehim

surroundedbytheordinaryobjectsintheroom.Liketakingthe

lidoffapotandfindingafangedviperinsteadofstew.

Whatcouldhebedoinghere?Mymindrushesbacktothe

openingdaysofotherVictoryTours.Irememberseeingthe

winningtributeswiththeirmentorsandstylists.Evensomehigh

governmentofficialshavemadeappearancesoccasionally.ButI

haveneverseenPresidentSnow.Heattendscelebrationsinthe

Capitol.Period.

Ifhe’smadethejourneyallthewayfromhiscity,itcanonly

meanonething.I’minserioustrouble.AndifIam,soismy

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family.AshivergoesthroughmewhenIthinkoftheproximity

ofmymotherandsistertothismanwhodespisesme.Will

alwaysdespiseme.BecauseIoutsmartedhissadisticHunger

Games,madetheCapitollookfoolish,andconsequently

underminedhiscontrol.

AllIwasdoingwastryingtokeepPeetaandmyselfalive.

Anyactofrebellionwaspurelycoincidental.Butwhenthe

Capitoldecreesthatonlyonetributecanliveandyouhavethe

audacitytochallengeit,Iguessthat’sarebellioninitself.My

onlydefensewaspretendingthatIwasdriveninsanebya

passionateloveforPeeta.Sowewerebothallowedtolive.Tobe

crownedvictors.Togohomeandcelebrateandwavegood-bye

tothecamerasandbeleftalone.Untilnow.

Perhapsitisthenewnessofthehouseortheshockofseeing

himorthemutualunderstandingthathecouldhavemekilledin

asecondthatmakesmefeelliketheintruder.Asifthisishis

homeandI’mtheuninvitedparty.SoIdon’twelcomehimor

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offerhimachair.Idon’tsayanything.Infact,Itreathimasif

he’sarealsnake,thevenomouskind.Istandmotionless,my

eyeslockedonhim,consideringplansofretreat.

“Ithinkwe’llmakethiswholesituationalotsimplerby

agreeingnottolietoeachother,”hesays.“Whatdoyouthink?”

Ithinkmytonguehasfrozenandspeechwillbeimpossible,

soIsurprisemyselfbyansweringbackinasteadyvoice,“Yes,I

thinkthatwouldsavetime.”

PresidentSnowsmilesandInoticehislipsforthefirsttime.

I’mexpectingsnakelips,whichistosaynone.Buthisareoverly

full,theskinstretchedtootight.Ihavetowonderifhismouth

hasbeenalteredtomakehimmoreappealing.Ifso,itwasa

wasteoftimeandmoney,becausehe’snotappealingatall.“My

advisorswereconcernedyouwouldbedifficult,butyou’renot

planningonbeingdifficult,areyou?”heasks.

“No,”Ianswer.

“That’swhatItoldthem.Isaidanygirlwhogoestosuch

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lengthstopreserveherlifeisn’tgoingtobeinterestedin

throwingitawaywithbothhands.Andthenthere’sherfamilyto

thinkof.Hermother,hersister,andallthose...cousins.”By

thewayhelingersontheword“cousins,”Icantellheknowsthat

GaleandIdon’tshareafamilytree.

Well,it’sallonthetablenow.Maybethat’sbetter.Idon’t

dowellwithambiguousthreats.I’dmuchratherknowthescore.

“Let’ssit.”PresidentSnowtakesaseatatthelargedeskof

polishedwoodwherePrimdoesherhomeworkandmymother

herbudgets.Likeourhome,thisisaplacethathehasnoright,

butultimatelyeveryright,tooccupy.Isitinfrontofthedeskon

oneofthecarved,straight-backedchairs.It’smadeforsomeone

tallerthanIam,soonlymytoesrestontheground.

“Ihaveaproblem,MissEverdeen,”saysPresidentSnow.“A

problemthatbeganthemomentyoupulledoutthosepoisonous

berriesinthearena.”

ThatwasthemomentwhenIguessedthatifthe

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GamemakershadtochoosebetweenwatchingPeetaandme

commitsuicide—whichwouldmeanhavingnovictor—and

lettingusbothlive,theywouldtakethelatter.

“IftheHeadGamemaker,SenecaCrane,hadhadanybrains,

he’dhaveblownyoutodustrightthen.Buthehadan

unfortunatesentimentalstreak.Sohereyouare.Canyouguess

whereheis?”heasks.

Inodbecause,bythewayhesaysit,it’sclearthatSeneca

Cranehasbeenexecuted.Thesmellofrosesandbloodhas

grownstrongernowthatonlyadeskseparatesus.There’sarose

inPresidentSnow’slapel,whichatleastsuggestsasourceofthe

flowerperfume,butitmustbegeneticallyenhanced,becauseno

realrosereekslikethat.Asfortheblood...Idon’tknow.

“Afterthat,therewasnothingtodobutletyouplayoutyour

littlescenario.Andyouwereprettygood,too,withthelove-

crazedschoolgirlbit.ThepeopleintheCapitolwerequite

convinced.Unfortunately,noteveryoneinthedistrictsfellfor

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youract,”hesays.

Myfacemustregisteratleastaflickerofbewilderment,

becauseheaddressesit.

“This,ofcourse,youdon’tknow.Youhavenoaccessto

informationaboutthemoodinotherdistricts.Inseveralofthem,

however,peopleviewedyourlittletrickwiththeberriesasanact

ofdefiance,notanactoflove.AndifagirlfromDistrictTwelve

ofallplacescandefytheCapitolandwalkawayunharmed,what

istostopthemfromdoingthesame?”hesays.“Whatisto

prevent,say,anuprising?”

Ittakesamomentforhislastsentencetosinkin.Thenthe

fullweightofithitsme.“Therehavebeenuprisings?”Iask,

bothchilledandsomewhatelatedbythepossibility.

“Notyet.Butthey’llfollowifthecourseofthingsdoesn’t

change.Anduprisingshavebeenknowntoleadtorevolution.”

PresidentSnowrubsaspotoverhislefteyebrow,theveryspot

whereImyselfgetheadaches.“Doyouhaveanyideawhatthat

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wouldmean?Howmanypeoplewoulddie?Whatconditions

thoseleftwouldhavetoface?Whateverproblemsanyonemay

havewiththeCapitol,believemewhenIsaythatifitreleased

itsgriponthedistrictsforevenashorttime,theentiresystem

wouldcollapse.”

I’mtakenabackbythedirectnessandeventhesincerityof

thisspeech.Asifhisprimaryconcernisthewelfareofthe

citizensofPanem,whennothingcouldbefurtherfromthetruth.

Idon’tknowhowIdaretosaythenextwords,butIdo.“Itmust

beveryfragile,ifahandfulofberriescanbringitdown.”

There’salongpausewhileheexaminesme.Thenhesimply

says,“Itisfragile,butnotinthewaythatyousuppose.”

There’saknockatthedoor,andtheCapitolmanstickshis

headin.“Hermotherwantstoknowifyouwanttea.”

“Iwould.Iwouldliketea,”saysthepresident.Thedoor

openswider,andtherestandsmymother,holdingatraywitha

chinateasetshebroughttotheSeamwhenshemarried.“Setit

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here,please.”Heplaceshisbookonthecornerofthedeskand

patsthecenter.

Mymothersetsthetrayonthedesk.Itholdsachinateapot

andcups,creamandsugar,andaplateofcookies.Theyare

beautifullyicedwithsoftlycoloredflowers.Thefrostingwork

canonlybePeeta’s.

“Whatawelcomesight.Youknow,it’sfunnyhowoften

peopleforgetthatpresidentsneedtoeat,too,”PresidentSnow

sayscharmingly.Well,itseemstorelaxmymotherabit,

anyway.

“CanIgetyouanythingelse?Icancooksomethingmore

substantialifyou’rehungry,”sheoffers.

“No,thiscouldnotbemoreperfect.Thankyou,”hesays,

clearlydismissingher.Mymothernods,shootsmeaglance,and

goes.PresidentSnowpoursteaforbothofusandfillshiswith

creamandsugar,thentakesalongtimestirring.Isensehehas

hadhissayandiswaitingformetorespond.

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“Ididn’tmeantostartanyuprisings,”Itellhim.

“Ibelieveyou.Itdoesn’tmatter.Yourstylistturnedoutto

bepropheticinhiswardrobechoice.KatnissEverdeen,thegirl

whowasonfire,youhaveprovidedasparkthat,leftunattended,

maygrowtoaninfernothatdestroysPanem,”hesays.

“Whydon’tyoujustkillmenow?”Iblurtout.

“Publicly?”heasks.“Thatwouldonlyaddfueltothe

flames.”

“Arrangeanaccident,then,”Isay.

“Whowouldbuyit?”heasks.“Notyou,ifyouwere

watching.”

“Thenjusttellmewhatyouwantmetodo.I’lldoit,”Isay.

“Ifonlyitwerethatsimple.”Hepicksuponeoftheflowered

cookiesandexaminesit.“Lovely.Yourmothermadethese?”

“Peeta.”Andforthefirsttime,IfindIcan’tholdhisgaze.I

reachformyteabutsetitbackdownwhenIhearthecuprattling

againstthesaucer.TocoverIquicklytakeacookie.

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“Peeta.Howistheloveofyourlife?”heasks.

“Good,”Isay.

“Atwhatpointdidherealizetheexactdegreeofyour

indifference?”heasks,dippinghiscookieinhistea.

“I’mnotindifferent,”Isay.

“Butperhapsnotastakenwiththeyoungmanasyouwould

havethecountrybelieve,”hesays.

“WhosaysI’mnot?”Isay.

“Ido,”saysthepresident.“AndIwouldn’tbehereifIwere

theonlypersonwhohaddoubts.How’sthehandsomecousin?”

“Idon’tknow...Idon’t...”Myrevulsionatthis

conversation,atdiscussingmyfeelingsfortwoofthepeopleI

caremostaboutwithPresidentSnow,chokesmeoff.

“Speak,MissEverdeen.HimIcaneasilykilloffifwedon’t

cometoahappyresolution,”hesays.“Youaren’tdoinghima

favorbydisappearingintothewoodswithhimeachSunday.”

Ifheknowsthis,whatelsedoesheknow?Andhowdoeshe

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knowit?ManypeoplecouldtellhimthatGaleandIspendour

Sundayshunting.Don’tweshowupattheendofeachone

loadeddownwithgame?Haven’tweforyears?Therealquestion

iswhathethinksgoesoninthewoodsbeyondDistrict12.Surely

theyhaven’tbeentrackingusinthere.Orhavethey?Couldwe

havebeenfollowed?Thatseemsimpossible.Atleastbya

person.Cameras?Thatnevercrossedmyminduntilthis

moment.Thewoodshavealwaysbeenourplaceofsafety,our

placebeyondthereachoftheCapitol,wherewe’refreetosay

whatwefeel,bewhoweare.AtleastbeforetheGames.Ifwe’ve

beenwatchedsince,whathavetheyseen?Twopeoplehunting,

sayingtreasonousthingsagainsttheCapitol,yes.Butnottwo

peopleinlove,whichseemstobePresidentSnow’simplication.

Wearesafeonthatcharge.Unless...unless...

Itonlyhappenedonce.Itwasfastandunexpected,butitdid

happen.

AfterPeetaandIgothomefromtheGames,itwasseveral

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weeksbeforeIsawGalealone.Firstthereweretheobligatory

celebrations.Abanquetforthevictorsthatonlythemosthigh-

rankingpeoplewereinvitedto.Aholidayforthewholedistrict

withfreefoodandentertainersbroughtinfromtheCapitol.

ParcelDay,thefirstoftwelve,inwhichfoodpackageswere

deliveredtoeverypersoninthedistrict.Thatwasmyfavorite.

ToseeallthosehungrykidsintheSeamrunningaround,waving

cansofapplesauce,tinsofmeat,evencandy.Backhome,toobig

tocarry,wouldbebagsofgrain,cansofoil.Toknowthatoncea

monthforayeartheywouldallreceiveanotherparcel.Thatwas

oneofthefewtimesIactuallyfeltgoodaboutwinningthe

Games.

Sobetweentheceremoniesandeventsandthereporters

documentingmyeverymoveasIpresidedandthankedand

kissedPeetafortheaudience,Ihadnoprivacyatall.Afterafew

weeks,thingsfinallydieddown.Thecameracrewsandreporters

packedupandwenthome.PeetaandIassumedthecool

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relationshipwe’vehadeversince.Myfamilysettledintoour

houseintheVictor’sVillage.TheeverydaylifeofDistrict12—

workerstothemines,kidstoschool—resumeditsusualpace.I

waiteduntilIthoughtthecoastwasreallyclear,andthenone

Sunday,withouttellinganyone,Igotuphoursbeforedawnand

tookoffforthewoods.

TheweatherwasstillwarmenoughthatIdidn’tneeda

jacket.Ipackedalongabagfilledwithspecialfoods,cold

chickenandcheeseandbakerybreadandoranges.Downatmy

oldhouse,Iputonmyhuntingboots.Asusual,thefencewasnot

chargedanditwassimpletoslipintothewoodsandretrievemy

bowandarrows.Iwenttoourplace,Gale’sandmine,wherewe

hadsharedbreakfastthemorningofthereapingthatsentmeinto

theGames.

Iwaitedatleasttwohours.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,

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mybestfriend,theonlypersonI’devertrustedwithmysecrets,

wassopainfulIcouldn’tstandit.Notontopofeverythingelse

thathadhappened.Icouldfeelmyeyestearingupandmythroat

startingtoclosethewayitdoeswhenIgetupset.

ThenIlookedupandtherehewas,tenfeetaway,just

watchingme.Withouteventhinking,Ijumpedupandthrewmy

armsaroundhim,makingsomeweirdsoundthatcombined

laughing,choking,andcrying.Hewasholdingmesotightlythat

Icouldn’tseehisface,butitwasareallylongtimebeforehelet

megoandthenhedidn’thavemuchchoice,becauseI’dgotten

thisunbelievablyloudcaseofthehiccupsandhadtogetadrink.

Wedidwhatwealwaysdidthatday.Atebreakfast.Hunted

andfishedandgathered.Talkedaboutpeopleintown.Butnot

aboutus,hisnewlifeinthemines,mytimeinthearena.Just

aboutotherthings.Bythetimewewereattheholeinthefence

that’snearesttheHob,IthinkIreallybelievedthatthingscould

bethesame.Thatwecouldgoonaswealwayshad.I’dgivenall

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thegametoGaletotradesincewehadsomuchfoodnow.Itold

himI’dskiptheHob,eventhoughIwaslookingforwardto

goingthere,becausemymotherandsisterdidn’tevenknowI’d

gonehuntingandthey’dbewonderingwhereIwas.Then

suddenly,asIwassuggestingItakeoverthedailysnarerun,he

tookmyfaceinhishandsandkissedme.

Iwascompletelyunprepared.Youwouldthinkthatafterall

thehoursI’dspentwithGale—watchinghimtalkandlaughand

frown—thatIwouldknowalltherewastoknowabouthislips.

ButIhadn’timaginedhowwarmtheywouldfeelpressedagainst

myown.Orhowthosehands,whichcouldsetthemostintricate

ofsnares,couldaseasilyentrapme.IthinkImadesomesortof

noiseinthebackofmythroat,andIvaguelyremembermy

fingers,curledtightlyclosed,restingonhischest.Thenheletgo

andsaid,“Ihadtodothat.Atleastonce.”Andhewasgone.

Despitethefactthatthesunwassettingandmyfamily

wouldbeworried,Isatbyatreenexttothefence.Itriedto

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decidehowIfeltaboutthekiss,ifIhadlikeditorresentedit,

butallIreallyrememberedwasthepressureofGale’slipsand

thescentoftheorangesthatstilllingeredonhisskin.Itwas

pointlesscomparingitwiththemanykissesI’dexchangedwith

Peeta.Istillhadn’tfiguredoutifanyofthosecounted.FinallyI

wenthome.

ThatweekImanagedthesnaresanddroppedoffthemeat

withHazelle.ButIdidn’tseeGaleuntilSunday.Ihadthiswhole

speechworkedout,abouthowIdidn’twantaboyfriendand

neverplannedonmarrying,butIdidn’tendupusingit.Gale

actedasifthekisshadneverhappened.Maybehewaswaiting

formetosaysomething.Orkisshimback.InsteadIjust

pretendedithadneverhappened,either.Butithad.Galehad

shatteredsomeinvisiblebarrierbetweenusand,withit,any

hopeIhadofresumingourold,uncomplicatedfriendship.

WhateverIpretended,Icouldneverlookathislipsinquitethe

sameway.

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ThisallflashesthroughmyheadinaninstantasPresident

Snow’seyesboreintomeontheheelsofhisthreattokillGale.

HowstupidI’vebeentothinktheCapitolwouldjustignoreme

onceI’dreturnedhome!MaybeIdidn’tknowaboutthepotential

uprisings.ButIknewtheywereangrywithme.Insteadofacting

withtheextremecautionthesituationcalledfor,whathaveI

done?Fromthepresident’spointofview,I’veignoredPeetaand

flauntedmypreferenceforGale’scompanybeforethewhole

district.AndbydoingsomadeitclearIwas,infact,mocking

theCapitol.NowI’veendangeredGaleandhisfamilyandmy

familyandPeeta,too,bymycarelessness.

“Pleasedon’thurtGale,”Iwhisper.“He’sjustmyfriend.

He’sbeenmyfriendforyears.That’sallthat’sbetweenus.

Besides,everyonethinkswe’recousinsnow.”

“I’monlyinterestedinhowitaffectsyourdynamicwith

Peeta,therebyaffectingthemoodinthedistricts,”hesays.

“Itwillbethesameonthetour.I’llbeinlovewithhimjust

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asIwas,”Isay.

“Justasyouare,”correctsPresidentSnow.

“JustasIam,”Iconfirm.

“Onlyyou’llhavetodoevenbetteriftheuprisingsaretobe

averted,”hesays.“Thistourwillbeyouronlychancetoturn

thingsaround.”

“Iknow.Iwill.I’llconvinceeveryoneinthedistrictsthatI

wasn’tdefyingtheCapitol,thatIwascrazywithlove,”Isay.

PresidentSnowrisesanddabshispuffylipswithanapkin.

“Aimhigherincaseyoufallshort.”

“Whatdoyoumean?HowcanIaimhigher?”Iask.

“Convinceme,”hesays.Hedropsthenapkinandretrieves

hisbook.Idon’twatchhimasheheadsforthedoor,soIflinch

whenhewhispersinmyear.“Bytheway,Iknowaboutthe

kiss.”Thenthedoorclicksshutbehindhim.

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Thesmellofblood...itwasonhisbreath.

Whatdoeshedo?Ithink.Drinkit?Iimaginehimsippingit

fromateacup.Dippingacookieintothestuffandpullingitout

drippingred.

Outsidethewindow,acarcomestolife,softandquietlike

thepurrofacat,thenfadesawayintothedistance.Itslipsoffas

itarrived,unnoticed.

Theroomseemstobespinninginslow,lopsidedcircles,and

IwonderifImightblackout.Ileanforwardandclutchthedesk

withonehand.TheotherstillholdsPeeta’sbeautifulcookie.I

thinkithadatigerlilyonit,butnowit’sbeenreducedtocrumbs

inmyfist.Ididn’tevenknowIwascrushingit,butIguessIhad

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toholdontosomethingwhilemyworldveeredoutofcontrol.

AvisitfromPresidentSnow.Districtsonthevergeof

uprisings.AdirectdeaththreattoGale,withotherstofollow.

EveryoneIlovedoomed.Andwhoknowswhoelsewillpayfor

myactions?UnlessIturnthingsaroundonthistour.Quietthe

discontentandputthepresident’smindatrest.Andhow?By

provingtothecountrybeyondanyshadowofadoubtthatIlove

PeetaMellark.

Ican’tdoit,Ithink.I’mnotthatgood.Peeta’sthegoodone,

thelikableone.Hecanmakepeoplebelieveanything.I’mthe

onewhoshutsupandsitsbackandletshimdoasmuchofthe

talkingaspossible.Butitisn’tPeetawhohastoprovehis

devotion.It’sme.

Ihearmymother’slight,quicktreadinthehall.Shecan’t

know,Ithink.Notaboutanyofthis.Ireachmyhandsoverthe

trayandquicklybrushthebitsofcookiefrommypalmand

fingers.Itakeashakysipofmytea.

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“Iseverythingallright,Katniss?”sheasks.

“It’sfine.Weneverseeitontelevision,butthepresident

alwaysvisitsthevictorsbeforethetourtowishthemluck,”Isay

brightly.

Mymother’sfacefloodswithrelief.“Oh.Ithoughtthere

wassomekindoftrouble.”

“No,notatall,”Isay.“Thetroublewillstartwhenmyprep

teamseeshowI’veletmyeyebrowsgrowbackin.”Mymother

laughs,andIthinkabouthowtherewasnogoingbackafterI

tookovercaringforthefamilywhenIwaseleven.HowIwill

alwayshavetoprotecther.

“Whydon’tIstartyourbath?”sheasks.

“Great,”Isay,andIcanseehowpleasedsheisbymy

response.

SinceI’vebeenhomeI’vebeentryinghardtomendmy

relationshipwithmymother.Askinghertodothingsforme

insteadofbrushingasideanyofferofhelp,asIdidforyearsout

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ofanger.LettingherhandleallthemoneyIwon.Returningher

hugsinsteadoftoleratingthem.Mytimeinthearenamademe

realizehowIneededtostoppunishingherforsomethingshe

couldn’thelp,specificallythecrushingdepressionshefellinto

aftermyfather’sdeath.Becausesometimesthingshappento

peopleandthey’renotequippedtodealwiththem.

Likeme,forinstance.Rightnow.

Besides,there’sonewonderfulthingshedidwhenIarrived

backinthedistrict.Afterourfamiliesandfriendshadgreeted

Peetaandmeatthetrainstation,therewereafewquestions

allowedfromreporters.Someoneaskedmymotherwhatshe

thoughtofmynewboyfriend,andsherepliedthat,whilePeeta

wastheverymodelofwhatayoungmanshouldbe,Iwasn’told

enoughtohaveanyboyfriendatall.Shefollowedthiswitha

pointedlookatPeeta.Therewasalotoflaughterandcomments

like“Somebody’sintrouble”fromthepress,andPeetadropped

myhandandsidesteppedawayfromme.Thatdidn’tlastlong—

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therewastoomuchpressuretoactotherwise—butitgaveusan

excusetobealittlemorereservedthanwe’dbeenintheCapitol.

AndmaybeitcanhelpaccountforhowlittleI’vebeenseenin

Peeta’scompanysincethecamerasleft.

Igoupstairstothebathroom,whereasteamingtubawaits.

Mymotherhasaddedasmallbagofdriedflowersthatperfumes

theair.Noneofusareusedtotheluxuryofturningonatapand

havingalimitlesssupplyofhotwateratourfingertips.Wehad

onlycoldatourhomeintheSeam,andabathmeantboilingthe

restoverthefire.Iundressandlowermyselfintothesilkywater

—mymotherhaspouredinsomekindofoilaswell—andtry

togetagriponthings.

Thefirstquestioniswhototell,ifanyone.Notmymotheror

Prim,obviously;they’donlybecomesickwithworry.NotGale.

EvenifIcouldgetwordtohim.Whatwouldhedowiththe

information,anyway?Ifhewerealone,Imighttrytopersuade

himtorunaway.Certainlyhecouldsurviveinthewoods.But

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he’snotaloneandhe’dneverleavehisfamily.Orme.WhenI

gethomeI’llhavetotellhimsomethingaboutwhyourSundays

areathingofthepast,butIcan’tthinkaboutthatnow.Only

aboutmynextmove.Besides,Gale’salreadysoangryand

frustratedwiththeCapitolthatIsometimesthinkhe’sgoingto

arrangehisownuprising.Thelastthingheneedsisanincentive.

No,Ican’ttellanyoneI’mleavingbehindinDistrict12.

TherearestillthreepeopleImightconfidein,startingwith

Cinna,mystylist.ButmyguessisCinnamightalreadybeat

risk,andIdon’twanttopullhimintoanymoretroublebycloser

associationwithme.Thenthere’sPeeta,whowillbemypartner

inthisdeception,buthowdoIbeginthatconversation?Hey,

Peeta,rememberhowItoldyouIwaskindoffakingbeingin

lovewithyou?Well,Ireallyneedyoutoforgetaboutthatnow

andactextrainlovewithmeorthepresidentmightkillGale.I

can’tdoit.Besides,Peetawillperformwellwhetherheknows

what’satstakeornot.ThatleavesHaymitch.Drunken,cranky,

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confrontationalHaymitch,whoIjustpouredabasinoficewater

on.AsmymentorintheGamesitwashisdutytokeepmealive.

Ionlyhopehe’sstillupforthejob.

Islidedownintothewater,lettingitblockoutthesounds

aroundme.IwishthetubwouldexpandsoIcouldgoswimming,

likeIusedtoonhotsummerSundaysinthewoodswithmy

father.Thosedayswereaspecialtreat.Wewouldleaveearlyin

themorningandhikefartherintothewoodsthanusualtoasmall

lakehe’dfoundwhilehunting.Idon’tevenrememberlearning

toswim,Iwassoyoungwhenhetaughtme.Ijustremember

diving,turningsomersaults,andpaddlingaround.Themuddy

bottomofthelakebeneathmytoes.Thesmellofblossomsand

greenery.Floatingonmyback,asIamnow,staringattheblue

skywhilethechatterofthewoodswasmutedbythewater.He’d

bagthewaterfowlthatnestedaroundtheshore,I’dhuntforeggs

inthegrasses,andwe’dbothdigforkatnissroots,theplantfor

whichhenamedme,intheshallows.Atnight,whenwegot

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home,mymotherwouldpretendnottorecognizemebecauseI

wassoclean.Thenshe’dcookupanamazingdinnerofroasted

duckandbakedkatnisstuberswithgravy.

InevertookGaletothelake.Icouldhave.It’stime-

consumingtogetthere,butthewaterfowlaresucheasypickings

youcanmakeupforlosthuntingtime.It’saplaceI’venever

reallywantedtosharewithanyone,though,aplacethatbelonged

onlytomyfatherandme.SincetheGames,whenI’vehadlittle

tooccupymydays,I’vegonethereacoupleoftimes.The

swimmingwasstillnice,butmostlythevisitsdepressedme.

Overthecourseofthelastfiveyears,thelake’sremarkably

unchangedandI’malmostunrecognizable.

EvenunderwaterIcanhearthesoundsofcommotion.

Honkingcarhorns,shoutsofgreeting,doorsbangingshut.Itcan

onlymeanmyentouragehasarrived.Ijusthavetimetotowel

offandslipintoarobebeforemyprepteamburstsintothe

bathroom.There’snoquestionofprivacy.Whenitcomestomy

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body,wehavenosecrets,thesethreepeopleandme.

“Katniss,youreyebrows!”Veniashrieksrightoff,andeven

withtheblackcloudhangingoverme,Ihavetostiflealaugh.

Heraquahairhasbeenstyledsoitsticksoutinsharppointsall

overherhead,andthegoldtattoosthatusedtobeconfinedabove

herbrowshavecurledaroundunderhereyes,allcontributingto

theimpressionthatI’veliterallyshockedher.

OctaviacomesupandpatsVenia’sbacksoothingly,her

curvybodylookingplumperthanusualnexttoVenia’sthin,

angularone.“There,there.Youcanfixthoseinnotime.But

whatamIgoingtodowiththesenails?”Shegrabsmyhandand

pinsitflatbetweenhertwopeagreenones.No,herskinisn’t

exactlypeagreennow.It’smoreofalightevergreen.Theshift

inshadeisnodoubtanattempttostayabreastofthecapricious

fashiontrendsoftheCapitol.“Really,Katniss,youcouldhave

leftmesomethingtoworkwith!”shewails.

It’strue.I’vebittenmynailstostubsinthepastcoupleof

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months.Ithoughtabouttryingtobreakthehabitbutcouldn’t

thinkofagoodreasonIshould.“Sorry,”Imutter.Ihadn’treally

beenspendingmuchtimeworryingabouthowitmightaffectmy

prepteam.

Flaviusliftsafewstrandsofmywet,tangledhair.Hegives

hisheadadisapprovingshake,causinghisorangecorkscrew

curlstobouncearound.“Hasanyonetouchedthissinceyoulast

sawus?”heaskssternly.“Remember,wespecificallyaskedyou

toleaveyourhairalone.”

“Yes!”Isay,gratefulthatIcanshowIhaven’ttotallytaken

themforgranted.“Imean,no,noone’scutit.Ididremember

that.”No,Ididn’t.It’smoreliketheissuenevercameup.Since

I’vebeenhome,allI’vedoneisstickitinitsusualoldbraid

downmyback.

Thisseemstomollifythem,andtheyallkissme,setmeona

chairinmybedroom,and,asusual,starttalkingnonstopwithout

botheringtonoticeifI’mlistening.WhileVeniareinventsmy

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eyebrowsandOctaviagivesmefakenailsandFlaviusmassages

goointomyhair,IhearallabouttheCapitol.Whatahitthe

Gameswere,howdullthingshavebeensince,hownoonecan

waituntilPeetaandIvisitagainattheendoftheVictoryTour.

Afterthat,itwon’tbelongbeforetheCapitolbeginsgearingup

fortheQuarterQuell.

“Isn’titthrilling?”

“Don’tyoufeelsolucky?”

“Inyourveryfirstyearofbeingavictor,yougettobea

mentorinaQuarterQuell!”

Theirwordsoverlapinablurofexcitement.

“Oh,yes,”Isayneutrally.It’sthebestIcando.Inanormal

year,beingamentortothetributesisthestuffofnightmares.I

can’twalkbytheschoolnowwithoutwonderingwhatkidI’ll

havetocoach.Buttomakethingsevenworse,thisistheyearof

theSeventy-fifthHungerGames,andthatmeansit’salsoa

QuarterQuell.Theyoccureverytwenty-fiveyears,markingthe

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anniversaryofthedistricts’defeatwithover-the-topcelebrations

and,forextrafun,somemiserabletwistforthetributes.I’ve

neverbeenaliveforone,ofcourse.ButinschoolIremember

hearingthatforthesecondQuarterQuell,theCapitoldemanded

thattwicethenumberoftributesbeprovidedforthearena.The

teachersdidn’tgointomuchmoredetail,whichissurprising,

becausethatwastheyearDistrict12’sveryownHaymitch

Abernathywonthecrown.

“Haymitchbetterbepreparinghimselfforalotof

attention!”squealsOctavia.

Haymitchhasnevermentionedhispersonalexperiencein

thearenatome.Iwouldneverask.AndifIeversawhisGames

televisedinreruns,Imust’vebeentooyoungtorememberit.But

theCapitolwon’tlethimforgetitthisyear.Inaway,it’sagood

thingPeetaandIwillbothbeavailableasmentorsduringthe

Quell,becauseit’sasurebetthatHaymitchwillbewasted.

Afterthey’veexhaustedthetopicoftheQuarterQuell,my

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prepteamlaunchesintoawholelotofstuffabouttheir

incomprehensiblysillylives.WhosaidwhataboutsomeoneI’ve

neverheardofandwhatsortofshoestheyjustboughtandalong

storyfromOctaviaaboutwhatamistakeitwastohaveeveryone

wearfeatherstoherbirthdayparty.

Soonmybrowsarestinging,myhair’ssmoothandsilky,and

mynailsarereadytobepainted.Apparentlythey’vebeengiven

instructiontoprepareonlymyhandsandface,probablybecause

everythingelsewillbecoveredinthecoldweather.Flavius

badlywantstousehisowntrademarkpurplelipstickonmebut

resignshimselftoapinkastheybegintocolormyfaceand

nails.IcanseebythepaletteCinnahasassignedthatwe’re

goingforgirlish,notsexy.Good.I’llneverconvinceanyoneof

anythingifI’mtryingtobeprovocative.Haymitchmadethat

veryclearwhenhewascoachingmeformyinterviewforthe

Games.

Mymothercomesin,somewhatshyly,andsaysthatCinna

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hasaskedhertoshowtheprepshowshedidmyhairthedayof

thereaping.Theyrespondwithenthusiasmandthenwatch,

thoroughlyengrossed,asshebreaksdowntheprocessofthe

elaboratebraidedhairdo.Inthemirror,Icanseetheirearnest

facesfollowinghereverymove,theireagernesswhenitistheir

turntotryastep.Infact,allthreearesoreadilyrespectfuland

nicetomymotherthatIfeelbadabouthowIgoaroundfeeling

sosuperiortothem.WhoknowswhoIwouldbeorwhatIwould

talkaboutifI’dbeenraisedintheCapitol?Maybemybiggest

regretwouldbehavingfeatheredcostumesatmybirthdayparty,

too.

Whenmyhairisdone,IfindCinnadownstairsintheliving

room,andjustthesightofhimmakesmefeelmorehopeful.He

looksthesameasalways,simpleclothes,shortbrownhair,justa

hintofgoldeyeliner.Weembrace,andIcanbarelykeepfrom

spillingouttheentireepisodewithPresidentSnow.Butno,I’ve

decidedtotellHaymitchfirst.He’llknowbestwhotoburden

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withit.It’ssoeasytotalktoCinna,though.Latelywe’vebeen

speakingalotonthetelephonethatcamewiththehouse.It’s

sortofajoke,becausealmostnooneelseweknowownsone.

There’sPeeta,butobviouslyIdon’tcallhim.Haymitchtorehis

outofthewallyearsago.MyfriendMadge,themayor’s

daughter,hasatelephoneinherhouse,butifwewanttotalk,we

doitinperson.Atfirst,thethingbarelyevergotused.Then

Cinnastartedtocalltoworkonmytalent.

Everyvictorissupposedtohaveone.Yourtalentisthe

activityyoutakeupsinceyoudon’thavetoworkeitherinschool

oryourdistrict’sindustry.Itcanbeanything,really,anything

thattheycaninterviewyouabout.Peeta,itturnsout,actuallyhas

atalent,whichispainting.He’sbeenfrostingthosecakesand

cookiesforyearsinhisfamily’sbakery.Butnowthathe’srich,

hecanaffordtosmearrealpaintoncanvases.Idon’thavea

talent,unlessyoucounthuntingillegally,whichtheydon’t.Or

maybesinging,whichIwouldn’tdofortheCapitolinamillion

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years.Mymothertriedtointerestmeinavarietyofsuitable

alternativesfromalistEffieTrinketsenther.Cooking,flower

arranging,playingtheflute.Noneofthemtook,althoughPrim

hadaknackforallthree.FinallyCinnasteppedinandofferedto

helpmedevelopmypassionfordesigningclothes,whichreally

requireddevelopmentsinceitwasnonexistent.ButIsaidyes

becauseitmeantgettingtotalktoCinna,andhepromisedhe’d

doallthework.

Nowhe’sarrangingthingsaroundmylivingroom:clothing,

fabrics,andsketchbookswithdesignshe’sdrawn.Ipickupone

ofthesketchbooksandexamineadressIsupposedlycreated.

“Youknow,IthinkIshowalotofpromise,”Isay.

“Getdressed,youworthlessthing,”hesays,tossingabundle

ofclothesatme.

ImayhavenointerestindesigningclothesbutIdolovethe

onesCinnamakesforme.Likethese.Flowingblackpantsmade

ofathick,warmmaterial.Acomfortablewhiteshirt.Asweater

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wovenfromgreenandblueandgraystrandsofkitten-softwool.

Lacedleatherbootsthatdon’tpinchmytoes.

“DidIdesignmyoutfit?”Iask.

“No,youaspiretodesignyouroutfitandbelikeme,your

fashionhero,”saysCinna.Hehandsmeasmallstackofcards.

“You’llreadtheseoffcamerawhilethey’refilmingtheclothes.

Trytosoundlikeyoucare.”

Justthen,EffieTrinketarrivesinapumpkinorangewigto

remindeveryone,“We’reonaschedule!”Shekissesmeonboth

cheekswhilewavinginthecameracrew,thenordersmeinto

position.Effie’stheonlyreasonwegotanywhereontimeinthe

Capitol,soItrytoaccommodateher.Istartbobbingaroundlike

apuppet,holdingupoutfitsandsayingmeaninglessthingslike

“Don’tyouloveit?”Thesoundteamrecordsmereadingfrom

mycardsinachirpyvoicesotheycaninsertitlater,thenI’m

tossedoutoftheroomsotheycanfilmmy/Cinna’sdesignsin

peace.

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Primgotoutearlyfromschoolfortheevent.Nowshestands

inthekitchen,beinginterviewedbyanothercrew.Shelooks

lovelyinaskybluefrockthatbringsouthereyes,herblondhair

pulledbackinamatchingribbon.She’sleaningabitforwardon

thetoesofhershinywhitebootslikeshe’sabouttotakeflight,

like—

Bam!It’slikesomeoneactuallyhitsmeinthechest.Noone

has,ofcourse,butthepainissorealItakeastepback.Isqueeze

myeyesshutandIdon’tseePrim—IseeRue,thetwelve-year-

oldgirlfromDistrict11whowasmyallyinthearena.Shecould

fly,birdlike,fromtreetotree,catchingontotheslenderest

branches.Rue,whoIdidn’tsave.WhoIletdie.Ipictureher

lyingonthegroundwiththespearstillwedgedinherstomach...

WhoelsewillIfailtosavefromtheCapitol’svengeance?

WhoelsewillbedeadifIdon’tsatisfyPresidentSnow?

IrealizeCinna’stryingtoputacoatonme,soIraisemy

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arms.Ifeelfur,insideandout,encasingme.It’sfromnoanimal

I’veeverseen.“Ermine,”hetellsmeasIstrokethewhitesleeve.

Leathergloves.Abrightredscarf.Somethingfurrycoversmy

ears.“You’rebringingearmuffsbackinstyle.”

Ihateearmuffs,Ithink.Theymakeithardtohear,andsince

Iwasblasteddeafinoneearinthearena,Idislikethemeven

more.AfterIwon,theCapitolrepairedmyear,butIstillfind

myselftestingit.

Mymotherhurriesupwithsomethingcuppedinherhand.

“Forgoodluck,”shesays.

It’sthepinMadgegavemebeforeIleftfortheGames.A

mockingjayflyinginacircleofgold.ItriedtogiveittoRuebut

shewouldn’ttakeit.Shesaidthepinwasthereasonshe’d

decidedtotrustme.Cinnafixesitontheknotinthescarf.

EffieTrinket’snearby,clappingherhands.“Attention,

everyone!We’reabouttodothefirstoutdoorshot,wherethe

victorsgreeteachotheratthebeginningoftheirmarveloustrip.

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Allright,Katniss,bigsmile,you’reveryexcited,right?”Idon’t

exaggeratewhenIsaysheshovesmeoutthedoor.

ForamomentIcan’tquiteseerightbecauseofthesnow,

whichisnowcomingdowninearnest.ThenImakeoutPeeta

comingthroughhisfrontdoor.InmyheadIhearPresident

Snow’sdirective,“Convinceme.”AndIknowImust.

MyfacebreaksintoahugesmileandIstartwalkingin

Peeta’sdirection.Then,asifIcan’tstanditanothersecond,I

startrunning.Hecatchesmeandspinsmearoundandthenhe

slips—hestillisn’tentirelyincommandofhisartificialleg—

andwefallintothesnow,meontopofhim,andthat’swherewe

haveourfirstkissinmonths.It’sfulloffurandsnowflakesand

lipstick,butunderneathallthat,Icanfeelthesteadinessthat

Peetabringstoeverything.AndIknowI’mnotalone.Asbadly

asIhavehurthim,hewon’texposemeinfrontofthecameras.

Won’tcondemnmewithahalfheartedkiss.He’sstilllooking

outforme.Justashedidinthearena.Somehowthethought

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makesmewanttocry.InsteadIpullhimtohisfeet,tuckmy

glovethroughthecrookofhisarm,andmerrilypullhimonour

way.

Therestofthedayisablurofgettingtothestation,bidding

everyonegood-bye,thetrainpullingout,theoldteam—Peeta

andme,EffieandHaymitch,CinnaandPortia,Peeta’sstylist—

diningonanindescribablydeliciousmealIdon’tremember.And

thenI’mswathedinpajamasandavoluminousrobe,sittingin

myplushcompartment,waitingfortheotherstogotosleep.I

knowHaymitchwillbeupforhours.Hedoesn’tliketosleep

whenit’sdarkout.

Whenthetrainseemsquiet,Iputonmyslippersandpad

downtohisdoor.Ihavetoknockseveraltimesbeforehe

answers,scowling,asifhe’scertainI’vebroughtbadnews.

“Whatdoyouwant?”hesays,nearlyknockingmeoutwitha

cloudofwinefumes.

“Ihavetotalktoyou,”Iwhisper.

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“Now?”hesays.Inod.“Thisbetterbegood.”Hewaits,butI

feelcertaineverywordweutteronaCapitoltrainisbeing

recorded.“Well?”hebarks.

ThetrainstartstobrakeandforasecondIthinkPresident

Snowiswatchingmeanddoesn’tapproveofmyconfidingin

Haymitchandhasdecidedtogoaheadandkillmenow.But

we’rejuststoppingforfuel.

“Thetrain’ssostuffy,”Isay.

It’saharmlessphrase,butIseeHaymitch’seyesnarrowin

understanding.“Iknowwhatyouneed.”Hepushespastmeand

lurchesdownthehalltoadoor.Whenhewrestlesitopen,ablast

ofsnowhitsus.Hetripsoutontotheground.

ACapitolattendantrushestohelp,butHaymitchwavesher

awaygood-naturedlyashestaggersoff.“Justwantsomefresh

air.Onlybeaminute.”

“Sorry.He’sdrunk,”Isayapologetically.“I’llgethim.”I

hopdownandstumblealongthetrackbehindhim,soakingmy

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slipperswithsnow,asheleadsmebeyondtheendofthetrainso

wewillnotbeoverheard.Thenheturnsonme.

“What?”

Itellhimeverything.Aboutthepresident’svisit,aboutGale,

abouthowwe’reallgoingtodieifIfail.

Hisfacesobers,growsolderintheglowoftheredtaillights.

“Thenyoucan’tfail.”

“Ifyoucouldjusthelpmegetthroughthistrip—”Ibegin.

“No,Katniss,it’snotjustthistrip,”hesays.

“Whatdoyoumean?”Isay.

“Evenifyoupullitoff,they’llbebackinanotherfew

monthstotakeusalltotheGames.YouandPeeta,you’llbe

mentorsnow,everyyearfromhereonout.Andeveryyear

they’llrevisittheromanceandbroadcastthedetailsofyour

privatelife,andyou’llnever,everbeabletodoanythingbutlive

happilyeverafterwiththatboy.”

Thefullimpactofwhathe’ssayinghitsme.Iwillnever

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havealifewithGale,evenifIwantto.Iwillneverbeallowedto

livealone.IwillhavetobeforeverinlovewithPeeta.The

Capitolwillinsistonit.I’llhaveafewyearsmaybe,becauseI’m

stillonlysixteen,tostaywithmymotherandPrim.Andthen...

andthen...

“DoyouunderstandwhatImean?”hepressesme.

Inod.Hemeansthere’sonlyonefuture,ifIwanttokeep

thoseIlovealiveandstayalivemyself.I’llhavetomarryPeeta.

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Weslogbacktothetraininsilence.Inthehallwayoutside

mydoor,Haymitchgivesmyshoulderapatandsays,“You

coulddoalotworse,youknow.”Heheadsofftohis

compartment,takingthesmellofwinewithhim.

Inmyroom,Iremovemysoddenslippers,mywetrobeand

pajamas.TherearemoreinthedrawersbutIjustcrawlbetween

thecoversofmybedinmyunderclothes.Istareintothe

darkness,thinkingaboutmyconversationwithHaymitch.

EverythinghesaidwastrueabouttheCapitol’sexpectations,my

futurewithPeeta,evenhislastcomment.Ofcourse,Icoulddoa

lotworsethanPeeta.Thatisn’treallythepoint,though,isit?

OneofthefewfreedomswehaveinDistrict12istherightto

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marrywhowewantornotmarryatall.Andnoweventhathas

beentakenawayfromme.IwonderifPresidentSnowwillinsist

wehavechildren.Ifwedo,they’llhavetofacethereapingeach

year.Andwouldn’titbesomethingtoseethechildofnotone

buttwovictorschosenforthearena?Victors’childrenhavebeen

intheringbefore.Italwayscausesalotofexcitementand

generatestalkabouthowtheoddsarenotinthatfamily’sfavor.

Butithappenstoofrequentlytojustbeaboutodds.Gale’s

convincedtheCapitoldoesitonpurpose,rigsthedrawingsto

addextradrama.GivenallthetroubleI’vecaused,I’veprobably

guaranteedanychildofmineaspotintheGames.

IthinkofHaymitch,unmarried,nofamily,blottingoutthe

worldwithdrink.Hecouldhavehadhischoiceofanywomanin

thedistrict.Andhechosesolitude.Notsolitude—thatsounds

toopeaceful.Morelikesolitaryconfinement.Wasitbecause,

havingbeeninthearena,heknewitwasbetterthanriskingthe

alternative?Ihadatasteofthatalternativewhentheycalled

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Prim’snameonreapingdayandIwatchedherwalktothestage

toherdeath.ButashersisterIcouldtakeherplace,anoption

forbiddentoourmother.

Mymindsearchesfranticallyforawayout.Ican’tlet

PresidentSnowcondemnmetothis.Evenifitmeanstakingmy

ownlife.Beforethat,though,I’dtrytorunaway.Whatwould

theydoifIsimplyvanished?Disappearedintothewoodsand

nevercameout?CouldIevenmanagetotakeeveryoneIlove

withme,startanewlifedeepinthewild?Highlyunlikelybut

notimpossible.

Ishakemyheadtoclearit.Thisisnotthetimetobemaking

wildescapeplans.ImustfocusontheVictoryTour.Toomany

people’sfatesdependonmygivingagoodshow.

Dawncomesbeforesleepdoes,andthere’sEffierappingon

mydoor.Ipullonwhateverclothesareatthetopofthedrawer

anddragmyselfdowntothediningcar.Idon’tseewhat

differenceitmakeswhenIgetup,sincethisisatravelday,but

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thenitturnsoutthatyesterday’smakeoverwasjusttogetmeto

thetrainstation.TodayI’llgettheworksfrommyprepteam.

“Why?It’stoocoldforanythingtoshow,”Igrumble.

“NotinDistrictEleven,”saysEffie.

District11.Ourfirststop.I’dratherstartinanyother

district,sincethiswasRue’shome.Butthat’snothowthe

VictoryTourworks.Usuallyitkicksoffin12andthengoesin

descendingdistrictorderto1,followedbytheCapitol.The

victor’sdistrictisskippedandsavedforverylast.Since12puts

ontheleastfabulouscelebration—usuallyjustadinnerforthe

tributesandavictoryrallyinthesquare,wherenobodylooks

likethey’rehavinganyfun—it’sprobablybesttogetusoutof

thewayassoonaspossible.Thisyear,forthefirsttimesince

Haymitchwon,thefinalstoponthetourwillbe12,andthe

Capitolwillspringforthefestivities.

ItrytoenjoythefoodlikeHazellesaid.Thekitchenstaff

clearlywantstopleaseme.They’vepreparedmyfavorite,lamb

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stewwithdriedplums,amongotherdelicacies.Orangejuiceand

apotofsteaminghotchocolatewaitatmyplaceatthetable.SoI

eatalot,andthemealisbeyondreproach,butIcan’tsayI’m

enjoyingit.I’malsoannoyedthatnoonebutEffieandIhas

shownup.

“Where’severybodyelse?”Iask.

“Oh,whoknowswhereHaymitchis,”saysEffie.Ididn’t

reallyexpectHaymitch,becausehe’sprobablyjustgettingto

bed.“Cinnawasuplateworkingonorganizingyourgarmentcar.

Hemusthaveoverahundredoutfitsforyou.Yourevening

clothesareexquisite.AndPeeta’steamisprobablystillasleep.”

“Doesn’theneedprepping?”Iask.

“Notthewayyoudo,”Effiereplies.

Whatdoesthismean?ItmeansIgettospendthemorning

havingthehairrippedoffmybodywhilePeetasleepsin.I

hadn’tthoughtaboutitmuch,butinthearenaatleastsomeof

theboysgottokeeptheirbodyhairwhereasnoneofthegirls

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did.IcanrememberPeeta’snow,asIbathedhimbythestream.

Veryblondinthesunlight,oncethemudandbloodhadbeen

washedaway.Onlyhisfaceremainedcompletelysmooth.Not

oneoftheboysgrewabeard,andmanywereoldenoughto.I

wonderwhattheydidtothem.

IfIfeelragged,myprepteamseemsinworsecondition,

knockingbackcoffeeandsharingbrightlycoloredlittlepills.As

farasIcantell,theynevergetupbeforenoonunlessthere’s

somesortofnationalemergency,likemyleghair.Iwasso

happywhenitgrewbackin,too.Asifitwereasignthatthings

mightbereturningtonormal.Irunmyfingersalongthesoft,

curlydownonmylegsandgivemyselfovertotheteam.Noneof

themareuptotheirusualchatter,soIcanheareverystrand

beingyankedfromitsfollicle.Ihavetosoakinatubfullofa

thick,unpleasant-smellingsolution,whilemyfaceandhairare

plasteredwithcreams.Twomorebathsfollowinother,less

offensive,concoctions.I’mpluckedandscouredandmassaged

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andanointeduntilI’mraw.

Flaviustiltsupmychinandsighs.“It’sashameCinnasaid

noalterationsonyou.”

“Yes,wecouldreallymakeyousomethingspecial,”says

Octavia.

“Whenshe’solder,”saysVeniaalmostgrimly.“Thenhe’ll

havetoletus.”

Dowhat?BlowmylipsuplikePresidentSnow’s?Tattoomy

breasts?Dyemyskinmagentaandimplantgemsinit?Cut

decorativepatternsinmyface?Givemecurvedtalons?Orcat’s

whiskers?Isawallthesethingsandmoreonthepeopleinthe

Capitol.Dotheyreallyhavenoideahowfreakishtheylookto

therestofus?

Thethoughtofbeinglefttomyprepteam’sfashionwhims

onlyaddstothemiseriescompetingformyattention—my

abusedbody,mylackofsleep,mymandatorymarriage,andthe

terrorofbeingunabletosatisfyPresidentSnow’sdemands.By

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thetimeIreachlunch,whereEffie,Cinna,Portia,Haymitch,and

Peetahavestartedwithoutme,I’mtooweigheddowntotalk.

They’reravingaboutthefoodandhowwelltheysleepontrains.

Everyone’sallfullofexcitementaboutthetour.Well,everyone

butHaymitch.He’snursingahangoverandpickingatamuffin.

I’mnotreallyhungry,either,maybebecauseIloadedupontoo

muchrichstuffthismorningormaybebecauseI’msounhappy.

Iplayaroundwithabowlofbroth,eatingonlyaspoonfulortwo.

Ican’tevenlookatPeeta—mydesignatedfuturehusband—

althoughIknownoneofthisishisfault.

Peoplenotice,trytobringmeintotheconversation,butI

justbrushthemoff.Atsomepoint,thetrainstops.Ourserver

reportsitwillnotjustbeforafuelstop—someparthas

malfunctionedandmustbereplaced.Itwillrequireatleastan

hour.ThissendsEffieintoastate.Shepullsoutherscheduleand

beginstoworkouthowthedelaywillimpacteveryeventforthe

restofourlives.FinallyIjustcan’tstandtolistentoher

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anymore.

“Noonecares,Effie!”Isnap.Everyoneatthetablestaresat

me,evenHaymitch,whoyou’dthinkwouldbeonmysideinthis

mattersinceEffiedriveshimnuts.I’mimmediatelyputonthe

defensive.“Well,noonedoes!”Isay,andgetupandleavethe

diningcar.

ThetrainsuddenlyseemsstiflingandI’mdefinitelyqueasy

now.Ifindtheexitdoor,forceitopen—triggeringsomesortof

alarm,whichIignore—andjumptotheground,expectingto

landinsnow.Buttheair’swarmandbalmyagainstmyskin.The

treesstillweargreenleaves.Howfarsouthhavewecomeina

day?Iwalkalongthetrack,squintingagainstthebrightsunlight,

alreadyregrettingmywordstoEffie.She’shardlytoblamefor

mycurrentpredicament.Ishouldgobackandapologize.My

outburstwastheheightofbadmanners,andmannersmatter

deeplytoher.Butmyfeetcontinueonalongthetrack,pastthe

endofthetrain,leavingitbehind.Anhour’sdelay.Icanwalkat

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leasttwentyminutesinonedirectionandmakeitbackwith

plentyoftimetospare.Instead,afteracouplehundredyards,I

sinktothegroundandsitthere,lookingintothedistance.IfI

hadabowandarrows,wouldIjustkeepgoing?

AfterawhileIhearfootstepsbehindme.It’llbeHaymitch,

comingtochewmeout.It’snotlikeIdon’tdeserveit,butIstill

don’twanttohearit.“I’mnotinthemoodforalecture,”Iwarn

theclumpofweedsbymyshoes.

“I’lltrytokeepitbrief.”Peetatakesaseatbesideme.

“IthoughtyouwereHaymitch,”Isay.

“No,he’sstillworkingonthatmuffin.”IwatchasPeeta

positionshisartificialleg.“Badday,huh?”

“It’snothing,”Isay.

Hetakesadeepbreath.“Look,Katniss,I’vebeenwantingto

talktoyouaboutthewayIactedonthetrain.Imean,thelast

train.Theonethatbroughtushome.Iknewyouhadsomething

withGale.IwasjealousofhimbeforeIevenofficiallymetyou.

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Anditwasn’tfairtoholdyoutoanythingthathappenedinthe

Games.I’msorry.”

Hisapologytakesmebysurprise.It’struethatPeetafroze

meoutafterIconfessedthatmyloveforhimduringtheGames

wassomethingofanact.ButIdon’tholdthatagainsthim.Inthe

arena,I’dplayedthatromanceangleforallitwasworth.There

hadbeentimeswhenIdidn’thonestlyknowhowIfeltabout

him.Istilldon’t,really.

“I’msorry,too,”Isay.I’mnotsureforwhatexactly.Maybe

becausethere’sarealchanceI’mabouttodestroyhim.

“There’snothingforyoutobesorryabout.Youwerejust

keepingusalive.ButIdon’twantustogoonlikethis,ignoring

eachotherinreallifeandfallingintothesnoweverytime

there’sacameraaround.SoIthoughtifIstoppedbeingso,you

know,wounded,wecouldtakeashotatjustbeingfriends,”he

says.

Allmyfriendsareprobablygoingtoendupdead,but

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refusingPeetawouldn’tkeephimsafe.“Okay,”Isay.Hisoffer

doesmakemefeelbetter.Lessduplicitoussomehow.Itwouldbe

niceifhe’dcometomewiththisearlier,beforeIknewthat

PresidentSnowhadotherplansandjustbeingfriendswasnotan

optionforusanymore.Buteitherway,I’mgladwe’respeaking

again.

“Sowhat’swrong?”heasks.

Ican’ttellhim.Ipickattheclumpofweeds.

“Let’sstartwithsomethingmorebasic.Isn’titstrangethatI

knowyou’driskyourlifetosavemine...butIdon’tknowwhat

yourfavoritecoloris?”hesays.

Asmilecreepsontomylips.“Green.What’syours?”

“Orange,”hesays.

“Orange?LikeEffie’shair?”Isay.

“Abitmoremuted,”hesays.“Morelike...sunset.”

Sunset.Icanseeitimmediately,therimofthedescending

sun,theskystreakedwithsoftshadesoforange.Beautiful.I

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rememberthetigerlilycookieand,nowthatPeetaistalkingto

meagain,it’sallIcandonottorecountthewholestoryabout

PresidentSnow.ButIknowHaymitchwouldn’twantmeto.I’d

bettersticktosmalltalk.

“Youknow,everyone’salwaysravingaboutyourpaintings.I

feelbadIhaven’tseenthem,”Isay.

“Well,I’vegotawholetraincarfull.”Herisesandoffers

mehishand.“Comeon.”

It’sgoodtofeelhisfingersentwinedwithmineagain,not

forshowbutinactualfriendship.Wewalkbacktothetrainhand

inhand.Atthedoor,Iremember.“I’vegottoapologizetoEffie

first.”

“Don’tbeafraidtolayitonthick,”Peetatellsme.

Sowhenwegobacktothediningcar,wheretheothersare

stillatlunch,IgiveEffieanapologythatIthinkisoverkillbut

inhermindprobablyjustmanagestocompensateformybreach

ofetiquette.Tohercredit,Effieacceptsgraciously.Shesaysit’s

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clearI’munderalotofpressure.Andhercommentsaboutthe

necessityofsomeoneattendingtothescheduleonlylastabout

fiveminutes.Really,I’vegottenoffeasily.

WhenEffiefinishes,Peetaleadsmedownafewcarstosee

hispaintings.Idon’tknowwhatIexpected.Largerversionsof

theflowercookiesmaybe.Butthisissomethingentirely

different.PeetahaspaintedtheGames.

Someyouwouldn’tgetrightaway,ifyouhadn’tbeenwith

himinthearenayourself.Waterdrippingthroughthecracksin

ourcave.Thedrypondbed.Apairofhands,hisown,diggingfor

roots.Othersanyviewerwouldrecognize.Thegoldenhorn

calledtheCornucopia.Clovearrangingtheknivesinsideher

jacket.Oneofthemutts,unmistakablytheblond,green-eyedone

meanttobeGlimmer,snarlingasitmakesitswaytowardus.

Andme.Iameverywhere.Highupinatree.Beatingashirt

againstthestonesinthestream.Lyingunconsciousinapoolof

blood.AndoneIcan’tplace—perhapsthisishowIlooked

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whenhisfeverwashigh—emergingfromasilvergraymistthat

matchesmyeyesexactly.

“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.

Iknowwhathemeans.Nightmares—whichIwasno

strangertobeforetheGames—nowplaguemewheneverI

sleep.Buttheoldstandby,theoneofmyfatherbeingblownto

bitsinthemines,israre.InsteadIreliveversionsofwhat

happenedinthearena.MyworthlessattempttosaveRue.Peeta

bleedingtodeath.Glimmer’sbloatedbodydisintegratinginmy

hands.Cato’shorrificendwiththemuttations.Thesearethe

mostfrequentvisitors.“Me,too.Doesithelp?Topaintthem

out?”

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“Idon’tknow.IthinkI’malittlelessafraidofgoingto

sleepatnight,orItellmyselfIam,”hesays.“Buttheyhaven’t

goneanywhere.”

“Maybetheywon’t.Haymitch’shaven’t.”Haymitchdoesn’t

sayso,butI’msurethisiswhyhedoesn’tliketosleepinthe

dark.

“No.Butforme,it’sbettertowakeupwithapaintbrushthan

aknifeinmyhand,”hesays.“Soyoureallyhatethem?”

“Yes.Butthey’reextraordinary.Really,”Isay.Andtheyare.

ButIdon’twanttolookatthemanymore.“Wanttoseemy

talent?Cinnadidagreatjobonit.”

Peetalaughs.“Later.”Thetrainlurchesforward,andIcan

seethelandmovingpastusthroughthewindow.“Comeon,

we’realmosttoDistrictEleven.Let’sgotakealookatit.”

Wegodowntothelastcaronthetrain.Therearechairsand

couchestositon,butwhat’swonderfulisthatthebackwindows

retractintotheceilingsoyou’reridingoutside,inthefreshair,

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andyoucanseeawidesweepofthelandscape.Hugeopenfields

withherdsofdairycattlegrazinginthem.Sounlikeourown

heavilywoodedhome.WeslowslightlyandIthinkwemightbe

cominginforanotherstop,whenafencerisesupbeforeus.

Toweringatleastthirty-fivefeetintheairandtoppedwith

wickedcoilsofbarbedwire,itmakesoursbackinDistrict12

lookchildish.Myeyesquicklyinspectthebase,whichislined

withenormousmetalplates.Therewouldbenoburrowingunder

those,noescapingtohunt.ThenIseethewatchtowers,placed

evenlyapart,mannedwitharmedguards,sooutofplaceamong

thefieldsofwildflowersaroundthem.

“That’ssomethingdifferent,”saysPeeta.

RuedidgivemetheimpressionthattherulesinDistrict11

weremoreharshlyenforced.ButIneverimaginedsomething

likethis.

Nowthecropsbegin,stretchedoutasfarastheeyecansee.

Men,women,andchildrenwearingstrawhatstokeepoffthesun

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straightenup,turnourway,takeamomenttostretchtheirbacks

astheywatchourtraingoby.Icanseeorchardsinthedistance,

andIwonderifthat’swhereRuewouldhaveworked,collecting

thefruitfromtheslimmestbranchesatthetopsofthetrees.

Smallcommunitiesofshacks—bycomparisonthehousesinthe

Seamareupscale—springuphereandthere,butthey’reall

deserted.Everyhandmustbeneededfortheharvest.

Onandonitgoes.Ican’tbelievethesizeofDistrict11.

“Howmanypeopledoyouthinklivehere?”Peetaasks.Ishake

myhead.Inschooltheyrefertoitasalargedistrict,that’sall.

Noactualfiguresonthepopulation.Butthosekidsweseeon

camerawaitingforthereapingeachyear,theycan’tbebuta

samplingoftheoneswhoactuallylivehere.Whatdotheydo?

Havepreliminarydrawings?Pickthewinnersaheadoftimeand

makesurethey’reinthecrowd?HowexactlydidRueendupon

thatstagewithnothingbutthewindofferingtotakeherplace?

Ibegintowearyofthevastness,theendlessnessofthis

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place.WhenEffiecomestotellustodress,Idon’tobject.Igoto

mycompartmentandlettheprepteamdomyhairandmakeup.

Cinnacomesinwithaprettyorangefrockpatternedwithautumn

leaves.IthinkhowmuchPeetawilllikethecolor.

EffiegetsPeetaandmetogetherandgoesthroughtheday’s

programonelasttime.Insomedistrictsthevictorsridethrough

thecitywhiletheresidentscheer.Butin11—maybebecause

there’snotmuchofacitytobeginwith,thingsbeingsospread

out,ormaybebecausetheydon’twanttowastesomanypeople

whiletheharvestison—thepublicappearanceisconfinedto

thesquare.IttakesplacebeforetheirJusticeBuilding,ahuge

marblestructure.Once,itmusthavebeenathingofbeauty,but

timehastakenitstoll.Evenontelevisionyoucanseeivy

overtakingthecrumblingfacade,thesagoftheroof.Thesquare

itselfisringedwithrun-downstorefronts,mostofwhichare

abandoned.Whereverthewell-to-doliveinDistrict11,it’snot

here.

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Ourentirepublicperformancewillbestagedoutsideonwhat

Effiereferstoastheverandah,thetiledexpansebetweenthe

frontdoorsandthestairsthat’sshadedbyaroofsupportedby

columns.PeetaandIwillbeintroduced,themayorof11will

readaspeechinourhonor,andwe’llrespondwithascripted

thank-youprovidedbytheCapitol.Ifavictorhadanyspecial

alliesamongthedeadtributes,itisconsideredgoodformtoadd

afewpersonalcommentsaswell.Ishouldsaysomethingabout

Rue,andThresh,too,really,buteverytimeItriedtowriteitat

home,Iendedupwithablankpaperstaringmeintheface.It’s

hardformetotalkaboutthemwithoutgettingemotional.

Fortunately,Peetahasalittlesomethingworkedup,andwith

someslightalterations,itcancountforbothofus.Attheendof

theceremony,we’llbepresentedwithsomesortofplaque,and

thenwecanwithdrawtotheJusticeBuilding,whereaspecial

dinnerwillbeserved.

AsthetrainispullingintotheDistrict11station,Cinnaputs

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thefinishingtouchesonmyoutfit,switchingmyorangehairband

foroneofmetallicgoldandsecuringthemockingjaypinIwore

inthearenatomydress.There’snowelcomingcommitteeon

theplatform,justasquadofeightPeacekeeperswhodirectus

intothebackofanarmoredtruck.Effiesniffsasthedoorclanks

closedbehindus.“Really,you’dthinkwewereallcriminals,”

shesays.

Notallofus,Effie.Justme,Ithink.

ThetruckletsusoutatthebackoftheJusticeBuilding.

We’rehurriedinside.Icansmellanexcellentmealbeing

prepared,butitdoesn’tblockouttheodorsofmildewandrot.

They’veleftusnotimetolookaround.Aswemakeabeelinefor

thefrontentrance,Icanheartheanthembeginningoutsideinthe

square.Someoneclipsamicrophoneonme.Peetatakesmyleft

hand.Themayor’sintroducingusasthemassivedoorsopenwith

agroan.

“Bigsmiles!”Effiesays,andgivesusanudge.Ourfeetstart

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movingforward.

Thisisit.ThisiswhereIhavetoconvinceeverybodyhowin

loveIamwithPeeta,Ithink.Thesolemnceremonyispretty

tightlymappedout,soI’mnotsurehowtodoit.It’snotatime

forkissing,butmaybeIcanworkonein.

There’sloudapplause,butnoneoftheotherresponseswe

gotintheCapitol,thecheersandwhoopsandwhistles.Wewalk

acrosstheshadedverandahuntiltheroofrunsoutandwe’re

standingatthetopofabigflightofmarblestairsintheglaring

sun.Asmyeyesadjust,Iseethebuildingsonthesquarehave

beenhungwithbannersthathelpcoveruptheirneglectedstate.

It’spackedwithpeople,butagain,justafractionofthenumber

wholivehere.

Asusual,aspecialplatformhasbeenconstructedatthe

bottomofthestageforthefamiliesofthedeadtributes.On

Thresh’sside,there’sonlyanoldwomanwithahunchedback

andatall,musculargirlI’mguessingishissister.OnRue’s...

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I’mnotpreparedforRue’sfamily.Herparents,whosefacesare

stillfreshwithsorrow.Herfiveyoungersiblings,whoresemble

hersoclosely.Theslightbuilds,theluminousbrowneyes.They

formaflockofsmalldarkbirds.

Theapplausediesoutandthemayorgivesthespeechinour

honor.Twolittlegirlscomeupwithtremendousbouquetsof

flowers.PeetadoeshispartofthescriptedreplyandthenIfind

mylipsmovingtoconcludeit.FortunatelymymotherandPrim

havedrilledmesoIcandoitinmysleep.

Peetahadhispersonalcommentswrittenonacard,buthe

doesn’tpullitout.Insteadhespeaksinhissimple,winningstyle

aboutThreshandRuemakingittothefinaleight,abouthow

theybothkeptmealive—therebykeepinghimalive—and

abouthowthisisadebtwecanneverrepay.Andthenhe

hesitatesbeforeaddingsomethingthatwasn’twrittenonthe

card.MaybebecausehethoughtEffiemightmakehimremove

it.“Itcaninnowayreplaceyourlosses,butasatokenofour

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thankswe’dlikeforeachofthetributes’familiesfromDistrict

Eleventoreceiveonemonthofourwinningseveryyearforthe

durationofourlives.”

Thecrowdcan’thelpbutrespondwithgaspsandmurmurs.

ThereisnoprecedentforwhatPeetahasdone.Idon’tevenknow

ifit’slegal.Heprobablydoesn’tknow,either,sohedidn’taskin

caseitisn’t.Asforthefamilies,theyjuststareatusinshock.

TheirliveswerechangedforeverwhenThreshandRuewerelost,

butthisgiftwillchangethemagain.Amonthoftributewinnings

caneasilyprovideforafamilyforayear.Aslongaswelive,

theywillnothunger.

IlookatPeetaandhegivesmeasadsmile.Ihear

Haymitch’svoice.“Youcoulddoalotworse.”Atthismoment,

it’simpossibletoimaginehowIcoulddoanybetter.Thegift...

itisperfect.SowhenIriseupontiptoetokisshim,itdoesn’t

seemforcedatall.

Themayorstepsforwardandpresentsuseachwithaplaque

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that’ssolargeIhavetoputdownmybouquettoholdit.The

ceremony’sabouttoendwhenInoticeoneofRue’ssisters

staringatme.Shemustbeaboutnineandisalmostanexact

replicaofRue,downtothewayshestandswithherarmsslightly

extended.Despitethegoodnewsaboutthewinnings,she’snot

happy.Infact,herlookisreproachful.IsitbecauseIdidn’tsave

Rue?

No.It’sbecauseIstillhaven’tthankedher,Ithink.

Awaveofshamerushesthroughme.Thegirlisright.How

canIstandhere,passiveandmute,leavingallthewordsto

Peeta?Ifshehadwon,Ruewouldneverhaveletmydeathgo

unsung.IrememberhowItookcareinthearenatocoverher

withflowers,tomakesureherlossdidnotgounnoticed.Butthat

gesturewillmeannothingifIdon’tsupportitnow.

“Wait!”Istumbleforward,pressingtheplaquetomychest.

Myallottedtimeforspeakinghascomeandgone,butImustsay

something.Iowetoomuch.AndevenifIhadpledgedallmy

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winningstothefamilies,itwouldnotexcusemysilencetoday.

“Wait,please.”Idon’tknowhowtostart,butonceIdo,the

wordsrushfrommylipsasifthey’vebeenformingintheback

ofmymindforalongtime.

“IwanttogivemythankstothetributesofDistrictEleven,”

Isay.IlookatthepairofwomenonThresh’sside.“Ionlyever

spoketoThreshonetime.Justlongenoughforhimtosparemy

life.Ididn’tknowhim,butIalwaysrespectedhim.Forhis

power.ForhisrefusaltoplaytheGamesonanyone’stermsbut

hisown.TheCareerswantedhimtoteamupwiththemfromthe

beginning,buthewouldn’tdoit.Irespectedhimforthat.”

Forthefirsttimetheoldhunchedwoman—issheThresh’s

grandmother?—raisesherheadandthetraceofasmileplayson

herlips.

Thecrowdhasfallensilentnow,sosilentthatIwonderhow

theymanageit.Theymustallbeholdingtheirbreath.

IturntoRue’sfamily.“ButIfeelasifIdidknowRue,and

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she’llalwaysbewithme.Everythingbeautifulbringsherto

mind.IseeherintheyellowflowersthatgrowintheMeadowby

myhouse.Iseeherinthemockingjaysthatsinginthetrees.But

mostofall,Iseeherinmysister,Prim.”Myvoiceis

undependable,butIamalmostfinished.“Thankyouforyour

children.”Iraisemychintoaddressthecrowd.“Andthankyou

allforthebread.”

Istandthere,feelingbrokenandsmall,thousandsofeyes

trainedonme.There’salongpause.Then,fromsomewherein

thecrowd,someonewhistlesRue’sfour-notemockingjaytune.

Theonethatsignaledtheendoftheworkdayintheorchards.The

onethatmeantsafetyinthearena.Bytheendofthetune,Ihave

foundthewhistler,awizenedoldmaninafadedredshirtand

overalls.Hiseyesmeetmine.

Whathappensnextisnotanaccident.Itistoowellexecuted

tobespontaneous,becauseithappensincompleteunison.Every

personinthecrowdpressesthethreemiddlefingersoftheirleft

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handagainsttheirlipsandextendsthemtome.It’soursignfrom

District12,thelastgood-byeIgaveRueinthearena.

IfIhadn’tspokentoPresidentSnow,thisgesturemight

movemetotears.Butwithhisrecentorderstocalmthedistricts

freshinmyears,itfillsmewithdread.Whatwillhethinkofthis

verypublicsalutetothegirlwhodefiedtheCapitol?

ThefullimpactofwhatI’vedonehitsme.Itwasnot

intentional—Ionlymeanttoexpressmythanks—butIhave

elicitedsomethingdangerous.Anactofdissentfromthepeople

ofDistrict11.ThisisexactlythekindofthingIamsupposedto

bedefusing!

Itrytothinkofsomethingtosaytounderminewhathasjust

happened,tonegateit,butIcanheartheslightburstofstatic

indicatingmymicrophonehasbeencutoffandthemayorhas

takenover.PeetaandIacknowledgeafinalroundofapplause.

Heleadsmebacktowardthedoors,unawarethatanythinghas

gonewrong.

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Ifeelfunnyandhavetostopforamoment.Littlebitsof

brightsunshinedancebeforemyeyes.“Areyouallright?”Peeta

asks.

“Justdizzy.Thesunwassobright,”Isay.Iseehisbouquet.

“Iforgotmyflowers,”Imumble.

“I’llgetthem,”hesays.

“Ican,”Ianswer.

WewouldbesafeinsidetheJusticeBuildingbynow,ifI

hadn’tstopped,ifIhadn’tleftmyflowers.Instead,fromthe

deepshadeoftheverandah,weseethewholething.

ApairofPeacekeepersdraggingtheoldmanwhowhistledto

thetopofthesteps.Forcinghimtohiskneesbeforethecrowd.

Andputtingabulletthroughhishead.

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Themanhasonlyjustcrumpledtothegroundwhenawallof

whitePeacekeeperuniformsblocksourview.Severalofthe

soldiershaveautomaticweaponsheldlengthwiseastheypushus

backtowardthedoor.

“We’regoing!”saysPeeta,shovingthePeacekeeperwho’s

pressingonme.“Wegetit,allright?Comeon,Katniss.”His

armencirclesmeandguidesmebackintotheJusticeBuilding.

ThePeacekeepersfollowapaceortwobehindus.Themoment

we’reinside,thedoorsslamshutandwehearthePeacekeepers’

bootsmovingbacktowardthecrowd.

Haymitch,Effie,Portia,andCinnawaitunderastatic-filled

screenthat’smountedonthewall,theirfacestightwithanxiety.

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“Whathappened?”Effiehurriesover.“Welostthefeedjust

afterKatniss’sbeautifulspeech,andthenHaymitchsaidhe

thoughtheheardagunfire,andIsaiditwasridiculous,butwho

knows?Therearelunaticseverywhere!”

“Nothinghappened,Effie.Anoldtruckbackfired,”says

Peetaevenly.

Twomoreshots.Thedoordoesn’tmuffletheirsoundmuch.

Whowasthat?Thresh’sgrandmother?OneofRue’slittle

sisters?

“Bothofyou.Withme,”saysHaymitch.PeetaandIfollow

him,leavingtheothersbehind.ThePeacekeeperswhoare

stationedaroundtheJusticeBuildingtakelittleinterestinour

movementsnowthatwearesafelyinside.Weascenda

magnificentcurvedmarblestaircase.Atthetop,there’salong

hallwithworncarpetonthefloor.Doubledoorsstandopen,

welcomingusintothefirstroomweencounter.Theceilingmust

betwentyfeethigh.Designsoffruitandflowersarecarvedinto

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themoldingandsmall,fatchildrenwithwingslookdownatus

fromeveryangle.Vasesofblossomsgiveoffacloyingscentthat

makesmyeyesitch.Oureveningclotheshangonracksagainst

thewall.Thisroomhasbeenpreparedforouruse,butwe’re

barelytherelongenoughtodropoffourgifts.ThenHaymitch

yanksthemicrophonesfromourchests,stuffsthembeneatha

couchcushion,andwavesuson.

AsfarasIknow,Haymitchhasonlybeenhereonce,whenhe

wasonhisVictoryTourdecadesago.Buthemusthavea

remarkablememoryorreliableinstincts,becauseheleadsusup

throughamazeoftwistingstaircasesandincreasinglynarrow

halls.Attimeshehastostopandforceadoor.Bytheprotesting

squeakofthehingesyoucantellit’sbeenalongtimesinceit

wasopened.Eventuallyweclimbaladdertoatrapdoor.When

Haymitchpushesitaside,wefindourselvesinthedomeofthe

JusticeBuilding.It’sahugeplacefilledwithbrokenfurniture,

pilesofbooksandledgers,andrustyweapons.Thecoatofdust

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blanketingeverythingissothickit’sclearithasn’tbeen

disturbedforyears.Lightstrugglestofilterinthroughfour

grimysquarewindowssetinthesidesofthedome.Haymitch

kicksthetrapdoorshutandturnsonus.

“Whathappened?”heasks.

Peetarelatesallthatoccurredinthesquare.Thewhistle,the

salute,ourhesitationontheverandah,themurderoftheoldman.

“What’sgoingon,Haymitch?”

“Itwillbebettercomingfromyou,”Haymitchsaystome.

Idon’tagree.Ithinkitwillbeahundredtimesworse

comingfromme.ButItellPeetaeverythingascalmlyasIcan.

AboutPresidentSnow,theunrestinthedistricts.Idon’teven

omitthekisswithGale.Ilayouthowweareallinjeopardy,how

thewholecountryisinjeopardybecauseofmytrickwiththe

berries.“Iwassupposedtofixthingsonthistour.Make

everyonewhohaddoubtedbelieveIactedoutoflove.Calm

thingsdown.Butobviously,allI’vedonetodayisgetthree

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peoplekilled,andnoweveryoneinthesquarewillbepunished.”

IfeelsosickthatIhavetositdownonacouch,despitethe

exposedspringsandstuffing.

“ThenImadethingsworse,too.Bygivingthemoney,”says

Peeta.Suddenlyhestrikesoutatalampthatsitsprecariouslyon

acrateandknocksitacrosstheroom,whereitshattersagainst

thefloor.“Thishastostop.Rightnow.This—this—gameyou

twoplay,whereyoutelleachothersecretsbutkeepthemfrom

melikeI’mtooinconsequentialorstupidorweaktohandle

them.”

“It’snotlikethat,Peeta—”Ibegin.

“It’sexactlylikethat!”heyellsatme.“IhavepeopleIcare

about,too,Katniss!FamilyandfriendsbackinDistrictTwelve

whowillbejustasdeadasyoursifwedon’tpullthisthingoff.

So,afterallwewentthroughinthearena,don’tIevenratethe

truthfromyou?”

“You’realwayssoreliablygood,Peeta,”saysHaymitch.“So

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smartabouthowyoupresentyourselfbeforethecameras.I

didn’twanttodisruptthat.”

“Well,youoverestimatedme.BecauseIreallyscrewedup

today.WhatdoyouthinkisgoingtohappentoRue’sand

Thresh’sfamilies?Doyouthinkthey’llgettheirshareofour

winnings?DoyouthinkIgavethemabrightfuture?BecauseI

thinkthey’llbeluckyiftheysurvivetheday!”Peetasends

somethingelseflying,astatue.I’veneverseenhimlikethis.

“He’sright,Haymitch,”Isay.“Wewerewrongnottotell

him.EvenbackintheCapitol.”

“Eveninthearena,youtwohadsomesortofsystemworked

out,didn’tyou?”asksPeeta.Hisvoiceisquieternow.

“SomethingIwasn’tpartof.”

“No.Notofficially.IjustcouldtellwhatHaymitchwanted

metodobywhathesent,ordidn’tsend,”Isay.

“Well,Ineverhadthatopportunity.Becauseheneversent

meanythinguntilyoushowedup,”saysPeeta.

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Ihaven’tthoughtmuchaboutthis.Howitmusthavelooked

fromPeeta’sperspectivewhenIappearedinthearenahaving

receivedburnmedicineandbreadwhenhe,whowasatdeath’s

door,hadgottennothing.LikeHaymitchwaskeepingmealiveat

hisexpense.

“Look,boy—”Haymitchbegins.

“Don’tbother,Haymitch.Iknowyouhadtochooseoneof

us.AndI’dhavewantedittobeher.Butthisissomething

different.Peoplearedeadoutthere.Morewillfollowunless

we’reverygood.WeallknowI’mbetterthanKatnissinfrontof

thecameras.Nooneneedstocoachmeonwhattosay.ButI

havetoknowwhatI’mwalkinginto,”saysPeeta.

“Fromnowon,you’llbefullyinformed,”Haymitch

promises.

“Ibetterbe,”saysPeeta.Hedoesn’tevenbothertolookat

mebeforeheleaves.

Thedusthedisruptedbillowsupandlooksfornewplacesto

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land.Myhair,myeyes,myshinygoldpin.

“Didyouchooseme,Haymitch?”Iask.

“Yeah,”hesays.

“Why?Youlikehimbetter,”Isay.

“That’strue.Butremember,untiltheychangedtherules,I

couldonlyhopetogetoneofyououtoftherealive,”hesays.“I

thoughtsincehewasdeterminedtoprotectyou,well,between

thethreeofus,wemightbeabletobringyouhome.”

“Oh”isallIcanthinktosay.

“You’llsee,thechoicesyou’llhavetomake.Ifwesurvive

this,”saysHaymitch.“You’lllearn.”

Well,I’velearnedonethingtoday.Thisplaceisnotalarger

versionofDistrict12.Ourfenceisunguardedandrarely

charged.OurPeacekeepersareunwelcomebutlessbrutal.Our

hardshipsevokemorefatiguethanfury.Herein11,theysuffer

moreacutelyandfeelmoredesperation.PresidentSnowisright.

Asparkcouldbeenoughtosetthemablaze.

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Everythingishappeningtoofastformetoprocessit.The

warning,theshootings,therecognitionthatImayhaveset

somethingofgreatconsequenceinmotion.Thewholethingisso

improbable.AnditwouldbeonethingifIhadplannedtostir

thingsup,butgiventhecircumstances...howonearthdidI

causesomuchtrouble?

“Comeon.We’vegotadinnertoattend,”saysHaymitch.

IstandintheshoweraslongastheyletmebeforeIhaveto

comeouttobereadied.Theprepteamseemsoblivioustothe

eventsoftheday.They’reallexcitedaboutthedinner.Inthe

districtsthey’reimportantenoughtoattend,whereasbackinthe

Capitoltheyalmostneverscoreinvitationstoprestigiousparties.

Whiletheytrytopredictwhatdisheswillbeserved,Ikeep

seeingtheoldman’sheadbeingblownoff.Idon’tevenpay

attentiontowhatanyoneisdoingtomeuntilI’mabouttoleave

andIseemyselfinthemirror.Apalepinkstraplessdress

brushesmyshoes.Myhairispinnedbackfrommyfaceand

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fallingdownmybackinashowerofringlets.

Cinnacomesupbehindmeandarrangesashimmeringsilver

wraparoundmyshoulders.Hecatchesmyeyeinthemirror.

“Likeit?”

“It’sbeautiful.Asalways,”Isay.

“Let’sseehowitlookswithasmile,”hesaysgently.It’shis

reminderthatinaminute,therewillbecamerasagain.Imanage

toraisethecornersofmylips.“Therewego.”

Whenweallassembletogodowntothedinner,Icansee

Effieisoutofsorts.Surely,Haymitchhasn’ttoldheraboutwhat

happenedinthesquare.Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifCinnaand

Portiaknow,butthereseemstobeanunspokenagreementto

leaveEffieoutofthebad-newsloop.Itdoesn’ttakelongtohear

abouttheproblem,though.

Effierunsthroughtheevening’sschedule,thentossesit

aside.“Andthen,thankgoodness,wecanallgetonthattrainand

getoutofhere,”shesays.

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“Issomethingwrong,Effie?”asksCinna.

“Idon’tlikethewaywe’vebeentreated.Beingstuffedinto

trucksandbarredfromtheplatform.Andthen,aboutanhour

ago,IdecidedtolookaroundtheJusticeBuilding.I’m

somethingofanexpertinarchitecturaldesign,youknow,”she

says.

“Oh,yes,I’veheardthat,”saysPortiabeforethepausegets

toolong.

“So,Iwasjusthavingapeekaroundbecausedistrictruins

aregoingtobealltheragethisyear,whentwoPeacemakers

showedupandorderedmebacktoourquarters.Oneofthem

actuallypokedmewithhergun!”saysEffie.

Ican’thelpthinkingthisisthedirectresultofHaymitch,

Peeta,andmedisappearingearlierintheday.It’salittle

reassuring,actually,tothinkthatHaymitchmighthavebeen

right.Thatnoonewouldhavebeenmonitoringthedustydome

wherewetalked.AlthoughIbettheyarenow.

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EffielookssodistressedthatIspontaneouslygiveherahug.

“That’sawful,Effie.Maybeweshouldn’tgotothedinneratall.

Atleastuntilthey’veapologized.”Iknowshe’llneveragreeto

this,butshebrightensconsiderablyatthesuggestion,atthe

validationofhercomplaint.

“No,I’llmanage.It’spartofmyjobtoweathertheupsand

downs.Andwecan’tletyoutwomissyourdinner,”shesays.

“Butthankyoufortheoffer,Katniss.”

Effiearrangesusinformationforourentrance.Firsttheprep

teams,thenher,thestylists,Haymitch.PeetaandI,ofcourse,

bringuptherear.

Somewherebelow,musiciansbegintoplay.Asthefirst

waveofourlittleprocessionbeginsdownthesteps,PeetaandI

joinhands.

“HaymitchsaysIwaswrongtoyellatyou.Youwereonly

operatingunderhisinstructions,”saysPeeta.“Anditisn’tasifI

haven’tkeptthingsfromyouinthepast.”

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IremembertheshockofhearingPeetaconfesshislovefor

meinfrontofallofPanem.Haymitchhadknownaboutthatand

nottoldme.“IthinkIbrokeafewthingsmyselfafterthat

interview.”

“Justanurn,”hesays.

“Andyourhands.There’snopointtoitanymore,though,is

there?Notbeingstraightwitheachother?”Isay.

“Nopoint,”saysPeeta.Westandatthetopofthestairs,

givingHaymitchafifteen-stepleadasEffiedirected.“Wasthat

reallytheonlytimeyoukissedGale?”

I’msostartledIanswer.“Yes.”Withallthathashappened

today,hasthatquestionactuallybeenpreyingonhim?

“That’sfifteen.Let’sdoit,”hesays.

Alighthitsus,andIputonthemostdazzlingsmileIcan.

Wedescendthestepsandaresuckedintowhatbecomesan

indistinguishableroundofdinners,ceremonies,andtrainrides.

Eachdayit’sthesame.Wakeup.Getdressed.Ridethrough

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cheeringcrowds.Listentoaspeechinourhonor.Giveathank-

youspeechinreturn,butonlytheonetheCapitolgaveus,never

anypersonaladditionsnow.Sometimesabrieftour:aglimpseof

theseainonedistrict,toweringforestsinanother,uglyfactories,

fieldsofwheat,stinkingrefineries.Dressineveningclothes.

Attenddinner.Train.

Duringceremonies,wearesolemnandrespectfulbutalways

linkedtogether,byourhands,ourarms.Atdinners,weare

borderlinedeliriousinourloveforeachother.Wekiss,we

dance,wegetcaughttryingtosneakawaytobealone.Onthe

train,wearequietlymiserableaswetrytoassesswhateffectwe

mightbehaving.

Evenwithoutourpersonalspeechestotriggerdissent—

needlesstosaytheoneswegaveinDistrict11wereeditedout

beforetheeventwasbroadcast—youcanfeelsomethinginthe

air,therollingboilofapotabouttorunover.Noteverywhere.

Somecrowdshavetheweary-cattlefeelthatIknowDistrict12

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usuallyprojectsatthevictors’ceremonies.Butinothers—

particularly8,4,and3—thereisgenuineelationinthefacesof

thepeopleatthesightofus,andundertheelation,fury.When

theychantmyname,itismoreofacryforvengeancethana

cheer.WhenthePeacekeepersmoveintoquietanunrulycrowd,

itpressesbackinsteadofretreating.AndIknowthatthere’s

nothingIcouldeverdotochangethis.Noshowoflove,however

believable,willturnthistide.Ifmyholdingoutthoseberries

wasanactoftemporaryinsanity,thenthesepeoplewillembrace

insanity,too.

Cinnabeginstotakeinmyclothesaroundthewaist.The

prepteamfretsoverthecirclesundermyeyes.Effiestarts

givingmepillstosleep,buttheydon’twork.Notwellenough.I

driftoffonlytoberousedbynightmaresthathaveincreasedin

numberandintensity.Peeta,whospendsmuchofthenight

roamingthetrain,hearsmescreamingasIstruggletobreakout

ofthehazeofdrugsthatmerelyprolongthehorribledreams.He

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managestowakemeandcalmmedown.Thenheclimbsinto

bedtoholdmeuntilIfallbacktosleep.Afterthat,Irefusethe

pills.ButeverynightIlethimintomybed.Wemanagethe

darknessaswedidinthearena,wrappedineachother’sarms,

guardingagainstdangersthatcandescendatanymoment.

Nothingelsehappens,butourarrangementquicklybecomesa

subjectofgossiponthetrain.

WhenEffiebringsituptome,Ithink,Good.Maybeitwill

getbacktoPresidentSnow.Itellherwe’llmakeanefforttobe

morediscreet,butwedon’t.

Theback-to-backappearancesin2and1aretheirown

specialkindofawful.CatoandClove,thetributesfromDistrict

2,mighthavebothmadeithomeifPeetaandIhadn’t.I

personallykilledthegirl,Glimmer,andtheboyfromDistrict1.

AsItrytoavoidlookingathisfamily,Ilearnthathisnamewas

Marvel.HowdidIneverknowthat?Isupposethatbeforethe

GamesIdidn’tpayattention,andafterwardIdidn’twantto

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know.

BythetimewereachtheCapitol,wearedesperate.Wemake

endlessappearancestoadoringcrowds.Thereisnodangerofan

uprisinghereamongtheprivileged,amongthosewhosenames

areneverplacedinthereapingballs,whosechildrenneverdie

forthesupposedcrimescommittedgenerationsago.Wedon’t

needtoconvinceanybodyintheCapitolofourlovebutholdto

theslimhopethatwecanstillreachsomeofthosewefailedto

convinceinthedistricts.Whateverwedoseemstoolittle,too

late.

BackinouroldquartersintheTrainingCenter,I’mtheone

whosuggeststhepublicmarriageproposal.Peetaagreestodoit

butthendisappearstohisroomforalongtime.Haymitchtells

metoleavehimalone.

“Ithoughthewantedit,anyway,”Isay.

“Notlikethis,”Haymitchsays.“Hewantedittobereal.”

Igobacktomyroomandlieunderthecovers,tryingnotto

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thinkofGaleandthinkingofnothingelse.

Thatnight,onthestagebeforetheTrainingCenter,we

bubbleourwaythroughalistofquestions.CaesarFlickerman,in

histwinklingmidnightbluesuit,hishair,eyelids,andlipsstill

dyedpowderblue,flawlesslyguidesusthroughtheinterview.

Whenheasksusaboutthefuture,Peetagetsdownononeknee,

poursouthisheart,andbegsmetomarryhim.I,ofcourse,

accept.Caesarisbesidehimself,theCapitolaudienceis

hysterical,shotsofcrowdsaroundPanemshowacountry

besottedwithhappiness.

PresidentSnowhimselfmakesasurprisevisitto

congratulateus.HeclaspsPeeta’shandandgiveshiman

approvingslapontheshoulder.Heembracesme,enfoldingme

inthesmellofbloodandroses,andplantsapuffykissonmy

cheek.Whenhepullsback,hisfingersdiggingintomyarms,his

facesmilingintomine,Idaretoraisemyeyebrows.Theyask

whatmylipscan’t.DidIdoit?Wasitenough?Wasgiving

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everythingovertoyou,keepingupthegame,promisingtomarry

Peetaenough?

Inanswer,hegivesanalmostimperceptibleshakeofhis

head.

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Inthatoneslightmotion,Iseetheendofhope,the

beginningofthedestructionofeverythingIholddearinthe

world.Ican’tguesswhatformmypunishmentwilltake,how

widethenetwillbecast,butwhenitisfinished,therewillmost

likelybenothingleft.Soyouwouldthinkthatatthismoment,I

wouldbeinutterdespair.Here’swhat’sstrange.Themainthing

Ifeelisasenseofrelief.ThatIcangiveupthisgame.Thatthe

questionofwhetherIcansucceedinthisventurehasbeen

answered,evenifthatanswerisaresoundingno.Thatif

desperatetimescallfordesperatemeasures,thenIamfreetoact

asdesperatelyasIwish.

Onlynothere,notquiteyet.It’sessentialtogetbackto

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District12,becausethemainpartofanyplanwillincludemy

motherandsister,Galeandhisfamily.AndPeeta,ifIcanget

himtocomewithus.IaddHaymitchtothelist.Thesearethe

peopleImusttakewithmewhenIescapeintothewild.HowI

willconvincethem,wherewewillgointhedeadofwinter,what

itwilltaketoevadecaptureareunansweredquestions.Butat

leastnowIknowwhatImustdo.

Soinsteadofcrumplingtothegroundandweeping,Ifind

myselfstandingupstraighterandwithmoreconfidencethanI

haveinweeks.Mysmile,whilesomewhatinsane,isnotforced.

AndwhenPresidentSnowsilencestheaudienceandsays,“What

doyouthinkaboutusthrowingthemaweddingrighthereinthe

Capitol?”Ipulloffgirl-almost-catatonic-with-joywithouta

hitch.

CaesarFlickermanasksifthepresidenthasadateinmind.

“Oh,beforewesetadate,webetterclearitwithKatniss’s

mother,”saysthepresident.Theaudiencegivesabiglaughand

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thepresidentputshisarmaroundme.“Maybeifthewhole

countryputsitsmindtoit,wecangetyoumarriedbeforeyou’re

thirty.”

“You’llprobablyhavetopassanewlaw,”Isaywitha

giggle.

“Ifthat’swhatittakes,”saysthepresidentwith

conspiratorialgoodhumor.

Oh,thefunwetwohavetogether.

Theparty,heldinthebanquetroomofPresidentSnow’s

mansion,hasnoequal.Theforty-footceilinghasbeen

transformedintothenightsky,andthestarslookexactlyasthey

doathome.IsupposetheylookthesamefromtheCapitol,but

whowouldknow?There’salwaystoomuchlightfromthecityto

seethestarshere.Abouthalfwaybetweenthefloorandthe

ceiling,musiciansfloatonwhatlooklikefluffywhiteclouds,

butIcan’tseewhatholdsthemaloft.Traditionaldiningtables

havebeenreplacedbyinnumerablestuffedsofasandchairs,

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somesurroundingfireplaces,othersbesidefragrantflower

gardensorpondsfilledwithexoticfish,sothatpeoplecaneat

anddrinkanddowhatevertheypleaseintheutmostcomfort.

There’salargetiledareainthecenteroftheroomthatservesas

everythingfromadancefloor,toastagefortheperformerswho

comeandgo,toanotherspottominglewiththeflamboyantly

dressedguests.

Buttherealstaroftheeveningisthefood.Tablesladenwith

delicacieslinethewalls.Everythingyoucanthinkof,andthings

youhaveneverdreamedof,lieinwait.Wholeroastedcowsand

pigsandgoatsstillturningonspits.Hugeplattersoffowlstuffed

withsavoryfruitsandnuts.Oceancreaturesdrizzledinsaucesor

beggingtobedippedinspicyconcoctions.Countlesscheeses,

breads,vegetables,sweets,waterfallsofwine,andstreamsof

spiritsthatflickerwithflames.

Myappetitehasreturnedwithmydesiretofightback.After

weeksoffeelingtooworriedtoeat,I’mfamished.

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“Iwanttotasteeverythingintheroom,”ItellPeeta.

Icanseehimtryingtoreadmyexpression,tofigureoutmy

transformation.Sincehedoesn’tknowthatPresidentSnow

thinksIhavefailed,hecanonlyassumethatIthinkwehave

succeeded.PerhapseventhatIhavesomegenuinehappinessat

ourengagement.Hiseyesreflecthispuzzlementbutonlybriefly,

becausewe’reoncamera.“Thenyou’dbetterpaceyourself,”he

says.

“Okay,nomorethanonebiteofeachdish,”Isay.My

resolveisalmostimmediatelybrokenatthefirsttable,whichhas

twentyorsosoups,whenIencounteracreamypumpkinbrew

sprinkledwithsliverednutsandtinyblackseeds.“Icouldjust

eatthisallnight!”Iexclaim.ButIdon’t.Iweakenagainata

cleargreenbroththatIcanonlydescribeastastinglike

springtime,andagainwhenItryafrothypinksoupdottedwith

raspberries.

Facesappear,namesareexchanged,picturestaken,kisses

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brushedoncheeks.Apparentlymymockingjaypinhasspawned

anewfashionsensation,becauseseveralpeoplecomeuptoshow

metheiraccessories.Mybirdhasbeenreplicatedonbelt

buckles,embroideredintosilklapels,eventattooedinintimate

places.Everyonewantstowearthewinner’stoken.Icanonly

imaginehownutsthatmakesPresidentSnow.Butwhatcanhe

do?TheGamesweresuchahithere,wheretheberrieswereonly

asymbolofadesperategirltryingtosaveherlover.

PeetaandImakenoefforttofindcompanybutare

constantlysoughtout.Wearewhatnoonewantstomissatthe

party.Iactdelighted,butIhavezerointerestintheseCapitol

people.Theyareonlydistractionsfromthefood.

Everytablepresentsnewtemptations,andevenonmy

restrictedone-taste-per-dishregimen,Ibeginfillingupquickly.

Ipickupasmallroastedbird,biteintoit,andmytonguefloods

withorangesauce.Delicious.ButImakePeetaeattheremainder

becauseIwanttokeeptastingthings,andtheideaofthrowing

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awayfood,asIseesomanypeopledoingsocasually,is

abhorrenttome.AfterabouttentablesI’mstuffed,andwe’ve

onlysampledasmallnumberofthedishesavailable.

Justthenmyprepteamdescendsonus.They’renearly

incoherentbetweenthealcoholthey’veconsumedandtheir

ecstasyatbeingatsuchagrandaffair.

“Whyaren’tyoueating?”asksOctavia.

“Ihavebeen,butIcan’tholdanotherbite,”Isay.Theyall

laughasifthat’sthesilliestthingthey’veeverheard.

“Nooneletsthatstopthem!”saysFlavius.Theyleadusover

toatablethatholdstinystemmedwineglassesfilledwithclear

liquid.“Drinkthis!”

Peetapicksoneuptotakeasipandtheyloseit.

“Nothere!”shrieksOctavia.

“Youhavetodoitinthere,”saysVenia,pointingtodoors

thatleadtothetoilets.“Oryou’llgetitalloverthefloor!”

Peetalooksattheglassagainandputsittogether.“You

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meanthiswillmakemepuke?”

Myprepteamlaughshysterically.“Ofcourse,soyoucan

keepeating,”saysOctavia.“I’vebeenintheretwicealready.

Everyonedoesit,orelsehowwouldyouhaveanyfunata

feast?”

I’mspeechless,staringattheprettylittleglassesandallthey

imply.Peetasetshisbackonthetablewithsuchprecisionyou’d

thinkitmightdetonate.“Comeon,Katniss,let’sdance.”

Musicfiltersdownfromthecloudsasheleadsmeaway

fromtheteam,thetable,andoutontothefloor.Weknowonlya

fewdancesathome,thekindthatgowithfiddleandflutemusic

andrequireagooddealofspace.ButEffiehasshownussome

thatarepopularintheCapitol.Themusic’sslowanddreamlike,

soPeetapullsmeintohisarmsandwemoveinacirclewith

practicallynostepsatall.Youcoulddothisdanceonapieplate.

We’requietforawhile.ThenPeetaspeaksinastrainedvoice.

“Yougoalong,thinkingyoucandealwithit,thinkingmaybe

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they’renotsobad,andthenyou—”Hecutshimselfoff.

AllIcanthinkofistheemaciatedbodiesofthechildrenon

ourkitchentableasmymotherprescribeswhattheparentscan’t

give.Morefood.Nowthatwe’rerich,she’llsendsomehome

withthem.Butoftenintheolddays,therewasnothingtogive

andthechildwaspastsaving,anyway.AndhereintheCapitol

they’revomitingforthepleasureoffillingtheirbelliesagainand

again.Notfromsomeillnessofbodyormind,notfromspoiled

food.It’swhateveryonedoesataparty.Expected.Partofthe

fun.

OnedaywhenIdroppedbytogiveHazellethegame,Vick

washomesickwithabadcough.BeingpartofGale’sfamily,the

kidhastoeatbetterthanninetypercentoftherestofDistrict12.

Buthestillspentaboutfifteenminutestalkingabouthowthey’d

openedacanofcornsyrupfromParcelDayandeachhada

spoonfulonbreadandweregoingtomaybehavemorelaterin

theweek.HowHazellehadsaidhecouldhaveabitinacupof

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teatosoothehiscough,buthewouldn’tfeelrightunlessthe

othershadsome,too.Ifit’slikethatatGale’s,what’sitlikein

theotherhouses?

“Peeta,theybringusheretofighttothedeathfortheir

entertainment,”Isay.“Really,thisisnothingbycomparison.”

“Iknow.Iknowthat.It’sjustsometimesIcan’tstandit

anymore.Tothepointwhere...I’mnotsurewhatI’lldo.”He

pauses,thenwhispers,“Maybewewerewrong,Katniss.”

“Aboutwhat?”Iask.

“Abouttryingtosubduethingsinthedistricts,”hesays.

Myheadturnsswiftlyfromsidetoside,butnooneseemsto

haveheard.Thecameracrewgotsidetrackedatatableof

shellfish,andthecouplesdancingaroundusareeithertoodrunk

ortooself-involvedtonotice.

“Sorry,”hesays.Heshouldbe.Thisisnoplacetobevoicing

suchthoughts.

“Saveitforhome,”Itellhim.

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JustthenPortiaappearswithalargemanwholooksvaguely

familiar.SheintroduceshimasPlutarchHeavensbee,thenew

HeadGamemaker.PlutarchasksPeetaifhecanstealmefora

dance.Peeta’srecoveredhiscamerafaceandgood-naturedly

passesmeover,warningthemannottogettooattached.

Idon’twanttodancewithPlutarchHeavensbee.Idon’twant

tofeelhishands,onerestingagainstmine,oneonmyhip.I’m

notusedtobeingtouched,exceptbyPeetaormyfamily,andI

rankGamemakerssomewherebelowmaggotsintermsof

creaturesIwantincontactwithmyskin.Butheseemstosense

thisandholdsmealmostatarm’slengthasweturnonthefloor.

Wechitchatabouttheparty,abouttheentertainment,about

thefood,andthenhemakesajokeaboutavoidingpunchsince

training.Idon’tgetit,andthenIrealizehe’sthemanwho

trippedbackwardintothepunchbowlwhenIshotanarrowatthe

Gamemakersduringthetrainingsession.Well,notreally.Iwas

shootinganappleoutoftheirroastpig’smouth.ButImade

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themjump.

“Oh,you’reonewho—”Ilaugh,rememberinghim

splashingbackintothepunchbowl.

“Yes.Andyou’llbepleasedtoknowI’veneverrecovered,”

saysPlutarch.

Iwanttopointoutthattwenty-twodeadtributeswillnever

recoverfromtheGameshehelpedcreate,either.ButIonlysay,

“Good.So,you’retheHeadGamemakerthisyear?Thatmustbe

abighonor.”

“Betweenyouandme,thereweren’tmanytakersforthe

job,”hesays.“SomuchresponsibilityastohowtheGamesturn

out.”

Yeah,thelastguy’sdead,Ithink.Hemustknowabout

SenecaCrane,buthedoesn’tlooktheleastbitconcerned.“Are

youplanningtheQuarterQuellGamesalready?”Isay.

“Oh,yes.Well,they’vebeenintheworksforyears,of

course.Arenasaren’tbuiltinaday.Butthe,shallwesay,flavor

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oftheGamesisbeingdeterminednow.Believeitornot,I’vegot

astrategymeetingtonight,”hesays.

Plutarchstepsbackandpullsoutagoldwatchonachain

fromavestpocket.Heflipsopenthelid,seesthetime,and

frowns.“I’llhavetobegoingsoon.”HeturnsthewatchsoIcan

seetheface.“Itstartsatmidnight.”

“Thatseemslatefor—”Isay,butthensomethingdistracts

me.Plutarchhasrunhisthumbacrossthecrystalfaceofthe

watchandforjustamomentanimageappears,glowingasiflit

bycandlelight.It’sanothermockingjay.Exactlylikethepinon

mydress.Onlythisonedisappears.Hesnapsthewatchclosed.

“That’sverypretty,”Isay.

“Oh,it’smorethanpretty.It’soneofakind,”hesays.“If

anyoneasksaboutme,sayI’vegonehometobed.Themeetings

aresupposedtobekeptsecret.ButIthoughtit’dbesafetotell

you.”

“Yes.Yoursecret’ssafewithme,”Isay.

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Asweshakehands,hegivesasmallbow,acommongesture

hereintheCapitol.“Well,I’llseeyounextsummeratthe

Games,Katniss.Bestwishesonyourengagement,andgoodluck

withyourmother.”

“I’llneedit,”Isay.

PlutarchdisappearsandIwanderthroughthecrowd,looking

forPeeta,asstrangerscongratulateme.Onmyengagement,on

myvictoryattheGames,onmychoiceoflipstick.Irespond,but

reallyI’mthinkingaboutPlutarchshowingoffhispretty,one-of-

a-kindwatchtome.Therewassomethingstrangeaboutit.

Almostclandestine.Butwhy?Maybehethinkssomeoneelse

willstealhisideaofputtingadisappearingmockingjayona

watchface.Yes,heprobablypaidafortuneforitandnowhe

can’tshowittoanyonebecausehe’safraidsomeonewillmakea

cheap,knockoffversion.OnlyintheCapitol.

IfindPeetaadmiringatableofelaboratelydecoratedcakes.

Bakershavecomeinfromthekitchenespeciallytotalkfrosting

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withhim,andyoucanseethemtrippingoveroneanotherto

answerhisquestions.Athisrequest,theyassemblean

assortmentoflittlecakesforhimtotakebacktoDistrict12,

wherehecanexaminetheirworkinquiet.

“Effiesaidwehavetobeonthetrainatone.Iwonderwhat

timeitis,”hesays,glancingaround.

“Almostmidnight,”Ireply.Ipluckachocolateflowerfrom

acakewithmyfingersandnibbleonit,sobeyondworrying

aboutmanners.

“Timetosaythankyouandfarewell!”trillsEffieatmy

elbow.It’soneofthosemomentswhenIjustloveher

compulsivepunctuality.WecollectCinnaandPortia,andshe

escortsusaroundtosaygood-byetoimportantpeople,then

herdsustothedoor.

“Shouldn’twethankPresidentSnow?”asksPeeta.“It’shis

house.”

“Oh,he’snotabigoneforparties.Toobusy,”saysEffie.

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“I’vealreadyarrangedforthenecessarynotesandgiftstobe

senttohimtomorrow.Thereyouare!”Effiegivesalittlewave

totwoCapitolattendantswhohaveaninebriatedHaymitch

proppedupbetweenthem.

WetravelthroughthestreetsoftheCapitolinacarwith

darkenedwindows.Behindus,anothercarbringstheprepteams.

Thethrongsofpeoplecelebratingaresothickit’sslowgoing.

ButEffiehasthisalldowntoascience,andatexactlyone

o’clockwearebackonthetrainandit’spullingoutofthe

station.

Haymitchisdepositedinhisroom.Cinnaordersteaandwe

alltakeseatsaroundthetablewhileEffierattlesherschedule

papersandremindsuswe’restillontour.“There’stheHarvest

FestivalinDistrictTwelvetothinkabout.SoIsuggestwedrink

ourteaandheadstraighttobed.”Nooneargues.

WhenIopenmyeyes,it’searlyafternoon.Myheadrestson

Peeta’sarm.Idon’trememberhimcominginlastnight.Iturn,

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beingcarefulnottodisturbhim,buthe’salreadyawake.

“Nonightmares,”hesays.

“What?”Iask.

“Youdidn’thaveanynightmareslastnight,”hesays.

He’sright.ForthefirsttimeinagesI’vesleptthroughthe

night.“Ihadadream,though,”Isay,thinkingback.“Iwas

followingamockingjaythroughthewoods.Foralongtime.It

wasRue,really.Imean,whenitsang,ithadhervoice.”

“Wheredidshetakeyou?”hesays,brushingmyhairoffmy

forehead.

“Idon’tknow.Weneverarrived,”Isay.“ButIfelthappy.”

“Well,yousleptlikeyouwerehappy,”hesays.

“Peeta,howcomeIneverknowwhenyou’rehavinga

nightmare?”Isay.

“Idon’tknow.Idon’tthinkIcryoutorthrasharoundor

anything.Ijustcometo,paralyzedwithterror,”hesays.

“Youshouldwakeme,”Isay,thinkingabouthowIcan

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interrupthissleeptwoorthreetimesonabadnight.Abouthow

longitcantaketocalmmedown.

“It’snotnecessary.Mynightmaresareusuallyaboutlosing

you,”hesays.“I’mokayonceIrealizeyou’rehere.”

Ugh.Peetamakescommentslikethisinsuchanoffhand

way,andit’slikebeinghitinthegut.He’sonlyansweringmy

questionhonestly.He’snotpressingmetoreplyinkind,tomake

anydeclarationoflove.ButIstillfeelawful,asifI’vebeen

usinghiminsometerribleway.HaveI?Idon’tknow.Ionly

knowthatforthefirsttime,Ifeelimmoralabouthimbeinghere

inmybed.Whichisironicsincewe’reofficiallyengagednow.

“Beworsewhenwe’rehomeandI’msleepingaloneagain,”

hesays.

That’sright,we’realmosthome.

TheagendaforDistrict12includesadinneratMayor

Undersee’shousetonightandavictoryrallyinthesquareduring

theHarvestFestivaltomorrow.WealwayscelebratetheHarvest

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FestivalonthefinaldayoftheVictoryTour,butusuallyit

meansamealathomeorwithafewfriendsifyoucanaffordit.

Thisyearitwillbeapublicaffair,andsincetheCapitolwillbe

throwingit,everyoneinthewholedistrictwillhavefullbellies.

Mostofourpreppingwilltakeplaceatthemayor’shouse,

sincewe’rebacktobeingcoveredinfursforoutdoor

appearances.We’reonlyatthetrainstationbriefly,tosmileand

waveaswepileintoourcar.Wedon’tevengettoseeour

familiesuntilthedinnertonight.

I’mgladitwillbeatthemayor’shouseinsteadofatthe

JusticeBuilding,wherethememorialformyfatherwasheld,

wheretheytookmeafterthereapingforthosewrenchinggood-

byestomyfamily.TheJusticeBuildingistoofullofsadness.

ButIlikeMayorUndersee’shouse,especiallynowthathis

daughter,Madge,andIarefriends.Wealwayswere,inaway.It

becameofficialwhenshecametosaygood-byetomebeforeI

leftfortheGames.Whenshegavemethemockingjaypinfor

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luck.AfterIgothome,westartedspendingtimetogether.It

turnsoutMadgehasplentyofemptyhourstofill,too.Itwasa

littleawkwardatfirstbecausewedidn’tknowwhattodo.Other

girlsourage,I’veheardthemtalkingaboutboys,orothergirls,

orclothes.MadgeandIaren’tgossipyandclothesboremeto

tears.Butafterafewfalsestarts,Irealizedshewasdyingtogo

intothewoods,soI’vetakenheracoupleoftimesandshowed

herhowtoshoot.She’stryingtoteachmethepiano,butmostlyI

liketolistentoherplay.Sometimesweeatateachother’s

houses.Madgelikesminebetter.HerparentsseemnicebutI

don’tthinksheseesawholelotofthem.HerfatherhasDistrict

12torunandhermothergetsfierceheadachesthatforceherto

stayinbedfordays.

“MaybeyoushouldtakehertotheCapitol,”Isaidduring

oneofthem.Weweren’tplayingthepianothatday,because

eventwofloorsawaythesoundcausedhermotherpain.“They

canfixherup,Ibet.”

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“Yes.Butyoudon’tgototheCapitolunlesstheyinvite

you,”saidMadgeunhappily.Eventhemayor’sprivilegesare

limited.

Whenwereachthemayor’shouse,Ionlyhavetimetogive

MadgeaquickhugbeforeEffiehustlesmeofftothethirdfloor

togetready.AfterI’mpreppedanddressedinafull-lengthsilver

gown,I’vestillgotanhourtokillbeforethedinner,soIslipoff

tofindher.

Madge’sbedroomisonthesecondflooralongwithseveral

guestroomsandherfather’sstudy.Istickmyheadinthestudy

tosayhellotothemayorbutit’sempty.Thetelevision’sdroning

on,andIstoptowatchshotsofPeetaandmeattheCapitolparty

lastnight.Dancing,eating,kissing.Thiswillbeplayinginevery

householdinPanemrightnow.Theaudiencemustbesickto

deathofthestar-crossedloversfromDistrict12.IknowIam.

I’mleavingtheroomwhenabeepingnoisecatchesmy

attention.Iturnbacktoseethescreenofthetelevisiongoblack.

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Thenthewords“UPDATEONDISTRICT8”startflashing.

InstinctivelyIknowthisisnotformyeyesbutsomething

intendedonlyforthemayor.Ishouldgo.Quickly.InsteadIfind

myselfsteppingclosertothetelevision.

AnannouncerI’veneverseenbeforeappears.It’sawoman

withgrayinghairandahoarse,authoritativevoice.Shewarns

thatconditionsareworseningandaLevel3alerthasbeencalled.

AdditionalforcesarebeingsentintoDistrict8,andalltextile

productionhasceased.

Theycutawayfromthewomantothemainsquarein

District8.IrecognizeitbecauseIwasthereonlylastweek.

Therearestillbannerswithmyfacewavingfromtherooftops.

Belowthem,there’samobscene.Thesquare’spackedwith

screamingpeople,theirfaceshiddenwithragsandhomemade

masks,throwingbricks.Buildingsburn.Peacekeepersshootinto

thecrowd,killingatrandom.

I’veneverseenanythinglikeit,butIcanonlybewitnessing

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onething.ThisiswhatPresidentSnowcallsanuprising.

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Aleatherbagfilledwithfoodandaflaskofhottea.Apairof

fur-linedglovesthatCinnaleftbehind.Threetwigs,brokenfrom

thenakedtrees,lyinginthesnow,pointinginthedirectionIwill

travel.ThisiswhatIleaveforGaleatourusualmeetingplaceon

thefirstSundayaftertheHarvestFestival.

Ihavecontinuedonthroughthecold,mistywoods,breaking

apaththatwillbeunfamiliartoGalebutissimpleformyfeetto

find.Itleadstothelake.Inolongertrustthatourregular

rendezvousspotoffersprivacy,andI’llneedthatandmoreto

spillmygutstoGaletoday.Butwillheevencome?Ifhe

doesn’t,I’llhavenochoicebuttoriskgoingtohishouseinthe

deadofnight.Therearethingshehastoknow...thingsIneed

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himtohelpmefigureout....

OncetheimplicationsofwhatIwasseeingonMayor

Undersee’stelevisionhitme,Imadeforthedoorandstarted

downthehall.Justintime,too,becausethemayorcameupthe

stepsmomentslater.Igavehimawave.

“LookingforMadge?”hesaidinafriendlytone.

“Yes.Iwanttoshowhermydress,”Isaid.

“Well,youknowwheretofindher.”Justthen,anotherround

ofbeepingcamefromhisstudy.Hisfaceturnedgrave.“Excuse

me,”hesaid.Hewentintohisstudyandclosedthedoortightly.

IwaitedinthehalluntilIhadcomposedmyself.Reminded

myselfImustactnaturally.ThenIfoundMadgeinherroom,

sittingatherdressingtable,brushingoutherwavyblondhair

beforeamirror.Shewasinthesameprettywhitedressshe’d

wornonreapingday.Shesawmyreflectionbehindherand

smiled.“Lookatyou.Likeyoucamerightoffthestreetsofthe

Capitol.”

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Isteppedincloser.Myfingerstouchedthemockingjay.

“Evenmypinnow.MockingjaysarealltherageintheCapitol,

thankstoyou.Areyousureyoudon’twantitback?”Iasked.

“Don’tbesilly,itwasagift,”saidMadge.Shetiedbackher

hairinafestivegoldribbon.

“Wheredidyougetit,anyway?”Iasked.

“Itwasmyaunt’s,”shesaid.“ButIthinkit’sbeeninthe

familyalongtime.”

“It’safunnychoice,amockingjay,”Isaid.“Imean,because

ofwhathappenedintherebellion.Withthejabberjaysbackfiring

ontheCapitolandall.”

Thejabberjaysweremuttations,geneticallyenhancedmale

birdscreatedbytheCapitolasweaponstospyonrebelsinthe

districts.Theycouldrememberandrepeatlongpassagesof

humanspeech,sotheyweresentintorebelareastocaptureour

wordsandreturnthemtotheCapitol.Therebelscaughtonand

turnedthemagainsttheCapitolbysendingthemhomeloaded

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withlies.Whenthiswasdiscovered,thejabberjayswereleftto

die.Inafewyears,theybecameextinctinthewild,butnot

beforetheyhadmatedwithfemalemockingbirds,creatingan

entirelynewspecies.

“Butmockingjayswereneveraweapon,”saidMadge.

“They’rejustsongbirds.Right?”

“Yeah,Iguessso,”Isaid.Butit’snottrue.Amockingbirdis

justasongbird.AmockingjayisacreaturetheCapitolnever

intendedtoexist.Theyhadn’tcountedonthehighlycontrolled

jabberjayhavingthebrainstoadapttothewild,topassonits

geneticcode,tothriveinanewform.Theyhadn’tanticipatedits

willtolive.

Now,asItrudgethroughthesnow,Iseethemockingjays

hoppingaboutonbranchesastheypickuponotherbirds’

melodies,replicatethem,andthentransformtheminto

somethingnew.Asalways,theyremindmeofRue.Ithinkofthe

dreamIhadthelastnightonthetrain,whereIfollowedherin

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mockingjayform.IwishIcouldhavestayedasleepjustabit

longerandfoundoutwhereshewastryingtotakeme.

It’sahiketothelake,noquestion.Ifhedecidestofollowme

atall,Gale’sgoingtobeputoutbythisexcessiveuseofenergy

thatcouldbebetterspentinhunting.Hewasconspicuously

absentfromthedinneratthemayor’shouse,althoughtherestof

hisfamilycame.Hazellesaidhewashomesick,whichwasan

obviouslie.Icouldn’tfindhimattheHarvestFestival,either.

Vicktoldmehewasouthunting.Thatwasprobablytrue.

Afteracoupleofhours,Ireachanoldhouseneartheedgeof

thelake.Maybe“house”istoobigawordforit.It’sonlyone

room,abouttwelvefeetsquare.Myfatherthoughtthatalong

timeagotherewerealotofbuildings—youcanstillseesome

ofthefoundations—andpeoplecametothemtoplayandfish

inthelake.Thishouseoutlastedtheothersbecauseit’smadeof

concrete.Floor,roof,ceiling.Onlyoneoffourglasswindows

remains,wavyandyellowedbytime.There’snoplumbingand

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noelectricity,butthefireplacestillworksandthere’sawoodpile

inthecornerthatmyfatherandIcollectedyearsago.Istarta

smallfire,countingonthemisttoobscureanytelltalesmoke.

Whilethefirecatches,Isweepoutthesnowthathas

accumulatedundertheemptywindows,usingatwigbroommy

fathermademewhenIwasabouteightandIplayedhousehere.

ThenIsitonthetinyconcretehearth,thawingoutbythefireand

waitingforGale.

It’sasurprisinglyshorttimebeforeheappears.Abowslung

overhisshoulder,adeadwildturkeyhemusthaveencountered

alongthewayhangingfromhisbelt.Hestandsinthedoorwayas

ifconsideringwhetherornottoenter.Heholdstheunopened

leatherbagoffood,theflask,Cinna’sgloves.Giftshewillnot

acceptbecauseofhisangeratme.Iknowexactlyhowhefeels.

Didn’tIdothesamethingtomymother?

Ilookinhiseyes.Histempercan’tquitemaskthehurt,the

senseofbetrayalhefeelsatmyengagementtoPeeta.Thiswill

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bemylastchance,thismeetingtoday,tonotloseGaleforever.I

couldtakehourstryingtoexplain,andeventhenhavehimrefuse

me.InsteadIgostraighttotheheartofmydefense.

“PresidentSnowpersonallythreatenedtohaveyoukilled,”I

say.

Galeraiseshiseyebrowsslightly,butthere’snorealshowof

fearorastonishment.“Anyoneelse?”

“Well,hedidn’tactuallygivemeacopyofthelist.Butit’sa

goodguessitincludesbothourfamilies,”Isay.

It’senoughtobringhimtothefire.Hecrouchesbeforethe

hearthandwarmshimself.“Unlesswhat?”

“Unlessnothing,now,”Isay.Obviouslythisrequiresmore

ofanexplanation,butIhavenoideawheretostart,soIjustsit

therestaringgloomilyintothefire.

Afteraboutaminuteofthis,Galebreaksthesilence.“Well,

thanksfortheheads-up.”

Iturntohim,readytosnap,butIcatchtheglintinhiseye.I

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hatemyselfforsmiling.Thisisnotafunnymoment,butIguess

it’salottodroponsomeone.We’reallgoingtobeobliterated

nomatterwhat.“Idohaveaplan,youknow.”

“Yeah,Ibetit’sastunner,”hesays.Hetossesthegloveson

mylap.“Here.Idon’twantyourfiancé’soldgloves.”

“He’snotmyfiancé.That’sjustpartoftheact.Andthese

aren’thisgloves.TheywereCinna’s,”Isay.

“Givethemback,then,”hesays.Hepullsonthegloves,

flexeshisfingers,andnodsinapproval.“AtleastI’lldiein

comfort.”

“That’soptimistic.Ofcourse,youdon’tknowwhat’s

happened,”Isay.

“Let’shaveit,”hesays.

IdecidetobeginwiththenightPeetaandIwerecrowned

victorsoftheHungerGames,andHaymitchwarnedmeofthe

Capitol’sfury.Itellhimabouttheuneasinessthatdoggedme

evenonceIwasbackhome,PresidentSnow’svisittomyhouse,

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themurdersinDistrict11,thetensioninthecrowds,thelast-

ditcheffortoftheengagement,thepresident’sindicationthatit

hadn’tbeenenough,mycertaintythatI’llhavetopay.

Galeneverinterrupts.WhileItalk,hetuckstheglovesinhis

pocketandoccupieshimselfwithturningthefoodintheleather

bagintoamealforus.Toastingbreadandcheese,coringapples,

placingchestnutsinthefiretoroast.Iwatchhishands,his

beautiful,capablefingers.Scarred,asminewerebeforethe

Capitolerasedallmarksfrommyskin,butstronganddeft.

Handsthathavethepowertominecoalbuttheprecisiontoseta

delicatesnare.HandsItrust.

IpausetotakeadrinkofteafromtheflaskbeforeItellhim

aboutmyhomecoming.

“Well,youreallymadeamessofthings,”hesays.

“I’mnotevendone,”Itellhim.

“I’veheardenoughforthemoment.Let’sskipaheadtothis

planofyours,”hesays.

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Itakeadeepbreath.“Werunaway.”

“What?”heasks.Thishasactuallycaughthimoffguard.

“Wetaketothewoodsandmakearunforit,”Isay.Hisface

isimpossibletoread.Willhelaughatme,dismissthisas

foolishness?Iriseinagitation,preparingforanargument.“You

saidyourselfyouthoughtthatwecoulddoit!Thatmorningof

thereaping.Yousaid—”

HestepsinandIfeelmyselfliftedofftheground.Theroom

spins,andIhavetolockmyarmsaroundGale’snecktobrace

myself.He’slaughing,happy.

“Hey!”Iprotest,butI’mlaughing,too.

Galesetsmedownbutdoesn’treleasehisholdonme.

“Okay,let’srunaway,”hesays.

“Really?Youdon’tthinkI’mmad?You’llgowithme?”

Someofthecrushingweightbeginstoliftasittransfersto

Gale’sshoulders.

“Idothinkyou’remadandI’llstillgowithyou,”hesays.

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Hemeansit.Notonlymeansitbutwelcomesit.“Wecandoit.I

knowwecan.Let’sgetoutofhereandnevercomeback!”

“You’resure?”Isay.“Becauseit’sgoingtobehard,withthe

kidsandall.Idon’twanttogetfivemilesintothewoodsand

haveyou—”

“I’msure.I’mcompletely,entirely,onehundredpercent

sure.”Hetiltshisforeheaddowntorestagainstmineandpulls

mecloser.Hisskin,hiswholebeing,radiatesheatfrombeingso

nearthefire,andIclosemyeyes,soakinginhiswarmth.I

breatheinthesmellofsnow-dampenedleatherandsmokeand

apples,thesmellofallthosewintrydayswesharedbeforethe

Games.Idon’ttrytomoveaway.WhyshouldI,anyway?His

voicedropstoawhisper.“Iloveyou.”

That’swhy.

Ineverseethesethingscoming.Theyhappentoofast.One

secondyou’reproposinganescapeplanandthenext...you’re

expectedtodealwithsomethinglikethis.Icomeupwithwhat

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mustbetheworstpossibleresponse.“Iknow.”

Itsoundsterrible.LikeIassumehecouldn’thelplovingme

butthatIdon’tfeelanythinginreturn.Galestartstodrawaway,

butIgrabholdofhim.“Iknow!Andyou...youknowwhatyou

aretome.”It’snotenough.Hebreaksmygrip.“Gale,Ican’t

thinkaboutanyonethatwaynow.AllIcanthinkabout,every

day,everywakingminutesincetheydrewPrim’snameatthe

reaping,ishowafraidIam.Andtheredoesn’tseemtoberoom

foranythingelse.Ifwecouldgetsomewheresafe,maybeIcould

bedifferent.Idon’tknow.”

Icanseehimswallowinghisdisappointment.“So,we’llgo.

We’llfindout.”Heturnsbacktothefire,wherethechestnutsare

beginningtoburn.Heflipsthemoutontothehearth.“My

mother’sgoingtotakesomeconvincing.”

Iguesshe’sstillgoing,anyway.Butthehappinesshasfled,

leavinganall-too-familiarstraininitsplace.“Mine,too.I’lljust

havetomakeherseereason.Takeherforalongwalk.Makesure

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sheunderstandswewon’tsurvivethealternative.”

“She’llunderstand.IwatchedalotoftheGameswithher

andPrim.Shewon’tsaynotoyou,”saysGale.

“Ihopenot.”Thetemperatureinthehouseseemstohave

droppedtwentydegreesinamatterofseconds.“Haymitchwill

betherealchallenge.”

“Haymitch?”Galeabandonsthechestnuts.“You’renot

askinghimtocomewithus?”

“Ihaveto,Gale.Ican’tleavehimandPeetabecausethey’d

—”Hisscowlcutsmeoff.“What?”

“I’msorry.Ididn’trealizehowlargeourpartywas,”he

snapsatme.

“They’dtorturethemtodeath,tryingtofindoutwhereI

was,”Isay.

“WhataboutPeeta’sfamily?They’llnevercome.Infact,

theyprobablycouldn’twaittoinformonus.WhichI’msurehe’s

smartenoughtorealize.Whatifhedecidestostay?”heasks.

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Itrytosoundindifferent,butmyvoicecracks.“Thenhe

stays.”

“You’dleavehimbehind?”Galeasks.

“TosavePrimandmymother,yes,”Ianswer.“Imean,no!

I’llgethimtocome.”

“Andme,wouldyouleaveme?”Gale’sexpressionisrock

hardnow.“Justif,forinstance,Ican’tconvincemymotherto

dragthreeyoungkidsintothewildernessinwinter.”

“Hazellewon’trefuse.She’llseesense,”Isay.

“Supposeshedoesn’t,Katniss.Whatthen?”hedemands.

“Thenyouhavetoforceher,Gale.DoyouthinkI’mmaking

thisstuffup?”Myvoiceisrisinginangeraswell.

“No.Idon’tknow.Maybethepresident’sjustmanipulating

you.Imean,he’sthrowingyourwedding.Yousawhowthe

Capitolcrowdreacted.Idon’tthinkhecanaffordtokillyou.Or

Peeta.How’shegoingtogetoutofthatone?”saysGale.

“Well,withanuprisinginDistrictEight,Idoubthe’s

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spendingmuchtimechoosingmyweddingcake!”Ishout.

TheinstantthewordsareoutofmymouthIwanttoreclaim

them.TheireffectonGaleisimmediate—theflushonhis

cheeks,thebrightnessofhisgrayeyes.“There’sanuprisingin

Eight?”hesaysinahushedvoice.

Itrytobackpedal.Todefusehim,asItriedtodefusethe

districts.“Idon’tknowifit’sreallyanuprising.There’sunrest.

Peopleinthestreets—”Isay.

Galegrabsmyshoulders.“Whatdidyousee?”

“Nothing!Inperson.Ijustheardsomething.”Asusual,it’s

toolittle,toolate.Igiveupandtellhim.“Isawsomethingon

themayor’stelevision.Iwasn’tsupposedto.Therewasacrowd,

andfires,andthePeacekeepersweregunningpeopledownbut

theywerefightingback....”Ibitemylipandstruggleto

continuedescribingthescene.InsteadIsayaloudthewordsthat

havebeeneatingmeupinside.“Andit’smyfault,Gale.Because

ofwhatIdidinthearena.IfIhadjustkilledmyselfwiththose

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berries,noneofthiswould’vehappened.Peetacouldhavecome

homeandlived,andeveryoneelsewouldhavebeensafe,too.”

“Safetodowhat?”hesaysinagentlertone.“Starve?Work

likeslaves?Sendtheirkidstothereaping?Youhaven’thurt

people—you’vegiventhemanopportunity.Theyjusthaveto

bebraveenoughtotakeit.There’salreadybeentalkinthe

mines.Peoplewhowanttofight.Don’tyousee?It’shappening!

It’sfinallyhappening!Ifthere’sanuprisinginDistrictEight,

whynothere?Whynoteverywhere?Thiscouldbeit,thething

we’vebeen—”

“Stopit!Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.The

PeacekeepersoutsideofTwelve,they’renotlikeDarius,oreven

Cray!Thelivesofdistrictpeople—theymeanlessthannothing

tothem!”Isay.

“That’swhywehavetojointhefight!”heanswersharshly.

“No!Wehavetoleaveherebeforetheykillusandalotof

otherpeople,too!”I’myellingagain,butIcan’tunderstandwhy

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he’sdoingthis.Whydoesn’theseewhat’ssoundeniable?

Galepushesmeroughlyawayfromhim.“Youleave,then.

I’dnevergoinamillionyears.”

“Youwerehappyenoughtogobefore.Idon’tseehowan

uprisinginDistrictEightdoesanythingbutmakeitmore

importantthatweleave.You’rejustmadabout—”No,Ican’t

throwPeetainhisface.“Whataboutyourfamily?”

“Whatabouttheotherfamilies,Katniss?Theoneswhocan’t

runaway?Don’tyousee?Itcan’tbeaboutjustsavingus

anymore.Notiftherebellion’sbegun!”Galeshakeshishead,not

hidinghisdisgustwithme.“Youcoulddosomuch.”Hethrows

Cinna’sglovesatmyfeet.“Ichangedmymind.Idon’twant

anythingtheymadeintheCapitol.”Andhe’sgone.

Ilookdownatthegloves.Anythingtheymadeinthe

Capitol?Wasthatdirectedatme?DoeshethinkIamnowjust

anotherproductoftheCapitolandthereforesomething

untouchable?Theunfairnessofitallfillsmewithrage.Butit’s

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mixedupwithfearoverwhatkindofcrazythinghemightdo

next.

Isinkdownnexttothefire,desperateforcomfort,towork

outmynextmove.Icalmmyselfbythinkingthatrebellions

don’thappeninaday.Galecan’ttalktotheminersuntil

tomorrow.IfIcangettoHazellebeforethen,shemight

straightenhimout.ButIcan’tgonow.Ifhe’sthere,he’lllock

meout.Maybetonight,aftereveryoneelseisasleep...Hazelle

oftenworkslateintothenightfinishinguplaundry.Icouldgo

then,tapatthewindow,tellherthesituationsoshe’llkeepGale

fromdoinganythingfoolish.

MyconversationwithPresidentSnowinthestudycomes

backtome.

“Myadvisorswereconcernedyouwouldbedifficult,but

you’renotplanningonbeingdifficultatall,areyou?”

“No.”

“That’swhatItoldthem.Isaidanygirlwhogoestosuch

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lengthstopreserveherlifeisn’tgoingtobeinterestedin

throwingitawaywithbothhands.”

IthinkofhowhardHazellehasworkedtokeepthatfamily

alive.Surelyshe’llbeonmysideinthismatter.Orwon’tshe?

Itmustbegettingontowardnoonnowandthedaysareso

short.Nopointinbeinginthewoodsafterdarkifyoudon’thave

to.Istampouttheremainsofmylittlefire,clearupthescrapsof

food,andtuckCinna’sglovesinmybelt.IguessI’llhangonto

themforawhile.IncaseGalehasachangeofheart.Ithinkof

thelookonhisfacewhenheflungthemtotheground.How

repelledhewasbythem,byme...

Itrudgethroughthewoodsandreachmyoldhousewhile

there’sstilllight.MyconversationwithGalewasanobvious

setback,butI’mstilldeterminedtocarryonwithmyplanto

escapeDistrict12.IdecidetofindPeetanext.Inastrangeway,

sincehe’sseensomeofwhatI’veseenonthetour,hemaybean

easiersellthanGalewas.Irunintohimashe’sleavingthe

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Victor’sVillage.

“Beenhunting?”heasks.Youcanseehedoesn’tthinkit’sa

goodidea.

“Notreally.Goingtotown?”Iask.

“Yes.I’msupposedtoeatdinnerwithmyfamily,”hesays.

“Well,Icanatleastwalkyouin.”Theroadfromthe

Victor’sVillagetothesquaregetslittleuse.It’sasafeenough

placetotalk.ButIcan’tseemtogetthewordsout.Proposingit

toGalewassuchadisaster.Ignawonmychappedlips.The

squaregetscloserwitheverystep.Imaynothaveanopportunity

againsoon.Itakeadeepbreathandletthewordsrushout.

“Peeta,ifIaskedyoutorunawayfromthedistrictwithme,

wouldyou?”

Peetatakesmyarm,bringingmetoastop.Hedoesn’tneed

tocheckmyfacetoseeifI’mserious.“Dependsonwhyyou’re

asking.”

“PresidentSnowwasn’tconvincedbyme.There’san

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uprisinginDistrictEight.Wehavetogetout,”Isay.

“By‘we’doyoumeanjustyouandme?No.Whoelsewould

begoing?”heasks.

“Myfamily.Yours,iftheywanttocome.Haymitch,

maybe,”Isay.

“WhataboutGale?”hesays.

“Idon’tknow.Hemighthaveotherplans,”Isay.

Peetashakeshisheadandgivesmearuefulsmile.“Ibethe

does.Sure,Katniss,I’llgo.”

Ifeelaslighttwingeofhope.“Youwill?”

“Yeah.ButIdon’tthinkforaminuteyouwill,”hesays.

Ijerkmyarmaway.“Thenyoudon’tknowme.Beready.It

couldbeanytime.”Itakeoffwalkingandhefollowsapaceor

twobehind.

“Katniss,”Peetasays.Idon’tslowdown.Ifhethinksit’sa

badidea,Idon’twanttoknow,becauseit’stheonlyoneIhave.

“Katniss,holdup.”Ikickadirty,frozenchunkofsnowoffthe

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pathandlethimcatchup.Thecoaldustmakeseverythinglook

especiallyugly.“Ireallywillgo,ifyouwantmeto.Ijustthink

webettertalkitthroughwithHaymitch.Makesurewewon’tbe

makingthingsworseforeveryone.”Heraiseshishead.“What’s

that?”

Iliftmychin.I’vebeensoconsumedwithmyownworries,I

haven’tnoticedthestrangenoisecomingfromthesquare.A

whistling,thesoundofanimpact,theintakeofbreathfroma

crowd.

“Comeon,”Peetasays,hisfacesuddenlyhard.Idon’tknow

why.Ican’tplacethesound,evenguessatthesituation.Butit

meanssomethingbadtohim.

Whenwereachthesquare,it’sclearsomething’shappening,

butthecrowd’stoothicktosee.Peetastepsuponacrateagainst

thewallofthesweetshopandoffersmeahandwhilehescans

thesquare.I’mhalfwayupwhenhesuddenlyblocksmyway.

“Getdown.Getoutofhere!”He’swhispering,buthisvoiceis

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harshwithinsistence.

“What?”Isay,tryingtoforcemywaybackup.

“Gohome,Katniss!I’llbethereinaminute,Iswear!”he

says.

Whateveritis,it’sterrible.Iyankawayfromhishandand

begintopushmywaythroughthecrowd.Peopleseeme,

recognizemyface,andthenlookpanicked.Handsshoveme

back.Voiceshiss.

“Getoutofhere,girl.”

“Onlymakeitworse.”

“Whatdoyouwanttodo?Gethimkilled?”

Butatthispoint,myheartisbeatingsofastandfierceI

hardlyhearthem.Ionlyknowthatwhateverwaitsinthemiddle

ofthesquareismeantforme.WhenIfinallybreakthroughto

theclearedspace,IseeIamright.AndPeetawasright.And

thosevoiceswereright,too.

Gale’swristsareboundtoawoodenpost.Thewildturkeyhe

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shotearlierhangsabovehim,thenaildriventhroughitsneck.

Hisjacket’sbeencastasideontheground,hisshirttornaway.

Heslumpsunconsciousonhisknees,helduponlybytheropesat

hiswrists.Whatusedtobehisbackisaraw,bloodyslabof

meat.

StandingbehindhimisamanI’veneverseen,butI

recognizehisuniform.It’stheonedesignatedforourHead

Peacekeeper.Thisisn’toldCray,though.Thisisatall,muscular

manwithsharpcreasesinhispants.

ThepiecesofthepicturedonotquitecometogetheruntilI

seehisarmraisethewhip.

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“No!”Icry,andspringforward.It’stoolatetostopthearm

fromdescending,andIinstinctivelyknowIwon’thavethe

powertoblockit.InsteadIthrowmyselfdirectlybetweenthe

whipandGale.I’veflungoutmyarmstoprotectasmuchofhis

brokenbodyaspossible,sothere’snothingtodeflectthelash.I

takethefullforceofitacrosstheleftsideofmyface.

Thepainisblindingandinstantaneous.Jaggedflashesof

lightcrossmyvisionandIfalltomyknees.Onehandcupsmy

cheekwhiletheotherkeepsmefromtippingover.Icanalready

feeltheweltrisingup,theswellingclosingmyeye.Thestones

beneathmearewetwithGale’sblood,theairheavywithits

scent.“Stopit!You’llkillhim!”Ishriek.

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Igetaglimpseofmyassailant’sface.Hard,withdeeplines,

acruelmouth.Grayhairshavedalmosttononexistence,eyesso

blacktheyseemallpupils,along,straightnosereddenedbythe

freezingair.Thepowerfularmliftsagain,hissightssetonme.

Myhandfliestomyshoulder,hungryforanarrow,but,of

course,myweaponsarestashedinthewoods.Igritmyteethin

anticipationofthenextlash.

“Holdit!”avoicebarks.Haymitchappearsandtripsovera

Peacekeeperlyingontheground.It’sDarius.Ahugepurple

lumppushesthroughtheredhaironhisforehead.He’sknocked

outbutstillbreathing.Whathappened?Didhetrytocometo

Gale’saidbeforeIgothere?

Haymitchignoreshimandpullsmetomyfeetroughly.“Oh,

excellent.”Hishandlocksundermychin,liftingit.“She’sgota

photoshootnextweekmodelingweddingdresses.WhatamI

supposedtotellherstylist?”

Iseeaflickerofrecognitionintheeyesofthemanwiththe

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whip.Bundledagainstthecold,myfacefreeofmakeup,my

braidtuckedcarelesslyundermycoat,itwouldn’tbeeasyto

identifymeasthevictorofthelastHungerGames.Especially

withhalfmyfaceswellingup.ButHaymitchhasbeenshowing

upontelevisionforyears,andhe’dbedifficulttoforget.

Themanreststhewhiponhiship.“Sheinterruptedthe

punishmentofaconfessedcriminal.”

Everythingaboutthisman,hiscommandingvoice,hisodd

accent,warnsofanunknownanddangerousthreat.Wherehashe

comefrom?District11?3?FromtheCapitolitself?

“Idon’tcareifsheblewuptheblastedJusticeBuilding!

Lookathercheek!Thinkthatwillbecamerareadyinaweek?”

Haymitchsnarls.

Theman’svoiceisstillcold,butIcandetectaslightedgeof

doubt.“That’snotmyproblem.”

“No?Well,it’sabouttobe,myfriend.ThefirstcallImake

whenIgethomeistotheCapitol,”saysHaymitch.“Findout

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whoauthorizedyoutomessupmyvictor’sprettylittleface!”

“Hewaspoaching.Whatbusinessisitofhers,anyway?”

saystheman.

“He’shercousin.”Peeta’sgotmyotherarmnow,butgently.

“Andshe’smyfiancée.Soifyouwanttogettohim,expecttogo

throughbothofus.”

Maybewe’reit.Theonlythreepeopleinthedistrictwho

couldmakeastandlikethis.Althoughit’ssuretobetemporary.

Therewillberepercussions.Butatthemoment,allIcareabout

iskeepingGalealive.ThenewHeadPeacekeeperglancesoverat

hisbackupsquad.Withrelief,Iseethey’refamiliarfaces,old

friendsfromtheHob.Youcantellbytheirexpressionsthat

they’renotenjoyingtheshow.

One,awomannamedPurniawhoeatsregularlyatGreasy

Sae’s,stepsforwardstiffly.“Ibelieve,forafirstoffense,the

requirednumberoflasheshasbeendispensed,sir.Unlessyour

sentenceisdeath,whichwewouldcarryoutbyfiringsquad.”

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“Isthatthestandardprotocolhere?”askstheHead

Peacekeeper.

“Yes,sir,”Purniasays,andseveralothersnodinagreement.

I’msurenoneofthemactuallyknowbecause,intheHob,the

standardprotocolforsomeoneshowingupwithawildturkeyis

foreverybodytobidonthedrumsticks.

“Verywell.Getyourcousinoutofhere,then,girl.Andifhe

comesto,remindhimthatthenexttimehepoachesoffthe

Capitol’sland,I’llassemblethatfiringsquadpersonally.”The

HeadPeacekeeperwipeshishandalongthelengthofthewhip,

splatteringuswithblood.Thenhecoilsitintoquick,neatloops

andwalksoff.

MostoftheotherPeacekeepersfallinanawkwardformation

behindhim.AsmallgroupstaysbehindandhoistsDarius’sbody

upbythearmsandlegs.IcatchPurnia’seyeandmouththeword

“Thanks”beforeshegoes.Shedoesn’trespond,butI’msureshe

understood.

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“Gale.”Iturn,myhandsfumblingattheknotsbindinghis

wrists.SomeonepassesforwardaknifeandPeetacutstheropes.

Galecollapsestotheground.

“Bettergethimtoyourmother,”saysHaymitch.

There’snostretcher,buttheoldwomanattheclothingstall

sellsustheboardthatservesashercountertop.“Justdon’ttell

whereyougotit,”shesays,packinguptherestofhergoods

quickly.Mostofthesquarehasemptied,feargettingthebetter

ofcompassion.Butafterwhatjusthappened,Ican’tblame

anyone.

Bythetimewe’velaidGalefacedownontheboard,there’s

onlyahandfulofpeoplelefttocarryhim.Haymitch,Peeta,and

acoupleofminerswhoworkonthesamecrewasGalelifthim

up.

Leevy,agirlwholivesafewhousesdownfrommineinthe

Seam,takesmyarm.Mymotherkeptherlittlebrotheralivelast

yearwhenhecaughtthemeasles.“Needhelpgettingback?”Her

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grayeyesarescaredbutdetermined.

“No,butcanyougetHazelle?Sendherover?”Iask.

“Yeah,”saysLeevy,turningonherheel.

“Leevy!”Isay.“Don’tletherbringthekids.”

“No.I’llstaywiththemmyself,”shesays.

“Thanks.”IgrabGale’sjacketandhurryaftertheothers.

“Getsomesnowonthat,”Haymitchordersoverhisshoulder.

Iscoopupahandfulofsnowandpressitagainstmycheek,

numbingabitofthepain.Mylefteye’stearingheavilynow,and

inthedimminglightit’sallIcandotofollowthebootsinfront

ofme.

AswewalkIhearBristelandThom,Gale’screwmates,

piecetogetherthestoryofwhathappened.Galemust’vegoneto

Cray’shouse,ashe’sdoneahundredtimes,knowingCray

alwayspayswellforawildturkey.Insteadhefoundthenew

HeadPeacekeeper,amantheyheardsomeonecallRomulus

Thread.NooneknowswhathappenedtoCray.Hewasbuying

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whiteliquorintheHobjustthismorning,apparentlystillin

commandofthedistrict,butnowhe’snowheretobefound.

ThreadputGaleunderimmediatearrestand,ofcourse,sincehe

wasstandingthereholdingadeadturkey,therewaslittleGale

couldsayinhisowndefense.Wordofhispredicamentspread

quickly.Hewasbroughttothesquare,forcedtopleadguiltyto

hiscrime,andsentencedtoawhippingtobecarriedout

immediately.BythetimeIshowedup,he’dbeenlashedatleast

fortytimes.Hepassedoutaroundthirty.

“Luckyheonlyhadtheturkeyonhim,”saysBristel.“Ifhe’d

hadhisusualhaul,would’vebeenmuchworse.”

“HetoldThreadhefounditwanderingaroundtheSeam.

Saiditgotoverthefenceandhe’dstabbeditwithastick.Stilla

crime.Butifthey’dknownhe’dbeeninthewoodswith

weapons,they’dhavekilledhimforsure,”saysThom.

“WhataboutDarius?”Peetaasks.

“Afterabouttwentylashes,hesteppedin,sayingthatwas

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enough.Onlyhedidn’tdoitsmartandofficial,likePurniadid.

HegrabbedThread’sarmandThreadhithimintheheadwiththe

buttofthewhip.Nothinggoodwaitingforhim,”saysBristel.

“Doesn’tsoundlikemuchgoodforanyofus,”says

Haymitch.

Snowbegins,thickandwet,makingvisibilityevenmore

difficult.Istumbleupthewalktomyhousebehindtheothers,

usingmyearsmorethanmyeyestoguideme.Agoldenlight

colorsthesnowasthedooropens.Mymother,whowasnodoubt

waitingformeafteralongdayofunexplainedabsence,takesin

thescene.

“NewHead,”Haymitchsays,andshegiveshimacurtnodas

ifnootherexplanationisneeded.

I’mfilledwithawe,asIalwaysam,asIwatchhertransform

fromawomanwhocallsmetokillaspidertoawomanimmune

tofear.Whenasickordyingpersonisbroughttoher...thisis

theonlytimeIthinkmymotherknowswhosheis.Inmoments,

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thelongkitchentablehasbeencleared,asterilewhitecloth

spreadacrossit,andGalehoistedontoit.Mymotherpourswater

fromakettleintoabasinwhileorderingPrimtopullaseriesof

herremediesfromthemedicinecabinet.Driedherbsand

tincturesandstore-boughtbottles.Iwatchherhands,thelong,

taperedfingerscrumblingthis,addingdropsofthat,intothe

basin.SoakingaclothinthehotliquidasshegivesPrim

instructionstoprepareasecondbrew.

Mymotherglancesmyway.“Diditcutyoureye?”

“No,it’sjustswelledshut,”Isay.

“Getmoresnowonit,”sheinstructs.ButIamclearlynota

priority.

“Canyousavehim?”Iaskmymother.Shesaysnothingas

shewringsouttheclothandholdsitintheairtocoolsomewhat.

“Don’tworry,”saysHaymitch.“Usedtobealotofwhipping

beforeCray.She’stheonewetookthemto.”

Ican’trememberatimebeforeCray,atimewhentherewas

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aHeadPeacekeeperwhousedthewhipfreely.Butmymother

musthavebeenaroundmyageandstillworkingatthe

apothecaryshopwithherparents.Evenbackthen,shemusthave

hadhealer’shands.

Eversogently,shebeginstocleanthemutilatedfleshon

Gale’sback.Ifeelsicktomystomach,useless,theremaining

snowdrippingfrommygloveintoapuddleonthefloor.Peeta

putsmeinachairandholdsaclothfilledwithfreshsnowtomy

cheek.

HaymitchtellsBristelandThomtogethome,andIseehim

presscoinsintotheirhandsbeforetheyleave.“Don’tknowwhat

willhappenwithyourcrew,”hesays.Theynodandacceptthe

money.

Hazellearrives,breathlessandflushed,freshsnowinher

hair.Wordlessly,shesitsonastoolnexttothetable,takes

Gale’shand,andholdsitagainstherlips.Mymotherdoesn’t

acknowledgeevenher.She’sgoneintothatspecialzonethat

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includesonlyherselfandthepatientandoccasionallyPrim.The

restofuscanwait.

Eveninherexperthands,ittakesalongtimetocleanthe

wounds,arrangewhatshreddedskincanbesaved,applyasalve

andalightbandage.Asthebloodclears,Icanseewhereevery

strokeofthelashlandedandfeelitresonateinthesinglecuton

myface.Imultiplymyownpainonce,twice,fortytimesandcan

onlyhopethatGaleremainsunconscious.Ofcourse,that’stoo

muchtoaskfor.Asthefinalbandagesarebeingplaced,amoan

escapeshislips.Hazellestrokeshishairandwhisperssomething

whilemymotherandPrimgothroughtheirmeagerstoreof

painkillers,thekindusuallyaccessibleonlytodoctors.Theyare

hardtocomeby,expensive,andalwaysindemand.Mymother

hastosavethestrongestfortheworstpain,butwhatistheworst

pain?Tome,it’salwaysthepainthatispresent.IfIwerein

charge,thosepainkillerswouldbegoneinadaybecauseIhave

solittleabilitytowatchsuffering.Mymothertriestosavethem

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forthosewhoareactuallyintheprocessofdying,toeasethem

outoftheworld.

SinceGaleisregainingconsciousness,theydecideonan

herbalconcoctionhecantakebymouth.“Thatwon’tbe

enough,”Isay.Theystareatme.“Thatwon’tbeenough,Iknow

howitfeels.Thatwillbarelyknockoutaheadache.”

“We’llcombineitwithsleepsyrup,Katniss,andhe’ll

manageit.Theherbsaremorefortheinflammation—”my

motherbeginscalmly.

“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!”

Galebeginsstirringatmyvoice,tryingtoreachme.The

movementcausesfreshbloodtostainhisbandagesandan

agonizedsoundtocomefromhismouth.

“Takeherout,”saysmymother.HaymitchandPeeta

literallycarrymefromtheroomwhileIshoutobscenitiesather.

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TheypinmedownonabedinoneoftheextrabedroomsuntilI

stopfighting.

WhileIliethere,sobbing,tearstryingtosqueezeoutofthe

slitofmyeye,IhearPeetawhispertoHaymitchaboutPresident

Snow,abouttheuprisinginDistrict8.“Shewantsusalltorun,”

hesays,butifHaymitchhasanopiniononthis,hedoesn’toffer

it.

Afterawhile,mymothercomesinandtreatsmyface.Then

sheholdsmyhand,strokingmyarm,whileHaymitchfillsherin

onwhathappenedwithGale.

“Soit’sstartingagain?”shesays.“Likebefore?”

“Bythelooksofit,”heanswers.“Who’dhavethoughtwe’d

everbesorrytoseeoldCraygo?”

Craywouldhavebeendisliked,anyway,becauseofthe

uniformhewore,butitwashishabitofluringstarvingyoung

womenintohisbedformoneythatmadehimanobjectof

loathinginthedistrict.Inreallybadtimes,thehungriestwould

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gatherathisdooratnightfall,vyingforthechancetoearnafew

coinstofeedtheirfamiliesbysellingtheirbodies.HadIbeen

olderwhenmyfatherdied,Imighthavebeenamongthem.

InsteadIlearnedtohunt.

Idon’tknowexactlywhatmymothermeansbythings

startingagain,butI’mtooangryandhurtingtoask.It’s

registered,though,theideaofworsetimesreturning,because

whenthedoorbellrings,Ishootstraightoutofbed.Whocouldit

beatthishourofthenight?There’sonlyoneanswer.

Peacekeepers.

“Theycan’thavehim,”Isay.

“Mightbeyouthey’reafter,”Haymitchremindsme.

“Oryou,”Isay.

“Notmyhouse,”Haymitchpointsout.“ButI’llgetthe

door.”

“No,I’llgetit,”saysmymotherquietly.

Weallgo,though,followingherdownthehallwaytothe

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insistentringofthebell.Whensheopensit,there’snotasquad

ofPeacekeepersbutasingle,snow-cakedfigure.Madge.She

holdsoutasmall,dampcardboardboxtome.

“Usetheseforyourfriend,”shesays.Itakeoffthelidofthe

box,revealinghalfadozenvialsofclearliquid.“They’remy

mother’s.ShesaidIcouldtakethem.Usethem,please.”She

runsbackintothestormbeforewecanstopher.

“Crazygirl,”Haymitchmuttersaswefollowmymotherinto

thekitchen.

WhatevermymotherhadgivenGale,Iwasright,itisn’t

enough.Histeetharegrittedandhisfleshshineswithsweat.My

motherfillsasyringewiththeclearliquidfromoneofthevials

andshootsitintohisarm.Almostimmediately,hisfacebegins

torelax.

“Whatisthatstuff?”asksPeeta.

“It’sfromtheCapitol.It’scalledmorphling,”mymother

answers.

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“Ididn’tevenknowMadgeknewGale,”saysPeeta.

“Weusedtosellherstrawberries,”Isayalmostangrily.

WhatamIangryabout,though?Notthatshehasbroughtthe

medicine,surely.

“Shemusthavequiteatasteforthem,”saysHaymitch.

That’swhatnettlesme.It’stheimplicationthatthere’s

somethinggoingonbetweenGaleandMadge.AndIdon’tlike

it.

“She’smyfriend”isallIsay.

NowthatGalehasdriftedawayonthepainkiller,everyone

seemstodeflate.Primmakesuseacheatsomestewandbread.A

roomisofferedtoHazelle,butshehastogohometotheother

kids.HaymitchandPeetaarebothwillingtostay,butmymother

sendsthemhometobedaswell.Sheknowsit’spointlesstotry

thiswithmeandleavesmetotendGalewhilesheandPrimrest.

AloneinthekitchenwithGale,IsitonHazelle’sstool,

holdinghishand.Afterawhile,myfingersfindhisface.Itouch

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partsofhimIhaveneverhadcausetotouchbefore.Hisheavy,

darkeyebrows,thecurveofhischeek,thelineofhisnose,the

hollowatthebaseofhisneck.Itracetheoutlineofstubbleon

hisjawandfinallyworkmywaytohislips.Softandfull,

slightlychapped.Hisbreathwarmsmychilledskin.

Doeseveryonelookyoungerasleep?Becauserightnowhe

couldbetheboyIranintointhewoodsyearsago,theonewho

accusedmeofstealingfromhistraps.Whatapairwewere—

fatherless,frightened,butfiercelycommitted,too,tokeeping

ourfamiliesalive.Desperate,yetnolongeraloneafterthatday,

becausewe’dfoundeachother.Ithinkofahundredmomentsin

thewoods,lazyafternoonsfishing,thedayItaughthimtoswim,

thattimeItwistedmykneeandhecarriedmehome.Mutually

countingoneachother,watchingeachother’sbacks,forcing

eachothertobebrave.

Forthefirsttime,Ireverseourpositionsinmyhead.I

imaginewatchingGalevolunteeringtosaveRoryinthereaping,

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havinghimtornfrommylife,becomingsomestrangegirl’s

lovertostayalive,andthencominghomewithher.Livingnext

toher.Promisingtomarryher.

ThehatredIfeelforhim,forthephantomgirl,for

everything,issorealandimmediatethatitchokesme.Galeis

mine.Iamhis.Anythingelseisunthinkable.Whydidittake

himbeingwhippedwithinaninchofhislifetoseeit?

BecauseI’mselfish.I’macoward.I’mthekindofgirlwho,

whenshemightactuallybeofuse,wouldruntostayaliveand

leavethosewhocouldn’tfollowtosufferanddie.Thisisthegirl

Galemetinthewoodstoday.

NowonderIwontheGames.Nodecentpersoneverdoes.

YousavedPeeta,Ithinkweakly.

ButnowIquestioneventhat.Iknewgoodandwellthatmy

lifebackinDistrict12wouldbeunlivableifIletthatboydie.

Irestmyheadforwardontheedgeofthetable,overcome

withloathingformyself.WishingIhaddiedinthearena.

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WishingSenecaCranehadblownmetobitsthewayPresident

SnowsaidheshouldhavewhenIheldouttheberries.

Theberries.IrealizetheanswertowhoIamliesinthat

handfulofpoisonousfruit.IfIheldthemouttosavePeeta

becauseIknewIwouldbeshunnedifIcamebackwithouthim,

thenIamdespicable.IfIheldthemoutbecauseIlovedhim,I

amstillself-centered,althoughforgivable.ButifIheldthemout

todefytheCapitol,Iamsomeoneofworth.Thetroubleis,I

don’tknowexactlywhatwasgoingoninsidemeatthatmoment.

Coulditbethepeopleinthedistrictsareright?Thatitwas

anactofrebellion,evenifitwasanunconsciousone?Because,

deepdown,Imustknowitisn’tenoughtokeepmyself,ormy

family,ormyfriendsalivebyrunningaway.EvenifIcould.It

wouldn’tfixanything.Itwouldn’tstoppeoplefrombeinghurt

thewayGalewastoday.

LifeinDistrict12isn’treallysodifferentfromlifeinthe

arena.Atsomepoint,youhavetostoprunningandturnaround

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andfacewhoeverwantsyoudead.Thehardthingisfindingthe

couragetodoit.Well,it’snothardforGale.Hewasborna

rebel.I’mtheonemakinganescapeplan.

“I’msosorry,”Iwhisper.Ileanforwardandkisshim.

Hiseyelashesflutterandhelooksatmethroughahazeof

opiates.“Hey,Catnip.”

“Hey,Gale,”Isay.

“Thoughtyou’dbegonebynow,”hesays.

Mychoicesaresimple.Icandielikequarryinthewoodsor

IcandieherebesideGale.“I’mnotgoinganywhere.I’mgoing

tostayrighthereandcauseallkindsoftrouble.”

“Me,too,”Galesays.Hejustmanagesasmilebeforethe

drugspullhimbackunder.

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SomeonegivesmyshoulderashakeandIsitup.I’vefallen

asleepwithmyfaceonthetable.Thewhiteclothhasleftcreases

onmygoodcheek.Theother,theonethattookthelashfrom

Thread,throbspainfully.Gale’sdeadtotheworld,buthis

fingersarelockedaroundmine.Ismellfreshbreadandturnmy

stiffnecktofindPeetalookingdownatmewithsuchasad

expression.Igetthesensethathe’sbeenwatchingusawhile.

“Goonuptobed,Katniss.I’lllookafterhimnow,”hesays.

“Peeta.AboutwhatIsaidyesterday,aboutrunning—”I

begin.

“Iknow,”hesays.“There’snothingtoexplain.”

Iseetheloavesofbreadonthecounterinthepale,snowy

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morninglight.Theblueshadowsunderhiseyes.Iwonderifhe

sleptatall.Couldn’thavebeenlong.Ithinkofhisagreeingtogo

withmeyesterday,hissteppingupbesidemetoprotectGale,his

willingnesstothrowhislotinwithmineentirelywhenIgive

himsolittleinreturn.NomatterwhatIdo,I’mhurting

someone.“Peeta—”

“Justgotobed,okay?”hesays.

Ifeelmywayupthestairs,crawlunderthecovers,andfall

asleepatonce.Atsomepoint,Clove,thegirlfromDistrict2,

entersmydreams.Shechasesme,pinsmetotheground,and

pullsoutaknifetocutmyface.Itdigsdeeplyintomycheek,

openingawidegash.ThenClovebeginstotransform,herface

elongatingintoasnout,darkfursproutingfromherskin,her

fingernailsgrowingintolongclaws,buthereyesremain

unchanged.Shebecomesthemuttationformofherself,the

wolflikecreationoftheCapitolthatterrorizedusthelastnightin

thearena.Tossingbackherhead,sheletsoutalong,eeriehowl

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thatispickedupbyothermuttsnearby.Clovebeginstolapthe

bloodflowingfrommywound,eachlicksendinganewwaveof

painthroughmyface.Igiveastrangledcryandwakewitha

start,sweatingandshiveringatonce.Cradlingmydamaged

cheekinmyhand,IremindmyselfthatitwasnotClovebut

Threadwhogavemethiswound.Iwishthat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.

TheswellingaroundmyeyehasgonedownandIcanopenit

abit.Ipushasidethecurtainsandseethesnowstormhas

strengthenedtoafull-outblizzard.There’snothingbutwhiteness

andthehowlingwindthatsoundsremarkablylikethe

muttations.

Iwelcometheblizzard,withitsferociouswindsanddeep,

driftingsnow.Thismaybeenoughtokeeptherealwolves,also

knownasthePeacekeepers,frommydoor.Afewdaystothink.

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Toworkoutaplan.WithGaleandPeetaandHaymitchallat

hand.Thisblizzardisagift.

BeforeIgodowntofacethisnewlife,though,Itakesome

timemakingmyselfacknowledgewhatitwillmean.Lessthana

dayago,Iwaspreparedtoheadintothewildernesswithmy

lovedonesinmidwinter,withtheveryrealpossibilityofthe

Capitolpursuingus.Aprecariousventureatbest.ButnowIam

committingtosomethingevenmorerisky.FightingtheCapitol

assurestheirswiftretaliation.ImustacceptthatatanymomentI

canbearrested.Therewillbeaknockonthedoor,liketheone

lastnight,abandofPeacekeeperstohaulmeaway.Theremight

betorture.Mutilation.Abulletthroughmyskullinthetown

square,ifI’mfortunateenoughtogothatquickly.TheCapitol

hasnoendofcreativewaystokillpeople.Iimaginethesethings

andI’mterrified,butlet’sfaceit:They’vebeenlurkinginthe

backofmybrain,anyway.I’vebeenatributeintheGames.Been

threatenedbythepresident.Takenalashacrossmyface.I’m

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alreadyatarget.

Nowcomestheharderpart.Ihavetofacethefactthatmy

familyandfriendsmightsharethisfate.Prim.Ineedonlyto

thinkofPrimandallmyresolvedisintegrates.It’smyjobto

protecther.Ipulltheblanketupovermyhead,andmybreathing

issorapidIuseupalltheoxygenandbegintochokeforair.I

can’tlettheCapitolhurtPrim.

Andthenithitsme.Theyalreadyhave.Theyhavekilledher

fatherinthosewretchedmines.Theyhavesatbyasshealmost

starvedtodeath.Theyhavechosenherasatribute,thenmade

herwatchhersisterfighttothedeathintheGames.Shehasbeen

hurtfarworsethanIhadattheageoftwelve.Andeventhat

palesincomparisonwithRue’slife.

Ishoveofftheblanketandsuckinthecoldairthatseeps

throughthewindowpanes.

Prim...Rue...aren’ttheytheveryreasonIhavetotryto

fight?Becausewhathasbeendonetothemissowrong,so

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beyondjustification,soevilthatthereisnochoice?Becauseno

onehastherighttotreatthemastheyhavebeentreated?

Yes.Thisisthethingtorememberwhenfearthreatensto

swallowmeup.WhatIamabouttodo,whateveranyofusare

forcedtoendure,itisforthem.It’stoolatetohelpRue,but

maybenottoolateforthosefivelittlefacesthatlookedupatme

fromthesquareinDistrict11.NottoolateforRoryandVick

andPosy.NottoolateforPrim.

Galeisright.Ifpeoplehavethecourage,thiscouldbean

opportunity.He’salsorightthat,sinceIhavesetitinmotion,I

coulddosomuch.AlthoughIhavenoideawhatexactlythat

shouldbe.Butdecidingnottorunawayisacrucialfirststep.

Itakeashower,andthismorningmybrainisnotassembling

listsofsuppliesforthewild,buttryingtofigureouthowthey

organizedthatuprisinginDistrict8.Somany,soclearlyacting

indefianceoftheCapitol.Wasitevenplanned,orsomething

thatsimplyeruptedoutofyearsofhatredandresentment?How

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couldwedothathere?WouldthepeopleofDistrict12joininor

locktheirdoors?Yesterdaythesquareemptiedsoquicklyafter

Gale’swhipping.Butisn’tthatbecauseweallfeelsoimpotent

andhavenoideawhattodo?Weneedsomeonetodirectusand

reassureusthisispossible.AndIdon’tthinkI’mthatperson.I

mayhavebeenacatalystforrebellion,butaleadershouldbe

someonewithconviction,andI’mbarelyaconvertmyself.

Someonewithunflinchingcourage,andI’mstillworkinghardat

evenfindingmine.Someonewithclearandpersuasivewords,

andI’msoeasilytongue-tied.

Words.IthinkofwordsandIthinkofPeeta.Howpeople

embraceeverythinghesays.Hecouldmoveacrowdtoaction,I

bet,ifhechoseto.Wouldfindthethingstosay.ButI’msurethe

ideahasnevercrossedhismind.

Downstairs,IfindmymotherandPrimtendingtoasubdued

Gale.Themedicinemustbewearingoff,bythelookonhisface.

Ibracemyselfforanotherfightbuttrytokeepmyvoicecalm.

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“Can’tyougivehimanothershot?”

“Iwill,ifit’sneeded.Wethoughtwe’dtrythesnowcoat

first,”saysmymother.Shehasremovedhisbandages.Youcan

practicallyseetheheatradiatingoffhisback.Shelaysaclean

clothacrosshisangryfleshandnodstoPrim.

Primcomesover,stirringwhatappearstobealargebowlof

snow.Butit’stintedalightgreenandgivesoffasweet,clean

scent.Snowcoat.Shecarefullybeginstoladlethestuffontothe

cloth.IcanalmosthearthesizzleofGale’stormentedskin

meetingthesnowmixture.Hiseyesflutteropen,perplexed,and

thenheletsoutasoundofrelief.

“It’sluckywehavesnow,”saysmymother.

Ithinkofwhatitmustbeliketorecoverfromawhippingin

midsummer,withthesearingheatandthetepidwaterfromthe

tap.“Whatdidyoudoinwarmmonths?”Iask.

Acreaseappearsbetweenmymother’seyebrowsasshe

frowns.“Triedtokeepthefliesaway.”

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Mystomachturnsatthethought.Shefillsahandkerchief

withthesnow-coatmixtureandIholdittothewealonmy

cheek.Instantlythepainwithdraws.It’sthecoldnessofthe

snow,yes,butwhatevermixofherbaljuicesmymotherhas

addednumbsaswell.“Oh.That’swonderful.Whydidn’tyouput

thisonhimlastnight?”

“Ineededthewoundtosetfirst,”shesays.

Idon’tknowwhatthatmeansexactly,butaslongasit

works,whoamItoquestionher?Sheknowswhatshe’sdoing,

mymother.Ifeelapangofremorseaboutyesterday,theawful

thingsIyelledatherasPeetaandHaymitchdraggedmefrom

thekitchen.“I’msorry.Aboutscreamingatyouyesterday.”

“I’veheardworse,”shesays.“You’veseenhowpeopleare,

whensomeonetheyloveisinpain.”

Someonetheylove.Thewordsnumbmytongueasifit’s

beenpackedinsnowcoat.Ofcourse,IloveGale.Butwhatkind

oflovedoesshemean?WhatdoImeanwhenIsayIloveGale?I

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don’tknow.Ididkisshimlastnight,inamomentwhenmy

emotionswererunningsohigh.ButI’msurehedoesn’t

rememberit.Doeshe?Ihopenot.Ifhedoes,everythingwilljust

getmorecomplicatedandIreallycan’tthinkaboutkissingwhen

I’vegotarebelliontoincite.Igivemyheadalittleshaketo

clearit.“Where’sPeeta?”Isay.

“Hewenthomewhenweheardyoustirring.Didn’twantto

leavehishouseunattendedduringthestorm,”saysmymother.

“Didhegetbackallright?”Iask.Inablizzard,youcanget

lostinamatterofyardsandwanderoffcourseintooblivion.

“Whydon’tyougivehimacallandcheck?”shesays.

Igointothestudy,aroomI’veprettymuchavoidedsince

mymeetingwithPresidentSnow,anddialPeeta’snumber.After

afewringsheanswers.

“Hey.Ijustwantedtomakesureyougothome,”Isay.

“Katniss,Ilivethreehousesawayfromyou,”hesays.

“Iknow,butwiththeweatherandall,”Isay.

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“Well,I’mfine.Thankyouforchecking.”There’salong

pause.“How’sGale?”

“Allright.MymotherandPrimaregivinghimsnowcoat

now,”Isay.

“Andyourface?”heasks.

“I’vegotsome,too,”Isay.“HaveyouseenHaymitch

today?”

“Icheckedinonhim.Deaddrunk.ButIbuiltuphisfireand

lefthimsomebread,”hesays.

“Iwantedtotalkto—tobothofyou.”Idon’tdareadd

more,hereonmyphone,whichissurelytapped.

“Probablyhavetowaituntilaftertheweathercalmsdown,”

hesays.“Nothingmuchwillhappenbeforethat,anyway.”

“No,nothingmuch,”Iagree.

Ittakestwodaysforthestormtoblowitselfout,leavingus

withdriftshigherthanmyhead.Anotherdaybeforethepathis

clearedfromtheVictor’sVillagetothesquare.Duringthistime

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IhelptendtoGale,applysnowcoattomycheek,tryto

remembereverythingIcanabouttheuprisinginDistrict8,in

caseitwillhelpus.Theswellinginmyfacegoesdown,leaving

mewithanitchy,healingwoundandaveryblackeye.Butstill,

thefirstchanceIget,IcallPeetatoseeifhewantstogointo

townwithme.

WerouseHaymitchanddraghimalongwithus.He

complains,butnotasmuchasusual.Weallknowweneedto

discusswhathappenedanditcan’tbeanywhereasdangerousas

ourhomesintheVictor’sVillage.Infact,wewaituntilthe

villageiswellbehindustoevenspeak.Ispendthetimestudying

theten-footwallsofsnowpileduponeithersideofthenarrow

paththathasbeencleared,wonderingiftheywillcollapseinon

us.

FinallyHaymitchbreaksthesilence.“Sowe’reallheading

offintothegreatunknown,arewe?”heasksme.

“No,”Isay.“Notanymore.”

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“Workedthroughtheflawsinthatplan,didyou,

sweetheart?”heasks.“Anynewideas?”

“Iwanttostartanuprising,”Isay.

Haymitchjustlaughs.It’snotevenameanlaugh,whichis

moretroubling.Itshowshecan’teventakemeseriously.“Well,

Iwantadrink.Youletmeknowhowthatworksoutforyou,

though,”hesays.

“Thenwhat’syourplan?”Ispitbackathim.

“Myplanistomakesureeverythingisjustperfectforyour

wedding,”saysHaymitch.“Icalledandrescheduledthephoto

shootwithoutgivingtoomanydetails.”

“Youdon’tevenhaveaphone,”Isay.

“Effiehadthatfixed,”hesays.“Doyouknowsheaskedme

ifI’dliketogiveyouaway?Itoldherthesoonerthebetter.”

“Haymitch.”Icanhearthepleadingcreepingintomyvoice.

“Katniss.”Hemimicsmytone.“Itwon’twork.”

Weshutupasateamofmenwithshovelspassesus,headed

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outtotheVictor’sVillage.Maybetheycandosomethingabout

thoseten-footwalls.Andbythetimethey’reoutofearshot,the

squareistooclose.Westepintoitandallcometoastop

simultaneously.

Nothingmuchwillhappenduringtheblizzard.That’swhat

PeetaandIhadagreed.Butwecouldn’thavebeenmorewrong.

Thesquarehasbeentransformed.Ahugebannerwiththesealof

PanemhangsofftheroofoftheJusticeBuilding.Peacekeepers,

inpristinewhiteuniforms,marchonthecleanlyswept

cobblestones.Alongtherooftops,moreofthemoccupynestsof

machineguns.Mostunnervingisalineofnewconstructions—

anofficialwhippingpost,severalstockades,andagallows—set

upinthecenterofthesquare.

“Thread’saquickworker,”saysHaymitch.

Somestreetsawayfromthesquare,Iseeablazeflareup.

Noneofushastosayit.ThatcanonlybetheHobgoingupin

smoke.IthinkofGreasySae,Ripper,allmyfriendswhomake

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theirlivingthere.

“Haymitch,youdon’tthinkeveryonewasstillin—”Ican’t

finishthesentence.

“Nah,they’resmarterthanthat.You’dbe,too,ifyou’dbeen

aroundlonger,”hesays.“Well,Ibettergoseehowmuchrubbing

alcoholtheapothecarycanspare.”

HetrudgesoffacrossthesquareandIlookatPeeta.“What’s

hewantthatfor?”ThenIrealizetheanswer.“Wecan’tlethim

drinkit.He’llkillhimself,orattheveryleastgoblind.I’vegot

somewhiteliquorputawayathome.”

“Me,too.MaybethatwillholdhimuntilRipperfindsaway

tobebackinbusiness,”saysPeeta.“Ineedtocheckonmy

family.”

“IhavetogoseeHazelle.”I’mworriednow.Ithoughtshe’d

beonourdoorstepthemomentthesnowwascleared.Butthere’s

beennosignofher.

“I’llgo,too.Dropbythebakeryonmywayhome,”hesays.

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“Thanks.”I’msuddenlyveryscaredatwhatImightfind.

Thestreetsarealmostdeserted,whichwouldnotbeso

unusualatthistimeofdayifpeoplewereatthemines,kidsat

school.Butthey’renot.Iseefacespeekingatusoutof

doorways,throughcracksinshutters.

Anuprising,Ithink.WhatanidiotIam.There’saninherent

flawintheplanthatbothGaleandIweretooblindtosee.An

uprisingrequiresbreakingthelaw,thwartingauthority.We’ve

donethatourwholelives,orourfamilieshave.Poaching,trading

ontheblackmarket,mockingtheCapitolinthewoods.Butfor

mostpeopleinDistrict12,atriptobuysomethingattheHob

wouldbetoorisky.AndIexpectthemtoassembleinthesquare

withbricksandtorches?EventhesightofPeetaandmeis

enoughtomakepeoplepulltheirchildrenawayfromthe

windowsanddrawthecurtainstightly.

WefindHazelleinherhouse,nursingaverysickPosy.I

recognizethemeaslesspots.“Icouldn’tleaveher,”shesays.“I

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knewGale’dbeinthebestpossiblehands.”

“Ofcourse,”Isay.“He’smuchbetter.Mymothersayshe’ll

bebackintheminesinacoupleofweeks.”

“Maynotbeopenuntilthen,anyway,”saysHazelle.“Word

isthey’recloseduntilfurthernotice.”Shegivesanervousglance

atheremptywashtub.

“Youcloseddown,too?”Iask.

“Notofficially,”saysHazelle.“Buteveryone’safraidtouse

menow.”

“Maybeit’sthesnow,”saysPeeta.

“No,Rorymadeaquickroundthismorning.Nothingto

wash,apparently,”shesays.

RorywrapshisarmsaroundHazelle.“We’llbeallright.”

Itakeahandfulofmoneyfrommypocketandlayitonthe

table.“MymotherwillsendsomethingforPosy.”

Whenwe’reoutside,IturntoPeeta.“Yougoonback.Iwant

towalkbytheHob.”

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“I’llgowithyou,”hesays.

“No.I’vedraggedyouintoenoughtrouble,”Itellhim.

“AndavoidingastrollbytheHob...that’sgoingtofix

thingsforme?”Hesmilesandtakesmyhand.Togetherwewind

throughthestreetsoftheSeamuntilwereachtheburning

building.Theyhaven’tevenbotheredtoleavePeacekeepers

aroundit.Theyknownoonewouldtrytosaveit.

Theheatfromtheflamesmeltsthesurroundingsnowanda

blacktricklerunsacrossmyshoes.“It’sallthatcoaldust,from

theolddays,”Isay.Itwasineverycrackandcrevice.Ground

intothefloorboards.It’samazingtheplacedidn’tgoupbefore.

“IwanttocheckonGreasySae.”

“Nottoday,Katniss.Idon’tthinkwe’dbehelpinganyoneby

droppinginonthem,”hesays.

Wegobacktothesquare.IbuysomecakesfromPeeta’s

fatherwhiletheyexchangesmalltalkabouttheweather.Noone

mentionstheuglytoolsoftorturejustyardsfromthefrontdoor.

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ThelastthingInoticeasweleavethesquareisthatIdonot

recognizeevenoneofthePeacekeepers’faces.

Asthedayspass,thingsgofrombadtoworse.Themines

stayshutfortwoweeks,andbythattimehalfofDistrict12is

starving.Thenumberofkidssigningupfortesseraesoars,but

theyoftendon’treceivetheirgrain.Foodshortagesbegin,and

eventhosewithmoneycomeawayfromstoresempty-handed.

Whentheminesreopen,wagesarecut,hoursextended,miners

sentintoblatantlydangerousworksites.Theeagerlyawaited

foodpromisedforParcelDayarrivesspoiledanddefiledby

rodents.Theinstallationsinthesquareseeplentyofactionas

peoplearedraggedinandpunishedforoffensessolong

overlookedwe’veforgottentheyareillegal.

Galegoeshomewithnomoretalkofrebellionbetweenus.

ButIcan’thelpthinkingthateverythingheseeswillonly

strengthenhisresolvetofightback.Thehardshipsinthemines,

thetorturedbodiesinthesquare,thehungeronthefacesofhis

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family.Roryhassignedupfortesserae,somethingGalecan’t

evenspeakabout,butit’sstillnotenoughwiththeinconsistent

availabilityandtheever-increasingpriceoffood.

Theonlybrightspotis,IgetHaymitchtohireHazelleasa

housekeeper,resultinginsomeextramoneyforherandgreatly

increasingHaymitch’sstandardofliving.It’sweirdgoinginto

hishouse,findingitfreshandclean,foodwarmingonthestove.

Hehardlynoticesbecausehe’sfightingawholedifferentbattle.

PeetaandItriedtorationwhatwhiteliquorwehad,butit’s

almostrunout,andthelasttimeIsawRipper,shewasinthe

stocks.

IfeellikeapariahwhenIwalkthroughthestreets.Everyone

avoidsmeinpublicnow.Butthere’snoshortageofcompanyat

home.Asteadysupplyofillandinjuredisdepositedinour

kitchenbeforemymother,whohaslongsincestoppedcharging

forherservices.Herstocksofremediesarerunningsolow,

though,thatsoonallshe’llhavetotreatthepatientswithis

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snow.

Thewoods,ofcourse,areforbidden.Absolutely.No

question.EvenGaledoesn’tchallengethisnow.Butone

morning,Ido.Anditisn’tthehousefullofthesickanddying,

thebleedingbacks,thegaunt-facedchildren,themarchingboots,

ortheomnipresentmiserythatdrivesmeunderthefence.It’s

thearrivalofacrateofweddingdressesonenightwithanote

fromEffiesayingthatPresidentSnowapprovedthesehimself.

Thewedding.Ishereallyplanningtogothroughwithit?

What,inhistwistedbrain,willthatachieve?Isitforthebenefit

ofthoseintheCapitol?Aweddingwaspromised,aweddingwill

begiven.Andthenhe’llkillus?Asalessontothedistricts?I

don’tknow.Ican’tmakesenseofit.ItossandturninbeduntilI

can’tstanditanymore.Ihavetogetoutofhere.Atleastfora

fewhours.

MyhandsdigaroundinmyclosetuntilIfindtheinsulated

wintergearCinnamadeformeforrecreationaluseonthe

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VictoryTour.Waterproofboots,asnowsuitthatcoversmefrom

headtotoe,thermalgloves.Ilovemyoldhuntingstuff,butthe

trekIhaveinmindtodayismoresuitedtothishigh-tech

clothing.Itiptoedownstairs,loadmygamebagwithfood,and

sneakoutofthehouse.Slinkingalongsidestreetsandback

alleys,Imakemywaytotheweakspotinthefenceclosestto

Roobathebutcher’s.Sincemanyworkerscrossthiswaytogetto

themines,thesnow’spockmarkedwithfootprints.Minewillnot

benoticed.Withallhissecurityupgrades,Threadhaspaidlittle

attentiontothefence,perhapsfeelingharshweatherandwild

animalsareenoughtokeepeveryonesafelyinside.Evenso,once

I’munderthechainlink,Icovermytracksuntilthetrees

concealthemforme.

DawnisjustbreakingasIretrieveasetofbowandarrows

andbegintoforceapaththroughthedriftedsnowinthewoods.

I’mdetermined,forsomereason,togettothelake.Maybetosay

good-byetotheplace,tomyfatherandthehappytimeswespent

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there,becauseIknowI’llprobablyneverreturn.MaybejustsoI

candrawacompletebreathagain.Partofmedoesn’treallycare

iftheycatchme,ifIcanseeitonemoretime.

Thetriptakestwiceaslongasusual.Cinna’sclothesholdin

theheatallright,andIarrivesoakedwithsweatunderthe

snowsuitwhilemyfaceisnumbwithcold.Theglareofthe

wintersunoffthesnowhasplayedgameswithmyvision,andI

amsoexhaustedandwrappedupinmyownhopelessthoughts

thatIdon’tnoticethesigns.Thethinstreamofsmokefromthe

chimney,theindentationsofrecentfootprints,thesmellof

steamingpineneedles.Iamliterallyafewyardsfromthedoor

ofthecementhousewhenIpullupshort.Andthat’snotbecause

ofthesmokeortheprintsorthesmell.That’sbecauseofthe

unmistakableclickofaweaponbehindme.

Secondnature.Instinct.Iturn,drawingbackthearrow,

althoughIknowalreadythattheoddsarenotinmyfavor.Isee

thewhitePeacekeeperuniform,thepointedchin,thelightbrown

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iriswheremyarrowwillfindahome.Buttheweaponis

droppingtothegroundandtheunarmedwomanisholding

somethingouttomeinherglovedhand.

“Stop!”shecries.

Iwaver,unabletoprocessthisturninevents.Perhapsthey

haveorderstobringmeinalivesotheycantorturemeinto

incriminatingeverypersonIeverknew.Yeah,goodluckwith

that,Ithink.Myfingershaveallbutdecidedtoreleasethearrow

whenIseetheobjectintheglove.It’sasmallwhitecircleofflat

bread.Moreofacracker,really.Grayandsoggyaroundthe

edges.Butanimageisclearlystampedinthecenterofit.

It’smymockingjay.

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Itmakesnosense.Mybirdbakedintobread.Unlikethe

stylishrenderingsIsawintheCapitol,thisisdefinitelynota

fashionstatement.“Whatisit?Whatdoesthatmean?”Iask

harshly,stillpreparedtokill.

“Itmeanswe’reonyourside,”saysatremulousvoicebehind

me.

Ididn’tseeherwhenIcameup.Shemusthavebeeninthe

house.Idon’ttakemyeyesoffmycurrenttarget.Probablythe

newcomerisarmed,butI’mbettingshewon’trisklettingme

heartheclickthatwouldmeanmydeathwasimminent,knowing

Iwouldinstantlykillhercompanion.“ComearoundwhereIcan

seeyou,”Iorder.

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“Shecan’t,she’s—”beginsthewomanwiththecracker.

“Comearound!”Ishout.There’sastepandadragging

sound.Icanheartheeffortthemovementrequires.Another

woman,ormaybeIshouldcallheragirlsinceshelooksabout

myage,limpsintoview.She’sdressedinanill-fitting

Peacekeeper’suniformcompletewiththewhitefurcloak,but

it’sseveralsizestoolargeforherslightframe.Shecarriesno

visibleweapon.Herhandsareoccupiedwithsteadyingarough

crutchmadefromabrokenbranch.Thetoeofherrightboot

can’tclearthesnow,hencethedragging.

Iexaminethegirl’sface,whichisbrightredfromthecold.

Herteetharecrookedandthere’sastrawberrybirthmarkover

oneofherchocolatebrowneyes.ThisisnoPeacekeeper.No

citizenoftheCapitol,either.

“Whoareyou?”Iaskwarilybutlessbelligerently.

“Myname’sTwill,”saysthewoman.She’solder.Maybe

thirty-fiveorso.“AndthisisBonnie.We’verunawayfrom

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DistrictEight.”

District8!Thentheymustknowabouttheuprising!

“Where’dyougettheuniforms?”Iask.

“Istolethemfromthefactory,”saysBonnie.“Wemake

themthere.OnlyIthoughtthisonewouldbefor...forsomeone

else.That’swhyitfitssopoorly.”

“TheguncamefromadeadPeacekeeper,”saysTwill,

followingmyeyes.

“Thatcrackerinyourhand.Withthebird.What’sthat

about?”Iask.

“Don’tyouknow,Katniss?”Bonnieappearsgenuinely

surprised.

Theyrecognizeme.Ofcoursetheyrecognizeme.Myfaceis

uncoveredandI’mstandinghereoutsideofDistrict12pointing

anarrowatthem.WhoelsewouldIbe?“Iknowitmatchesthe

pinIworeinthearena.”

“Shedoesn’tknow,”saysBonniesoftly.“Maybenotabout

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anyofit.”

SuddenlyIfeeltheneedtoappearontopofthings.“Iknow

youhadanuprisinginEight.”

“Yes,that’swhywehadtogetout,”saysTwill.

“Well,you’regoodandoutnow.Whatareyougoingtodo?”

Iask.

“We’reheadedforDistrictThirteen,”Twillreplies.

“Thirteen?”Isay.“There’snoThirteen.Itgotblownoffthe

map.”

“Seventy-fiveyearsago,”saysTwill.

Bonnieshiftsonhercrutchandwinces.

“What’swrongwithyourleg?”Iask.

“Itwistedmyankle.Mybootsaretoobig,”saysBonnie.

Ibitemylip.Myinstincttellsmethey’retellingthetruth.

AndbehindthattruthisawholelotofinformationI’dliketo

get.IstepforwardandretrieveTwill’sgunbeforeloweringmy

bow,though.ThenIhesitateamoment,thinkingofanotherday

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inthiswoods,whenGaleandIwatchedahovercraftappearout

ofthinairandcapturetwoescapeesfromtheCapitol.Theboy

wasspearedandkilled.Theredheadedgirl,IfoundoutwhenI

wenttotheCapitol,wasmutilatedandturnedintoamuteservant

calledanAvox.“Anyoneafteryou?”

“Wedon’tthinkso.Wethinktheybelievewewerekilledin

afactoryexplosion,”saysTwill.“Onlyaflukethatweweren’t.”

“Allright,let’sgoinside,”Isay,noddingatthecement

house.Ifollowthemin,carryingthegun.

Bonniemakesstraightforthehearthandlowersherselfonto

aPeacekeeper’scloakthathasbeenspreadbeforeit.Sheholds

herhandstothefeebleflamethatburnsononeendofacharred

log.HerskinissopaleastobetranslucentandIcanseethefire

glowthroughherflesh.Twilltriestoarrangethecloak,which

musthavebeenherown,aroundtheshiveringgirl.

Atingalloncanhasbeencutinhalf,thelipraggedand

dangerous.Itsitsintheashes,filledwithahandfulofpine

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needlessteaminginwater.

“Makingtea?”Iask.

“We’renotsure,really.Irememberseeingsomeonedothis

withpineneedlesontheHungerGamesafewyearsback.At

least,Ithinkitwaspineneedles,”saysTwillwithafrown.

IrememberDistrict8,anuglyurbanplacestinkingof

industrialfumes,thepeoplehousedinrun-downtenements.

Barelyabladeofgrassinsight.Noopportunity,ever,tolearn

thewaysofnature.It’samiraclethesetwohavemadeitthisfar.

“Outoffood?”Iask.

Bonnienods.“Wetookwhatwecould,butfood’sbeenso

scarce.That’sbeengoneforawhile.”Thequaverinhervoice

meltsmyremainingdefenses.Sheisjustamalnourished,injured

girlfleeingtheCapitol.

“Well,thenthisisyourluckyday,”Isay,droppingmygame

bagonthefloor.Peoplearestarvingalloverthedistrictandwe

stillhavemorethanenough.SoI’vebeenspreadingthings

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aroundalittle.Ihavemyownpriorities:Gale’sfamily,Greasy

Sae,someoftheotherHobtraderswhowereshutdown.My

motherhasotherpeople,patientsmostly,whoshewantstohelp.

ThismorningIpurposelyoverstuffedmygamebagwithfood,

knowingmymotherwouldseethedepletedpantryandassumeI

wasmakingmyroundstothehungry.Iwasactuallybuyingtime

togotothelakewithoutherworrying.Iintendedtodeliverthe

foodthiseveningonmyreturn,butnowIcanseethatwon’tbe

happening.

FromthebagIpulltwofreshbunswithalayerofcheese

bakedintothetop.Wealwaysseemtohaveasupplyofthese

sincePeetafoundouttheyweremyfavorite.ItossonetoTwill

butcrossoverandplacetheotheronBonnie’slapsinceher

hand-eyecoordinationseemsalittlequestionableatthemoment

andIdon’twantthethingendingupinthefire.

“Oh,”saysBonnie.“Oh,isthisallforme?”

SomethinginsidemetwistsasIrememberanothervoice.

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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.

“Yeah,eatup,”Isay.Bonnieholdsthebunasifshecan’t

quitebelieveit’srealandthensinksherteethintoitagainand

again,unabletostop.“It’sbetterifyouchewit.”Shenods,

tryingtoslowdown,butIknowhowharditiswhenyou’rethat

hollow.“Ithinkyourtea’sdone.”Iscootthetincanfromthe

ashes.TwillfindstwotincupsinherpackandIdipoutthetea,

settingitonthefloortocool.Theyhuddletogether,eating,

blowingontheirtea,andtakingtiny,scaldingsipsasIbuildup

thefire.Iwaituntiltheyaresuckingthegreasefromtheir

fingerstoask,“So,what’syourstory?”Andtheytellme.

EversincetheHungerGames,thediscontentinDistrict8

hadbeengrowing.Itwasalwaysthere,ofcourse,tosome

degree.Butwhatdifferedwasthattalkwasnolongersufficient,

andtheideaoftakingactionwentfromawishtoareality.The

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textilefactoriesthatservicePanemareloudwithmachinery,and

thedinalsoallowedwordtopasssafely,apairoflipsclosetoan

ear,wordsunnoticed,unchecked.Twilltaughtatschool,Bonnie

wasoneofherpupils,andwhenthefinalbellhadrung,bothof

themspentafour-hourshiftatthefactorythatspecializedinthe

Peacekeeperuniforms.IttookmonthsforBonnie,whoworkedin

thechillyinspectiondock,tosecurethetwouniforms,aboot

here,apairofpantsthere.TheywereintendedforTwillandher

husbandbecauseitwasunderstoodthat,oncetheuprisingbegan,

itwouldbecrucialtogetwordofitoutbeyondDistrict8ifit

weretospreadandbesuccessful.

ThedayPeetaandIcamethroughandmadeourVictory

Tourappearancewasactuallyarehearsalofsorts.Peopleinthe

crowdpositionedthemselvesaccordingtotheirteams,nextto

thebuildingstheywouldtargetwhentherebellionbrokeout.

Thatwastheplan:totakeoverthecentersofpowerinthecity

liketheJusticeBuilding,thePeacekeepers’Headquarters,and

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theCommunicationCenterinthesquare.Andatotherlocations

inthedistrict:therailroad,thegranary,thepowerstation,and

thearmory.

Thenightofmyengagement,thenightPeetafelltohisknees

andproclaimedhisundyingloveformeinfrontofthecameras

intheCapitol,wasthenighttheuprisingbegan.Itwasanideal

cover.OurVictoryTourinterviewwithCaesarFlickermanwas

mandatoryviewing.ItgavethepeopleofDistrict8areasonto

beoutonthestreetsafterdark,gatheringeitherinthesquareor

invariouscommunitycentersaroundthecitytowatch.

Ordinarilysuchactivitywouldhavebeentoosuspicious.Instead

everyonewasinplacebytheappointedhour,eighto’clock,when

themaskswentonandallhellbrokeloose.

Takenbysurpriseandoverwhelmedbysheernumbers,the

Peacekeeperswereinitiallyovercomebythecrowds.The

CommunicationCenter,thegranary,andthepowerstationwere

allsecured.AsthePeacekeepersfell,weaponswereappropriated

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fortherebels.Therewashopethatthishadnotbeenanactof

madness,thatinsomeway,iftheycouldgetthewordoutto

otherdistricts,anactualoverthrowofthegovernmentinthe

Capitolmightbepossible.

Butthentheaxfell.Peacekeepersbegantoarrivebythe

thousands.Hovercraftbombedtherebelstrongholdsintoashes.

Intheutterchaosthatfollowed,itwasallpeoplecoulddoto

makeitbacktotheirhomesalive.Ittooklessthanforty-eight

hourstosubduethecity.Then,foraweek,therewasalockdown.

Nofood,nocoal,everyoneforbiddentoleavetheirhomes.The

onlytimethetelevisionshowedanythingbutstaticwaswhenthe

suspectedinstigatorswerehangedinthesquare.Thenonenight,

asthewholedistrictwasonthebrinkofstarvation,camethe

ordertoreturntobusinessasusual.

ThatmeantschoolforTwillandBonnie.Astreetmade

impassablebythebombscausedthemtobelatefortheirfactory

shift,sotheywerestillahundredyardsawaywhenitexploded,

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killingeveryoneinside—includingTwill’shusbandand

Bonnie’sentirefamily.

“SomeonemusthavetoldtheCapitolthattheideaforthe

uprisinghadstartedthere,”Twilltellsmefaintly.

ThetwofledbacktoTwill’s,wherethePeacekeepersuits

werestillwaiting.Theyscrapedtogetherwhatprovisionsthey

could,stealingfreelyfromneighborstheynowknewtobedead,

andmadeittotherailroadstation.Inawarehousenearthe

tracks,theychangedintothePeacekeeperoutfitsand,disguised,

wereabletomakeitontoaboxcarfulloffabriconatrain

headedtoDistrict6.Theyfledthetrainatafuelstopalongthe

wayandtraveledonfoot.Concealedbywoods,butusingthe

tracksforguidance,theymadeittotheoutskirtsofDistrict12

twodaysago,wheretheywereforcedtostopwhenBonnie

twistedherankle.

“Iunderstandwhyyou’rerunning,butwhatdoyouexpectto

findinDistrictThirteen?”Iask.

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BonnieandTwillexchangeanervousglance.“We’renot

sureexactly,”Twillsays.

“It’snothingbutrubble,”Isay.“We’veallseenthe

footage.”

“That’sjustit.They’vebeenusingthesamefootageforas

longasanyoneinDistrictEightcanremember,”saysTwill.

“Really?”Itrytothinkback,tocalluptheimagesof13I’ve

seenontelevision.

“YouknowhowtheyalwaysshowtheJusticeBuilding?”

Twillcontinues.Inod.I’veseenitathousandtimes.“Ifyoulook

verycarefully,you’llseeit.Upinthefarright-handcorner.”

“Seewhat?”Iask.

Twillholdsouthercrackerwiththebirdagain.“A

mockingjay.Justaglimpseofitasitfliesby.Thesameone

everytime.”

“Backhome,wethinktheykeepreusingtheoldfootage

becausetheCapitolcan’tshowwhat’sreallytherenow,”says

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Bonnie.

Igiveagruntofdisbelief.“You’regoingtoDistrictThirteen

basedonthat?Ashotofabird?Youthinkyou’regoingtofind

somenewcitywithpeoplestrollingaroundinit?Andthat’sjust

finewiththeCapitol?”

“No,”Twillsaysearnestly.“Wethinkthepeoplemoved

undergroundwheneverythingonthesurfacewasdestroyed.We

thinkthey’vemanagedtosurvive.AndwethinktheCapitol

leavesthemalonebecause,beforetheDarkDays,District

Thirteen’sprincipalindustrywasnucleardevelopment.”

“Theyweregraphiteminers,”Isay.ButthenIhesitate,

becausethat’sinformationIgotfromtheCapitol.

“Theyhadafewsmallmines,yes.Butnotenoughtojustify

apopulationofthatsize.That,Iguess,istheonlythingweknow

forsure,”saysTwill.

Myheart’sbeatingtooquickly.Whatifthey’reright?Could

itbetrue?Couldtherebesomewheretorunbesidesthe

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wilderness?Somewheresafe?IfacommunityexistsinDistrict

13,woulditbebettertogothere,whereImightbeableto

accomplishsomething,insteadofwaitinghereformydeath?But

then...iftherearepeopleinDistrict13,withpowerfulweapons

...

“Whyhaven’ttheyhelpedus?”Isayangrily.“Ifit’strue,

whydotheyleaveustolivelikethis?Withthehungerandthe

killingsandtheGames?”AndsuddenlyIhatethisimaginary

undergroundcityofDistrict13andthosewhositby,watchingus

die.They’renobetterthantheCapitol.

“Wedon’tknow,”Bonniewhispers.“Rightnow,we’rejust

holdingontothehopethattheyexist.”

Thatsnapsmetomysenses.Thesearedelusions.District13

doesn’texistbecausetheCapitolwouldneverletitexist.

They’reprobablymistakenaboutthefootage.Mockingjaysare

aboutasrareasrocks.Andaboutastough.Iftheycouldsurvive

theinitialbombingof13,they’reprobablydoingbetterthanever

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now.

Bonniehasnohome.Herfamilyisdead.Returningto

District8orassimilatingintoanotherdistrictwouldbe

impossible.Ofcoursetheideaofanindependent,thriving

District13drawsher.Ican’tbringmyselftotellhershe’s

chasingadreamasinsubstantialasawispofsmoke.Perhapsshe

andTwillcancarveoutalifesomehowinthewoods.Idoubtit,

butthey’resopitifulIhavetotrytohelp.

FirstIgivethemallthefoodinmypack,grainanddried

beansmostly,butthere’senoughtoholdthemforawhileif

they’recareful.ThenItakeTwilloutinthewoodsandtryto

explainthebasicsofhunting.She’sgotaweaponthatif

necessarycanconvertsolarenergyintodeadlyraysofpower,so

thatcouldlastindefinitely.Whenshemanagestokillherfirst

squirrel,thepoorthingismostlyacharredmessbecauseittook

adirecthittothebody.ButIshowherhowtoskinandcleanit.

Withsomepractice,she’llfigureitout.Icutanewcrutchfor

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Bonnie.Backatthehouse,Ipeeloffanextralayerofsocksfor

thegirl,tellinghertostufftheminthetoesofherbootstowalk,

thenwearthemonherfeetatnight.FinallyIteachthemhowto

buildaproperfire.

TheybegmefordetailsofthesituationinDistrict12andI

tellthemaboutlifeunderThread.Icanseetheythinkthisis

importantinformationthatthey’llbebringingtothosewhorun

District13,andIplayalongsoasnottodestroytheirhopes.But

whenthelightsignalslateafternoon,I’moutoftimetohumor

them.

“Ihavetogonow,”Isay.

Theypouroutthanksandembraceme.

TearsspillfromBonnie’seyes.“Ican’tbelieveweactually

gottomeetyou.You’repracticallyallanyone’stalkedabout

since—”

“Iknow.Iknow.SinceIpulledoutthoseberries,”Isay

tiredly.

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Ihardlynoticethewalkhomeeventhoughawetsnow

beginstofall.Mymindisspinningwithnewinformationabout

theuprisinginDistrict8andtheunlikelybuttantalizing

possibilityofDistrict13.

ListeningtoBonnieandTwillconfirmedonething:

PresidentSnowhasbeenplayingmeforafool.Allthekissesand

endearmentsintheworldcouldn’thavederailedthemomentum

buildingupinDistrict8.Yes,myholdingouttheberrieshad

beenthespark,butIhadnowaytocontrolthefire.Hemusthave

knownthat.Sowhyvisitmyhome,whyordermetopersuadethe

crowdofmyloveforPeeta?Itwasobviouslyaploytodistract

meandkeepmefromdoinganythingelseinflammatoryinthe

districts.AndtoentertainthepeopleintheCapitol,ofcourse.I

supposetheweddingisjustanecessaryextensionofthat.

I’mnearingthefencewhenamockingjaylightsonabranch

andtrillsatme.AtthesightofitIrealizeInevergotafull

explanationofthebirdonthecrackerandwhatitsignifies.

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“Itmeanswe’reonyourside.”That’swhatBonniesaid.I

havepeopleonmyside?Whatside?AmIunwittinglytheface

ofthehoped-forrebellion?Hasthemockingjayonmypin

becomeasymbolofresistance?Ifso,myside’snotdoingtoo

well.Youonlyhavetolookatwhathappenedin8toknowthat.

Istashmyweaponsinthehollowlognearestmyoldhomein

theSeamandheadforthefence.I’mcrouchedononeknee,

preparingtoentertheMeadow,butI’mstillsopreoccupiedwith

theday’seventsthatittakesasuddenscreechofanowltobring

metomysenses.

Inthefadinglight,thechainlinkslookasinnocuousas

usual.Butwhatmakesmejerkbackmyhandisthesound,like

thebuzzofatreefulloftrackerjackernests,indicatingthefence

isalivewithelectricity.

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MyfeetbackupautomaticallyandIblendintothetrees.I

covermymouthwithmyglovetodispersethewhiteofmy

breathintheicyair.Adrenalinecoursesthroughme,wipingall

theconcernsofthedayfrommymindasIfocusonthe

immediatethreatbeforeme.Whatisgoingon?HasThread

turnedonthefenceasanadditionalsecurityprecaution?Ordoes

hesomehowknowI’veescapedhisnettoday?Ishedetermined

tostrandmeoutsideDistrict12untilhecanapprehendandarrest

me?Dragmetothesquaretobelockedinthestockadeor

whippedorhanged?

Calmdown,Iordermyself.It’snotasifthisisthefirsttime

I’vebeencaughtoutsideofthedistrictbyanelectrifiedfence.

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It’shappenedafewtimesovertheyears,butGalewasalways

withme.Thetwoofuswouldjustpickacomfortabletreeto

hangoutinuntilthepowershutoff,whichitalwaysdid

eventually.IfIwasrunninglate,Primevengotinthehabitof

goingtotheMeadowtocheckifthefencewascharged,tospare

mymotherworry.

ButtodaymyfamilywouldneverimagineI’dbeinthe

woods.I’veeventakenstepstomisleadthem.SoifIdon’tshow

up,worrytheywill.Andthere’sapartofmethat’sworried,too,

becauseI’mnotsureit’sjustacoincidence,thepowercoming

ontheverydayIreturntothewoods.Ithoughtnoonesawme

sneakunderthefence,butwhoknows?Therearealwayseyesfor

hire.SomeonereportedGalekissingmeinthatveryspot.Still,

thatwasindaylightandbeforeIwasmorecarefulaboutmy

behavior.Couldtherebesurveillancecameras?I’vewondered

aboutthisbefore.IsthisthewayPresidentSnowknowsabout

thekiss?ItwasdarkwhenIwentunderandmyfacewasbundled

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inascarf.Butthelistofsuspectslikelytobetrespassingintothe

woodsisprobablyveryshort.

Myeyespeerthroughthetrees,pastthefence,intothe

Meadow.AllIcanseeisthewetsnowilluminatedhereandthere

bythelightfromthewindowsontheedgeoftheSeam.No

Peacekeepersinsight,nosignsIambeinghunted.Whether

ThreadknowsIleftthedistricttodayornot,Irealizemycourse

ofactionmustbethesame:togetbackinsidethefenceunseen

andpretendIneverleft.

Anycontactwiththechainlinkorthecoilsofbarbedwire

thatguardthetopwouldmeaninstantelectrocution.Idon’tthink

Icanburrowunderthefencewithoutriskingdetection,andthe

ground’sfrozenhard,anyway.Thatleavesonlyonechoice.

SomehowI’mgoingtohavetogooverit.

Ibegintoskirtalongthetreeline,searchingforatreewitha

branchhighandlongenoughtofitmyneeds.Afteraboutamile,

Icomeuponanoldmaplethatmightdo.Thetrunkistoowide

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andicytoshinnyup,though,andtherearenolowbranches.I

climbaneighboringtreeandleapprecariouslyintothemaple,

almostlosingmyholdontheslickbark.ButImanagetogeta

gripandslowlyinchmywayoutonalimbthathangsabovethe

barbedwire.

AsIlookdown,IrememberwhyGaleandIalwayswaitedin

thewoodsratherthantrytotacklethefence.Beinghighenough

toavoidgettingfriedmeansyou’vegottobeatleasttwentyfeet

intheair.Iguessmybranchmustbetwenty-five.That’sa

dangerouslylongdrop,evenforsomeonewho’shadyearsof

practiceintrees.ButwhatchoicedoIhave?Icouldlookfor

anotherbranch,butit’salmostdarknow.Thefallingsnowwill

obscureanymoonlight.Here,atleast,IcanseeI’vegota

snowbanktocushionmylanding.EvenifIcouldfindanother,

whichisdoubtful,whoknowswhatI’dbejumpinginto?Ithrow

myemptygamebagaroundmyneckandslowlylowermyself

untilI’mhangingbymyhands.Foramoment,Igathermy

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courage.ThenIreleasemyfingers.

There’sthesensationoffalling,thenIhitthegroundwitha

joltthatgoesrightupmyspine.Asecondlater,myrearend

slamstheground.Ilieinthesnow,tryingtoassessthedamage.

Withoutstanding,Icantellbythepaininmyleftheelandmy

tailbonethatI’minjured.Theonlyquestionishowbadly.I’m

hopingforbruises,butwhenIforcemyselfontomyfeet,I

suspectI’vebrokensomethingaswell.Icanwalk,though,soI

getmoving,tryingtohidemylimpasbestIcan.

MymotherandPrimcan’tknowIwasinthewoods.Ineed

toworkupsomesortofalibi,nomatterhowthin.Someofthe

shopsinthesquarearestillopen,soIgoinoneandpurchase

whiteclothforbandages.We’rerunninglow,anyway.In

another,IbuyabagofsweetsforPrim.Istickoneofthecandies

inmymouth,feelingthepeppermintmeltonmytongue,and

realizeit’sthefirstthingI’veeatenallday.Imeanttomakea

mealatthelake,butonceIsawTwillandBonnie’scondition,it

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seemedwrongtotakeasinglemouthfulfromthem.

BythetimeIreachmyhouse,myleftheelwillbearno

weightatall.IdecidetotellmymotherIwastryingtomenda

leakintheroofofouroldhouseandslidoff.Asforthemissing

food,I’lljustbevagueaboutwhoIhandeditoutto.Idrag

myselfinthedoor,allreadytocollapseinfrontofthefire.But

insteadIgetanothershock.

TwoPeacekeepers,amanandawoman,arestandinginthe

doorwaytoourkitchen.Thewomanremainsimpassive,butI

catchtheflickerofsurpriseontheman’sface.Iam

unanticipated.TheyknowIwasinthewoodsandshouldbe

trappedtherenow.

“Hello,”Isayinaneutralvoice.

Mymotherappearsbehindthem,butkeepsherdistance.

“Heresheis,justintimefordinner,”shesaysalittletoo

brightly.I’mverylatefordinner.

IconsiderremovingmybootsasInormallywouldbutdoubt

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Icanmanageitwithoutrevealingmyinjuries.InsteadIjustpull

offmywethoodandshakethesnowfrommyhair.“CanIhelp

youwithsomething?”IaskthePeacekeepers.

“HeadPeacekeeperThreadsentuswithamessageforyou,”

saysthewoman.

“They’vebeenwaitingforhours,”mymotheradds.

They’vebeenwaitingformetofailtoreturn.ToconfirmI

gotelectrocutedbythefenceortrappedinthewoodssothey

couldtakemyfamilyinforquestioning.

“Mustbeanimportantmessage,”Isay.

“Mayweaskwhereyou’vebeen,MissEverdeen?”the

womanasks.

“EasiertoaskwhereIhaven’tbeen,”Isaywithasoundof

exasperation.Icrossintothekitchen,forcingmyselftousemy

footnormallyeventhougheverystepisexcruciating.Ipass

betweenthePeacekeepersandmakeittothetableallright.I

flingmybagdownandturntoPrim,who’sstandingstifflyby

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thehearth.HaymitchandPeetaarethereaswell,sittinginapair

ofmatchingrockers,playingagameofchess.Weretheyhereby

chanceor“invited”bythePeacekeepers?Eitherway,I’mgladto

seethem.

“Sowherehaven’tyoubeen?”saysHaymitchinabored

voice.

“Well,Ihaven’tbeentalkingtotheGoatManaboutgetting

Prim’sgoatpregnant,becausesomeonegavemecompletely

inaccurateinformationastowherehelives,”IsaytoPrim

emphatically.

“No,Ididn’t,”saysPrim.“Itoldyouexactly.”

“Yousaidhelivesbesidethewestentrancetothemine,”I

say.

“Theeastentrance,”Primcorrectsme.

“Youdistinctlysaidthewest,becausethenIsaid,‘Nextto

theslagheap?’andyousaid,‘Yeah,’”Isay.

“Theslagheapnexttotheeastentrance,”saysPrim

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patiently.

“No.Whendidyousaythat?”Idemand.

“Lastnight,”Haymitchchimesin.

“Itwasdefinitelytheeast,”addsPeeta.Helooksat

Haymitchandtheylaugh.IglareatPeetaandhetriestolook

contrite.“I’msorry,butit’swhatI’vebeensaying.Youdon’t

listenwhenpeopletalktoyou.”

“Betpeopletoldyouhedidn’tlivetheretodayandyou

didn’tlistenagain,”saysHaymitch.

“Shutup,Haymitch,”Isay,clearlyindicatinghe’sright.

HaymitchandPeetacrackupandPrimallowsherselfa

smile.

“Fine.Somebodyelsecanarrangetogetthestupidgoat

knockedup,”Isay,whichmakesthemlaughmore.AndIthink,

Thisiswhythey’vemadeitthisfar,HaymitchandPeeta.

Nothingthrowsthem.

IlookatthePeacekeepers.Theman’ssmilingbutthe

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womanisunconvinced.“What’sinthebag?”sheaskssharply.

Iknowshe’shopingforgameorwildplants.Somethingthat

clearlycondemnsme.Idumpthecontentsonthetable.“Seefor

yourself.”

“Oh,good,”saysmymother,examiningthecloth.“We’re

runninglowonbandages.”

Peetacomestothetableandopensthecandybag.“Ooh,

peppermints,”hesays,poppingoneinhismouth.

“They’remine.”Itakeaswipeforthebag.Hetossesitto

Haymitch,whostuffsafistfulofsweetsinhismouthbefore

passingthebagtoagigglingPrim.“Noneofyoudeserves

candy!”Isay.

“What,becausewe’reright?”Peetawrapshisarmsaround

me.Igiveasmallyelpofpainasmytailboneobjects.Itryto

turnitintoasoundofindignation,butIcanseeinhiseyesthat

heknowsI’mhurt.“Okay,Primsaidwest.Idistinctlyheard

west.Andwe’reallidiots.How’sthat?”

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“Better,”Isay,andaccepthiskiss.ThenIlookatthe

PeacekeepersasifI’msuddenlyrememberingthey’rethere.

“Youhaveamessageforme?”

“FromHeadPeacekeeperThread,”saysthewoman.“He

wantedyoutoknowthatthefencesurroundingDistrictTwelve

willnowhaveelectricitytwenty-fourhoursaday.”

“Didn’titalready?”Iask,alittletooinnocently.

“Hethoughtyoumightbeinterestedinpassingthis

informationontoyourcousin,”saysthewoman.

“Thankyou.I’lltellhim.I’msurewe’llallsleepalittle

moresoundlynowthatsecurityhasaddressedthatlapse.”I’m

pushingthings,Iknowit,butthecommentgivesmeasenseof

satisfaction.

Thewoman’sjawtightens.Noneofthishasgoneasplanned,

butshehasnofurtherorders.Shegivesmeacurtnodandleaves,

themantrailinginherwake.Whenmymotherhaslockedthe

doorbehindthem,Islumpagainstthetable.

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“Whatisit?”saysPeeta,holdingmesteadily.

“Oh,Ibangedupmyleftfoot.Theheel.Andmytailbone’s

hadabadday,too.”HehelpsmeovertooneoftherockersandI

lowermyselfontothepaddedcushion.

Mymothereasesoffmyboots.“Whathappened?”

“Islippedandfell,”Isay.Fourpairsofeyeslookatmewith

disbelief.“Onsomeice.”Butweallknowthehousemustbe

buggedandit’snotsafetotalkopenly.Nothere,notnow.

Havingstrippedoffmysock,mymother’sfingersprobethe

bonesinmyleftheelandIwince.“Theremightbeabreak,”she

says.Shecheckstheotherfoot.“Thisoneseemsallright.”She

judgesmytailbonetobebadlybruised.

Prim’sdispatchedtogetmypajamasandrobe.WhenI’m

changed,mymothermakesasnowpackformyleftheeland

propsituponahassock.Ieatthreebowlsofstewandhalfaloaf

ofbreadwhiletheothersdineatthetable.Istareatthefire,

thinkingofBonnieandTwill,hopingthattheheavy,wetsnow

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haserasedmytracks.

Primcomesandsitsonthefloornexttome,leaningherhead

againstmyknee.WesuckonpeppermintsasIbrushhersoft

blondhairbackbehindherear.“Howwasschool?”Iask.

“Allright.Welearnedaboutcoalby-products,”shesays.We

stareatthefireforawhile.“Areyougoingtotryonyour

weddingdresses?”

“Nottonight.Tomorrowprobably,”Isay.

“WaituntilIgethome,okay?”shesays.

“Sure.”Iftheydon’tarrestmefirst.

Mymothergivesmeacupofchamomileteawithadoseof

sleepsyrup,andmyeyelidsbegintodroopimmediately.She

wrapsmybadfoot,andPeetavolunteerstogetmetobed.Istart

outbyleaningonhisshoulder,butI’msowobblyhejustscoops

meupandcarriesmeupstairs.Hetucksmeinandsaysgood

nightbutIcatchhishandandholdhimthere.Asideeffectofthe

sleepsyrupisthatitmakespeoplelessinhibited,likewhite

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liquor,andIknowIhavetocontrolmytongue.ButIdon’twant

himtogo.Infact,Iwanthimtoclimbinwithme,tobethere

whenthenightmareshittonight.ForsomereasonthatIcan’t

quiteform,IknowI’mnotallowedtoaskthat.

“Don’tgoyet.NotuntilIfallasleep,”Isay.

Peetasitsonthesideofthebed,warmingmyhandinbothof

his.“Almostthoughtyou’dchangedyourmindtoday.Whenyou

werelatefordinner.”

I’mfoggybutIcanguesswhathemeans.Withthefence

goingonandmeshowinguplateandthePeacekeeperswaiting,

hethoughtI’dmadearunforit,maybewithGale.

“No,I’dhavetoldyou,”Isay.Ipullhishandupandleanmy

cheekagainstthebackofit,takinginthefaintscentofcinnamon

anddillfromthebreadshemusthavebakedtoday.Iwanttotell

himaboutTwillandBonnieandtheuprisingandthefantasyof

District13,butit’snotsafetoandIcanfeelmyselfslipping

away,soIjustgetoutonemoresentence.“Staywithme.”

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Asthetendrilsofsleepsyruppullmedown,Ihearhim

whisperawordback,butIdon’tquitecatchit.

Mymotherletsmesleepuntilnoon,thenrousesmeto

examinemyheel.I’morderedtoaweekofbedrestandIdon’t

objectbecauseIfeelsolousy.Notjustmyheelandmytailbone.

Mywholebodyacheswithexhaustion.SoIletmymotherdoctor

meandfeedmebreakfastinbedandtuckanotherquiltaround

me.ThenIjustliethere,staringoutmywindowatthewinter

sky,ponderinghowonearththiswillallturnout.Ithinkalot

aboutBonnieandTwill,andthepileofwhiteweddingdresses

downstairs,andifThreadwillfigureouthowIgotbackinand

arrestme.It’sfunny,becausehecouldjustarrestme,anyway,

basedonpastcrimes,butmaybehehastohavesomethingreally

irrefutabletodoit,nowthatI’mavictor.AndIwonderif

PresidentSnow’sincontactwithThread.Ithinkit’sunlikelyhe

everacknowledgedthatoldCrayexisted,butnowthatI’msucha

nationwideproblem,ishecarefullyinstructingThreadwhatto

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do?OrisThreadactingonhisown?Atanyrate,I’msurethey’d

bothagreeonkeepingmelockeduphereinsidethedistrictwith

thatfence.EvenifIcouldfigureoutsomewaytoescape—

maybegetaropeuptothatmapletreebranchandclimbout—

there’dbenoescapingwithmyfamilyandfriendsnow.Itold

GaleIwouldstayandfight,anyway.

Forthenextfewdays,Ijumpeverytimethere’saknockon

thedoor.NoPeacekeepersshowuptoarrestme,though,so

eventuallyIbegintorelax.I’mfurtherreassuredwhenPeeta

casuallytellsmethepowerisoffinsectionsofthefencebecause

crewsareoutsecuringthebaseofthechainlinktotheground.

ThreadmustbelieveIsomehowgotunderthething,evenwith

thatdeadlycurrentrunningthroughit.It’sabreakforthe

district,havingthePeacekeepersbusydoingsomethingbesides

abusingpeople.

Peetacomesbyeverydaytobringmecheesebunsand

beginstohelpmeworkonthefamilybook.It’sanoldthing,

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madeofparchmentandleather.Someherbalistonmymother’s

sideofthefamilystarteditagesago.Thebook’scomposedof

pageafterpageofinkdrawingsofplantswithdescriptionsof

theirmedicaluses.Myfatheraddedasectiononedibleplants

thatwasmyguidebooktokeepingusaliveafterhisdeath.Fora

longtime,I’vewantedtorecordmyownknowledgeinit.Things

IlearnedfromexperienceorfromGale,andthentheinformation

IpickedupwhenIwastrainingfortheGames.Ididn’tbecause

I’mnoartistandit’ssocrucialthatthepicturesaredrawnin

exactdetail.That’swherePeetacomesin.Someoftheplantshe

knowsalready,otherswehavedriedsamplesof,andothersI

havetodescribe.HemakessketchesonscrappaperuntilI’m

satisfiedthey’reright,thenIlethimdrawtheminthebook.

Afterthat,IcarefullyprintallIknowabouttheplant.

It’squiet,absorbingworkthathelpstakemymindoffmy

troubles.Iliketowatchhishandsasheworks,makingablank

pagebloomwithstrokesofink,addingtouchesofcolortoour

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previouslyblackandyellowishbook.Hisfacetakesonaspecial

lookwhenheconcentrates.Hisusualeasyexpressionisreplaced

bysomethingmoreintenseandremovedthatsuggestsanentire

worldlockedawayinsidehim.I’veseenflashesofthisbefore:in

thearena,orwhenhespeakstoacrowd,orthattimeheshoved

thePeacekeepers’gunsawayfrommeinDistrict11.Idon’t

knowquitewhattomakeofit.Ialsobecomealittlefixatedon

hiseyelashes,whichordinarilyyoudon’tnoticemuchbecause

they’resoblond.Butupclose,inthesunlightslantinginfrom

thewindow,they’realightgoldencolorandsolongIdon’tsee

howtheykeepfromgettingalltangledupwhenheblinks.

OneafternoonPeetastopsshadingablossomandlooksupso

suddenlythatIstart,asthoughIwerecaughtspyingonhim,

whichinastrangewaymaybeIwas.Butheonlysays,“You

know,Ithinkthisisthefirsttimewe’veeverdoneanything

normaltogether.”

“Yeah,”Iagree.Ourwholerelationshiphasbeentaintedby

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theGames.Normalwasneverapartofit.“Niceforachange.”

Eachafternoonhecarriesmedownstairsforachangeof

sceneryandIunnerveeveryonebyturningonthetelevision.

Usuallyweonlywatchwhenit’smandatory,becausethemixture

ofpropagandaanddisplaysoftheCapitol’spower—including

clipsfromseventy-fouryearsofHungerGames—issoodious.

ButnowI’mlookingforsomethingspecial.Themockingjaythat

BonnieandTwillarebasingalltheirhopeson.Iknowit’s

probablyfoolishness,butifitis,Iwanttoruleitout.Anderase

theideaofathrivingDistrict13frommymindforgood.

MyfirstsightingisinanewsstoryreferencingtheDark

Days.IseethesmolderingremainsoftheJusticeBuildingin

District13andjustcatchtheblack-and-whiteundersideofa

mockingjay’swingasitfliesacrosstheupperright-handcorner.

Thatdoesn’tproveanything,really.It’sjustanoldshotthatgoes

withanoldtale.

However,severaldayslater,somethingelsegrabsmy

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attention.Themainnewscasterisreadingapieceabouta

shortageofgraphiteaffectingthemanufacturingofitemsin

District3.Theycuttowhatissupposedtobelivefootageofa

femalereporter,encasedinaprotectivesuit,standinginfrontof

theruinsoftheJusticeBuildingin13.Throughhermask,she

reportsthatunfortunatelyastudyhasjusttodaydeterminedthat

theminesofDistrict13arestilltootoxictoapproach.Endof

story.Butjustbeforetheycutbacktothemainnewscaster,Isee

theunmistakableflashofthatsamemockingjay’swing.

Thereporterhassimplybeenincorporatedintotheold

footage.She’snotinDistrict13atall.Whichbegsthequestion,

Whatis?

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Stayingquietlyinbedisharderafterthat.Iwanttobedoing

something,findingoutmoreaboutDistrict13orhelpinginthe

causetobringdowntheCapitol.InsteadIsitaroundstuffing

myselfwithcheesebunsandwatchingPeetasketch.Haymitch

stopsbyoccasionallytobringmenewsfromtown,whichis

alwaysbad.Morepeoplebeingpunishedordroppingfrom

starvation.

Winterhasbeguntowithdrawbythetimemyfootisdeemed

usable.Mymothergivesmeexercisestodoandletsmewalkon

myownabit.Igotosleeponenight,determinedtogointotown

thenextmorning,butIawaketofindVenia,Octavia,andFlavius

grinningdownatme.

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“Surprise!”theysqueal.“We’rehereearly!”

AfterItookthatlashintheface,Haymitchgottheirvisit

pushedbackseveralmonthssoIcouldhealup.Iwasn’t

expectingthemforanotherthreeweeks.ButItrytoactdelighted

thatmybridalphotoshootishereatlast.Mymotherhungupall

thedresses,sothey’rereadytogo,buttobehonest,Ihaven’t

eventriedoneon.

Aftertheusualhistrionicsaboutthedeterioratedstateofmy

beauty,theygetrightdowntobusiness.Theirbiggestconcernis

myface,althoughIthinkmymotherdidaprettyremarkablejob

healingit.There’sjustapalepinkstripacrossmycheekbone.

Thewhipping’snotcommonknowledge,soItellthemIslipped

ontheiceandcutit.AndthenIrealizethat’smysameexcuse

forhurtingmyfoot,whichisgoingtomakewalkinginhigh

heelsaproblem.ButFlavius,Octavia,andVeniaaren’tthe

suspicioustypes,soI’msafethere.

SinceIonlyhavetolookhairlessforafewhoursinsteadof

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severalweeks,Igettobeshavedinsteadofwaxed.Istillhaveto

soakinatubofsomething,butitisn’tvile,andwe’reontomy

hairandmakeupbeforeIknowit.Theteam,asusual,isfullof

news,whichIusuallydomybesttotuneout.ButthenOctavia

makesacommentthatcatchesmyattention.It’sapassing

remark,really,abouthowshecouldn’tgetshrimpforaparty,but

ittugsatme.

“Whycouldn’tyougetshrimp?Isitoutofseason?”Iask.

“Oh,Katniss,wehaven’tbeenabletogetanyseafoodfor

weeks!”saysOctavia.“Youknow,becausetheweather’sbeenso

badinDistrictFour.”

Mymindstartsbuzzing.Noseafood.Forweeks.From

District4.Thebarelyconcealedrageinthecrowdduringthe

VictoryTour.AndsuddenlyIamabsolutelysurethatDistrict4

hasrevolted.

Ibegintoquestionthemcasuallyaboutwhatotherhardships

thiswinterhasbroughtthem.Theyarenotusedtowant,soany

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littledisruptioninsupplymakesanimpactonthem.Bythetime

I’mreadytobedressed,theircomplaintsaboutthedifficultyof

gettingdifferentproducts—fromcrabmeattomusicchipsto

ribbons—hasgivenmeasenseofwhichdistrictsmightactually

berebelling.SeafoodfromDistrict4.Electronicgadgetsfrom

District3.And,ofcourse,fabricsfromDistrict8.Thethoughtof

suchwidespreadrebellionhasmequiveringwithfearand

excitement.

Iwanttoaskthemmore,butCinnaappearstogivemeahug

andcheckmymakeup.Hisattentiongoesrighttothescaronmy

cheek.SomehowIdon’tthinkhebelievestheslipping-on-the-ice

story,buthedoesn’tquestionit.Hesimplyadjuststhepowder

onmyface,andwhatlittleyoucanseeofthelashmark

vanishes.

Downstairs,thelivingroomhasbeenclearedandlitforthe

photoshoot.Effie’shavingafinetimeorderingeverybody

around,keepingusallonschedule.It’sprobablyagoodthing,

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becausetherearesixgownsandeachonerequiresitsown

headpiece,shoes,jewelry,hair,makeup,setting,andlighting.

Creamylaceandpinkrosesandringlets.Ivorysatinandgold

tattoosandgreenery.Asheathofdiamondsandjeweledveiland

moonlight.Heavywhitesilkandsleevesthatfallfrommywrist

tothefloor,andpearls.Themomentoneshothasbeenapproved,

wemoverightintopreparingforthenext.Ifeellikedough,

beingkneadedandreshapedagainandagain.Mymother

managestofeedmebitsoffoodandsipsofteawhiletheywork

onme,butbythetimetheshootisover,I’mstarvingand

exhausted.I’mhopingtospendsometimewithCinnanow,but

EffiewhiskseverybodyoutthedoorandIhavetomakedowith

thepromiseofaphonecall.

Eveninghasfallenandmyfoothurtsfromallthecrazy

shoes,soIabandonanythoughtsofgoingintotown.InsteadIgo

upstairsandwashawaythelayersofmakeupandconditioners

anddyesandthengodowntodrymyhairbythefire.Prim,who

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camehomefromschoolintimetoseethelasttwodresses,

chattersonaboutthemwithmymother.Theybothseemoverly

happyaboutthephotoshoot.WhenIfallintobed,Irealizeit’s

becausetheythinkitmeansI’msafe.ThattheCapitolhas

overlookedmyinterferencewiththewhippingsincenooneis

goingtogotosuchtroubleandexpenseforsomeonetheyplan

onkilling,anyway.Right.

Inmynightmare,I’mdressedinthesilkbridalgown,butit’s

tornandmuddy.Thelongsleeveskeepgettingcaughtonthorns

andbranchesasIrunthroughthewoods.Thepackofmuttation

tributesdrawscloserandcloseruntilitovercomesmewithhot

breathanddrippingfangsandIscreammyselfawake.

It’stooclosetodawntobothertryingtogetbacktosleep.

Besides,todayIreallyhavetogetoutandtalktosomeone.Gale

willbeunreachableinthemines.ButIneedHaymitchorPeeta

orsomebodytosharetheburdenofallthathashappenedtome

sinceIwenttothelake.Fleeingoutlaws,electrifiedfences,an

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independentDistrict13,shortagesintheCapitol.Everything.

IeatbreakfastwithmymotherandPrimandheadoutin

searchofaconfidant.Theair’swarmwithhopefulhintsof

springinit.Springwouldbeagoodtimeforanuprising,Ithink.

Everyonefeelslessvulnerableoncewinterpasses.Peeta’snot

home.Iguesshe’salreadygoneintotown.I’msurprisedtosee

Haymitchmovingaroundhiskitchensoearly,though.Iwalk

intohishousewithoutknocking.IcanhearHazelleupstairs,

sweepingthefloorsofthenow-spotlesshouse.Haymitchisn’t

flat-outdrunk,buthedoesn’tlooktoosteady,either.Iguessthe

rumorsaboutRipperbeingbackinbusinessaretrue.I’m

thinkingmaybeIbetterlethimjustgotobed,whenhesuggests

awalktotown.

HaymitchandIcanspeakinakindofshorthandnow.Ina

fewminutesI’veupdatedhimandhe’stoldmeaboutrumorsof

uprisingsinDistricts7and11aswell.Ifmyhunchesareright,

thiswouldmeanalmosthalfthedistrictshaveatleastattempted

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torebel.

“Doyoustillthinkitwon’tworkhere?”Iask.

“Notyet.Thoseotherdistricts,they’remuchlarger.Evenif

halfthepeoplecowerintheirhomes,therebelsstandachance.

HereinTwelve,it’sgottobeallofusornothing,”hesays.

Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.Howwelackstrengthofnumbers.

“Butmaybeatsomepoint?”Iinsist.

“Maybe.Butwe’resmall,we’reweak,andwedon’tdevelop

nuclearweapons,”saysHaymitchwithatouchofsarcasm.He

didn’tgettooexcitedovermyDistrict13story.

“Whatdoyouthinkthey’lldo,Haymitch?Tothedistricts

thatarerebelling?”Iask.

“Well,you’veheardwhattheydidinEight.You’veseen

whattheydidhere,andthatwaswithoutprovocation,”says

Haymitch.“Ifthingsreallydogetoutofhand,Ithinkthey’d

havenoproblemkillingoffanotherdistrict,sameastheydid

Thirteen.Makeanexampleofit,youknow?”

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“SoyouthinkThirteenwasreallydestroyed?Imean,Bonnie

andTwillwererightaboutthefootageofthemockingjay,”Isay.

“Okay,butwhatdoesthatprove?Nothing,really.Thereare

plentyofreasonstheycouldbeusingoldfootage.Probablyit

looksmoreimpressive.Andit’salotsimpler,isn’tit?Tojust

pressafewbuttonsintheeditingroomthantoflyallthewayout

thereandfilmit?”hesays.“TheideathatThirteenhassomehow

reboundedandtheCapitolisignoringit?Thatsoundslikethe

kindofrumordesperatepeopleclingto.”

“Iknow.Iwasjusthoping,”Isay.

“Exactly.Becauseyou’redesperate,”saysHaymitch.

Idon’targuebecause,ofcourse,he’sright.

Primcomeshomefromschoolbubblingoverwith

excitement.Theteachersannouncedtherewasmandatory

programmingtonight.“Ithinkit’sgoingtobeyourphoto

shoot!”

“Itcan’tbe,Prim.Theyonlydidthepicturesyesterday,”I

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tellher.

“Well,that’swhatsomebodyheard,”shesays.

I’mhopingshe’swrong.Ihaven’thadtimetoprepareGale

foranyofthis.Sincethewhipping,Ionlyseehimwhenhe

comestothehouseformymothertocheckhowhe’shealing.

He’softenscheduledsevendaysaweekinthemine.Inthefew

minutesofprivacywe’vehad,withmewalkinghimbackto

town,Igatherthattherumblingsofanuprisingin12havebeen

subduedbyThread’scrackdown.HeknowsI’mnotgoingtorun.

Buthemustalsoknowthatifwedon’trevoltin12,I’mdestined

tobePeeta’sbride.Seeingmeloungingaroundingorgeous

gownsonhistelevision...whatcanhedowiththat?

Whenwegatheraroundthetelevisionatseven-thirty,I

discoverthatPrimisright.Sureenough,there’sCaesar

Flickerman,speakingbeforeastanding-room-onlycrowdin

frontoftheTrainingCenter,talkingtoanappreciativecrowd

aboutmyupcomingnuptials.HeintroducesCinna,whobecame

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anovernightstarwithhiscostumesformeintheGames,and

afteraminuteofgood-naturedchitchat,we’redirectedtoturn

ourattentiontoagiantscreen.

Iseenowhowtheycouldphotographmeyesterdayand

presentthespecialtonight.Initially,Cinnadesignedtwodozen

weddinggowns.Sincethen,there’sbeentheprocessof

narrowingdownthedesigns,creatingthedresses,andchoosing

theaccessories.Apparently,intheCapitol,therewere

opportunitiestovoteforyourfavoritesateachstage.Thisisall

culminatingwithshotsofmeinthefinalsixdresses,whichI’m

suretooknotimeatalltoinsertintheshow.Eachshotismet

withahugereactionfromthecrowd.Peoplescreamingand

cheeringfortheirfavorites,booingtheonestheydon’tlike.

Havingvoted,andprobablybetonthewinner,peoplearevery

investedinmyweddinggown.It’sbizarretowatchwhenIthink

howIneverevenbotheredtotryoneonbeforethecameras

arrived.Caesarannouncesthatinterestedpartiesmustcasttheir

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finalvotebynoononthefollowingday.

“Let’sgetKatnissEverdeentoherweddinginstyle!”he

hollerstothecrowd.I’mabouttoshutoffthetelevision,butthen

Caesaristellingustostaytunedfortheotherbigeventofthe

evening.“That’sright,thisyearwillbetheseventy-fifth

anniversaryoftheHungerGames,andthatmeansit’stimefor

ourthirdQuarterQuell!”

“Whatwilltheydo?”asksPrim.“Itisn’tformonthsyet.”

Weturntoourmother,whoseexpressionissolemnand

distant,asifshe’srememberingsomething.“Itmustbethe

readingofthecard.”

Theanthemplays,andmythroattightenswithrevulsionas

PresidentSnowtakesthestage.He’sfollowedbyayoungboy

dressedinawhitesuit,holdingasimplewoodenbox.The

anthemends,andPresidentSnowbeginstospeak,toremindus

alloftheDarkDaysfromwhichtheHungerGameswereborn.

WhenthelawsfortheGameswerelaidout,theydictatedthat

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everytwenty-fiveyearstheanniversarywouldbemarkedbya

QuarterQuell.ItwouldcallforaglorifiedversionoftheGames

tomakefreshthememoryofthosekilledbythedistricts’

rebellion.

Thesewordscouldnotbemorepointed,sinceIsuspect

severaldistrictsarerebellingrightnow.

PresidentSnowgoesontotelluswhathappenedinthe

previousQuarterQuells.“Onthetwenty-fifthanniversary,asa

remindertotherebelsthattheirchildrenweredyingbecauseof

theirchoicetoinitiateviolence,everydistrictwasmadetohold

anelectionandvoteonthetributeswhowouldrepresentit.”

Iwonderhowthatwouldhavefelt.Pickingthekidswhohad

togo.Itisworse,Ithink,tobeturnedoverbyyourown

neighborsthanhaveyournamedrawnfromthereapingball.

“Onthefiftiethanniversary,”thepresidentcontinues,“asa

reminderthattworebelsdiedforeachCapitolcitizen,every

districtwasrequiredtosendtwiceasmanytributes.”

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Iimaginefacingafieldofforty-seveninsteadoftwenty-

three.Worseodds,lesshope,andultimatelymoredeadkids.

ThatwastheyearHaymitchwon....

“Ihadafriendwhowentthatyear,”saysmymotherquietly.

“MaysileeDonner.Herparentsownedthesweetshop.Theygave

mehersongbirdafter.Acanary.”

PrimandIexchangealook.It’sthefirstwe’veeverheardof

MaysileeDonner.Maybebecausemymotherknewwewould

wanttoknowhowshedied.

“AndnowwehonorourthirdQuarterQuell,”saysthe

president.Thelittleboyinwhitestepsforward,holdingoutthe

boxasheopensthelid.Wecanseethetidy,uprightrowsof

yellowedenvelopes.WhoeverdevisedtheQuarterQuellsystem

hadpreparedforcenturiesofHungerGames.Thepresident

removesanenvelopeclearlymarkedwitha75.Herunshis

fingerundertheflapandpullsoutasmallsquareofpaper.

Withouthesitation,hereads,“Ontheseventy-fifthanniversary,

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asaremindertotherebelsthateventhestrongestamongthem

cannotovercomethepoweroftheCapitol,themaleandfemale

tributeswillbereapedfromtheirexistingpoolofvictors.”

MymothergivesafaintshriekandPrimburiesherfacein

herhands,butIfeelmorelikethepeopleIseeinthecrowdon

television.Slightlybaffled.Whatdoesitmean?Existingpoolof

victors?

ThenIgetit,whatitmeans.Atleast,forme.District12only

hasthreeexistingvictorstochoosefrom.Twomale.Onefemale

...

Iamgoingbackintothearena.

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MybodyreactsbeforemyminddoesandI’mrunningout

thedoor,acrossthelawnsoftheVictor’sVillage,intothedark

beyond.Moisturefromthesoddengroundsoaksmysocksand

I’mawareofthesharpbiteofthewind,butIdon’tstop.Where?

Wheretogo?Thewoods,ofcourse.I’matthefencebeforethe

hummakesmerememberhowverytrappedIam.Ibackaway,

panting,turnonmyheel,andtakeoffagain.

ThenextthingIknowI’monmyhandsandkneesinthe

cellarofoneoftheemptyhousesintheVictor’sVillage.Faint

shaftsofmoonlightcomeinthroughthewindowwellsabovemy

head.I’mcoldandwetandwinded,butmyescapeattempthas

donenothingtosubduethehysteriarisingupinsideme.Itwill

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drownmeunlessit’sreleased.Iballupthefrontofmyshirt,

stuffitintomymouth,andbegintoscream.Howlongthis

continues,Idon’tknow.ButwhenIstop,myvoiceisalmost

gone.

Icurluponmysideandstareatthepatchesofmoonlighton

thecementfloor.Backinthearena.Backintheplaceof

nightmares.That’swhereIamgoing.IhavetoadmitIdidn’tsee

itcoming.Isawamultitudeofotherthings.Beingpublicly

humiliated,tortured,andexecuted.Fleeingthroughthe

wilderness,pursuedbyPeacekeepersandhovercraft.Marriageto

Peetawithourchildrenforcedintothearena.ButneverthatI

myselfwouldhavetobeaplayerintheGamesagain.Why?

Becausethere’snoprecedentforit.Victorsareoutofthereaping

forlife.That’sthedealifyouwin.Untilnow.

There’ssomekindofsheeting,thekindtheyputdownwhen

theypaint.Ipullitovermelikeablanket.Inthedistance,

someoneiscallingmyname.Butatthemoment,Iexcusemyself

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fromthinkingabouteventhoseIlovemost.Ithinkonlyofme.

Andwhatliesahead.

Thesheeting’sstiffbutholdswarmth.Mymusclesrelax,my

heartrateslows.Iseethewoodenboxinthelittleboy’shands,

PresidentSnowdrawingouttheyellowedenvelope.Isitpossible

thatthiswasreallytheQuarterQuellwrittendownseventy-five

yearsago?Itseemsunlikely.It’sjusttooperfectananswerfor

thetroublesthatfacetheCapitoltoday.Gettingridofmeand

subduingthedistrictsallinoneneatlittlepackage.

IhearPresidentSnow’svoiceinmyhead.“Ontheseventy-

fifthanniversary,asaremindertotherebelsthateventhe

strongestamongthemcannotovercomethepoweroftheCapitol,

themaleandfemaletributeswillbereapedfromtheirexisting

poolofvictors.”

Yes,victorsareourstrongest.They’retheoneswhosurvived

thearenaandslippedthenooseofpovertythatstranglestherest

ofus.They,orshouldIsaywe,aretheveryembodimentofhope

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wherethereisnohope.Andnowtwenty-threeofuswillbekilled

toshowhoweventhathopewasanillusion.

I’mgladIwononlylastyear.OtherwiseI’dknowallthe

othervictors,notjustbecauseIseethemontelevisionbut

becausethey’reguestsateveryGames.Evenifthey’renot

mentoringlikeHaymitchalwayshasto,mostreturntothe

Capitoleachyearfortheevent.Ithinkalotofthemarefriends.

WhereastheonlyfriendI’llhavetoworryaboutkillingwillbe

eitherPeetaorHaymitch.PeetaorHaymitch!

Isitstraightup,throwingoffthesheeting.Whatjustwent

throughmymind?There’snosituationinwhichIwouldever

killPeetaorHaymitch.Butoneofthemwillbeinthearenawith

me,andthat’safact.Theymayhaveevendecidedbetweenthem

whoitwillbe.Whoeverispickedfirst,theotherwillhavethe

optionofvolunteeringtotakehisplace.Ialreadyknowwhatwill

happen.PeetawillaskHaymitchtolethimgointothearenawith

menomatterwhat.Formysake.Toprotectme.

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Istumblearoundthecellar,lookingforanexit.HowdidI

evengetintothisplace?Ifeelmywayupthestepstothekitchen

andseetheglasswindowinthedoorhasbeenshattered.Mustbe

whymyhandseemstobebleeding.Ihurrybackintothenight

andheadstraighttoHaymitch’shouse.He’ssittingaloneatthe

kitchentable,ahalf-emptiedbottleofwhiteliquorinonefist,

hisknifeintheother.Drunkasaskunk.

“Ah,theresheis.Alltuckeredout.Finallydidthemath,did

you,sweetheart?Workedoutyouwon’tbegoinginalone?And

nowyou’reheretoaskme...what?”hesays.

Idon’tanswer.Thewindow’swideopenandthewindcuts

throughmejustasifIwereoutside.

“I’lladmit,itwaseasierfortheboy.HewasherebeforeI

couldsnapthesealonabottle.Beggingmeforanotherchanceto

goin.Butwhatcanyousay?”Hemimicsmyvoice.“‘Takehis

place,Haymitch,becauseallthingsbeingequal,I’dratherPeeta

hadacrackattherestofhislifethanyou?’”

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Ibitemylipbecauseoncehe’ssaidit,I’mafraidthat’swhat

Idowant.ForPeetatolive,evenifitmeansHaymitch’sdeath.

No,Idon’t.He’sdreadful,ofcourse,butHaymitchismyfamily

now.WhatdidIcomefor?Ithink.WhatcouldIpossiblywant

here?

“Icameforadrink,”Isay.

Haymitchburstsoutlaughingandslamsthebottleonthe

tablebeforeme.Irunmysleeveacrossthetopandtakeacouple

gulpsbeforeIcomeupchoking.Ittakesafewminutesto

composemyself,andeventhenmyeyesandnosearestill

streaming.Butinsideme,theliquorfeelslikefireandIlikeit.

“Maybeitshouldbeyou,”Isaymatter-of-factlyasIpullup

achair.“Youhatelife,anyway.”

“Verytrue,”saysHaymitch.“AndsincelasttimeItriedto

keepyoualive...seemslikeI’mobligatedtosavetheboythis

time.”

“That’sanothergoodpoint,”Isay,wipingmynoseand

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tippingupthebottleagain.

“Peeta’sargumentisthatsinceIchoseyou,Inowowehim.

Anythinghewants.Andwhathewantsisthechancetogoin

againtoprotectyou,”saysHaymitch.

Iknewit.Inthisway,Peeta’snothardtopredict.WhileI

waswallowingaroundonthefloorofthatcellar,thinkingonlyof

myself,hewashere,thinkingonlyofme.Shameisn’tastrong

enoughwordforwhatIfeel.

“Youcouldliveahundredlifetimesandnotdeservehim,

youknow,”Haymitchsays.

“Yeah,yeah,”Isaybrusquely.“Noquestion,he’sthe

superioroneinthistrio.So,whatareyougoingtodo?”

“Idon’tknow.”Haymitchsighs.“Gobackinwithyou

maybe,ifIcan.Ifmyname’sdrawnatthereaping,itwon’t

matter.He’lljustvolunteertotakemyplace.”

Wesitforawhileinsilence.“It’dbebadforyouinthe

arena,wouldn’tit?Knowingalltheothers?”Iask.

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“Oh,IthinkwecancountonitbeingunbearablewhereverI

am.”Henodsatthebottle.“CanIhavethatbacknow?”

“No,”Isay,wrappingmyarmsaroundit.Haymitchpulls

anotherbottleoutfromunderthetableandgivesthetopatwist.

ButIrealizeIamnotjusthereforadrink.There’ssomething

elseIwantfromHaymitch.“Okay,IfiguredoutwhatI’m

asking,”Isay.“IfitisPeetaandmeintheGames,thistimewe

trytokeephimalive.”

Somethingflickersacrosshisbloodshoteyes.Pain.

“Likeyousaid,it’sgoingtobebadnomatterhowyouslice

it.AndwhateverPeetawants,it’shisturntobesaved.Weboth

owehimthat.”Myvoicetakesonapleadingtone.“Besides,the

Capitolhatesmesomuch,I’masgoodasdeadnow.Hestill

mighthaveachance.Please,Haymitch.Sayyou’llhelpme.”

Hefrownsathisbottle,weighingmywords.“Allright,”he

saysfinally.

“Thanks,”Isay.IshouldgoseePeetanow,butIdon’twant

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to.Myhead’sspinningfromthedrink,andI’msowipedout,

whoknowswhathecouldgetmetoagreeto?No,nowIhaveto

gohometofacemymotherandPrim.

AsIstaggerupthestepstomyhouse,thefrontdooropens

andGalepullsmeintohisarms.“Iwaswrong.Weshouldhave

gonewhenyousaid,”hewhispers.

“No,”Isay.I’mhavingtroublefocusing,andliquorkeeps

sloshingoutofmybottleanddownthebackofGale’sjacket,but

hedoesn’tseemtocare.

“It’snottoolate,”hesays.

Overhisshoulder,IseemymotherandPrimclutchingeach

otherinthedoorway.Werun.Theydie.AndnowI’vegotPeeta

toprotect.Endofdiscussion.“Yeah,itis.”Mykneesgiveway

andhe’sholdingmeup.Asthealcoholovercomesmymind,I

heartheglassbottleshatteronthefloor.Thisseemsappropriate

sinceIhaveobviouslylostmygriponeverything.

WhenIwakeup,Ibarelygettothetoiletbeforethewhite

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liquormakesitsreappearance.Itburnsjustasmuchcomingup

asitdidgoingdown,andtastestwiceasbad.I’mtremblingand

sweatywhenIfinishvomiting,butatleastmostofthestuffis

outofmysystem.Enoughmadeitintomybloodstream,though,

toresultinapoundingheadache,parchedmouth,andboiling

stomach.

Iturnontheshowerandstandunderthewarmrainfora

minutebeforeIrealizeI’mstillinmyunderclothes.Mymother

musthavejuststrippedoffmyfilthyouteronesandtuckedmein

bed.Ithrowthewetundergarmentsintothesinkandpour

shampooonmyhead.Myhandssting,andthat’swhenInotice

thestitches,smallandeven,acrossonepalmandupthesideof

theotherhand.VaguelyIrememberbreakingthatglasswindow

lastnight.Iscrubmyselffromheadtotoe,onlystoppingto

throwupagainrightintheshower.It’smostlyjustbileandgoes

downthedrainwiththesweet-smellingbubbles.

Finallyclean,Ipullonmyrobeandheadbacktobed,

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ignoringmydrippinghair.Iclimbundertheblankets,surethisis

whatitmustfeelliketobepoisoned.Thefootstepsonthestairs

renewmypanicfromlastnight.I’mnotreadytoseemymother

andPrim.Ihavetopullmyselftogethertobecalmand

reassuring,thewayIwaswhenwesaidourgood-byesthedayof

thelastreaping.Ihavetobestrong.Istruggleintoanupright

position,pushmywethairoffmythrobbingtemples,andbrace

myselfforthismeeting.Theyappearinthedoorway,holdingtea

andtoast,theirfacesfilledwithconcern.Iopenmymouth,

planningtostartoffwithsomekindofjoke,andburstintotears.

Somuchforbeingstrong.

MymothersitsonthesideofthebedandPrimcrawlsright

upnexttomeandtheyholdme,makingquietsoothingsounds,

untilIammostlycriedout.ThenPrimgetsatowelanddriesmy

hair,combingouttheknots,whilemymothercoaxesteaand

toastintome.Theydressmeinwarmpajamasandlayermore

blanketsonmeandIdriftoffagain.

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Icantellbythelightit’slateafternoonwhenIcomeround

again.There’saglassofwateronmybedsidetableandIgulpit

downthirstily.Mystomachandheadstillfeelrocky,butmuch

betterthantheydidearlier.Irise,dress,andbraidbackmyhair.

BeforeIgodown,Ipauseatthetopofthestairs,feelingslightly

embarrassedaboutthewayI’vehandledthenewsoftheQuarter

Quell.Myerraticflight,drinkingwithHaymitch,weeping.

Giventhecircumstances,IguessIdeserveonedayof

indulgence.I’mgladthecamerasweren’thereforit,though.

Downstairs,mymotherandPrimembracemeagain,but

they’renotoverlyemotional.Iknowthey’reholdingthingsinto

makeiteasieronme.LookingatPrim’sface,it’shardto

imagineshe’sthesamefraillittlegirlIleftbehindonreaping

dayninemonthsago.Thecombinationofthatordealandallthat

hasfollowed—thecrueltyinthedistrict,theparadeofsickand

woundedthatsheoftentreatsbyherselfnowifmymother’s

handsaretoofull—thesethingshaveagedheryears.She’s

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grownquiteabit,too;we’repracticallythesameheightnow,but

thatisn’twhatmakesherseemsomucholder.

Mymotherladlesoutamugofbrothforme,andIaskfora

secondmugtotaketoHaymitch.ThenIwalkacrossthelawnto

hishouse.He’sonlyjustwakingupandacceptsthemugwithout

comment.Wesitthere,almostpeacefully,sippingourbrothand

watchingthesunsetthroughhislivingroomwindow.Ihear

someonewalkingaroundupstairsandIassumeit’sHazelle,buta

fewminuteslaterPeetacomesdownandtossesacardboardbox

ofemptyliquorbottlesonthetablewithfinality.

“There,it’sdone,”hesays.

It’stakingallofHaymitch’sresourcestofocushiseyeson

thebottles,soIspeakup.“What’sdone?”

“I’vepouredalltheliquordownthedrain,”saysPeeta.

ThisseemstojoltHaymitchoutofhisstupor,andhepaws

throughtheboxindisbelief.“Youwhat?”

“Itossedthelot,”saysPeeta.

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“He’lljustbuymore,”Isay.

“No,hewon’t,”saysPeeta.“ItrackeddownRipperthis

morningandtoldherI’dturnherinthesecondshesoldtoeither

ofyou.Ipaidheroff,too,justforgoodmeasure,butIdon’t

thinkshe’seagertobebackinthePeacekeepers’custody.”

HaymitchtakesaswipewithhisknifebutPeetadeflectsitso

easilyit’spathetic.Angerrisesupinme.“Whatbusinessisitof

yourswhathedoes?”

“It’scompletelymybusiness.Howeveritfallsout,twoofus

aregoingtobeinthearenaagainwiththeotherasmentor.We

can’taffordanydrunkardsonthisteam.Especiallynotyou,

Katniss,”saysPeetatome.

“What?”Isputterindignantly.Itwouldbemoreconvincing

ifIweren’tstillsohungover.“Lastnight’stheonlytimeI’ve

everevenbeendrunk.”

“Yeah,andlookattheshapeyou’rein,”saysPeeta.

Idon’tknowwhatIexpectedfrommyfirstmeetingwith

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Peetaaftertheannouncement.Afewhugsandkisses.Alittle

comfortmaybe.Notthis.IturntoHaymitch.“Don’tworry,I’ll

getyoumoreliquor.”

“ThenI’llturnyoubothin.Letyousoberupinthestocks,”

saysPeeta.

“What’sthepointtothis?”asksHaymitch.

“Thepointisthattwoofusarecominghomefromthe

Capitol.Onementorandonevictor,”saysPeeta.“Effie’s

sendingmerecordingsofallthelivingvictors.We’regoingto

watchtheirGamesandlearneverythingwecanabouthowthey

fight.We’regoingtoputonweightandgetstrong.We’regoing

tostartactinglikeCareers.Andoneofusisgoingtobevictor

againwhetheryoutwolikeitornot!”Hesweepsoutofthe

room,slammingthefrontdoor.

HaymitchandIwinceatthebang.

“Idon’tlikeself-righteouspeople,”Isay.

“What’stolike?”saysHaymitch,whobeginssuckingthe

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dregsoutoftheemptybottles.

“Youandme.That’swhoheplansoncominghome,”Isay.

“Well,thenthejoke’sonhim,”saysHaymitch.

Butafterafewdays,weagreetoactlikeCareers,because

thisisthebestwaytogetPeetareadyaswell.Everynightwe

watchtheoldrecapsoftheGamesthattheremainingvictors

won.IrealizewenevermetanyofthemontheVictoryTour,

whichseemsoddinretrospect.WhenIbringitup,Haymitch

saysthelastthingPresidentSnowwould’vewantedwastoshow

Peetaandme—especiallyme—bondingwithothervictorsin

potentiallyrebelliousdistricts.Victorshaveaspecialstatus,and

iftheyappearedtobesupportingmydefianceoftheCapitol,it

would’vebeendangerouspolitically.Adjustingforage,Irealize

someofouropponentsmaybeelderly,whichisbothsadand

reassuring.Peetatakescopiousnotes,Haymitchvolunteers

informationaboutthevictors’personalities,andslowlywebegin

toknowourcompetition.

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Everymorningwedoexercisestostrengthenourbodies.We

runandliftthingsandstretchourmuscles.Everyafternoonwe

workoncombatskills,throwingknives,fightinghandtohand;I

eventeachthemtoclimbtrees.Officially,tributesaren’t

supposedtotrain,butnoonetriestostopus.Eveninregular

years,thetributesfromDistricts1,2,and4showupableto

wieldspearsandswords.Thisisnothingbycomparison.

Afteralltheyearsofabuse,Haymitch’sbodyresists

improvement.He’sstillremarkablystrong,buttheshortestrun

windshim.Andyou’dthinkaguywhosleepseverynightwitha

knifemightactuallybeabletohitthesideofahousewithone,

buthishandsshakesobadlyittakesweeksforhimtoachieve

eventhat.

PeetaandIexcelunderthenewregimen,though.Itgivesme

somethingtodo.Itgivesusallsomethingtodobesidesaccept

defeat.Mymotherputsusonaspecialdiettogainweight.Prim

treatsoursoremuscles.Madgesneaksusherfather’sCapitol

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newspapers.Predictionsonwhowillbevictorofthevictors

showusamongthefavorites.EvenGalestepsintothepictureon

Sundays,althoughhe’sgotnoloveforPeetaorHaymitch,and

teachesusallheknowsaboutsnares.It’sweirdforme,beingin

conversationswithbothPeetaandGale,buttheyseemtohave

setasidewhateverissuestheyhaveaboutme.

Onenight,asI’mwalkingGalebackintotown,heeven

admits,“It’dbebetterifhewereeasiertohate.”

“Tellmeaboutit,”Isay.“IfIcould’vejusthatedhiminthe

arena,weallwouldn’tbeinthismessnow.He’dbedead,andI’d

beahappylittlevictorallbymyself.”

“Andwherewouldwebe,Katniss?”asksGale.

Ipause,notknowingwhattosay.WherewouldIbewithmy

pretendcousinwhowouldn’tbemycousinifitweren’tfor

Peeta?WouldhehavestillkissedmeandwouldIhavekissed

himbackhadIbeenfreetodoso?WouldIhaveletmyselfopen

uptohim,lulledbythesecurityofmoneyandfoodandthe

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illusionofsafetybeingavictorcouldbringunderdifferent

circumstances?Buttherewouldstillalwaysbethereaping

loomingoverus,overourchildren.NomatterwhatIwanted...

“Hunting.LikeeverySunday,”Isay.Iknowhedidn’tmean

thequestionliterally,butthisisasmuchasIcanhonestlygive.

GaleknowsIchosehimoverPeetawhenIdidn’tmakearunfor

it.Tome,there’snopointintalkingaboutthingsthatmighthave

been.EvenifIhadkilledPeetainthearena,Istillwouldn’thave

wantedtomarryanyone.Ionlygotengagedtosavepeople’s

lives,andthatcompletelybackfired.

I’mafraid,anyway,thatanykindofemotionalscenewith

Galemightcausehimtodosomethingdrastic.Likestartthat

uprisinginthemines.AndasHaymitchsays,District12isn’t

readyforthat.Ifanything,they’relessreadythanbeforethe

QuarterQuellannouncement,becausethefollowingmorning

anotherhundredPeacekeepersarrivedonthetrain.

SinceIdon’tplanonmakingitbackaliveasecondtime,the

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soonerGaleletsmego,thebetter.Idoplanonsayingoneortwo

thingstohimafterthereaping,whenwe’reallowedanhourfor

good-byes.ToletGaleknowhowessentialhe’sbeentomeall

theseyears.Howmuchbettermylifehasbeenforknowinghim.

Forlovinghim,evenifit’sonlyinthelimitedwaythatIcan

manage.

ButInevergetthechance.

Thedayofthereaping’shotandsultry.Thepopulationof

District12waits,sweatingandsilent,inthesquarewithmachine

gunstrainedonthem.Istandaloneinasmallroped-offareawith

PeetaandHaymitchinasimilarpentotherightofme.The

reapingtakesonlyaminute.Effie,shininginawigofmetallic

gold,lacksherusualverve.Shehastoclawaroundthegirls’

reapingballforquiteawhiletosnagtheonepieceofpaperthat

everyonealreadyknowshasmynameonit.Thenshecatches

Haymitch’sname.Hebarelyhastimetoshootmeanunhappy

lookbeforePeetahasvolunteeredtotakehisplace.

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WeareimmediatelymarchedintotheJusticeBuildingto

findHeadPeacekeeperThreadwaitingforus.“Newprocedure,”

hesayswithasmile.We’reusheredoutthebackdoor,intoacar,

andtakentothetrainstation.Therearenocamerasonthe

platform,nocrowdtosendusonourway.HaymitchandEffie

appear,escortedbyguards.Peacekeepershurryusallontothe

trainandslamthedoor.Thewheelsbegintoturn.

AndI’mleftstaringoutthewindow,watchingDistrict12

disappear,withallmygood-byesstillhangingonmylips.

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Iremainatthewindowlongafterthewoodshaveswallowed

upthelastglimpseofmyhome.ThistimeIdon’thaveeventhe

slightesthopeofreturn.BeforemyfirstGames,IpromisedPrim

IwoulddoeverythingIcouldtowin,andnowI’veswornto

myselftodoallIcantokeepPeetaalive.Iwillneverreverse

thisjourneyagain.

I’dactuallyfiguredoutwhatIwantedmylastwordstomy

lovedonestobe.Howbesttocloseandlockthedoorsandleave

themsadbutsafelybehind.AndnowtheCapitolhasstolenthat

aswell.

“We’llwriteletters,Katniss,”saysPeetafrombehindme.

“Itwillbebetter,anyway.Givethemapieceofustoholdonto.

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Haymitchwilldeliverthemforusif...theyneedtobe

delivered.”

Inodandgostraighttomyroom.Isitonthebed,knowingI

willneverwritethoseletters.TheywillbelikethespeechItried

towritetohonorRueandThreshinDistrict11.Thingsseemed

clearinmyheadandevenwhenItalkedbeforethecrowd,but

thewordsnevercameoutofthepenright.Besides,theywere

meanttogowithembracesandkissesandastrokeofPrim’s

hair,acaressofGale’sface,asqueezeofMadge’shand.They

cannotbedeliveredwithawoodenboxcontainingmycold,stiff

body.

Tooheartsicktocry,allIwantistocurluponthebedand

sleepuntilwearriveintheCapitoltomorrowmorning.ButI

haveamission.No,it’smorethanamission.It’smydyingwish.

KeepPeetaalive.AndasunlikelyasitseemsthatIcanachieve

itinthefaceoftheCapitol’sanger,it’simportantthatIbeatthe

topofmygame.Thiswon’thappenifI’mmourningfor

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everyoneIlovebackhome.Letthemgo,Itellmyself.Saygood-

byeandforgetthem.Idomybest,thinkingofthemonebyone,

releasingthemlikebirdsfromtheprotectivecagesinsideme,

lockingthedoorsagainsttheirreturn.

BythetimeEffieknocksonmydoortocallmetodinner,

I’mempty.Butthelightnessisn’tentirelyunwelcome.

Themeal’ssubdued.Sosubdued,infact,thattherearelong

periodsofsilencerelievedonlybytheremovalofolddishesand

presentationofnewones.Acoldsoupofpureedvegetables.Fish

cakeswithcreamylimepaste.Thoselittlebirdsfilledwith

orangesauce,withwildriceandwatercress.Chocolatecustard

dottedwithcherries.

PeetaandEffiemakeoccasionalattemptsatconversation

thatquicklydieout.

“Iloveyournewhair,Effie,”Peetasays.

“Thankyou.IhaditespeciallydonetomatchKatniss’spin.I

wasthinkingwemightgetyouagoldenanklebandandmaybe

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findHaymitchagoldbraceletorsomethingsowecouldalllook

likeateam,”saysEffie.

Evidently,Effiedoesn’tknowthatmymockingjaypinis

nowasymbolusedbytherebels.AtleastinDistrict8.Inthe

Capitol,themockingjayisstillafunreminderofanespecially

excitingHungerGames.Whatelsecoulditbe?Realrebelsdon’t

putasecretsymbolonsomethingasdurableasjewelry.Theyput

itonawaferofbreadthatcanbeeateninasecondifnecessary.

“Ithinkthat’sagreatidea,”saysPeeta.“Howaboutit,

Haymitch?”

“Yeah,whatever,”saysHaymitch.He’snotdrinkingbutI

cantellhe’dliketobe.Effiehadthemtakeherownwineaway

whenshesawtheefforthewasmaking,buthe’sinamiserable

state.Ifhewerethetribute,hewouldhaveowedPeetanothing

andcouldbeasdrunkasheliked.Nowit’sgoingtotakeallhe’s

gottokeepPeetaaliveinanarenafullofhisoldfriends,and

he’llprobablyfail.

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“Maybewecouldgetyouawig,too,”Isayinanattemptat

lightness.Hejustshootsmealookthatsaystoleavehimalone,

andwealleatourcustardinsilence.

“Shallwewatchtherecapofthereapings?”saysEffie,

dabbingatthecornersofhermouthwithawhitelinennapkin.

Peetagoesofftoretrievehisnotebookontheremaining

livingvictors,andwegatherinthecompartmentwiththe

televisiontoseewhoourcompetitionwillbeinthearena.We

areallinplaceastheanthembeginstoplayandtheannualrecap

ofthereapingceremoniesinthetwelvedistrictsbegins.

InthehistoryoftheGames,therehavebeenseventy-five

victors.Fifty-ninearestillalive.Irecognizemanyoftheirfaces,

eitherfromseeingthemastributesormentorsatprevious

Gamesorfromourrecentviewingofthevictors’tapes.Some

aresooldorwastedbyillness,drugs,ordrinkthatIcan’tplace

them.Asonewouldexpect,thepoolsofCareertributesfrom

Districts1,2,and4arethelargest.Buteverydistricthas

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managedtoscrapeupatleastonefemaleandonemalevictor.

Thereapingsgobyquickly.Peetastudiouslyputsstarsby

thenamesofthechosentributesinhisnotebook.Haymitch

watches,hisfacedevoidofemotion,asfriendsofhisstepupto

takethestage.Effiemakeshushed,distressedcommentslike

“Oh,notCecelia”or“Well,Chaffnevercouldstayoutofa

fight,”andsighsfrequently.

Formypart,Itrytomakesomementalrecordoftheother

tributes,butlikelastyear,onlyafewreallystickinmyhead.

There’stheclassicallybeautifulbrotherandsisterfromDistrict

1whowerevictorsinconsecutiveyearswhenIwaslittle.

Brutus,avolunteerfromDistrict2,whomustbeatleastforty

andapparentlycan’twaittogetbackinthearena.Finnick,the

handsomebronze-hairedguyfromDistrict4whowascrowned

tenyearsagoattheageoffourteen.Ahystericalyoungwoman

withflowingbrownhairisalsocalledfrom4,butshe’squickly

replacedbyavolunteer,aneighty-year-oldwomanwhoneedsa

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canetowalktothestage.Thenthere’sJohannaMason,theonly

livingfemalevictorfrom7,whowonafewyearsbackby

pretendingshewasaweakling.Thewomanfrom8whoEffie

callsCecelia,wholooksaboutthirty,hastodetachherselffrom

thethreekidswhorunuptoclingtoher.Chaff,amanfrom11

whoIknowtobeoneofHaymitch’sparticularfriends,isalsoin.

I’mcalled.ThenHaymitch.AndPeetavolunteers.Oneofthe

announcersactuallygetstearybecauseitseemstheoddswill

neverbeinourfavor,westar-crossedloversofDistrict12.Then

shepullsherselftogethertosayshebetsthat“thesewillbethe

bestGamesever!”

Haymitchleavesthecompartmentwithoutaword,andEffie,

aftermakingafewunconnectedcommentsaboutthistributeor

that,bidsusgoodnight.IjustsittherewatchingPeetaripoutthe

pagesofthevictorswhowerenotpicked.

“Whydon’tyougetsomesleep?”hesays.

BecauseIcan’thandlethenightmares.Notwithoutyou,I

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think.Theyaresuretobedreadfultonight.ButIcanhardlyask

Peetatocomesleepwithme.We’vebarelytouchedsincethat

nightGalewaswhipped.“Whatareyougoingtodo?”Iask.

“Justreviewmynotesawhile.Getaclearpictureofwhat

we’reupagainst.ButI’llgooveritwithyouinthemorning.Go

tobed,Katniss,”hesays.

SoIgotobedand,sureenough,withinafewhoursIawake

fromanightmarewherethatoldwomanfromDistrict4

transformsintoalargerodentandgnawsonmyface.IknowI

wasscreaming,butnoonecomes.NotPeeta,notevenoneofthe

Capitolattendants.Ipullonarobetotrytocalmthegooseflesh

crawlingovermybody.Stayinginmycompartmentis

impossible,soIdecidetogofindsomeonetomakemeteaorhot

chocolateoranything.MaybeHaymitchisstillup.Surelyhe

isn’tasleep.

Iorderwarmmilk,themostcalmingthingIcanthinkof,

fromanattendant.Hearingvoicesfromthetelevisionroom,Igo

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inandfindPeeta.BesidehimonthecouchistheboxEffiesent

oftapesoftheoldHungerGames.Irecognizetheepisodein

whichBrutusbecamevictor.

Peetarisesandflipsoffthetapewhenheseesme.“Couldn’t

sleep?”

“Notforlong,”Isay.Ipulltherobemoresecurelyaround

measIremembertheoldwomantransformingintotherodent.

“Wanttotalkaboutit?”heasks.Sometimesthatcanhelp,

butIjustshakemyhead,feelingweakthatpeopleIhaven’teven

foughtyetalreadyhauntme.

WhenPeetaholdsouthisarms,Iwalkstraightintothem.

It’sthefirsttimesincetheyannouncedtheQuarterQuellthat

he’sofferedmeanysortofaffection.He’sbeenmorelikeavery

demandingtrainer,alwayspushing,alwaysinsistingHaymitch

andIrunfaster,eatmore,knowourenemybetter.Lover?Forget

aboutthat.Heabandonedanypretenseofevenbeingmyfriend.I

wrapmyarmstightlyaroundhisneckbeforehecanordermeto

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dopush-upsorsomething.Insteadhepullsmeincloseand

burieshisfaceinmyhair.Warmthradiatesfromthespotwhere

hislipsjusttouchmyneck,slowlyspreadingthroughtherestof

me.Itfeelssogood,soimpossiblygood,thatIknowIwillnot

bethefirsttoletgo.

AndwhyshouldI?Ihavesaidgood-byetoGale.I’llnever

seehimagain,that’sforcertain.NothingIdonowcanhurthim.

Hewon’tseeitorhe’llthinkIamactingforthecameras.That,

atleast,isoneweightoffmyshoulders.

ThearrivaloftheCapitolattendantwiththewarmmilkis

whatbreaksusapart.Hesetsatraywithasteamingceramicjug

andtwomugsonatable.“Ibroughtanextracup,”hesays.

“Thanks,”Isay.

“AndIaddedatouchofhoneytothemilk.Forsweetness.

Andjustapinchofspice,”headds.Helooksatuslikehewants

tosaymore,thengiveshisheadaslightshakeandbacksoutof

theroom.

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“What’swithhim?”Isay.

“Ithinkhefeelsbadforus,”saysPeeta.

“Right,”Isay,pouringthemilk.

“Imeanit.Idon’tthinkthepeopleintheCapitolaregoing

tobeallthathappyaboutourgoingbackin,”saysPeeta.“Orthe

othervictors.Theygetattachedtotheirchampions.”

“I’mguessingthey’llgetoveritoncethebloodstarts

flowing,”Isayflatly.Really,ifthere’sonethingIdon’thave

timefor,it’sworryingabouthowtheQuarterQuellwillaffect

themoodintheCapitol.“So,you’rewatchingallthetapes

again?”

“Notreally.Justsortofskippingaroundtoseepeople’s

differentfightingtechniques,”saysPeeta.

“Who’snext?”Iask.

“Youpick,”saysPeeta,holdingoutthebox.

ThetapesaremarkedwiththeyearoftheGamesandthe

nameofthevictor.Idigaroundandsuddenlyfindoneinmy

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handthatwehavenotwatched.TheyearoftheGamesisfifty.

ThatwouldmakeitthesecondQuarterQuell.Andthenameof

thevictorisHaymitchAbernathy.

“Weneverwatchedthisone,”Isay.

Peetashakeshishead.“No.IknewHaymitchdidn’twantto.

Thesamewaywedidn’twanttoreliveourownGames.And

sincewe’reallonthesameteam,Ididn’tthinkitmattered

much.”

“Isthepersonwhowonintwenty-fiveinhere?”Iask.

“Idon’tthinkso.Whoeveritwasmustbedeadbynow,and

Effieonlysentmevictorswemighthavetoface.”Peetaweighs

Haymitch’stapeinhishand.“Why?Youthinkweoughtto

watchit?”

“It’stheonlyQuellwehave.Wemightpickupsomething

valuableabouthowtheywork,”Isay.ButIfeelweird.Itseems

likesomemajorinvasionofHaymitch’sprivacy.Idon’tknow

whyitshould,sincethewholethingwaspublic.Butitdoes.I

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havetoadmitI’malsoextremelycurious.“Wedon’thavetotell

Haymitchwesawit.”

“Okay,”Peetaagrees.HeputsinthetapeandIcurlupnext

tohimonthecouchwithmymilk,whichisreallydeliciouswith

thehoneyandspices,andlosemyselfintheFiftiethHunger

Games.Aftertheanthem,theyshowPresidentSnowdrawingthe

envelopeforthesecondQuarterQuell.Helooksyoungerbutjust

asrepellent.Hereadsfromthesquareofpaperinthesame

onerousvoiceheusedforours,informingPanemthatinhonorof

theQuarterQuell,therewillbetwicethenumberoftributes.The

editorssmashcutrightintothereapings,wherenameaftername

afternameiscalled.

BythetimewegettoDistrict12,I’mcompletely

overwhelmedbythesheernumberofkidsgoingtocertaindeath.

There’sawoman,notEffie,callingthenamesin12,butshestill

beginswith“Ladiesfirst!”Shecallsoutthenameofagirlwho’s

fromtheSeam,youcantellbythelookofher,andthenIhear

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thename“MaysileeDonner.”

“Oh!”Isay.“Shewasmymother’sfriend.”Thecamera

findsherinthecrowd,clingingtotwoothergirls.Allblond.All

definitelymerchants’kids.

“Ithinkthat’syourmotherhuggingher,”saysPeetaquietly.

Andhe’sright.AsMaysileeDonnerbravelydisengagesherself

andheadsforthestage,Icatchaglimpseofmymotheratmy

age,andnoonehasexaggeratedherbeauty.Holdingherhand

andweepingisanothergirlwholooksjustlikeMaysilee.Buta

lotlikesomeoneelseIknow,too.

“Madge,”Isay.

“That’shermother.SheandMaysileeweretwinsor

something,”Peetasays.“Mydadmentioneditonce.”

IthinkofMadge’smother.MayorUndersee’swife.Who

spendshalfherlifeinbedimmobilizedwithterriblepain,

shuttingouttheworld.IthinkofhowIneverrealizedthatshe

andmymothersharedthisconnection.OfMadgeshowingupin

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thatsnowstormtobringthepainkillerforGale.Ofmy

mockingjaypinandhowitmeanssomethingcompletely

differentnowthatIknowthatitsformerownerwasMadge’s

aunt,MaysileeDonner,atributewhowasmurderedinthearena.

Haymitch’snameiscalledlastofall.It’smoreofashockto

seehimthanmymother.Young.Strong.Hardtoadmit,buthe

wassomethingofalooker.Hishairdarkandcurly,thosegray

Seameyesbrightand,eventhen,dangerous.

“Oh.Peeta,youdon’tthinkhekilledMaysilee,doyou?”I

burstout.Idon’tknowwhy,butIcan’tstandthethought.

“Withforty-eightplayers?I’dsaytheoddsareagainstit,”

saysPeeta.

Thechariotrides—inwhichtheDistrict12kidsaredressed

inawfulcoalminers’outfits—andtheinterviewsflashby.

There’slittletimetofocusonanyone.ButsinceHaymitchis

goingtobethevictor,wegettoseeonefullexchangebetween

himandCaesarFlickerman,wholooksexactlyashealwaysdoes

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inhistwinklingmidnightbluesuit.Onlyhisdarkgreenhair,

eyelids,andlipsaredifferent.

“So,Haymitch,whatdoyouthinkoftheGameshavingone

hundredpercentmorecompetitorsthanusual?”asksCaesar.

Haymitchshrugs.“Idon’tseethatitmakesmuchdifference.

They’llstillbeonehundredpercentasstupidasusual,soIfigure

myoddswillberoughlythesame.”

TheaudienceburstsoutlaughingandHaymitchgivesthema

halfsmile.Snarky.Arrogant.Indifferent.

“Hedidn’thavetoreachfarforthat,didhe?”Isay.

Nowit’sthemorningtheGamesbegin.Wewatchfromthe

pointofviewofoneofthetributesassherisesupthroughthe

tubefromtheLaunchRoomandintothearena.Ican’thelpbut

giveaslightgasp.Disbeliefisreflectedonthefacesofthe

players.EvenHaymitch’seyebrowsliftinpleasure,although

theyalmostimmediatelyknitthemselvesbackintoascowl.

It’sthemostbreathtakingplaceimaginable.Thegolden

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Cornucopiasitsinthemiddleofagreenmeadowwithpatchesof

gorgeousflowers.Theskyisazurebluewithpuffywhiteclouds.

Brightsongbirdsflutteroverhead.Bythewaysomeofthe

tributesaresniffing,itmustsmellfantastic.Anaerialshotshows

thatthemeadowstretchesformiles.Farinthedistance,inone

direction,thereseemstobeawoods,intheother,asnowcapped

mountain.

Thebeautydisorientsmanyoftheplayers,becausewhenthe

gongsounds,mostofthemseemlikethey’retryingtowakefrom

adream.NotHaymitch,though.He’sattheCornucopia,armed

withweaponsandabackpackofchoicesupplies.Heheadsfor

thewoodsbeforemostoftheothershavesteppedofftheirplates.

Eighteentributesarekilledinthebloodbaththatfirstday.

Othersbegintodieoffanditbecomesclearthatalmost

everythinginthisprettyplace—thelusciousfruitdangling

fromthebushes,thewaterinthecrystallinestreams,eventhe

scentoftheflowerswheninhaledtoodirectly—isdeadly

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poisonous.Onlytherainwaterandthefoodprovidedatthe

Cornucopiaaresafetoconsume.There’salsoalarge,well-

stockedCareerpackoftentributesscouringthemountainarea

forvictims.

Haymitchhashisowntroublesoverinthewoods,wherethe

fluffygoldensquirrelsturnouttobecarnivorousandattackin

packs,andthebutterflystingsbringagonyifnotdeath.Buthe

persistsinmovingforward,alwayskeepingthedistantmountain

athisback.

MaysileeDonnerturnsouttobeprettyresourcefulherself,

foragirlwholeavestheCornucopiawithonlyasmallbackpack.

Insideshefindsabowl,somedriedbeef,andablowgunwithtwo

dozendarts.Makinguseofthereadilyavailablepoisons,she

soonturnstheblowgunintoadeadlyweaponbydippingthe

dartsinlethalsubstancesanddirectingthemintoheropponents’

flesh.

Fourdaysin,thepicturesquemountaineruptsinavolcano

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thatwipesoutanotherdozenplayers,includingallbutfiveofthe

Careerpack.Withthemountainspewingliquidfire,andthe

meadowofferingnomeansofconcealment,theremaining

thirteentributes—includingHaymitchandMaysilee—haveno

choicebuttoconfinethemselvestothewoods.

Haymitchseemsbentoncontinuinginthesamedirection,

awayfromthenowvolcanicmountain,butamazeoftightly

wovenhedgesforceshimtocirclebackintothecenterofthe

woods,whereheencountersthreeoftheCareersandpullshis

knife.Theymaybemuchbiggerandstronger,butHaymitchhas

remarkablespeedandhaskilledtwowhenthethirddisarmshim.

ThatCareerisabouttoslithisthroatwhenadartdropshimto

theground.

MaysileeDonnerstepsoutofthewoods.“We’dlivelonger

withtwoofus.”

“Guessyoujustprovedthat,”saysHaymitch,rubbinghis

neck.“Allies?”Maysileenods.Andtheretheyare,instantly

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drawnintooneofthosepactsyou’dbehard-pressedtobreakif

youeverexpecttogohomeandfaceyourdistrict.

JustlikePeetaandme,theydobettertogether.Getmore

rest,workoutasystemtosalvagemorerainwater,fightasa

team,andsharethefoodfromthedeadtributes’packs.But

Haymitchisstilldeterminedtokeepmovingon.

“Why?”Maysileekeepsasking,andheignoresheruntilshe

refusestomoveanyfartherwithoutananswer.

“Becauseithastoendsomewhere,right?”saysHaymitch.

“Thearenacan’tgoonforever.”

“Whatdoyouexpecttofind?”Maysileeasks.

“Idon’tknow.Butmaybethere’ssomethingwecanuse,”he

says.

Whentheyfinallydomakeitthroughthatimpossiblehedge,

usingablowtorchfromoneofthedeadCareers’packs,theyfind

themselvesonflat,dryearththatleadstoacliff.Farbelow,you

canseejaggedrocks.

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“That’sallthereis,Haymitch.Let’sgoback,”says

Maysilee.

“No,I’mstayinghere,”hesays.

“Allright.There’sonlyfiveofusleft.Mayaswellsay

good-byenow,anyway,”shesays.“Idon’twantittocomedown

toyouandme.”

“Okay,”heagrees.That’sall.Hedoesn’toffertoshakeher

handorevenlookather.Andshewalksaway.

Haymitchskirtsalongtheedgeofthecliffasiftryingto

figuresomethingout.Hisfootdislodgesapebbleanditfallsinto

theabyss,apparentlygoneforever.Butaminutelater,ashesits

torest,thepebbleshootsbackupbesidehim.Haymitchstaresat

it,puzzled,andthenhisfacetakesonastrangeintensity.Helobs

arockthesizeofhisfistoverthecliffandwaits.Whenitflies

backoutandrightintohishand,hestartslaughing.

That’swhenwehearMaysileebegintoscream.Thealliance

isoverandshebrokeitoff,sonoonecouldblamehimfor

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ignoringher.ButHaymitchrunsforher,anyway.Hearrivesonly

intimetowatchthelastofaflockofcandypinkbirds,equipped

withlong,thinbeaks,skewerherthroughtheneck.Heholdsher

handwhileshedies,andallIcanthinkofisRueandhowIwas

toolatetosaveher,too.

Laterthatday,anothertributeiskilledincombatandathird

getseatenbyapackofthosefluffysquirrels,leavingHaymitch

andagirlfromDistrict1tovieforthecrown.She’sbiggerthan

heisandjustasfast,andwhentheinevitablefightcomes,it’s

bloodyandawfulandbothhavereceivedwhatcouldwellbe

fatalwounds,whenHaymitchisfinallydisarmed.Hestaggers

throughthebeautifulwoods,holdinghisintestinesin,whileshe

stumblesafterhim,carryingtheaxthatshoulddeliverhis

deathblow.Haymitchmakesabeelineforhiscliffandhasjust

reachedtheedgewhenshethrowstheax.Hecollapsesonthe

groundanditfliesintotheabyss.Nowweaponlessaswell,the

girljuststandsthere,tryingtostaunchtheflowofbloodpouring

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fromheremptyeyesocket.She’sthinkingperhapsthatshecan

outlastHaymitch,who’sstartingtoconvulseontheground.But

whatshedoesn’tknow,andwhathedoes,isthattheaxwill

return.Andwhenitfliesbackovertheledge,itburiesitselfin

herhead.Thecannonsounds,herbodyisremoved,andthe

trumpetsblowtoannounceHaymitch’svictory.

Peetaclicksoffthetapeandwesitthereinsilencefora

while.

FinallyPeetasays,“Thatforcefieldatthebottomofthe

cliff,itwasliketheoneontheroofoftheTrainingCenter.The

onethatthrowsyoubackifyoutrytojumpoffandcommit

suicide.Haymitchfoundawaytoturnitintoaweapon.”

“Notjustagainsttheothertributes,buttheCapitol,too,”I

say.“Youknowtheydidn’texpectthattohappen.Itwasn’t

meanttobepartofthearena.Theyneverplannedonanyone

usingitasaweapon.Itmadethemlookstupidthathefiguredit

out.Ibettheyhadagoodtimetryingtospinthatone.Betthat’s

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whyIdon’trememberseeingitontelevision.It’salmostasbad

asusandtheberries!”

Ican’thelplaughing,reallylaughing,forthefirsttimein

months.PeetajustshakeshisheadlikeI’velostmymind—and

maybeIhave,alittle.

“Almost,butnotquite,”saysHaymitchfrombehindus.I

whiparound,afraidhe’sgoingtobeangryoveruswatchinghis

tape,buthejustsmirksandtakesaswigfromabottleofwine.

Somuchforsobriety.IguessIshouldbeupsethe’sdrinking

again,butI’mpreoccupiedwithanotherfeeling.

I’vespentalltheseweeksgettingtoknowwhomy

competitorsare,withouteventhinkingaboutwhomyteammates

are.Nowanewkindofconfidenceislightingupinsideofme,

becauseIthinkIfinallyknowwhoHaymitchis.AndI’m

beginningtoknowwhoIam.Andsurely,twopeoplewhohave

causedtheCapitolsomuchtroublecanthinkofawaytoget

Peetahomealive.

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HavingbeenthroughprepwithFlavius,Venia,andOctavia

numeroustimes,itshouldjustbeanoldroutinetosurvive.ButI

haven’tanticipatedtheemotionalordealthatawaitsme.Atsome

pointduringtheprep,eachofthemburstsintotearsatleast

twice,andOctaviaprettymuchkeepsuparunningwhimper

throughoutthemorning.Itturnsouttheyreallyhavebecome

attachedtome,andtheideaofmyreturningtothearenahas

undonethem.Combinethatwiththefactthatbylosingme

they’llbelosingtheirtickettoallkindsofbigsocialevents,

particularlymywedding,andthewholethingbecomes

unbearable.Theideaofbeingstrongforsomeoneelsehaving

neverenteredtheirheads,Ifindmyselfinthepositionofhaving

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toconsolethem.SinceI’mthepersongoingintobeslaughtered,

thisissomewhatannoying.

It’sinteresting,though,whenIthinkofwhatPeetasaid

abouttheattendantonthetrainbeingunhappyaboutthevictors

havingtofightagain.AboutpeopleintheCapitolnotlikingit.I

stillthinkallofthatwillbeforgottenoncethegongsounds,but

it’ssomethingofarevelationthatthoseintheCapitolfeel

anythingatallaboutus.Theycertainlydon’thaveaproblem

watchingchildrenmurderedeveryyear.Butmaybetheyknow

toomuchaboutthevictors,especiallytheoneswho’vebeen

celebritiesforages,toforgetwe’rehumanbeings.It’smorelike

watchingyourownfriendsdie.MoreliketheGamesarefor

thoseofusinthedistricts.

BythetimeCinnashowsup,Iamirritableandexhausted

fromcomfortingtheprepteam,especiallybecausetheirconstant

tearsareremindingmeoftheonesundoubtedlybeingshedat

home.Standingthereinmythinrobewithmystingingskinand

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heart,IknowIcan’tbearevenonemorelookofregret.Sothe

momenthewalksinthedoorIsnap,“Iswearifyoucry,I’llkill

youhereandnow.”

Cinnajustsmiles.“Hadadampmorning?”

“Youcouldwringmeout,”Ireply.

Cinnaputshisarmaroundmyshoulderandleadsmeinto

lunch.“Don’tworry.Ialwayschannelmyemotionsintomy

work.ThatwayIdon’thurtanyonebutmyself.”

“Ican’tgothroughthatagain,”Iwarnhim.

“Iknow.I’lltalktothem,”saysCinna.

Lunchmakesmefeelabitbetter.Pheasantwithaselection

ofjewel-coloredjellies,andtinyversionsofrealvegetables

swimminginbutter,andpotatoesmashedwithparsley.For

dessertwedipchunksoffruitinapotofmeltedchocolate,and

CinnahastoorderasecondpotbecauseIstartjusteatingthe

stuffwithaspoon.

“So,whatarewewearingfortheopeningceremonies?”I

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finallyaskasIscrapethesecondpotclean.“Headlampsorfire?”

IknowthechariotridewillrequirePeetaandmetobedressedin

somethingcoalrelated.

“Somethingalongthatline,”hesays.

Whenit’stimetogetincostumefortheopeningceremonies,

myprepteamshowsupbutCinnasendsthemaway,saying

they’vedonesuchaspectacularjobinthemorning,there’s

nothinglefttodo.Theygoofftorecover,thankfullyleavingme

inCinna’shands.Heputsupmyhairfirst,inthebraidedstyle

mymotherintroducedhimto,thenproceedswithmymakeup.

Lastyearheusedlittlesothattheaudiencewouldrecognizeme

whenIlandedinthearena.Butnowmyfaceisalmostobscured

bythedramatichighlightsanddarkshadows.Higharching

eyebrows,sharpcheekbones,smolderingeyes,deeppurplelips.

Thecostumelooksdeceptivelysimpleatfirst,justafittedblack

jumpsuitthatcoversmefromtheneckdown.Heplacesahalf

crownliketheoneIreceivedasvictoronmyhead,butit’smade

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ofaheavyblackmetal,notgold.Thenheadjuststhelightinthe

roomtomimictwilightandpressesabuttonjustinsidethefabric

onmywrist.Ilookdown,fascinated,asmyensembleslowly

comestolife,firstwithasoftgoldenlightbutgradually

transformingtotheorange-redofburningcoal.IlookasifIhave

beencoatedinglowingembers—no,thatIamaglowingember

straightfromourfireplace.Thecolorsriseandfall,shiftand

blend,inexactlythewaythecoalsdo.

“Howdidyoudothis?”Isayinwonder.

“PortiaandIspentalotofhourswatchingfires,”saysCinna.

“Nowlookatyourself.”

HeturnsmetowardamirrorsothatIcantakeintheentire

effect.Idonotseeagirl,orevenawoman,butsomeunearthly

beingwholookslikeshemightmakeherhomeinthevolcano

thatdestroyedsomanyinHaymitch’sQuell.Theblackcrown,

whichnowappearsred-hot,castsstrangeshadowsonmy

dramaticallymade-upface.Katniss,thegirlonfire,hasleft

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behindherflickeringflamesandbejeweledgownsandsoft

candlelightfrocks.Sheisasdeadlyasfireitself.

“Ithink...thisisjustwhatIneededtofacetheothers,”I

say.

“Yes,Ithinkyourdaysofpinklipstickandribbonsare

behindyou,”saysCinna.Hetouchesthebuttononmywrist

again,extinguishingmylight.“Let’snotrundownyourpower

pack.Whenyou’reonthechariotthistime,nowaving,no

smiling.Ijustwantyoutolookstraightahead,asiftheentire

audienceisbeneathyournotice.”

“FinallysomethingI’llbegoodat,”Isay.

Cinnahasafewmorethingstoattendto,soIdecidetohead

downtothegroundflooroftheRemakeCenter,whichhouses

thehugegatheringplaceforthetributesandtheirchariotsbefore

theopeningceremonies.I’mhopingtofindPeetaandHaymitch,

buttheyhaven’tarrivedyet.Unlikelastyear,whenallthe

tributeswerepracticallygluedtotheirchariots,thesceneisvery

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social.Thevictors,boththisyear’stributesandtheirmentors,

arestandingaroundinsmallgroups,talking.Ofcourse,theyall

knowoneanotherandIdon’tknowanyone,andI’mnotreally

thesortofpersontogoaroundintroducingmyself.SoIjust

stroketheneckofoneofmyhorsesandtrynottobenoticed.

Itdoesn’twork.

ThecrunchinghitsmyearbeforeIevenknowhe’sbeside

me,andwhenIturnmyhead,FinnickOdair’sfamousseagreen

eyesareonlyinchesfrommine.Hepopsasugarcubeinhis

mouthandleansagainstmyhorse.

“Hello,Katniss,”hesays,asifwe’veknowneachotherfor

years,wheninfactwe’venevermet.

“Hello,Finnick,”Isay,justascasually,althoughI’mfeeling

uncomfortableathiscloseness,especiallysincehe’sgotsomuch

bareskinexposed.

“Wantasugarcube?”hesays,offeringhishand,whichis

piledhigh.“They’resupposedtobeforthehorses,butwho

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cares?They’vegotyearstoeatsugar,whereasyouandI...

well,ifweseesomethingsweet,webettergrabitquick.”

FinnickOdairissomethingofalivinglegendinPanem.

SincehewontheSixty-fifthHungerGameswhenhewasonly

fourteen,he’sstilloneoftheyoungestvictors.Beingfrom

District4,hewasaCareer,sotheoddswerealreadyinhisfavor,

butwhatnotrainercouldclaimtohavegivenhimwashis

extraordinarybeauty.Tall,athletic,withgoldenskinandbronze-

coloredhairandthoseincredibleeyes.Whileothertributesthat

yearwerehard-pressedtogetahandfulofgrainorsomematches

foragift,Finnickneverwantedforanything,notfoodor

medicineorweapons.Ittookaboutaweekforhiscompetitorsto

realizethathewastheonetokill,butitwastoolate.Hewas

alreadyagoodfighterwiththespearsandkniveshehadfoundin

theCornucopia.Whenhereceivedasilverparachutewitha

trident—whichmaybethemostexpensivegiftI’veeverseen

giveninthearena—itwasallover.District4’sindustryis

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fishing.He’dbeenonboatshiswholelife.Thetridentwasa

natural,deadlyextensionofhisarm.Hewoveanetoutofsome

kindofvinehefound,usedittoentanglehisopponentssohe

couldspearthemwiththetrident,andwithinamatterofdaysthe

crownwashis.

ThecitizensoftheCapitolhavebeendroolingoverhimever

since.

Becauseofhisyouth,theycouldn’treallytouchhimforthe

firstyearortwo.Buteversinceheturnedsixteen,he’sspenthis

timeattheGamesbeingdoggedbythosedesperatelyinlove

withhim.Nooneretainshisfavorforlong.Hecangothrough

fourorfiveinhisannualvisit.Oldoryoung,lovelyorplain,rich

orveryrich,he’llkeepthemcompanyandtaketheirextravagant

gifts,butheneverstays,andoncehe’sgonehenevercomes

back.

Ican’targuethatFinnickisn’toneofthemoststunning,

sensuouspeopleontheplanet.ButIcanhonestlysayhe’snever

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beenattractivetome.Maybehe’stoopretty,ormaybehe’stoo

easytoget,ormaybeit’sreallythathe’djustbetooeasytolose.

“No,thanks,”Isaytothesugar.“I’dlovetoborrowyour

outfitsometime,though.”

He’sdrapedinagoldennetthat’sstrategicallyknottedathis

groinsothathecan’ttechnicallybecallednaked,buthe’sabout

ascloseasyoucanget.I’msurehisstylistthinksthemoreof

Finnicktheaudiencesees,thebetter.

“You’reabsolutelyterrifyingmeinthatgetup.What

happenedtotheprettylittle-girldresses?”heasks.Hewetshis

lipsjusteversoslightlywithhistongue.Probablythisdrives

mostpeoplecrazy.ButforsomereasonallIcanthinkofisold

Cray,salivatingoversomepoor,starvingyoungwoman.

“Ioutgrewthem,”Isay.

Finnicktakesthecollarofmyoutfitandrunsitbetweenhis

fingers.“It’stoobadaboutthisQuellthing.Youcouldhave

madeoutlikeabanditintheCapitol.Jewels,money,anything

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youwanted.”

“Idon’tlikejewels,andIhavemoremoneythanIneed.

Whatdoyouspendallyourson,anyway,Finnick?”Isay.

“Oh,Ihaven’tdealtinanythingascommonasmoneyfor

years,”saysFinnick.

“Thenhowdotheypayyouforthepleasureofyour

company?”Iask.

“Withsecrets,”hesayssoftly.Hetipshisheadinsohislips

arealmostincontactwithmine.“Whataboutyou,girlonfire?

Doyouhaveanysecretsworthmytime?”

Forsomestupidreason,Iblush,butIforcemyselftohold

myground.“No,I’manopenbook,”Iwhisperback.“Everybody

seemstoknowmysecretsbeforeIknowthemmyself.”

Hesmiles.“Unfortunately,Ithinkthat’strue.”Hiseyes

flickerofftotheside.“Peetaiscoming.Sorryyouhavetocancel

yourwedding.Iknowhowdevastatingthatmustbeforyou.”He

tossesanothersugarcubeinhismouthandsauntersoff.

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Peeta’sbesideme,dressedinanoutfitidenticaltomine.

“WhatdidFinnickOdairwant?”heasks.

IturnandputmylipsclosetoPeeta’sanddropmyeyelidsin

imitationofFinnick.“Heofferedmesugarandwantedtoknow

allmysecrets,”Isayinmybestseductivevoice.

Peetalaughs.“Ugh.Notreally.”

“Really,”Isay.“I’lltellyoumorewhenmyskinstops

crawling.”

“Doyouthinkwe’dhaveendeduplikethisifonlyoneofus

hadwon?”heasks,glancingaroundattheothervictors.“Just

anotherpartofthefreakshow?”

“Sure.Especiallyyou,”Isay.

“Oh.Andwhyespeciallyme?”hesayswithasmile.

“BecauseyouhaveaweaknessforbeautifulthingsandI

don’t,”Isaywithanairofsuperiority.“Theywouldlureyou

intotheirCapitolwaysandyou’dbelostentirely.”

“Havinganeyeforbeautyisn’tthesamethingasa

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weakness,”Peetapointsout.“Exceptpossiblywhenitcomesto

you.”ThemusicisbeginningandIseethewidedoorsopening

forthefirstchariot,heartheroarofthecrowd.“Shallwe?”He

holdsoutahandtohelpmeintothechariot.

Iclimbupandpullhimupafterme.“Holdstill,”Isay,and

straightenhiscrown.“Haveyouseenyoursuitturnedon?We’re

goingtobefabulousagain.”

“Absolutely.ButPortiasayswe’retobeveryaboveitall.No

wavingoranything,”hesays.“Wherearethey,anyway?”

“Idon’tknow.”Ieyetheprocessionofchariots.“Maybewe

bettergoaheadandswitchourselveson.”Wedo,andaswe

begintoglow,Icanseepeoplepointingatusandchattering,and

Iknowthat,onceagain,we’llbethetalkoftheopening

ceremonies.We’realmostatthedoor.Icranemyheadaround,

butneitherPortianorCinna,whowerewithusrightuptothe

finalsecondlastyear,areanywhereinsight.“Arewesupposed

toholdhandsthisyear?”Iask.

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“Iguessthey’veleftituptous,”saysPeeta.

Ilookupintothoseblueeyesthatnoamountofdramatic

makeupcanmaketrulydeadlyandrememberhow,justayear

ago,Iwaspreparedtokillhim.Convincedhewastryingtokill

me.Noweverythingisreversed.I’mdeterminedtokeephim

alive,knowingthecostwillbemyownlife,butthepartofme

thatisnotsobraveasIcouldwishisgladthatit’sPeeta,not

Haymitch,besideme.Ourhandsfindeachotherwithoutfurther

discussion.Ofcoursewewillgointothisasone.

Thevoiceofthecrowdrisesintooneuniversalscreamaswe

rollintothefadingeveninglight,butneitheroneofusreacts.I

simplyfixmyeyesonapointfarinthedistanceandpretend

thereisnoaudience,nohysteria.Ican’thelpcatchingglimpses

ofusonthehugescreensalongtheroute,andwearenotjust

beautiful,wearedarkandpowerful.No,more.Westar-crossed

loversfromDistrict12,whosufferedsomuchandenjoyedso

littletherewardsofourvictory,donotseekthefans’favor,

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gracethemwithoursmiles,orcatchtheirkisses.Weare

unforgiving.

AndIloveit.Gettingtobemyselfatlast.

AswecurvearoundintotheloopoftheCityCircle,Icansee

thatacoupleoftheotherstylistshavetriedtostealCinnaand

Portia’sideaofilluminatingtheirtributes.Theelectric-light-

studdedoutfitsfromDistrict3,wheretheymakeelectronics,at

leastmakesense.Butwhatarethelivestockkeepersfrom

District10,whoaredressedascows,doingwithflamingbelts?

Broilingthemselves?Pathetic.

PeetaandI,ontheotherhand,aresomesmerizingwithour

ever-changingcoalcostumesthatmostoftheothertributesare

staringatus.Weseemparticularlyrivetingtothepairfrom

District6,whoareknownmorphlingaddicts.Bothbonethin,

withsaggingyellowishskin.Theycan’tteartheiroverlargeeyes

away,evenwhenPresidentSnowbeginstospeakfromhis

balcony,welcomingusalltotheQuell.Theanthemplays,andas

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wemakeourfinaltriparoundthecircle,amIwrong?OrdoIsee

thepresidentfixatedonmeaswell?

PeetaandIwaituntilthedoorsoftheTrainingCenterhave

closedbehindustorelax.CinnaandPortiaarethere,pleased

withourperformance,andHaymitchhasmadeanappearance

thisyearaswell,onlyhe’snotatourchariot,he’soverwiththe

tributesofDistrict11.Iseehimnodinourdirectionandthen

theyfollowhimovertogreetus.

IknowChaffbysightbecauseI’vespentyearswatchinghim

passabottlebackandforthwithHaymitchontelevision.He’s

darkskinned,aboutsixfeettall,andoneofhisarmsendsina

stumpbecausehelosthishandintheGameshewonthirtyyears

ago.I’msuretheyofferedhimsomeartificialreplacement,like

theydidPeetawhentheyhadtoamputatehislowerleg,butI

guesshedidn’ttakeit.

Thewoman,Seeder,looksalmostlikeshecouldbefromthe

Seam,withheroliveskinandstraightblackhairstreakedwith

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silver.Onlyhergoldenbrowneyesmarkherasfromanother

district.Shemustbearoundsixty,butshestilllooksstrong,and

there’snosignshe’sturnedtoliquorormorphlingoranyother

chemicalformofescapeovertheyears.Beforeeitherofussays

aword,sheembracesme.Iknowsomehowitmustbebecauseof

RueandThresh.BeforeIcanstopmyself,Iwhisper,“The

families?”

“They’realive,”shesaysbacksoftlybeforelettingmego.

Chaffthrowshisgoodarmaroundmeandgivesmeabig

kissrightonthemouth.Ijerkback,startled,whileheand

Haymitchguffaw.

That’saboutallthetimewegetbeforetheCapitolattendants

arefirmlydirectingustowardtheelevators.Igetthedistinct

feelingthey’renotcomfortablewiththecamaraderieamongthe

victors,whocouldn’tseemtocareless.AsIwalktowardthe

elevators,myhandstilllinkedwithPeeta’s,someoneelserustles

uptomyside.Thegirlpullsoffaheaddressofleafybranches

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andtossesitbehindherwithoutbotheringtolookwhereitfalls.

JohannaMason.FromDistrict7.Lumberandpaper,thusthe

tree.Shewonbyveryconvincinglyportrayingherselfasweak

andhelplesssothatshewouldbeignored.Thenshe

demonstratedawickedabilitytomurder.Sherufflesupher

spikyhairandrollsherwide-setbrowneyes.“Isn’tmycostume

awful?Mystylist’sthebiggestidiotintheCapitol.Ourtributes

havebeentreesforfortyyearsunderher.WishI’dgottenCinna.

Youlookfantastic.”

Girltalk.ThatthingI’vealwaysbeensobadat.Opinionson

clothes,hair,makeup.SoIlie.“Yeah,he’sbeenhelpingme

designmyownclothingline.Youshouldseewhathecandowith

velvet.”Velvet.TheonlyfabricIcouldthinkofoffthetopofmy

head.

“Ihave.Onyourtour.Thatstraplessnumberyouworein

DistrictTwo?Thedeepblueonewiththediamonds?So

gorgeousIwantedtoreachthroughthescreenandtearitright

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offyourback,”saysJohanna.

Ibetyoudid,Ithink.Withafewinchesofmyflesh.

Whilewewaitfortheelevators,Johannaunzipstherestof

hertree,lettingitdroptothefloor,andthenkicksitawayin

disgust.Exceptforherforestgreenslippers,shedoesn’thaveon

astitchofclothing.“That’sbetter.”

Weenduponthesameelevatorwithher,andshespendsthe

wholeridetotheseventhfloorchattingtoPeetaabouthis

paintingswhilethelightofhisstill-glowingcostumereflectsoff

herbarebreasts.Whensheleaves,Iignorehim,butIjustknow

he’sgrinning.Itossasidehishandasthedoorsclosebehind

ChaffandSeeder,leavingusalone,andhebreaksoutlaughing.

“What?”Isay,turningonhimaswestepoutonourfloor.

“It’syou,Katniss.Can’tyousee?”hesays.

“What’sme?”Isay.

“Whythey’reallactinglikethis.Finnickwithhissugar

cubesandChaffkissingyouandthatwholethingwithJohanna

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strippingdown.”Hetriestotakeonamoreserioustone,

unsuccessfully.“They’replayingwithyoubecauseyou’reso...

youknow.”

“No,Idon’tknow,”Isay.AndIreallyhavenoideawhat

he’stalkingabout.

“It’slikewhenyouwouldn’tlookatmenakedinthearena

eventhoughIwashalfdead.You’reso...pure,”hesaysfinally.

“Iamnot!”Isay.“I’vebeenpracticallyrippingyourclothes

offeverytimethere’sbeenacameraforthelastyear!”

“Yeah,but...Imean,fortheCapitol,you’repure,”hesays,

clearlytryingtomollifyme.“Forme,you’reperfect.They’re

justteasingyou.”

“No,they’relaughingatme,andsoareyou!”Isay.

“No.”Peetashakeshishead,buthe’sstillsuppressinga

smile.I’mseriouslyrethinkingthequestionofwhoshouldget

outoftheseGamesalivewhentheotherelevatoropens.

HaymitchandEffiejoinus,lookingpleasedabout

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something.ThenHaymitch’sfacegrowshard.

WhatdidIdonow?Ialmostsay,butIseehe’sstaring

behindmeattheentrancetothediningroom.

Effieblinksinthesamedirection,thensaysbrightly,“Looks

likethey’vegotyouamatchedsetthisyear.”

IturnaroundandfindtheredheadedAvoxgirlwhotendedto

melastyearuntiltheGamesbegan.Ithinkhowniceitistohave

afriendhere.Inoticethattheyoungmanbesideher,another

Avox,alsohasredhair.ThatmustbewhatEffiemeantbya

matchedset.

Thenachillrunsthroughme.BecauseIknowhim,too.Not

fromtheCapitolbutfromyearsofhavingeasyconversationsin

theHob,jokingoverGreasySae’ssoup,andthatlastday

watchinghimlieunconsciousinthesquarewhilethelifebled

outofGale.

OurnewAvoxisDarius.

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Haymitchgripsmywristasifanticipatingmynextmove,

butIamasspeechlessastheCapitol’storturershaverendered

Darius.HaymitchoncetoldmetheydidsomethingtoAvoxes’

tonguessotheycouldnevertalkagain.InmyheadIhear

Darius’svoice,playfulandbright,ringingacrosstheHobto

teaseme.Notasmyfellowvictorsmakefunofmenow,but

becausewegenuinelylikedeachother.IfGalecouldseehim...

IknowanymoveIwouldmaketowardDarius,anyactof

recognition,wouldonlyresultinpunishmentforhim.Sowejust

stareintoeachother’seyes.Darius,nowamuteslave;me,now

headedtodeath.Whatwouldwesay,anyway?Thatwe’resorry

fortheother’slot?Thatweachefortheother’spain?Thatwe’re

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gladwehadthechancetoknoweachother?

No,Dariusshouldn’tbegladheknewme.IfIhadbeenthere

tostopThread,hewouldn’thavesteppedforwardtosaveGale.

Wouldn’tbeanAvox.Andmorespecifically,wouldn’tbemy

Avox,becausePresidentSnowhassoobviouslyhadhimplaced

hereformybenefit.

ItwistmywristfromHaymitch’sgraspandheaddownto

myoldbedroom,lockingthedoorbehindme.Isitonthesideof

mybed,elbowsonmyknees,foreheadonmyfists,andwatch

myglowingsuitinthedarkness,imaginingIaminmyoldhome

inDistrict12,huddledbesidethefire.Itslowlyfadesbackto

blackasthepowerpackdiesout.

WhenEffieeventuallyknocksonthedoortosummonmeto

dinner,Igetupandtakeoffmysuit,folditneatly,andsetiton

thetablewithmycrown.Inthebathroom,Iwashthedark

streaksofmakeupfrommyface.Idressinasimpleshirtand

pantsandgodownthehalltothediningroom.

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I’mnotawareofmuchatdinnerexceptthatDariusandthe

redheadedAvoxgirlareourservers.Effie,Haymitch,Cinna,

Portia,andPeetaareallthere,talkingabouttheopening

ceremonies,Isuppose.ButtheonlytimeIreallyfeelpresentis

whenIpurposelyknockadishofpeastothefloorand,before

anyonecanstopme,crouchdowntocleanthemup.Dariusis

rightbymewhenIsendthedishover,andwetwoarebriefly

sidebyside,obscuredfromview,aswescoopupthepeas.For

justonemomentourhandsmeet.Icanfeelhisskin,roughunder

thebutterysaucefromthedish.Inthetight,desperateclenchof

ourfingersareallthewordswewillneverbeabletosay.Then

Effie’scluckingatmefrombehindabouthow“Thatisn’tyour

job,Katniss!”andheletsgo.

Whenwegointowatchtherecapoftheopening

ceremonies,IwedgemyselfinbetweenCinnaandHaymitchon

thecouchbecauseIdon’twanttobenexttoPeeta.This

awfulnesswithDariusbelongstomeandGaleandmaybeeven

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Haymitch,butnottoPeeta.Hemight’veknownDariustonod

hello,butPeetawasn’tHobthewaytherestofuswere.Besides,

I’mstillangrywithhimforlaughingatmealongwiththeother

victors,andthelastthingIwantishissympathyandcomfort.I

haven’tchangedmymindaboutsavinghiminthearena,butI

don’towehimmorethanthat.

AsIwatchtheprocessiontotheCityCircle,Ithinkhowit’s

badenoughthattheydressusallupincostumesandparadeus

throughthestreetsinchariotsonaregularyear.Kidsin

costumesaresilly,butagingvictors,itturnsout,arepitiful.A

fewwhoareontheyoungerside,likeJohannaandFinnick,or

whosebodieshaven’tfallenintodisrepair,likeSeederand

Brutus,canstillmanagetomaintainalittledignity.Butthe

majority,whoareintheclutchesofdrinkormorphlingor

illness,lookgrotesqueintheircostumes,depictingcowsand

treesandloavesofbread.Lastyearwechatteredawayabout

eachcontestant,buttonightthere’sonlytheoccasional

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comment.SmallwonderthecrowdgoeswildwhenPeetaandI

appear,lookingsoyoungandstrongandbeautifulinourbrilliant

costumes.Theveryimageofwhattributesshouldbe.

Assoonasit’sover,IstandupandthankCinnaandPortia

fortheiramazingworkandheadofftobed.Effiecallsa

remindertomeetearlyforbreakfasttoworkoutourtraining

strategy,butevenhervoicesoundshollow.PoorEffie.She

finallyhadadecentyearintheGameswithPeetaandme,and

nowit’sallbrokendownintoamessthatevenshecan’tputa

positivespinon.InCapitolterms,I’mguessingthiscountsasa

truetragedy.

SoonafterIgotobed,there’saquietknockonmydoor,but

Iignoreit.Idon’twantPeetatonight.EspeciallynotwithDarius

around.It’salmostasbadasifGalewerehere.Gale.HowamI

supposedtolethimgowithDariushauntingthehallways?

Tonguesfigureprominentlyinmynightmares.FirstIwatch

frozenandhelplesswhileglovedhandscarryoutthebloody

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dissectioninDarius’smouth.ThenI’matapartywhere

everyonewearsmasksandsomeonewithaflicking,wettongue,

whoIsupposeisFinnick,stalksme,butwhenhecatchesmeand

pullsoffhismask,it’sPresidentSnow,andhispuffylipsare

drippinginbloodysaliva.FinallyI’mbackinthearena,myown

tongueasdryassandpaper,whileItrytoreachapoolofwater

thatrecedeseverytimeI’mabouttotouchit.

WhenIwake,Istumbletothebathroomandgulpwaterfrom

thefaucetuntilIcanholdnomore.Istripoffmysweatyclothes

andfallbackintobed,naked,andsomehowfindsleepagain.

Idelaygoingdowntobreakfastaslongaspossiblethenext

morningbecauseIreallydon’twanttodiscussourtraining

strategy.What’stodiscuss?Everyvictoralreadyknowswhat

everybodyelsecando.Orusedtobeabletodo,anyway.So

PeetaandIwillcontinuetoactinloveandthat’sthat.Somehow

I’mjustnotuptotalkingaboutit,especiallywithDarius

standingmutelyby.Itakealongshower,dressslowlyinthe

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outfitCinnahasleftfortraining,andorderfoodfromthemenu

inmyroombyspeakingintoamouthpiece.Inaminute,sausage,

eggs,potatoes,bread,juice,andhotchocolateappear.Ieatmy

fill,tryingtodragouttheminutesuntilteno’clock,whenwe

havetogodowntotheTrainingCenter.Bynine-thirty,

Haymitchispoundingonmydoor,obviouslyfedupwithme,

orderingmetothediningroomNOW!Still,Ibrushmyteeth

beforemeanderingdownthehall,effectivelykillinganotherfive

minutes.

Thediningroom’semptyexceptforPeetaandHaymitch,

whosefaceisflushedwithdrinkandanger.Onhiswristhewears

asolid-goldbanglewithapatternofflames—thismustbehis

concessiontoEffie’smatching-tokenplan—thathetwists

unhappily.It’saveryhandsomebangle,really,butthe

movementmakesitseemlikesomethingconfining,ashackle,

ratherthanapieceofjewelry.“You’relate,”hesnarlsatme.

“Sorry.Isleptinafterthemutilated-tonguenightmareskept

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meuphalfthenight.”Imeantosoundhostile,butmyvoice

catchesattheendofthesentence.

Haymitchgivesmeascowl,thenrelents.“Allright,never

mind.Today,intraining,you’vegottwojobs.One,stayinlove.”

“Obviously,”Isay.

“Andtwo,makesomefriends,”saysHaymitch.

“No,”Isay.“Idon’ttrustanyofthem,Ican’tstandmostof

them,andI’dratheroperatewithjustthetwoofus.”

“That’swhatIsaidatfirst,but—”Peetabegins.

“Butitwon’tbeenough,”Haymitchinsists.“You’regoingto

needmorealliesthistimearound.”

“Why?”Iask.

“Becauseyou’reatadistinctdisadvantage.Yourcompetitors

haveknowneachotherforyears.Sowhodoyouthinkthey’re

goingtotargetfirst?”hesays.

“Us.Andnothingwe’regoingtodoisgoingtooverrideany

oldfriendship,”Isay.“Sowhybother?”

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“Becauseyoucanfight.You’repopularwiththecrowd.That

couldstillmakeyoudesirableallies.Butonlyifyouletthe

othersknowyou’rewillingtoteamupwiththem,”says

Haymitch.

“YoumeanyouwantusintheCareerpackthisyear?”Iask,

unabletohidemydistaste.Traditionallythetributesfrom

Districts1,2,and4joinforces,possiblytakinginafewother

exceptionalfighters,andhuntdowntheweakercompetitors.

“That’sbeenourstrategy,hasn’tit?TotrainlikeCareers?”

countersHaymitch.“AndwhomakesuptheCareerpackis

generallyagreeduponbeforetheGamesbegin.Peetabarelygot

inwiththemlastyear.”

IthinkoftheloathingIfeltwhenIdiscoveredPeetawas

withtheCareersduringthelastGames.“Sowe’retotrytogetin

withFinnickandBrutus—isthatwhatyou’resaying?”

“Notnecessarily.Everyone’savictor.Makeyourownpack

ifyou’drather.Choosewhoyoulike.I’dsuggestChaffand

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Seeder.AlthoughFinnick’snottobeignored,”saysHaymitch.

“Findsomeonetoteamupwithwhomightbeofsomeuseto

you.Remember,you’renotinaringfulloftremblingchildren

anymore.Thesepeopleareallexperiencedkillers,nomatter

whatshapetheyappeartobein.”

Maybehe’sright.OnlywhocouldItrust?Seedermaybe.But

doIreallywanttomakeapactwithher,onlytopossiblyhaveto

killherlater?No.Still,ImadeapactwithRueunderthesame

circumstances.ItellHaymitchI’lltry,eventhoughIthinkI’llbe

prettybadatthewholething.

Effieshowsupabitearlytotakeusdownbecauselastyear,

eventhoughwewereontime,wewerethelasttwotributesto

showup.ButHaymitchtellsherhedoesn’twanthertakingus

downtothegym.Noneoftheothervictorswillbeshowingup

withababysitter,andbeingtheyoungest,it’sevenmore

importantwelookself-reliant.Soshehastosatisfyherselfwith

takingustotheelevator,fussingoverourhair,andpushingthe

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buttonforus.

It’ssuchashortridethatthere’snorealtimefor

conversation,butwhenPeetatakesmyhand,Idon’tpullitaway.

Imayhaveignoredhimlastnightinprivate,butintrainingwe

mustappearasaninseparableteam.

Effieneedn’thaveworriedaboutusbeingthelasttoarrive.

OnlyBrutusandthewomanfromDistrict2,Enobaria,are

present.EnobarialookstobeaboutthirtyandallIcanremember

aboutheristhat,inhand-to-handcombat,shekilledonetribute

byrippingopenhisthroatwithherteeth.Shebecamesofamous

forthisactthat,aftershewasavictor,shehadherteeth

cosmeticallyalteredsoeachoneendsinasharppointlikeafang

andisinlaidwithgold.Shehasnoshortageofadmirersinthe

Capitol.

Byteno’clock,onlyabouthalfofthetributeshaveshown

up.Atala,thewomanwhorunstraining,beginsherspielrighton

time,unfazedbythepoorattendance.Maybesheexpectedit.I’m

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sortofrelieved,becausethatmeansthereareadozenpeopleI

don’thavetopretendtomakefriendswith.Atalarunsthrough

thelistofstations,whichincludebothcombatandsurvival

skills,andreleasesustotrain.

ItellPeetaIthinkwe’ddobesttosplitup,thuscovering

moreterritory.WhenhegoesofftochuckspearswithBrutusand

Chaff,Iheadovertotheknot-tyingstation.Hardlyanyoneever

botherstovisitit.Ilikethetrainerandheremembersmefondly,

maybebecauseIspenttimewithhimlastyear.He’spleased

whenIshowhimIcanstillsetthetrapthatleavesanenemy

danglingbyalegfromatree.Clearlyhetooknoteofmysnares

inthearenalastyearandnowseesmeasanadvancedpupil,soI

askhimtorevieweverykindofknotthatmightcomeinhandy

andafewthatI’llprobablyneveruse.I’dbecontenttospendthe

morningalonewithhim,butafteraboutanhourandahalf,

someoneputshisarmsaroundmefrombehind,hisfingerseasily

finishingthecomplicatedknotI’vebeensweatingover.Of

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courseit’sFinnick,whoseemstohavespenthischildhooddoing

nothingbutwieldingtridentsandmanipulatingropesintofancy

knotsfornets,Iguess.Iwatchforaminutewhilehepicksupa

lengthofrope,makesanoose,andthenpretendstohanghimself

formyamusement.

Rollingmyeyes,Iheadovertoanothervacantstationwhere

tributescanlearntobuildfires.Ialreadymakeexcellentfires,

butI’mstillprettydependentonmatchesforstartingthem.So

thetrainerhasmeworkwithflint,steel,andsomecharredcloth.

Thisismuchharderthanitlooks,andevenworkingasintently

asIcan,ittakesmeaboutanhourtogetafiregoing.Ilookup

withatriumphantsmileonlytofindIhavecompany.

ThetwotributesfromDistrict3arebesideme,strugglingto

startadecentfirewithmatches.Ithinkaboutleaving,butI

reallywanttotryusingtheflintagain,andifIhavetoreport

backtoHaymitchthatItriedtomakefriends,thesetwomightbe

abearablechoice.Botharesmallinstaturewithashenskinand

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blackhair.Thewoman,Wiress,isprobablyaroundmymother’s

ageandspeaksinaquiet,intelligentvoice.ButrightawayI

noticeshehasahabitofdroppingoffherwordsinmid-sentence,

asifshe’sforgottenyou’rethere.Beetee,theman,isolderand

somewhatfidgety.Hewearsglassesbutspendsalotoftime

lookingunderthem.They’realittlestrange,butI’mprettysure

neitherofthemisgoingtotrytomakemeuncomfortableby

strippingnaked.Andthey’refromDistrict3.Maybetheycan

evenconfirmmysuspicionsofanuprisingthere.

IglancearoundtheTrainingCenter.Peetaisatthecenterof

aribaldcircleofknifethrowers.ThemorphlingsfromDistrict6

areinthecamouflagestation,paintingeachother’sfaceswith

brightpinkswirls.ThemaletributefromDistrict5isvomiting

wineonthesword-fightingfloor.Finnickandtheoldwoman

fromhisdistrictareusingthearcherystation.JohannaMasonis

nakedagainandoilingherskindownforawrestlinglesson.I

decidetostayput.

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WiressandBeeteemakedecentcompany.Theyseem

friendlyenoughbutdon’tpry.Wetalkaboutourtalents;they

tellmetheybothinventthings,whichmakesmysupposed

interestinfashionseemprettyweak.Wiressbringsupsomesort

ofstitchingdeviceshe’sworkingon.

“Itsensesthedensityofthefabricandselectsthestrength,”

shesays,andthenbecomesabsorbedinabitofdrystrawbefore

shecangoon.

“Thestrengthofthethread,”Beeteefinishesexplaining.

“Automatically.Itrulesouthumanerror.”Thenhetalksabout

hisrecentsuccesscreatingamusicalchipthat’stinyenoughto

beconcealedinaflakeofglitterbutcanholdhoursofsongs.I

rememberOctaviatalkingaboutthisduringtheweddingshoot,

andIseeapossiblechancetoalludetotheuprising.

“Oh,yeah.Myprepteamwasallupsetafewmonthsago,I

think,becausetheycouldn’tgetholdofthat,”Isaycasually.“I

guessalotofordersfromDistrictThreeweregettingbacked

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up.”

Beeteeexaminesmeunderhisglasses.“Yes.Didyouhave

anysimilarbackupsincoalproductionthisyear?”heasks.

“No.Well,welostacoupleofweekswhentheybroughtina

newHeadPeacekeeperandhiscrew,butnothingmajor,”Isay.

“Toproduction,Imean.Twoweekssittingaroundyourhouse

doingnothingjustmeanstwoweeksofbeinghungryformost

people.”

IthinktheyunderstandwhatI’mtryingtosay.Thatwe’ve

hadnouprising.“Oh.That’sashame,”saysWiressinaslightly

disappointedvoice.“Ifoundyourdistrictvery...”Shetrailsoff,

distractedbysomethinginherhead.

“Interesting,”fillsinBeetee.“Webothdid.”

Ifeelbad,knowingthattheirdistrictmusthavesuffered

muchworsethanours.IfeelIhavetodefendmypeople.“Well,

therearen’tverymanyofusinTwelve,”Isay.“Notthatyou’d

knowitnowadaysbythesizeofthePeacekeepingforce.ButI

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guesswe’reinterestingenough.”

Aswemoveovertotheshelterstation,Wiressstopsand

gazesupatthestandswheretheGamemakersareroaming

around,eatinganddrinking,sometimestakingnoticeofus.

“Look,”shesays,givingherheadaslightnodintheirdirection.I

lookupandseePlutarchHeavensbeeinthemagnificentpurple

robewiththefur-trimmedcollarthatdesignateshimasHead

Gamemaker.He’seatingaturkeyleg.

Idon’tseewhythismeritscomment,butIsay,“Yes,he’s

beenpromotedtoHeadGamemakerthisyear.”

“No,no.Therebythecornerofthetable.Youcanjust...”

saysWiress.

Beeteesquintsunderhisglasses.“Justmakeitout.”

Istareinthatdirection,perplexed.ButthenIseeit.Apatch

ofspaceaboutsixinchessquareatthecornerofthetableseems

almosttobevibrating.It’sasiftheairisripplingintinyvisible

waves,distortingthesharpedgesofthewoodandagobletof

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winesomeonehassetthere.

“Aforcefield.They’vesetoneupbetweentheGamemakers

andus.Iwonderwhatbroughtthaton,”Beeteesays.

“Me,probably,”Iconfess.“LastyearIshotanarrowatthem

duringmyprivatetrainingsession.”BeeteeandWiresslookat

mecuriously.“Iwasprovoked.So,doallforcefieldshaveaspot

likethat?”

“Chink,”saysWiressvaguely.

“Inthearmor,asitwere,”finishesBeetee.“Ideallyit’dbe

invisible,wouldn’tit?”

Iwanttoaskthemmore,butlunchisannounced.Ilookfor

Peeta,buthe’shangingwithagroupofabouttenothervictors,

soIdecidejusttoeatwithDistrict3.MaybeIcangetSeederto

joinus.

Whenwemakeourwayintothediningarea,Iseesomeof

Peeta’sganghaveotherideas.They’redraggingallthesmaller

tablestoformonelargetablesothatweallhavetoeattogether.

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NowIdon’tknowwhattodo.EvenatschoolIusedtoavoid

eatingatacrowdedtable.Frankly,I’dprobablyhavesataloneif

Madgehadn’tmadeahabitofjoiningme.IguessI’dhaveeaten

withGaleexcept,beingtwogradesapart,ourlunchneverfellat

thesametime.

Itakeatrayandstartmakingmywayaroundthefood-laden

cartsthatringtheroom.Peetacatchesupwithmeatthestew.

“How’sitgoing?”

“Good.Fine.IliketheDistrictThreevictors,”Isay.“Wiress

andBeetee.”

“Really?”heasks.“They’resomethingofajoketothe

others.”

“Whydoesthatnotsurpriseme?”Isay.IthinkofhowPeeta

wasalwayssurroundedatschoolbyacrowdoffriends.It’s

amazing,really,thatheevertookanynoticeofmeexceptto

thinkIwasodd.

“Johanna’snicknamedthemNutsandVolts,”hesays.“I

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thinkshe’sNutsandhe’sVolts.”

“AndsoI’mstupidforthinkingtheymightbeuseful.

BecauseofsomethingJohannaMasonsaidwhileshewasoiling

upherbreastsforwrestling,”Iretort.

“ActuallyIthinkthenickname’sbeenaroundforyears.And

Ididn’tmeanthatasaninsult.I’mjustsharinginformation,”he

says.

“Well,WiressandBeeteearesmart.Theyinventthings.

Theycouldtellbysightthataforcefieldhadbeenputup

betweenusandtheGamemakers.Andifwehavetohaveallies,I

wantthem.”Itosstheladlebackinapotofstew,splatteringus

bothwiththegravy.

“Whatareyousoangryabout?”Peetaasks,wipingthegravy

fromhisshirtfront.“BecauseIteasedyouontheelevator?I’m

sorry.Ithoughtyouwouldjustlaughaboutit.”

“Forgetit,”Isaywithashakeofmyhead.“It’salotof

things.”

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“Darius,”hesays.

“Darius.TheGames.Haymitchmakingusteamupwiththe

others,”Isay.

“Itcanjustbeyouandme,youknow,”hesays.

“Iknow.ButmaybeHaymitchisright,”Isay.“Don’ttell

himIsaidso,butheusuallyis,wheretheGamesareconcerned.”

“Well,youcanhavefinalsayaboutourallies.Butrightnow,

I’mleaningtowardChaffandSeeder,”saysPeeta.

“I’mokaywithSeeder,notChaff,”Isay.“Notyet,anyway.”

“Comeonandeatwithhim.Ipromise,Iwon’tlethimkiss

youagain,”saysPeeta.

Chaffdoesn’tseemasbadatlunch.He’ssober,andwhilehe

talkstooloudandmakesbadjokesalot,mostofthemareathis

ownexpense.IcanseewhyhewouldbegoodforHaymitch,

whosethoughtsrunsodarkly.ButI’mstillnotsureI’mreadyto

teamupwithhim.

Itryhardtobemoresociable,notjustwithChaffbutwith

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thegroupatlarge.AfterlunchIdotheedible-insectstationwith

theDistrict8tributes—Cecelia,who’sgotthreekidsathome,

andWoof,areallyoldguywho’shardofhearinganddoesn’t

seemtoknowwhat’sgoingonsincehekeepstryingtostuff

poisonousbugsinhismouth.IwishIcouldmentionmeeting

TwillandBonnieinthewoods,butIcan’tfigureouthow.

CashmereandGloss,thesisterandbrotherfromDistrict1,invite

meoverandwemakehammocksforawhile.They’repolitebut

cool,andIspendthewholetimethinkingabouthowIkilledboth

thetributesfromtheirdistrict,GlimmerandMarvel,lastyear,

andthattheyprobablyknewthemandmightevenhavebeen

theirmentors.Bothmyhammockandmyattempttoconnect

withthemaremediocreatbest.IjoinEnobariaatswordtraining

andexchangeafewcomments,butit’sclearneitherofuswants

toteamup.FinnickappearsagainwhenI’mpickingupfishing

tips,butmostlyjusttointroducemetoMags,theelderlywoman

who’salsofromDistrict4.Betweenherdistrictaccentandher

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garbledspeech—possiblyshe’shadastroke—Ican’tmakeout

morethanoneinfourwords.ButIswearshecanmakeadecent

fishhookoutofanything—athorn,awishbone,anearring.

AfterawhileItuneoutthetrainerandsimplytrytocopy

whateverMagsdoes.WhenImakeaprettygoodhookoutofa

bentnailandfastenittosomestrandsofmyhair,shegivesmea

toothlesssmileandanunintelligiblecommentIthinkmightbe

praise.SuddenlyIrememberhowshevolunteeredtoreplacethe

young,hystericalwomaninherdistrict.Itcouldn’tbebecause

shethoughtshehadanychanceofwinning.Shedidittosavethe

girl,justlikeIvolunteeredlastyeartosavePrim.AndIdecideI

wantheronmyteam.

Great.NowIhavetogobackandtellHaymitchIwantan

eighty-year-oldandNutsandVoltsformyallies.He’lllovethat.

SoIgiveuptryingtomakefriendsandgoovertothe

archeryrangeforsomesanity.It’swonderfulthere,gettingtotry

outallthedifferentbowsandarrows.Thetrainer,Tax,seeing

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thatthestandingtargetsoffernochallengeforme,beginsto

launchthesesillyfakebirdshighintotheairformetohit.At

firstitseemsstupid,butitturnsouttobekindoffun.Much

morelikehuntingamovingcreature.SinceI’mhitting

everythinghethrowsup,hestartsincreasingthenumberofbirds

hesendsairborne.Iforgettherestofthegymandthevictorsand

howmiserableIamandlosemyselfintheshooting.WhenI

managetotakedownfivebirdsinoneround,Irealizeit’sso

quietIcanheareachonehitthefloor.Iturnandseethemajority

ofthevictorshavestoppedtowatchme.Theirfacesshow

everythingfromenvytohatredtoadmiration.

Aftertraining,PeetaandIhangout,waitingforHaymitch

andEffietoshowupfordinner.Whenwe’recalledtoeat,

Haymitchpouncesonmeimmediately.“Soatleasthalfthe

victorshaveinstructedtheirmentorstorequestyouasanally.I

knowitcan’tbeyoursunnypersonality.”

“Theysawhershoot,”saysPeetawithasmile.“Actually,I

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sawhershoot,forreal,forthefirsttime.I’mabouttoputina

formalrequestmyself.”

“You’rethatgood?”Haymitchasksme.“Sogoodthat

Brutuswantsyou?”

Ishrug.“ButIdon’twantBrutus.IwantMagsandDistrict

Three.”

“Ofcourseyoudo.”Haymitchsighsandordersabottleof

wine.“I’lltelleverybodyyou’restillmakingupyourmind.”

Aftermyshootingexhibition,Istillgetteasedsome,butIno

longerfeellikeI’mbeingmocked.Infact,IfeelasifI’ve

somehowbeeninitiatedintothevictors’circle.Duringthenext

twodays,Ispendtimewithalmosteverybodyheadedforthe

arena.Eventhemorphlings,who,withPeeta’shelp,paintme

intoafieldofyellowflowers.EvenFinnick,whogivesmean

houroftridentlessonsinexchangeforanhourofarchery

instruction.AndthemoreIcometoknowthesepeople,the

worseitis.Because,onthewhole,Idon’thatethem.AndsomeI

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like.Andalotofthemaresodamagedthatmynaturalinstinct

wouldbetoprotectthem.ButallofthemmustdieifI’mtosave

Peeta.

Thefinaldayoftrainingendswithourprivatesessions.We

eachgetfifteenminutesbeforetheGamemakerstoamazethem

withourskills,butIdon’tknowwhatanyofusmighthaveto

showthem.There’salotofkiddingaboutitatlunch.Whatwe

mightdo.Sing,dance,strip,telljokes.Mags,whoIcan

understandalittlebetternow,decidesshe’sjustgoingtotakea

nap.Idon’tknowwhatI’mgoingtodo.Shootsomearrows,I

guess.Haymitchsaidtosurprisethemifwecould,butI’mfresh

outofideas.

Asthegirlfrom12,I’mscheduledtogolast.Thedining

roomgetsquieterandquieterasthetributesfileouttogo

perform.It’seasiertokeepuptheirreverent,invinciblemanner

we’vealladoptedwhentherearemoreofus.Aspeople

disappearthroughthedoor,allIcanthinkisthattheyhavea

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matterofdaystolive.

PeetaandIarefinallyleftalone.Hereachesacrossthetable

totakemyhands.“DecidedwhattodofortheGamemakers

yet?”

Ishakemyhead.“Ican’treallyusethemfortargetpractice

thisyear,withtheforcefieldupandall.Maybemakesome

fishhooks.Whataboutyou?”

“Notaclue.IkeepwishingIcouldbakeacakeor

something,”hesays.

“Dosomemorecamouflage,”Isuggest.

“Ifthemorphlingshaveleftmeanythingtoworkwith,”he

sayswryly.“They’vebeengluedtothatstationsincetraining

started.”

WesitinsilenceawhileandthenIblurtoutthethingthat’s

onbothourminds.“Howarewegoingtokillthesepeople,

Peeta?”

“Idon’tknow.”Heleanshisforeheaddownonourentwined

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hands.

“Idon’twantthemasallies.WhydidHaymitchwantusto

gettoknowthem?”Isay.“It’llmakeitsomuchharderthanlast

time.ExceptforRuemaybe.ButIguessIneverreallycould’ve

killedher,anyway.ShewasjusttoomuchlikePrim.”

Peetalooksupatme,hisbrowcreasedinthought.“Her

deathwasthemostdespicable,wasn’tit?”

“Noneofthemwereverypretty,”Isay,thinkingof

Glimmer’sandCato’sends.

TheycallPeeta,soIwaitbymyself.Fifteenminutespass.

Thenhalfanhour.It’sclosetofortyminutesbeforeI’mcalled.

WhenIgoin,Ismellthesharpodorofcleanerandnotice

thatoneofthematshasbeendraggedtothecenteroftheroom.

Themoodisverydifferentfromlastyear’s,whenthe

Gamemakerswerehalfdrunkanddistractedlypickingattidbits

fromthebanquettable.Theywhisperamongthemselves,looking

somewhatannoyed.WhatdidPeetado?Somethingtoupset

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them?

Ifeelapangofworry.Thatisn’tgood.Idon’twantPeeta

singlinghimselfoutasatargetfortheGamemakers’anger.

That’spartofmyjob.TodrawfireawayfromPeeta.Buthow

didheupsetthem?BecauseI’dlovetodojustthatandmore.To

breakthroughthesmugveneerofthosewhousetheirbrainsto

findamusingwaystokillus.Tomakethemrealizethatwhile

we’revulnerabletotheCapitol’scruelties,theyareaswell.

DoyouhaveanyideahowmuchIhateyou?Ithink.You,

whohavegivenyourtalentstotheGames?

ItrytocatchPlutarchHeavensbee’seye,butheseemstobe

intentionallyignoringme,ashehastheentiretrainingperiod.I

rememberhowhesoughtmeoutforadance,howpleasedhewas

toshowmethemockingjayonhiswatch.Hisfriendlymanner

hasnoplacehere.Howcouldit,whenI’mameretributeand

he’stheHeadGamemaker?Sopowerful,soremoved,sosafe...

SuddenlyIknowjustwhatI’mgoingtodo.Somethingthat

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willblowanythingPeetadidrightoutofthewater.Igooverto

theknot-tyingstationandgetalengthofrope.Istartto

manipulateit,butit’shardbecauseI’venevermadethisactual

knotmyself.I’veonlywatchedFinnick’scleverfingers,andthey

movedsofast.Afterabouttenminutes,I’vecomeupwitha

respectablenoose.Idragoneofthetargetdummiesoutintothe

middleoftheroomand,usingsomechinningbars,hangitsoit

danglesbytheneck.Tyingitshandsbehinditsbackwouldbea

nicetouch,butIthinkImightberunningoutoftime.Ihurry

overtothecamouflagestation,wheresomeoftheothertributes,

undoubtedlythemorphlings,havemadeacolossalmess.ButI

findapartialcontainerofbloodredberryjuicethatwillservemy

needs.Theflesh-coloredfabricofthedummy’sskinmakesa

good,absorbentcanvas.Icarefullyfingerpaintthewordsonits

body,concealingthemfromview.ThenIstepawayquicklyto

watchthereactionontheGamemakers’facesastheyreadthe

nameonthedummy.

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SENECACRANE.

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TheeffectontheGamemakersisimmediateandsatisfying.

Severalletoutsmallshrieks.Otherslosetheirgripsontheir

wineglasses,whichshattermusicallyagainsttheground.Two

seemtobeconsideringfainting.Thelookofshockisunanimous.

NowIhavePlutarchHeavensbee’sattention.Hestares

steadilyatmeasthejuicefromthepeachhecrushedinhishand

runsthroughhisfingers.Finallyheclearshisthroatandsays,

“Youmaygonow,MissEverdeen.”

Igivearespectfulnodandturntogo,butatthelastmoment

Ican’tresisttossingthecontainerofberryjuiceovermy

shoulder.Icanhearthecontentssplatteragainstthedummy

whileacouplemorewineglassesbreak.Astheelevatordoors

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closebeforeme,Iseenoonehasmoved.

Thatsurprisedthem,Ithink.Itwasrashanddangerousand

nodoubtIwillpayforittentimesover.Butforthemoment,I

feelsomethingclosetoelationandIletmyselfsavorit.

IwanttofindHaymitchimmediatelyandtellhimaboutmy

session,butnoone’saround.Iguessthey’regettingreadyfor

dinnerandIdecidetogotakeashowermyself,sincemyhands

arestainedfromthejuice.AsIstandinthewater,Ibeginto

wonderaboutthewisdomofmylatesttrick.Thequestionthat

shouldnowalwaysbemyguideis“WillthishelpPeetastay

alive?”Indirectly,thismightnot.Whathappensintrainingis

highlysecretive,sothere’snopointintakingactionagainstme

whennoonewillknowwhatmytransgressionwas.Infact,last

yearIwasrewardedformybrashness.Thisisadifferentsortof

crime,though.IftheGamemakersareangrywithmeanddecide

topunishmeinthearena,Peetacouldgetcaughtupintheattack

aswell.Maybeitwastooimpulsive.Still...Ican’tsayI’m

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sorryIdidit.

Asweallgatherfordinner,InoticePeeta’shandsarefaintly

stainedwithavarietyofcolors,eventhoughhishairisstill

dampfrombathing.Hemusthavedonesomeformof

camouflageafterall.Oncethesoupisserved,Haymitchgets

righttotheissueoneveryone’smind.“Allright,sohowdidyour

privatesessionsgo?”

IexchangealookwithPeeta.SomehowI’mnotthateagerto

putwhatIdidintowords.Inthecalmofthediningroom,it

seemsveryextreme.“Youfirst,”Isaytohim.“Itmusthave

beenreallyspecial.Ihadtowaitforfortyminutestogoin.”

PeetaseemstobestruckwiththesamereluctanceI’m

experiencing.“Well,I—Ididthecamouflagething,likeyou

suggested,Katniss.”Hehesitates.“Notexactlycamouflage.I

mean,Iusedthedyes.”

“Todowhat?”asksPortia.

IthinkofhowruffledtheGamemakerswerewhenIentered

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thegymformysession.Thesmellofcleaners.Thematpulled

overthatspotinthecenterofthegym.Wasittoconceal

somethingtheywereunabletowashaway?“Youpainted

something,didn’tyou?Apicture.”

“Didyouseeit?”Peetaasks.

“No.Butthey’dmadearealpointofcoveringitup,”Isay.

“Well,thatwouldbestandard.Theycan’tletonetribute

knowwhatanotherdid,”saysEffie,unconcerned.“Whatdidyou

paint,Peeta?”Shelooksalittlemisty.“Wasitapictureof

Katniss?”

“Whywouldhepaintapictureofme,Effie?”Iask,

somehowannoyed.

“Toshowhe’sgoingtodoeverythinghecantodefendyou.

That’swhateveryoneintheCapitol’sexpecting,anyway.Didn’t

hevolunteertogoinwithyou?”Effiesays,asifit’sthemost

obviousthingintheworld.

“Actually,IpaintedapictureofRue,”Peetasays.“Howshe

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lookedafterKatnisshadcoveredherinflowers.”

There’salongpauseatthetablewhileeveryoneabsorbsthis.

“Andwhatexactlywereyoutryingtoaccomplish?”Haymitch

asksinaverymeasuredvoice.

“I’mnotsure.Ijustwantedtoholdthemaccountable,ifonly

foramoment,”saysPeeta.“Forkillingthatlittlegirl.”

“Thisisdreadful.”Effiesoundslikeshe’sabouttocry.“That

sortofthinking...it’sforbidden,Peeta.Absolutely.You’llonly

bringdownmoretroubleonyourselfandKatniss.”

“IhavetoagreewithEffieonthisone,”saysHaymitch.

PortiaandCinnaremainsilent,buttheirfacesareveryserious.

Ofcourse,they’reright.Buteventhoughitworriesme,Ithink

whathedidwasamazing.

“IguessthisisabadtimetomentionIhungadummyand

paintedSenecaCrane’snameonit,”Isay.Thishasthedesired

effect.Afteramomentofdisbelief,allthedisapprovalinthe

roomhitsmelikeatonofbricks.

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“You...hung...SenecaCrane?”saysCinna.

“Yes.Iwasshowingoffmynewknot-tyingskills,andhe

somehowendedupattheendofthenoose,”Isay.

“Oh,Katniss,”saysEffieinahushedvoice.“Howdoyou

evenknowaboutthat?”

“Isitasecret?PresidentSnowdidn’tactlikeitwas.Infact,

heseemedeagerformetoknow,”Isay.Effieleavesthetable

withhernapkinpressedtoherface.“NowI’veupsetEffie.I

shouldhaveliedandsaidIshotsomearrows.”

“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

appreciation.“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

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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.

“That’sjustwhatwewerethinking,”Itellhim.

Wefinishthemealinsilence,butwhenwerisetogointothe

sittingroom,Cinnaputshisarmaroundmeandgivesmea

squeeze.“Comeonandlet’sgogetthosetrainingscores.”

Wegatheraroundthetelevisionsetandared-eyedEffie

rejoinsus.Thetributes’facescomeup,districtbydistrict,and

theirscoresflashundertheirpictures.Onethroughtwelve.

PredictablyhighscoresforCashmere,Gloss,Brutus,Enobaria,

andFinnick.Lowtomediumfortherest.

“Havetheyevergivenazero?”Iask.

“No,butthere’safirsttimeforeverything,”Cinnaanswers.

Anditturnsouthe’sright.BecausewhenPeetaandIeach

pullatwelve,wemakeHungerGameshistory.Noonefeelslike

celebrating,though.

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“Whydidtheydothat?”Iask.

“Sothattheotherswillhavenochoicebuttotargetyou,”

saysHaymitchflatly.“Gotobed.Ican’tstandtolookateither

oneofyou.”

Peetawalksmedowntomyroominsilence,butbeforehe

cansaygoodnight,Iwrapmyarmsaroundhimandrestmyhead

againsthischest.Hishandsslideupmybackandhischeekleans

againstmyhair.“I’msorryifImadethingsworse,”Isay.

“NoworsethanIdid.Whydidyoudoit,anyway?”hesays.

“Idon’tknow.ToshowthemthatI’mmorethanjustapiece

intheirGames?”Isay.

Helaughsalittle,nodoubtrememberingthenightbeforethe

Gameslastyear.Wewereontheroof,neitherofusabletosleep.

Peetahadsaidsomethingofthesortthen,butIhadn’t

understoodwhathemeant.NowIdo.

“Me,too,”hetellsme.“AndI’mnotsayingI’mnotgoingto

try.Togetyouhome,Imean.ButifI’mperfectlyhonestaboutit

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...”

“Ifyou’reperfectlyhonestaboutit,youthinkPresident

Snowhasprobablygiventhemdirectorderstomakesurewedie

inthearenaanyway,”Isay.

“It’scrossedmymind,”saysPeeta.

It’scrossedmymind,too.Repeatedly.ButwhileIknowI’ll

neverleavethatarenaalive,I’mstillholdingontothehopethat

Peetawill.Afterall,hedidn’tpulloutthoseberries,Idid.No

onehaseverdoubtedthatPeeta’sdefiancewasmotivatedby

love.SomaybePresidentSnowwillpreferkeepinghimalive,

crushedandheartbroken,asalivingwarningtoothers.

“Butevenifthathappens,everyonewillknowwe’vegone

outfighting,right?”Peetaasks.

“Everyonewill,”Ireply.Andforthefirsttime,Idistance

myselffromthepersonaltragedythathasconsumedmesince

theyannouncedtheQuell.Iremembertheoldmantheyshotin

District11,andBonnieandTwill,andtherumoreduprisings.

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Yes,everyoneinthedistrictswillbewatchingmetoseehowI

handlethisdeathsentence,thisfinalactofPresidentSnow’s

dominance.Theywillbelookingforsomesignthattheirbattles

havenotbeeninvain.IfIcanmakeitclearthatI’mstilldefying

theCapitolrightuptotheend,theCapitolwillhavekilledme..

.butnotmyspirit.Whatbetterwaytogivehopetotherebels?

ThebeautyofthisideaisthatmydecisiontokeepPeeta

aliveattheexpenseofmyownlifeisitselfanactofdefiance.A

refusaltoplaytheHungerGamesbytheCapitol’srules.My

privateagendadovetailscompletelywithmypublicone.AndifI

reallycouldsavePeeta...intermsofarevolution,thiswould

beideal.BecauseIwillbemorevaluabledead.Theycanturnme

intosomekindofmartyrforthecauseandpaintmyfaceon

banners,anditwilldomoretorallypeoplethananythingIcould

doifIwasliving.ButPeetawouldbemorevaluablealive,and

tragic,becausehewillbeabletoturnhispainintowordsthat

willtransformpeople.

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PeetawouldloseitifheknewIwasthinkinganyofthis,soI

onlysay,“Sowhatshouldwedowithourlastfewdays?”

“Ijustwanttospendeverypossibleminuteoftherestofmy

lifewithyou,”Peetareplies.

“Comeon,then,”Isay,pullinghimintomyroom.

Itfeelslikesuchaluxury,sleepingwithPeetaagain.Ididn’t

realizeuntilnowhowstarvedI’vebeenforhumancloseness.For

thefeelofhimbesidemeinthedarkness.IwishIhadn’twasted

thelastcoupleofnightsshuttinghimout.Isinkdownintosleep,

envelopedinhiswarmth,andwhenIopenmyeyesagain,

daylight’sstreamingthroughthewindows.

“Nonightmares,”hesays.

“Nonightmares,”Iconfirm.“You?”

“None.I’dforgottenwhatarealnight’ssleepfeelslike,”he

says.

Weliethereforawhile,innorushtobegintheday.

Tomorrownightwillbethetelevisedinterview,sotodayEffie

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andHaymitchshouldbecoachingus.Morehighheelsand

sarcasticcomments,Ithink.ButthentheredheadedAvoxgirl

comesinwithanotefromEffiesayingthat,givenourrecent

tour,bothsheandHaymitchhaveagreedwecanhandle

ourselvesadequatelyinpublic.Thecoachingsessionshavebeen

canceled.

“Really?”saysPeeta,takingthenotefrommyhandand

examiningit.“Doyouknowwhatthismeans?We’llhavethe

wholedaytoourselves.”

“It’stoobadwecan’tgosomewhere,”Isaywistfully.

“Whosayswecan’t?”heasks.

Theroof.Weorderabunchoffood,grabsomeblankets,and

headuptotheroofforapicnic.Adaylongpicnicintheflower

gardenthattinkleswithwindchimes.Weeat.Welieinthesun.I

snapoffhangingvinesandusemynewfoundknowledgefrom

trainingtopracticeknotsandweavenets.Peetasketchesme.We

makeupagamewiththeforcefieldthatsurroundstheroof—

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oneofusthrowsanappleintoitandtheotherpersonhastocatch

it.

Noonebothersus.Bylateafternoon,Iliewithmyheadon

Peeta’slap,makingacrownofflowerswhilehefiddleswithmy

hair,claiminghe’spracticinghisknots.Afterawhile,hishands

gostill.“What?”Iask.

“IwishIcouldfreezethismoment,righthere,rightnow,and

liveinitforever,”hesays.

Usuallythissortofcomment,thekindthathintsofhis

undyingloveforme,makesmefeelguiltyandawful.ButIfeel

sowarmandrelaxedandbeyondworryingaboutafutureI’ll

neverhave,Ijustletthewordslipout.“Okay.”

Icanhearthesmileinhisvoice.“Thenyou’llallowit?”

“I’llallowit,”Isay.

HisfingersgobacktomyhairandIdozeoff,butherouses

metoseethesunset.It’saspectacularyellowandorangeblaze

behindtheskylineoftheCapitol.“Ididn’tthinkyou’dwantto

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missit,”hesays.

“Thanks,”Isay.BecauseIcancountonmyfingersthe

numberofsunsetsIhaveleft,andIdon’twanttomissanyof

them.

Wedon’tgoandjointheothersfordinner,andnoone

summonsus.

“I’mglad.I’mtiredofmakingeveryonearoundmeso

miserable,”saysPeeta.“Everybodycrying.OrHaymitch...”He

doesn’tneedtogoon.

Westayontheroofuntilbedtimeandthenquietlyslipdown

tomyroomwithoutencounteringanyone.

Thenextmorning,we’rerousedbymyprepteam.Thesight

ofPeetaandmesleepingtogetheristoomuchforOctavia,

becausesheburstsintotearsrightaway.“Yourememberwhat

Cinnatoldus,”Veniasaysfiercely.Octavianodsandgoesout

sobbing.

Peetahastoreturntohisroomforprep,andI’mleftalone

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withVeniaandFlavius.Theusualchatterhasbeensuspended.In

fact,there’slittletalkatall,otherthantohavemeraisemychin

orcommentonamakeuptechnique.It’snearlylunchwhenIfeel

somethingdrippingonmyshoulderandturntofindFlavius,

who’ssnippingawayatmyhairwithsilenttearsrunningdown

hisface.Veniagiveshimalook,andhegentlysetsthescissors

onthetableandleaves.

Thenit’sjustVenia,whoseskinissopalehertattoosappear

tobeleapingoffit.Almostrigidwithdetermination,shedoes

myhairandnailsandmakeup,fingersflyingswiftlyto

compensateforherabsentteammates.Thewholetime,she

avoidsmygaze.It’sonlywhenCinnashowsuptoapproveme

anddismissherthatshetakesmyhands,looksmestraightinthe

eye,andsays,“Wewouldalllikeyoutoknowwhata...

privilegeithasbeentomakeyoulookyourbest.”Thenshe

hastensfromtheroom.

Myprepteam.Myfoolish,shallow,affectionatepets,with

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theirobsessionswithfeathersandparties,nearlybreakmyheart

withtheirgood-bye.It’scertainfromVenia’slastwordsthatwe

allknowIwon’tbereturning.Doesthewholeworldknowit?I

wonder.IlookatCinna.Heknows,certainly.Butashe

promised,there’snodangeroftearsfromhim.

“So,whatamIwearingtonight?”Iask,eyeingthegarment

bagthatholdsmydress.

“PresidentSnowputinthedressorderhimself,”saysCinna.

Heunzipsthebag,revealingoneoftheweddingdressesIwore

forthephotoshoot.Heavywhitesilkwithalownecklineand

tightwaistandsleevesthatfallfrommywriststothefloor.And

pearls.Everywherepearls.Stitchedintothedressandinropesat

mythroatandformingthecrownfortheveil.“Eventhoughthey

announcedtheQuarterQuellthenightofthephotoshoot,people

stillvotedfortheirfavoritedress,andthiswasthewinner.The

presidentsaysyou’retowearittonight.Ourobjectionswere

ignored.”

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Irubabitofthesilkbetweenmyfingers,tryingtofigureout

PresidentSnow’sreasoning.IsupposesinceIwasthegreatest

offender,mypainandlossandhumiliationshouldbeinthe

brightestspotlight.This,hethinks,willmakethatclear.It’sso

barbaric,thepresidentturningmybridalgownintomyshroud,

thattheblowstrikeshome,leavingmewithadullacheinside.

“Well,it’dbeashametowastesuchaprettydress”isallIsay.

Cinnahelpsmecarefullyintothegown.Asitsettlesonmy

shoulders,theycan’thelpgivingashrugofcomplaint.“Wasit

alwaysthisheavy?”Iask.Irememberseveralofthedresses

beingdense,butthisonefeelslikeitweighsaton.

“Ihadtomakesomeslightalterationsbecauseofthe

lighting,”saysCinna.Inod,butIcan’tseewhatthathastodo

withanything.Hedecksmeoutintheshoesandthepearl

jewelryandtheveil.Touchesupmymakeup.Hasmewalk.

“You’reravishing,”hesays.“Now,Katniss,becausethis

bodiceissofitted,Idon’twantyouraisingyourarmsaboveyour

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head.Well,notuntilyoutwirl,anyway.”

“WillIbetwirlingagain?”Iask,thinkingofmydresslast

year.

“I’msureCaesarwillaskyou.Andifhedoesn’t,yousuggest

ityourself.Onlynotrightaway.Saveitforyourbigfinale,”

Cinnainstructsme.

“YougivemeasignalsoIknowwhen,”Isay.

“Allright.Anyplansforyourinterview?IknowHaymitch

leftyoutwotoyourowndevices,”hesays.

“No,thisyearI’mjustwingingit.Thefunnythingis,I’m

notnervousatall.”AndI’mnot.HowevermuchPresidentSnow

mayhateme,thisCapitolaudienceismine.

WemeetupwithEffie,Haymitch,Portia,andPeetaatthe

elevator.Peeta’sinaneleganttuxedoandwhitegloves.Thesort

ofthinggroomsweartogetmarriedin,hereintheCapitol.

Backhomeeverythingissomuchsimpler.Awomanusually

rentsawhitedressthat’sbeenwornhundredsoftimes.Theman

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wearssomethingcleanthat’snotminingclothes.Theyfillout

someformsattheJusticeBuildingandareassignedahouse.

Familyandfriendsgatherforamealorbitofcake,ifitcanbe

afforded.Evenifitcan’t,there’salwaysatraditionalsongwe

singasthenewcouplecrossesthethresholdoftheirhome.And

wehaveourownlittleceremony,wheretheymaketheirfirst

fire,toastabitofbread,andshareit.Maybeit’sold-fashioned,

butnoonereallyfeelsmarriedinDistrict12untilafterthe

toasting.

Theothertributeshavealreadygatheredoffstageandare

talkingsoftly,butwhenPeetaandIarrive,theyfallsilent.I

realizeeveryone’sstaringdaggersatmyweddingdress.Arethey

jealousofitsbeauty?Thepoweritmighthavetomanipulatethe

crowd?

FinallyFinnicksays,“Ican’tbelieveCinnaputyouinthat

thing.”

“Hedidn’thaveanychoice.PresidentSnowmadehim,”I

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say,somewhatdefensively.Iwon’tletanyonecriticizeCinna.

Cashmeretossesherflowingblondcurlsbackandspitsout,

“Well,youlookridiculous!”Shegrabsherbrother’shandand

pullshimintoplacetoleadourprocessionontothestage.The

othertributesbegintolineupaswell.I’mconfusedbecause,

whiletheyallareangry,somearegivingussympatheticpatson

theshoulder,andJohannaMasonactuallystopstostraightenmy

pearlnecklace.

“Makehimpayforit,okay?”shesays.

Inod,butIdon’tknowwhatshemeans.Notuntilwe’reall

sittingoutonstageandCaesarFlickerman,hairandface

highlightedinlavenderthisyear,hasdonehisopeningspieland

thetributesbegintheirinterviews.ThisisthefirsttimeIrealize

thedepthofbetrayalfeltamongthevictorsandtheragethat

accompaniesit.Buttheyaresosmart,sowonderfullysmart

abouthowtheyplayit,becauseitallcomesbacktoreflectonthe

governmentandPresidentSnowinparticular.Noteveryone.

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Therearetheoldthrowbacks,likeBrutusandEnobaria,whoare

justhereforanotherGames,andthosetoobaffledordruggedor

losttojoininontheattack.Butthereareenoughvictorswho

stillhavethewitsandthenervetocomeoutfighting.

Cashmerestartstheballrollingwithaspeechabouthowshe

justcan’tstopcryingwhenshethinksofhowmuchthepeoplein

theCapitolmustbesufferingbecausetheywillloseus.Gloss

recallsthekindnessshownheretohimandhissister.Beetee

questionsthelegalityoftheQuellinhisnervous,twitchyway,

wonderingifit’sbeenfullyexaminedbyexpertsoflate.Finnick

recitesapoemhewrotetohisonetrueloveintheCapitol,and

aboutahundredpeoplefaintbecausethey’resurehemeans

them.BythetimeJohannaMasongetsup,she’saskingif

somethingcan’tbedoneaboutthesituation.Surelythecreators

oftheQuarterQuellneveranticipatedsuchloveforming

betweenthevictorsandtheCapitol.Noonecouldbesocruelas

toseversuchadeepbond.Seederquietlyruminatesabouthow,

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backinDistrict11,everyoneassumesPresidentSnowisall-

powerful.Soifhe’sall-powerful,whydoesn’thechangethe

Quell?AndChaff,whocomesrightonherheels,insiststhe

presidentcouldchangetheQuellifhewantedto,buthemustnot

thinkitmattersmuchtoanyone.

BythetimeI’mintroduced,theaudienceisanabsolute

wreck.Peoplehavebeenweepingandcollapsingandeven

callingforchange.Thesightofmeinmywhitesilkbridalgown

practicallycausesariot.Nomoreme,nomorestar-crossed

loverslivinghappilyeverafter,nomorewedding.Icanseeeven

Caesar’sprofessionalismshowingsomecracksashetriesto

quietthemsoIcanspeak,butmythreeminutesareticking

quicklyaway.

Finallythere’salullandhegetsout,“So,Katniss,obviously

thisisaveryemotionalnightforeveryone.Isthereanything

you’dliketosay?”

MyvoicetremblesasIspeak.“OnlythatI’msosorryyou

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won’tgettobeatmywedding...butI’mgladyouatleastgetto

seemeinmydress.Isn’titjust...themostbeautifulthing?”I

don’thavetolookatCinnaforasignal.Iknowthisistheright

time.Ibegintotwirlslowly,raisingthesleevesofmyheavy

gownabovemyhead.

WhenIhearthescreamsofthecrowd,Ithinkit’sbecauseI

mustlookstunning.ThenInoticesomethingisrisinguparound

me.Smoke.Fromfire.NottheflickerystuffIworelastyearin

thechariot,butsomethingmuchmorerealthatdevoursmy

dress.Ibegintopanicasthesmokethickens.Charredbitsof

blacksilkswirlintotheair,andpearlsclattertothestage.

SomehowI’mafraidtostopbecausemyfleshdoesn’tseemtobe

burningandIknowCinnamustbebehindwhateverishappening.

SoIkeepspinningandspinning.ForasplitsecondI’mgasping,

completelyengulfedinthestrangeflames.Thenallatonce,the

fireisgone.Islowlycometoastop,wonderingifI’mnakedand

whyCinnahasarrangedtoburnawaymyweddingdress.

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ButI’mnotnaked.I’minadressoftheexactdesignofmy

weddingdress,onlyit’sthecolorofcoalandmadeoftiny

feathers.Wonderingly,Iliftmylong,flowingsleevesintothe

air,andthat’swhenIseemyselfonthetelevisionscreen.

Clothedinblackexceptforthewhitepatchesonmysleeves.Or

shouldIsaymywings.

BecauseCinnahasturnedmeintoamockingjay.

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I’mstillsmolderingalittle,soit’swithatentativehandthat

Caesarreachesouttotouchmyheadpiece.Thewhitehasburned

away,leavingasmooth,fittedveilofblackthatdrapesintothe

necklineofthedressintheback.“Feathers,”saysCaesar.

“You’relikeabird.”

“Amockingjay,Ithink,”Isay,givingmywingsasmallflap.

“It’sthebirdonthepinIwearasatoken.”

AshadowofrecognitionflickersacrossCaesar’sface,andI

cantellheknowsthatthemockingjayisn’tjustmytoken.That

it’scometosymbolizesomuchmore.Thatwhatwillbeseenas

aflashycostumechangeintheCapitolisresonatinginan

entirelydifferentwaythroughoutthedistricts.Buthemakesthe

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bestofit.

“Well,hatsofftoyourstylist.Idon’tthinkanyonecanargue

thatthat’snotthemostspectacularthingwe’veeverseeninan

interview.Cinna,Ithinkyoubettertakeabow!”Caesargestures

forCinnatorise.Hedoes,andmakesasmall,graciousbow.And

suddenlyIamsoafraidforhim.Whathashedone?Something

terriblydangerous.Anactofrebellioninitself.Andhe’sdoneit

forme.Irememberhiswords...

“Don’tworry.Ialwayschannelmyemotionsintomywork.

ThatwayIdon’thurtanyonebutmyself.”

...andI’mafraidhehashurthimselfbeyondrepair.The

significanceofmyfierytransformationwillnotbeloston

PresidentSnow.

Theaudience,who’sbeenstunnedintosilence,breaksinto

wildapplause.Icanbarelyhearthebuzzerthatindicatesthatmy

threeminutesareup.CaesarthanksmeandIgobacktomyseat,

mydressnowfeelinglighterthanair.

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AsIpassPeeta,who’sheadedforhisinterview,hedoesn’t

meetmyeyes.Itakemyseatcarefully,butasidefromthepuffs

ofsmokehereandthere,Iseemunharmed,soIturnmyattention

tohim.

CaesarandPeetahavebeenanaturalteamsincetheyfirst

appearedtogetherayearago.Theireasygive-and-take,comic

timing,andabilitytosegueintoheart-wrenchingmoments,like

Peeta’sconfessionofloveforme,havemadethemahuge

successwiththeaudience.Theyeffortlesslyopenwithafew

jokesaboutfiresandfeathersandovercookingpoultry.But

anyonecanseethatPeetaispreoccupied,soCaesardirectsthe

conversationrightintothesubjectthat’soneveryone’sminds.

“So,Peeta,whatwasitlikewhen,afterallyou’vebeen

through,youfoundoutabouttheQuell?”asksCaesar.

“Iwasinshock.Imean,oneminuteI’mseeingKatniss

lookingsobeautifulinalltheseweddinggowns,andthenext..

.”Peetatrailsoff.

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“Yourealizedtherewasnevergoingtobeawedding?”asks

Caesargently.

Peetapausesforalongmoment,asifdecidingsomething.

Helooksoutatthespellboundaudience,thenatthefloor,then

finallyupatCaesar.“Caesar,doyouthinkallourfriendshere

cankeepasecret?”

Anuncomfortablelaughemanatesfromtheaudience.What

canhemean?Keepasecretfromwho?Ourwholeworldis

watching.

“Ifeelquitecertainofit,”saysCaesar.

“We’realreadymarried,”saysPeetaquietly.Thecrowd

reactsinastonishment,andIhavetoburymyfaceinthefoldsof

myskirtsotheycan’tseemyconfusion.Whereonearthishe

goingwiththis?

“But...howcanthatbe?”asksCaesar.

“Oh,it’snotanofficialmarriage.Wedidn’tgototheJustice

Buildingoranything.ButwehavethismarriageritualinDistrict

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Twelve.Idon’tknowwhatit’slikeintheotherdistricts.But

there’sthisthingwedo,”saysPeeta,andhebrieflydescribesthe

toasting.

“Wereyourfamiliesthere?”asksCaesar.

“No,wedidn’ttellanyone.NotevenHaymitch.And

Katniss’smotherwouldneverhaveapproved.Butyousee,we

knewifweweremarriedintheCapitol,therewouldn’tbea

toasting.Andneitherofusreallywantedtowaitanylonger.So

oneday,wejustdidit,”Peetasays.“Andtous,we’remore

marriedthananypieceofpaperorbigpartycouldmakeus.”

“SothiswasbeforetheQuell?”saysCaesar.

“OfcoursebeforetheQuell.I’msurewe’dneverhavedone

itafterweknew,”saysPeeta,startingtogetupset.“Butwho

could’veseenitcoming?Noone.WewentthroughtheGames,

wewerevictors,everyoneseemedsothrilledtoseeustogether,

andthenoutofnowhere—Imean,howcouldweanticipatea

thinglikethat?”

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“Youcouldn’t,Peeta.”Caesarputsanarmaroundhis

shoulders.“Asyousay,noonecould’ve.ButIhavetoconfess,

I’mgladyoutwohadatleastafewmonthsofhappiness

together.”

Enormousapplause.Asifencouraged,Ilookupfrommy

feathersandlettheaudienceseemytragicsmileofthanks.The

residualsmokefromthefeathershasmademyeyesteary,which

addsaverynicetouch.

“I’mnotglad,”saysPeeta.“Iwishwehadwaiteduntilthe

wholethingwasdoneofficially.”

ThistakesevenCaesaraback.“Surelyevenabrieftimeis

betterthannotime?”

“MaybeI’dthinkthat,too,Caesar,”saysPeetabitterly,“ifit

weren’tforthebaby.”

There.He’sdoneitagain.Droppedabombthatwipesoutthe

effortsofeverytributewhocamebeforehim.Well,maybenot.

Maybethisyearhehasonlylitthefuseonabombthatthe

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victorsthemselveshavebeenbuilding.Hopingsomeonewould

beabletodetonateit.Perhapsthinkingitwouldbemeinmy

bridalgown.NotknowinghowmuchIrelyonCinna’stalents,

whereasPeetaneedsnothingmorethanhiswits.

Asthebombexplodes,itsendsaccusationsofinjusticeand

barbarismandcrueltyflyingoutineverydirection.Eventhe

mostCapitol-loving,Games-hungry,bloodthirstypersonout

therecan’tignore,atleastforamoment,howhorrificthewhole

thingis.

Iampregnant.

Theaudiencecan’tabsorbthenewsrightaway.Ithasto

strikethemandsinkinandbeconfirmedbyothervoicesbefore

theybegintosoundlikeaherdofwoundedanimals,moaning,

shrieking,callingforhelp.Andme?Iknowmyfaceisprojected

inatightclose-uponthescreen,butIdon’tmakeanyeffortto

hideit.Becauseforamoment,evenIamworkingthroughwhat

Peetahassaid.Isn’titthethingIdreadedmostaboutthe

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wedding,aboutthefuture—thelossofmychildrentothe

Games?Anditcouldbetruenow,couldn’tit?IfIhadn’tspent

mylifebuildinguplayersofdefensesuntilIrecoilateventhe

suggestionofmarriageorafamily?

Caesarcan’treininthecrowdagain,notevenwhenthe

buzzersounds.Peetanodshisgood-byeandcomesbacktohis

seatwithoutanymoreconversation.IcanseeCaesar’slips

moving,buttheplaceisintotalchaosandIcan’thearaword.

Onlytheblastoftheanthem,crankedupsoloudIcanfeelit

vibratingthroughmybones,letsusknowwherewestandinthe

program.Iautomaticallyriseand,asIdo,IsensePeetareaching

outforme.TearsrundownhisfaceasItakehishand.Howreal

arethetears?Isthisanacknowledgmentthathehasbeenstalked

bythesamefearsthatIhave?Thateveryvictorhas?Every

parentineverydistrictinPanem?

Ilookbacktothecrowd,butthefacesofRue’smotherand

fatherswimbeforemyeyes.Theirsorrow.Theirloss.Iturn

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spontaneouslytoChaffandoffermyhand.Ifeelmyfingers

closearoundthestumpthatnowcompleteshisarmandholdfast.

Andthenithappens.Upanddowntherow,thevictorsbegin

tojoinhands.Somerightaway,likethemorphlings,orWiress

andBeetee.Othersunsurebutcaughtupinthedemandsofthose

aroundthem,likeBrutusandEnobaria.Bythetimetheanthem

playsitsfinalstrains,alltwenty-fourofusstandinoneunbroken

lineinwhatmustbethefirstpublicshowofunityamongthe

districtssincetheDarkDays.Youcanseetherealizationofthis

asthescreensbegintopopintoblackness.It’stoolate,though.

Intheconfusiontheydidn’tcutusoffintime.Everyonehas

seen.

There’sdisorderonthestagenow,too,asthelightsgoout

andwe’relefttostumblebackintotheTrainingCenter.I’velost

holdofChaff,butPeetaguidesmeintoanelevator.Finnickand

Johannatrytojoinus,butaharriedPeacekeeperblockstheir

wayandweshootupwardalone.

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Themomentwestepofftheelevator,Peetagripsmy

shoulders.“Thereisn’tmuchtime,sotellme.IsthereanythingI

havetoapologizefor?”

“Nothing,”Isay.Itwasabigleaptotakewithoutmyokay,

butI’mjustasgladIdidn’tknow,didn’thavetimetosecond-

guesshim,toletanyguiltoverGaledetractfromhowIreally

feelaboutwhatPeetadid.Whichisempowered.

Somewhere,veryfaroff,isaplacecalledDistrict12,where

mymotherandsisterandfriendswillhavetodealwiththe

falloutfromthisnight.Justabriefhovercraftrideawayisan

arenawhere,tomorrow,PeetaandIandtheothertributeswill

faceourownformofpunishment.Butevenifallofusmeet

terribleends,somethinghappenedonthatstagetonightthatcan’t

beundone.Wevictorsstagedourownuprising,andmaybe,just

maybe,theCapitolwon’tbeabletocontainthisone.

Wewaitfortheotherstoreturn,butwhentheelevatoropens,

onlyHaymitchappears.“It’smadnessoutthere.Everyone’sbeen

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senthomeandthey’vecanceledtherecapoftheinterviewson

television.”

PeetaandIhurrytothewindowandtrytomakesenseofthe

commotionfarbelowusonthestreets.“Whataretheysaying?”

Peetaasks.“AretheyaskingthepresidenttostoptheGames?”

“Idon’tthinktheyknowthemselveswhattoask.Thewhole

situationisunprecedented.Eventheideaofopposingthe

Capitol’sagendaisasourceofconfusionforthepeoplehere,”

saysHaymitch.“Butthere’snowaySnowwouldcancelthe

Games.Youknowthat,right?”

Ido.Ofcourse,hecouldneverbackdownnow.Theonly

optionlefttohimistostrikeback,andstrikebackhard.“The

otherswenthome?”Iask.

“Theywereorderedto.Idon’tknowhowmuchluckthey’re

havinggettingthroughthemob,”saysHaymitch.

“Thenwe’llneverseeEffieagain,”saysPeeta.Wedidn’tsee

heronthemorningoftheGameslastyear.“You’llgiveherour

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thanks.”

“Morethanthat.Reallymakeitspecial.It’sEffie,afterall,”

Isay.“Tellherhowappreciativeweareandhowshewasthe

bestescorteverandtellher...tellherwesendourlove.”

Forawhilewejuststandthereinsilence,delayingthe

inevitable.ThenHaymitchsaysit.“Iguessthisiswherewesay

ourgood-byesaswell.”

“Anylastwordsofadvice?”Peetaasks.

“Stayalive,”Haymitchsaysgruffly.That’salmostanold

jokewithusnow.Hegivesuseachaquickembrace,andIcan

tellit’sallhecanstand.“Gotobed.Youneedyourrest.”

IknowIshouldsayawholebunchofthingstoHaymitch,

butIcan’tthinkofanythinghedoesn’talreadyknow,really,and

mythroatissotightIdoubtanythingwouldcomeout,anyway.

So,onceagain,IletPeetaspeakforusboth.

“Youtakecare,Haymitch,”hesays.

Wecrosstheroom,butinthedoorway,Haymitch’svoice

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stopsus.“Katniss,whenyou’reinthearena,”hebegins.Thenhe

pauses.He’sscowlinginawaythatmakesmesureI’vealready

disappointedhim.

“What?”Iaskdefensively.

“Youjustrememberwhotheenemyis,”Haymitchtellsme.

“That’sall.Nowgoon.Getoutofhere.”

Wewalkdownthehallway.Peetawantstostopbyhisroom

toshoweroffthemakeupandmeetmeinafewminutes,butI

won’tlethim.I’mcertainthatifadoorshutsbetweenus,itwill

lockandI’llhavetospendthenightwithouthim.Besides,Ihave

ashowerinmyroom.Irefusetoletgoofhishand.

Dowesleep?Idon’tknow.Wespendthenightholdingeach

other,insomehalfwaylandbetweendreamsandwaking.Not

talking.Bothafraidtodisturbtheotherinthehopethatwe’llbe

abletostoreupafewpreciousminutesofrest.

CinnaandPortiaarrivewiththedawn,andIknowPeetawill

havetogo.Tributesenterthearenaalone.Hegivesmealight

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kiss.“Seeyousoon,”hesays.

“Seeyousoon,”Ianswer.

Cinna,whowillhelpdressmefortheGames,accompanies

metotheroof.I’mabouttomounttheladdertothehovercraft

whenIremember.“Ididn’tsaygood-byetoPortia.”

“I’lltellher,”saysCinna.

Theelectriccurrentfreezesmeinplaceontheladderuntil

thedoctorinjectsthetrackerintomyleftforearm.Nowtheywill

alwaysbeabletolocatemeinthearena.Thehovercrafttakes

off,andIlookoutthewindowsuntiltheyblackout.Cinnakeeps

pressingmetoeatand,whenthatfails,todrink.Imanageto

keepsippingwater,thinkingofthedaysofdehydrationthat

almostkilledmelastyear.ThinkingofhowIwillneedmy

strengthtokeepPeetaalive.

WhenwereachtheLaunchRoomatthearena,Ishower.

Cinnabraidsmyhairdownmybackandhelpsmedressover

simpleundergarments.Thisyear’stributeoutfitisafittedblue

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jumpsuit,madeofverysheermaterial,thatzippersupthefront.

Asix-inch-widepaddedbeltcoveredinshinypurpleplastic.A

pairofnylonshoeswithrubbersoles.

“Whatdoyouthink?”Iask,holdingthefabricoutforCinna

toexamine.

Hefrownsasherubsthethinstuffbetweenhisfingers.“I

don’tknow.Itwillofferlittleinthewayofprotectionfromcold

orwater.”

“Sun?”Iask,picturingaburningsunoverabarrendesert.

“Possibly.Ifit’sbeentreated,”hesays.“Oh,Ialmostforgot

this.”Hetakesmygoldmockingjaypinfromhispocketand

fixesittothejumpsuit.

“Mydresswasfantasticlastnight,”Isay.Fantasticand

reckless.ButCinnamustknowthat.

“Ithoughtyoumightlikeit,”hesayswithatightsmile.

Wesit,aswedidlastyear,holdinghandsuntilthevoicetells

metoprepareforthelaunch.Hewalksmeovertothecircular

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metalplateandzipsuptheneckofmyjumpsuitsecurely.

“Remember,girlonfire,”hesays,“I’mstillbettingonyou.”He

kissesmyforeheadandstepsbackastheglasscylinderslides

downaroundme.

“Thankyou,”Isay,althoughheprobablycan’thearme.Ilift

mychin,holdingmyheadhighthewayhealwaystellsmeto,

andwaitfortheplatetorise.Butitdoesn’t.Anditstilldoesn’t.

IlookatCinna,raisingmyeyebrowsforanexplanation.He

justgiveshisheadaslightshake,asperplexedasIam.Whyare

theydelayingthis?

Suddenlythedoorbehindhimburstsopenandthree

Peacekeepersspringintotheroom.TwopinCinna’sarmsbehind

himandcuffhimwhilethethirdhitshiminthetemplewithsuch

forcehe’sknockedtohisknees.Buttheykeephittinghimwith

metal-studdedgloves,openinggashesonhisfaceandbody.I’m

screamingmyheadoff,bangingontheunyieldingglass,trying

toreachhim.ThePeacekeepersignoremecompletelyasthey

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dragCinna’slimpbodyfromtheroom.Allthat’sleftarethe

smearsofbloodonthefloor.

Sickenedandterrified,Ifeeltheplatebegintorise.I’mstill

leaningagainsttheglasswhenthebreezecatchesmyhairandI

forcemyselftostraightenup.Justintime,too,becausetheglass

isretreatingandI’mstandingfreeinthearena.Somethingseems

tobewrongwithmyvision.Thegroundistoobrightandshiny

andkeepsundulating.Isquintdownatmyfeetandseethatmy

metalplateissurroundedbybluewavesthatlapupovermy

boots.SlowlyIraisemyeyesandtakeinthewaterspreadingout

ineverydirection.

Icanonlyformoneclearthought.

Thisisnoplaceforagirlonfire.

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“Ladiesandgentlemen,lettheSeventy-fifthHungerGames

begin!”ThevoiceofClaudiusTemplesmith,theHungerGames

announcer,hammersmyears.Ihavelessthanaminutetogetmy

bearings.Thenthegongwillsoundandthetributeswillbefree

tomoveofftheirmetalplates.Butmovewhere?

Ican’tthinkstraight.TheimageofCinna,beatenand

bloody,consumesme.Whereishenow?Whataretheydoingto

him?Torturinghim?Killinghim?TurninghimintoanAvox?

Obviouslyhisassaultwasstagedtounhingeme,thesameway

Darius’spresenceinmyquarterswas.Andithasunhingedme.

AllIwanttodoiscollapseonmymetalplate.ButIcanhardly

dothatafterwhatIjustwitnessed.Imustbestrong.Ioweitto

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Cinna,whoriskedeverythingbyunderminingPresidentSnow

andturningmybridalsilkintomockingjayplumage.AndIowe

ittotherebelswho,emboldenedbyCinna’sexample,mightbe

fightingtobringdowntheCapitolatthismoment.Myrefusalto

playtheGamesontheCapitol’stermsistobemylastactof

rebellion.SoIgritmyteethandwillmyselftobeaplayer.

Whereareyou?Icanstillmakenosenseofmy

surroundings.Whereareyou?!Idemandananswerfrommyself

andslowlytheworldcomesintofocus.Bluewater.Pinksky.

White-hotsunbeatingdown.Allright,there’stheCornucopia,

theshininggoldmetalhorn,aboutfortyyardsaway.Atfirst,it

appearstobesittingonacircularisland.Butoncloser

examination,Iseethethinstripsoflandradiatingfromthecircle

likethespokesonawheel.Ithinktherearetentotwelve,and

theyseemequidistantfromoneanother.Betweenthespokes,all

iswater.Waterandapairoftributes.

That’sit,then.Therearetwelvespokes,eachwithtwo

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tributesbalancedonmetalplatesbetweenthem.Theother

tributeinmywaterywedgeisoldWooffromDistrict8.He’s

aboutasfartomyrightasthelandstriponmyleft.Beyondthe

water,whereveryoulook,anarrowbeachandthendense

greenery.Iscanthecircleoftributes,lookingforPeeta,buthe

mustbeblockedfrommyviewbytheCornucopia.

Icatchahandfulofwaterasitwashesinandsmellit.ThenI

touchthetipofmywetfingertomytongue.AsIsuspected,it’s

saltwater.JustlikethewavesPeetaandIencounteredonour

brieftourofthebeachinDistrict4.Butatleastitseemsclean.

Therearenoboats,noropes,notevenabitofdriftwoodto

clingto.No,there’sonlyonewaytogettotheCornucopia.

Whenthegongsounds,Idon’tevenhesitatebeforeIdivetomy

left.It’salongerdistancethanI’musedto,andnavigatingthe

wavestakesalittlemoreskillthanswimmingacrossmyquiet

lakeathome,butmybodyseemsoddlylightandIcutthrough

thewatereffortlessly.Maybeit’sthesalt.Ipullmyself,

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dripping,ontothelandstripandsprintdownthesandystretch

fortheCornucopia.Icanseenooneelseconvergingfrommy

side,althoughthegoldhornblocksagoodportionofmyview.I

don’tletthethoughtofadversariesslowmedown,though.I’m

thinkinglikeaCareernow,andthefirstthingIwantistogetmy

handsonaweapon.

Lastyear,thesupplieswerespreadoutquiteadistance

aroundtheCornucopia,withthemostvaluableclosesttothe

horn.Butthisyear,thebootyseemstobepiledatthetwenty-

foot-highmouth.Myeyesinstantlyhomeinonagoldenbowjust

inarm’sreachandIyankitfree.

There’ssomeonebehindme.I’malertedby,Idon’tknow,a

softshiftofsandormaybejustachangeintheaircurrents.Ipull

anarrowfromthesheaththat’sstillwedgedinthepileandarm

mybowasIturn.

Finnick,glisteningandgorgeous,standsafewyardsaway,

withatridentpoisedtoattack.Anetdanglesfromhisother

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hand.He’ssmilingalittle,butthemusclesinhisupperbodyare

rigidinanticipation.“Youcanswim,too,”hesays.“Wheredid

youlearnthatinDistrictTwelve?”

“Wehaveabigbathtub,”Ianswer.

“Youmust,”hesays.“Youlikethearena?”

“Notparticularly.Butyoushould.Theymusthavebuiltit

especiallyforyou,”Isaywithanedgeofbitterness.Itseemslike

it,anyway,withallthewater,whenIbetonlyahandfulofthe

victorscanswim.AndtherewasnopoolintheTrainingCenter,

nochancetolearn.Eitheryoucameinhereaswimmeroryou’d

betterbeareallyfastlearner.Evenparticipationintheinitial

bloodbathdependsonbeingabletocovertwentyyardsofwater.

ThatgivesDistrict4anenormousadvantage.

Foramomentwe’refrozen,sizingeachotherup,our

weapons,ourskill.ThenFinnicksuddenlygrins.“Luckything

we’reallies.Right?”

Sensingatrap,I’mabouttoletmyarrowfly,hopingitfinds

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hisheartbeforethetridentimpalesme,whenheshiftshishand

andsomethingonhiswristcatchesthesunlight.Asolid-gold

banglepatternedwithflames.ThesameoneIrememberon

Haymitch’swristthemorningIbegantraining.Ibrieflyconsider

thatFinnickcouldhavestolenittotrickme,butsomehowI

knowthisisn’tthecase.Haymitchgaveittohim.Asasignalto

me.Anorder,really.TotrustFinnick.

Icanhearotherfootstepsapproaching.Imustdecideatonce.

“Right!”Isnap,becauseeventhoughHaymitchismymentor

andtryingtokeepmealive,thisangersme.Whydidn’thetell

mehe’dmadethisarrangementbefore?ProbablybecausePeeta

andIhadruledoutallies.NowHaymitchhaschosenoneonhis

own.

“Duck!”Finnickcommandsinsuchapowerfulvoice,so

differentfromhisusualseductivepurr,thatIdo.Histridentgoes

whizzingovermyheadandthere’sasickeningsoundofimpact

asitfindsitstarget.ThemanfromDistrict5,thedrunkwho

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threwuponthesword-fightingfloor,sinkstohiskneesas

Finnickfreesthetridentfromhischest.“Don’ttrustOneand

Two,”Finnicksays.

There’snotimetoquestionthis.Iworkthesheathofarrows

free.“Eachtakeoneside?”Isay.Henods,andIdartaroundthe

pile.Aboutfourspokesapart,EnobariaandGlossarejust

reachingland.Eitherthey’reslowswimmersortheythoughtthe

watermightbelacedwithotherdangers,whichitmightwellbe.

Sometimesit’snotgoodtoconsidertoomanyscenarios.But

nowthatthey’reonthesand,they’llbehereinamatterof

seconds.

“Anythinguseful?”IhearFinnickshout.

Iquicklyscanthepileonmysideandfindmaces,swords,

bowsandarrows,tridents,knives,spears,axes,metallicobjectsI

havenonamefor...andnothingelse.

“Weapons!”Icallback.“Nothingbutweapons!”

“Samehere,”heconfirms.“Grabwhatyouwantandlet’s

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go!”

IshootanarrowatEnobaria,who’sgottenintooclosefor

comfort,butshe’sexpectingitanddivesbackintothewater

beforeitcanfinditsmark.Glossisn’tquiteasswift,andIsink

anarrowintohiscalfasheplungesintothewaves.Islingan

extrabowandasecondsheathofarrowsovermybody,slidetwo

longknivesandanawlintomybelt,andmeetupwithFinnickat

thefrontofthepile.

“Dosomethingaboutthat,wouldyou?”hesays.IseeBrutus

barrelingtowardus.Hisbeltisundoneandhehasitstretched

betweenhishandsasakindofshield.Ishootathimandhe

managestoblockthearrowwithhisbeltbeforeitcanskewerhis

liver.Whereitpuncturesthebelt,apurpleliquidspewsforth,

coatinghisface.AsIreload,Brutusflattensontheground,rolls

thefewfeettothewater,andsubmerges.There’saclangof

metalfallingbehindme.“Let’sclearout,”IsaytoFinnick.

ThislastaltercationhasgivenEnobariaandGlosstimeto

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reachtheCornucopia.Brutusiswithinshootingdistanceand

somewhere,certainly,Cashmereisnearby,too.Thesefour

classicCareerswillnodoubthaveaprioralliance.IfIhadonly

myownsafetytoconsider,Imightbewillingtotakethemon

withFinnickbymyside.Butit’sPeetaI’mthinkingabout.Ispot

himnow,stillstrandedonhismetalplate.ItakeoffandFinnick

followswithoutquestion,asifknowingthiswillbemynext

move.WhenI’mascloseasIcanget,Istartremovingknives

frommybelt,preparingtoswimouttoreachhimandsomehow

bringhimin.

Finnickdropsahandonmyshoulder.“I’llgethim.”

Suspicionflickersupinsideme.Couldthisalljustbearuse?

ForFinnicktowinmytrustandthenswimoutanddrownPeeta?

“Ican,”Iinsist.

ButFinnickhasdroppedallhisweaponstotheground.

“Betternotexertyourself.Notinyourcondition,”hesays,and

reachesdownandpatsmyabdomen.

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Oh,right.I’msupposedtobepregnant,Ithink.WhileI’m

tryingtothinkwhatthatmeansandhowIshouldact—maybe

throwuporsomething—Finnickhaspositionedhimselfatthe

edgeofthewater.

“Coverme,”hesays.Hedisappearswithaflawlessdive.

Iraisemybow,wardingoffanyattackersfromthe

Cornucopia,butnooneseemsinterestedinpursuingus.Sure

enough,Gloss,Cashmere,Enobaria,andBrutushavegathered,

theirpackformedalready,pickingovertheweapons.Aquick

surveyoftherestofthearenashowsthatmostofthetributesare

stilltrappedontheirplates.Wait,no,there’ssomeonestanding

onthespoketomyleft,theoneoppositePeeta.It’sMags.But

sheneitherheadsfortheCornucopianortriestoflee.Insteadshe

splashesintothewaterandstartspaddlingtowardme,hergray

headbobbingabovethewaves.Well,she’sold,butIguessafter

eightyyearsoflivinginDistrict4shecankeepafloat.

FinnickhasreachedPeetanowandistowinghimback,one

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armacrosshischestwhiletheotherpropelsthemthroughthe

waterwitheasystrokes.Peetaridesalongwithoutresisting.I

don’tknowwhatFinnicksaidordidthatconvincedhimtoput

hislifeinhishands—showedhimthebangle,maybe.Orjust

thesightofmewaitingmighthavebeenenough.Whenthey

reachthesand,IhelphaulPeetaupontodryland.

“Hello,again,”hesays,andgivesmeakiss.“We’vegot

allies.”

“Yes.JustasHaymitchintended,”Ianswer.

“Remindme,didwemakedealswithanyoneelse?”Peeta

asks.

“OnlyMags,Ithink,”Isay.Inodtowardtheoldwoman

doggedlymakingherwaytowardus.

“Well,Ican’tleaveMagsbehind,”saysFinnick.“She’sone

ofthefewpeoplewhoactuallylikesme.”

“I’vegotnoproblemwithMags,”Isay.“Especiallynowthat

Iseethearena.Herfishhooksareprobablyourbestchanceof

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gettingameal.”

“Katnisswantedheronthefirstday,”saysPeeta.

“Katnisshasremarkablygoodjudgment,”saysFinnick.With

onehandhereachesintothewaterandscoopsoutMagslikeshe

weighsnomorethanapuppy.ShemakessomeremarkthatI

thinkincludestheword“bob,”thenpatsherbelt.

“Look,she’sright.Someonefigureditout.”Finnickpoints

toBeetee.He’sflailingaroundinthewavesbutmanagingto

keephisheadabovewater.

“What?”Isay.

“Thebelts.They’reflotationdevices,”saysFinnick.“I

mean,youhavetopropelyourself,butthey’llkeepyoufrom

drowning.”

IalmostaskFinnicktowait,togetBeeteeandWiressand

takethemwithus,butBeetee’sthreespokesoverandIcan’t

evenseeWiress.ForallIknow,Finnickwouldkillthemas

quicklyashedidthetributefrom5,soinsteadIsuggestwe

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moveon.IhandPeetaabow,asheathofarrows,andaknife,

keepingtherestformyself.ButMagstugsonmysleeveand

babblesonuntilI’vegiventheawltoher.Pleased,sheclamps

thehandlebetweenhergumsandreachesherarmsuptoFinnick.

Hetosseshisnetoverhisshoulder,hoistsMagsontopofit,

gripshistridentsinhisfreehand,andwerunawayfromthe

Cornucopia.

Wherethesandends,woodsbegintorisesharply.No,not

reallywoods.AtleastnotthekindIknow.Jungle.Theforeign,

almostobsoletewordcomestomind.SomethingIheardfrom

anotherHungerGamesorlearnedfrommyfather.Mostofthe

treesareunfamiliar,withsmoothtrunksandfewbranches.The

earthisveryblackandspongyunderfoot,oftenobscuredby

tanglesofvineswithcolorfulblossoms.Whilethesun’shotand

bright,theair’swarmandheavywithmoisture,andIgetthe

feelingIwillneverreallybedryhere.Thethinbluefabricofmy

jumpsuitletstheseawaterevaporateeasily,butit’salready

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beguntoclingtomewithsweat.

Peetatakesthelead,cuttingthroughthepatchesofdense

vegetationwithhislongknife.ImakeFinnickgosecondbecause

eventhoughhe’sthemostpowerful,he’sgothishandsfullwith

Mags.Besides,whilehe’sawhizwiththattrident,it’saweapon

lesssuitedtothejunglethanmyarrows.Itdoesn’ttakelong,

betweenthesteepinclineandtheheat,tobecomeshortofbreath.

PeetaandIhavebeentrainingintensely,though,andFinnick’s

suchanamazingphysicalspecimenthatevenwithMagsoverhis

shoulder,weclimbrapidlyforaboutamilebeforeherequestsa

rest.AndthenIthinkit’smoreforMags’ssakethanhisown.

Thefoliagehashiddenthewheelfromsight,soIscaleatree

withrubberylimbstogetabetterview.AndthenwishthatI

hadn’t.

AroundtheCornucopia,thegroundappearstobebleeding;

thewaterhaspurplestains.Bodieslieonthegroundandfloatin

thesea,butatthisdistance,witheveryonedressedexactlythe

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same,Ican’ttellwholivesordies.AllIcantellisthatsomeof

thetinybluefiguresstillbattle.Well,whatdidIthink?Thatthe

victors’chainoflockedhandslastnightwouldresultinsome

sortofuniversaltruceinthearena?No,Ineverbelievedthat.

ButIguessIhadhopedpeoplemightshowsome...what?

Restraint?Reluctance,atleast.Beforetheyjumpedrightinto

massacremode.Andyouallkneweachother,Ithink.Youacted

likefriends.

Ihaveonlyonerealfriendinhere.Andheisn’tfromDistrict

Ilettheslight,soupybreezecoolmycheekswhileIcometo

adecision.Despitethebangle,Ishouldjustgetitoverwithand

shootFinnick.There’sreallynofutureinthisalliance.Andhe’s

toodangeroustoletgo.Now,whenwehavethistentativetrust,

maybemyonlychancetokillhim.Icouldeasilyshoothimin

thebackaswewalk.It’sdespicable,ofcourse,butwillitbeany

moredespicableifIwait?Knowhimbetter?Owehimmore?No,

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thisisthetime.Itakeonelastlookatthebattlingfigures,the

bloodyground,tohardenmyresolve,andthenslidetothe

ground.

ButwhenIland,IfindFinnick’skeptpacewithmy

thoughts.AsifheknowswhatIhaveseenandhowitwillhave

affectedme.Hehasoneofhistridentsraisedinacasually

defensiveposition.

“What’sgoingondownthere,Katniss?Havetheyalljoined

hands?Takenavowofnonviolence?Tossedtheweaponsinthe

seaindefianceoftheCapitol?”Finnickasks.

“No,”Isay.

“No,”Finnickrepeats.“Becausewhateverhappenedinthe

pastisinthepast.Andnooneinthisarenawasavictorby

chance.”HeeyesPeetaforamoment.“ExceptmaybePeeta.”

FinnickknowsthenwhatHaymitchandIknow.AboutPeeta.

Beingtruly,deep-downbetterthantherestofus.Finnicktook

outthattributefrom5withoutblinkinganeye.Andhowlong

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didItaketoturndeadly?IshottokillwhenItargetedEnobaria

andGlossandBrutus.Peetawouldatleasthaveattempted

negotiationsfirst.Seenifsomewideralliancewaspossible.But

towhatend?Finnick’sright.I’mright.Thepeopleinthisarena

weren’tcrownedfortheircompassion.

Iholdhisgaze,weighinghisspeedagainstmyown.The

timeitwilltaketosendanarrowthroughhisbrainversusthe

timehistridentwillreachmybody.Icanseehim,waitingfor

metomakethefirstmove.Calculatingifheshouldblockfirstor

godirectlyforanattack.Icanfeelwe’vebothaboutworkedit

outwhenPeetastepsdeliberatelybetweenus.

“Sohowmanyaredead?”heasks.

Move,youidiot,Ithink.Butheremainsplantedfirmly

betweenus.

“Hardtosay,”Ianswer.“Atleastsix,Ithink.Andthey’re

stillfighting.”

“Let’skeepmoving.Weneedwater,”hesays.

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Sofarthere’sbeennosignofafreshwaterstreamorpond,

andthesaltwater’sundrinkable.Again,IthinkofthelastGames,

whereInearlydiedofdehydration.

“Betterfindsomesoon,”saysFinnick.“Weneedtobe

undercoverwhentheotherscomehuntingustonight.”

We.Us.Hunting.Allright,maybekillingFinnickwouldbea

littlepremature.He’sbeenhelpfulsofar.Hedoeshave

Haymitch’sstampofapproval.Andwhoknowswhatthenight

willhold?Ifworsecomestoworst,Icanalwayskillhiminhis

sleep.SoIletthemomentpass.AndsodoesFinnick.

Theabsenceofwaterintensifiesmythirst.Ikeepasharpeye

outaswecontinueourtrekupward,butwithnoluck.Afterabout

anothermile,Icanseeanendtothetreelineandassumewe’re

reachingthecrestofthehill.“Maybewe’llhavebetterluckon

theotherside.Findaspringorsomething.”

Butthereisnootherside.Iknowthisbeforeanyoneelse,

eventhoughIamfarthestfromthetop.Myeyescatchona

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funny,ripplingsquarehanginglikeawarpedpaneofglassinthe

air.AtfirstIthinkit’stheglarefromthesunortheheat

shimmeringupofftheground.Butit’sfixedinspace,not

shiftingwhenImove.Andthat’swhenIconnectthesquarewith

WiressandBeeteeintheTrainingCenterandrealizewhatlies

beforeus.MywarningcryisjustreachingmylipswhenPeeta’s

knifeswingsouttoslashawaysomevines.

There’sasharpzappingsound.Foraninstant,thetreesare

goneandIseeopenspaceoverashortstretchofbareearth.Then

Peeta’sflungbackfromtheforcefield,bringingFinnickand

Magstotheground.

Irushovertowherehelies,motionlessinawebofvines.

“Peeta?”There’safaintsmellofsingedhair.Icallhisname

again,givinghimalittleshake,buthe’sunresponsive.My

fingersfumbleacrosshislips,wherethere’snowarmbreath

althoughmomentsagohewaspanting.Ipressmyearagainsthis

chest,tothespotwhereIalwaysrestmyhead,whereIknowI

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willhearthestrongandsteadybeatofhisheart.

Instead,Ifindsilence.

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“Peeta!”Iscream.Ishakehimharder,evenresortto

slappinghisface,butit’snouse.Hishearthasfailed.Iam

slappingemptiness.“Peeta!”

FinnickpropsMagsagainstatreeandpushesmeoutofthe

way.“Letme.”HisfingerstouchpointsatPeeta’sneck,runover

thebonesinhisribsandspine.ThenhepinchesPeeta’snostrils

shut.

“No!”Iyell,hurlingmyselfatFinnick,forsurelyheintends

tomakecertainthatPeeta’sdead,tokeepanyhopeoflifefrom

returningtohim.Finnick’shandcomesupandhitsmesohard,

sosquarelyinthechestthatIgoflyingbackintoanearbytree

trunk.I’mstunnedforamoment,bythepain,bytryingtoregain

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mywind,asIseeFinnickcloseoffPeeta’snoseagain.From

whereIsit,Ipullanarrow,whipthenotchintoplace,andam

abouttoletitflywhenI’mstoppedbythesightofFinnick

kissingPeeta.Andit’ssobizarre,evenforFinnick,thatIstay

myhand.No,he’snotkissinghim.He’sgotPeeta’snose

blockedoffbuthismouthtiltedopen,andhe’sblowingairinto

hislungs.Icanseethis,IcanactuallyseePeeta’schestrising

andfalling.ThenFinnickunzipsthetopofPeeta’sjumpsuitand

beginstopumpthespotoverhisheartwiththeheelsofhis

hands.NowthatI’vegottenthroughmyshock,Iunderstandwhat

he’stryingtodo.

Onceinabluemoon,I’veseenmymothertrysomething

similar,butnotoften.IfyourheartfailsinDistrict12,it’s

unlikelyyourfamilycouldgetyoutomymotherintime,

anyway.Soherusualpatientsareburnedorwoundedorill.Or

starving,ofcourse.

ButFinnick’sworldisdifferent.Whateverhe’sdoing,he’s

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doneitbefore.There’saverysetrhythmandmethod.AndIfind

thearrowtipsinkingtothegroundasIleanintowatch,

desperately,forsomesignofsuccess.Agonizingminutesdrag

pastasmyhopesdiminish.AroundthetimethatI’mdeciding

it’stoolate,thatPeeta’sdead,movedon,unreachableforever,he

givesasmallcoughandFinnicksitsback.

IleavemyweaponsinthedirtasIflingmyselfathim.

“Peeta?”Isaysoftly.Ibrushthedampblondstrandsofhairback

fromhisforehead,findthepulsedrummingagainstmyfingersat

hisneck.

Hislashesflutteropenandhiseyesmeetmine.“Careful,”he

saysweakly.“There’saforcefieldupahead.”

Ilaugh,buttherearetearsrunningdownmycheeks.

“MustbealotstrongerthantheoneontheTrainingCenter

roof,”hesays.“I’mallright,though.Justalittleshaken.”

“Youweredead!Yourheartstopped!”Iburstout,before

reallyconsideringifthisisagoodidea.Iclapmyhandovermy

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mouthbecauseI’mstartingtomakethoseawfulchokingsounds

thathappenwhenIsob.

“Well,itseemstobeworkingnow,”hesays.“It’sallright,

Katniss.”Inodmyheadbutthesoundsaren’tstopping.

“Katniss?”NowPeeta’sworriedaboutme,whichaddstothe

insanityofitall.

“It’sokay.It’sjustherhormones,”saysFinnick.“Fromthe

baby.”Ilookupandseehim,sittingbackonhiskneesbutstill

pantingabitfromtheclimbandtheheatandtheeffortof

bringingPeetabackfromthedead.

“No.It’snot—”Igetout,butI’mcutoffbyanevenmore

hystericalroundofsobbingthatseemsonlytoconfirmwhat

Finnicksaidaboutthebaby.HemeetsmyeyesandIglareathim

throughmytears.It’sstupid,Iknow,thathiseffortsmakemeso

vexed.AllIwantedwastokeepPeetaalive,andIcouldn’tand

Finnickcould,andIshouldbenothingbutgrateful.AndIam.

ButIamalsofuriousbecauseitmeansthatIwillneverstop

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owingFinnickOdair.Ever.SohowcanIkillhiminhissleep?

Iexpecttoseeasmugorsarcasticexpressiononhisface,but

hislookisstrangelyquizzical.HeglancesbetweenPeetaandme,

asiftryingtofiguresomethingout,thengiveshisheadaslight

shakeasiftoclearit.“Howareyou?”heasksPeeta.“Doyou

thinkyoucanmoveon?”

“No,hehastorest,”Isay.Mynoseisrunninglikecrazyand

Idon’tevenhaveashredoffabrictouseasahandkerchief.

Magsripsoffahandfulofhangingmossfromatreelimband

givesittome.I’mtoomuchofamesstoevenquestionit.Iblow

mynoseloudlyandmopthetearsoffmyface.It’snice,the

moss.Absorbentandsurprisinglysoft.

InoticeagleamofgoldonPeeta’schest.Ireachoutand

retrievethediskthathangsfromachainaroundhisneck.My

mockingjayhasbeenengravedonit.“Isthisyourtoken?”Iask.

“Yes.DoyoumindthatIusedyourmockingjay?Iwantedus

tomatch,”hesays.

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“No,ofcourseIdon’tmind.”Iforceasmile.Peetashowing

upinthearenawearingamockingjayisbothablessinganda

curse.Ontheonehand,itshouldgiveaboosttotherebelsinthe

district.Ontheother,it’shardtoimaginePresidentSnowwill

overlookit,andthatmakesthejobofkeepingPeetaaliveharder.

“Soyouwanttomakecamphere,then?”Finnickasks.

“Idon’tthinkthat’sanoption,”Peetaanswers.“Staying

here.Withnowater.Noprotection.Ifeelallright,really.Ifwe

couldjustgoslowly.”

“Slowlywouldbebetterthannotatall.”FinnickhelpsPeeta

tohisfeetwhileIpullmyselftogether.SinceIgotupthis

morningI’vewatchedCinnabeatentoapulp,landedinanother

arena,andseenPeetadie.Still,I’mgladFinnickkeepsplaying

thepregnancycardforme,becausefromasponsor’spointof

view,I’mnothandlingthingsallthatwell.

Icheckovermyweapons,whichIknowareinperfect

condition,becauseitmakesmeseemmoreincontrol.“I’lltake

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thelead,”Iannounce.

PeetastartstoobjectbutFinnickcutshimoff.“No,lether

doit.”Hefrownsatme.“Youknewthatforcefieldwasthere,

didn’tyou?Rightatthelastsecond?Youstartedtogivea

warning.”Inod.“Howdidyouknow?”

Ihesitate.TorevealthatIknowBeeteeandWiress’strickof

recognizingaforcefieldcouldbedangerous.Idon’tknowifthe

Gamemakersmadenoteofthatmomentduringtrainingwhenthe

twopointeditouttomeornot.Onewayortheother,Ihavea

veryvaluablepieceofinformation.AndiftheyknowIhaveit,

theymightdosomethingtoaltertheforcefieldsoIcan’tseethe

aberrationanymore.SoIlie.“Idon’tknow.It’salmostasifI

couldhearit.Listen.”Weallbecomestill.There’sthesoundof

insects,birds,thebreezeinthefoliage.

“Idon’thearanything,”saysPeeta.

“Yes,”Iinsist,“it’slikewhenthefencearoundDistrict

Twelveison,onlymuch,muchquieter.”Everyonelistensagain

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intently.Ido,too,althoughthere’snothingtohear.“There!”I

say.“Can’tyouhearit?It’scomingfromrightwherePeetagot

shocked.”

“Idon’thearit,either,”saysFinnick.“Butifyoudo,byall

means,takethelead.”

Idecidetoplaythisforallit’sworth.“That’sweird,”Isay.I

turnmyheadfromsidetosideasifpuzzled.“Icanonlyhearit

outofmyleftear.”

“Theonethedoctorsreconstructed?”asksPeeta.

“Yeah,”Isay,thengiveashrug.“Maybetheydidabetter

jobthantheythought.Youknow,sometimesIdohearfunny

thingsonthatside.Thingsyouwouldn’tordinarilythinkhavea

sound.Likeinsectwings.Orsnowhittingtheground.”Perfect.

Nowalltheattentionwillturntothesurgeonswhofixedmydeaf

earaftertheGameslastyear,andthey’llhavetoexplainwhyI

canhearlikeabat.

“You,”saysMags,nudgingmeforward,soItakethelead.

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Sincewe’retobemovingslowly,Magspreferstowalkwiththe

aidofabranchFinnickquicklyfashionsintoacaneforher.He

makesastaffforPeetaaswell,whichisgoodbecause,despite

hisprotestations,IthinkallPeetareallywantstodoisliedown.

Finnickbringsuptherear,soatleastsomeonealerthasour

backs.

Iwalkwiththeforcefieldonmyleft,becausethat’s

supposedtobethesidewithmysuperhumanear.Butsincethat’s

allmadeup,Icutdownabunchofhardnutsthathanglike

grapesfromanearbytreeandtossthemaheadofmeasIgo.It’s

goodIdo,too,becauseIhaveafeelingI’mmissingthepatches

thatindicatetheforcefieldmoreoftenthanI’mspottingthem.

Wheneveranuthitstheforcefield,there’sapuffofsmoke

beforethenutlands,blackenedandwithacrackedshell,onthe

groundatmyfeet.

AfterafewminutesIbecomeawareofasmackingsound

behindmeandturntoseeMagspeelingtheshelloffoneofthe

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nutsandpoppingitinheralready-fullmouth.“Mags!”Icry.

“Spitthatout.Itcouldbepoisonous.”

Shemumblessomethingandignoresme,lickingherlips

withapparentrelish.IlooktoFinnickforhelpbuthejustlaughs.

“Iguesswe’llfindout,”hesays.

Igoforward,wonderingaboutFinnick,whosavedoldMags

butwilllethereatstrangenuts.WhoHaymitchhasstampedwith

hissealofapproval.WhobroughtPeetabackfromthedead.

Whydidn’thejustlethimdie?Hewouldhavebeenblameless.I

neverwouldhaveguesseditwasinhispowertorevivehim.

WhycouldhepossiblyhavewantedtosavePeeta?Andwhywas

hesodeterminedtoteamupwithme?Willingtokillme,too,if

itcomestothat.Butleavingthechoiceofifwefighttome.

Ikeepwalking,tossingmynuts,sometimescatchinga

glimpseoftheforcefield,tryingtopresstothelefttofindaspot

wherewecanbreakthrough,getawayfromtheCornucopia,and

hopefullyfindwater.ButafteranotherhourorsoofthisIrealize

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it’sfutile.We’renotmakinganyprogresstotheleft.Infact,the

forcefieldseemstobeherdingusalongacurvedpath.Istopand

lookbackatMags’slimpingform,thesheenofsweatonPeeta’s

face.“Let’stakeabreak,”Isay.“Ineedtogetanotherlookfrom

above.”

ThetreeIchooseseemstojuthigherintotheairthanthe

others.Imakemywayupthetwistingboughs,stayingasclose

tothetrunkaspossible.Notellinghoweasilytheserubbery

brancheswillsnap.StillIclimbbeyondgoodsensebecause

there’ssomethingIhavetosee.AsIclingtoastretchoftrunk

nowiderthanasapling,swayingbackandforthinthehumid

breeze,mysuspicionsareconfirmed.There’sareasonwecan’t

turntotheleft,willneverbeableto.Fromthisprecarious

vantagepoint,Icanseetheshapeofthewholearenaforthefirst

time.Aperfectcircle.Withaperfectwheelinthemiddle.The

skyabovethecircumferenceofthejungleistingedauniform

pink.AndIthinkIcanmakeoutoneortwoofthosewavy

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squares,chinksinthearmor,WiressandBeeteecalledthem,

becausetheyrevealwhatwasmeanttobehiddenandare

thereforeaweakness.Justtomakeabsolutelysure,Ishootan

arrowintotheemptyspaceabovethetreeline.There’saspurtof

light,aflashofrealbluesky,andthearrow’sthrownbackinto

thejungle.Iclimbdowntogivetheothersthebadnews.

“Theforcefieldhasustrappedinacircle.Adome,really.I

don’tknowhowhighitgoes.There’stheCornucopia,thesea,

andthenthejungleallaround.Veryexact.Verysymmetrical.

Andnotverylarge,”Isay.

“Didyouseeanywater?”asksFinnick.

“OnlythesaltwaterwherewestartedtheGames,”Isay.

“Theremustbesomeothersource,”saysPeeta,frowning.

“Orwe’llallbedeadinamatterofdays.”

“Well,thefoliageisthick.Maybetherearepondsorsprings

somewhere,”Isaydoubtfully.IinstinctivelyfeeltheCapitol

mightwanttheseunpopularGamesoverassoonaspossible.

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PlutarchHeavensbeemighthavealreadybeengivenordersto

knockusoff.“Atanyrate,there’snopointintryingtofindout

what’sovertheedgeofthishill,becausetheanswerisnothing.”

“Theremustbedrinkablewaterbetweentheforcefieldand

thewheel,”Peetainsists.Weallknowwhatthismeans.Heading

backdown.HeadingbacktotheCareersandthebloodshed.With

MagshardlyabletowalkandPeetatooweaktofight.

Wedecidetomovedowntheslopeafewhundredyardsand

continuecircling.Seeifmaybethere’ssomewateratthatlevel.I

stayinthelead,occasionallychuckinganuttomyleft,butwe’re

welloutofrangeoftheforcefieldnow.Thesunbeatsdownon

us,turningtheairtosteam,playingtricksonoureyes.By

midafternoon,it’sclearPeetaandMagscan’tgoon.

Finnickchoosesacampsiteabouttenyardsbelowtheforce

field,sayingwecanuseitasaweaponbydeflectingourenemies

intoitifattacked.ThenheandMagspullbladesofthesharp

grassthatgrowsinfive-foot-hightuftsandbegintoweavethem

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togetherintomats.SinceMagsseemstohavenoilleffectsfrom

thenuts,Peetacollectsbunchesofthemandfriesthemby

bouncingthemofftheforcefield.Hemethodicallypeelsoffthe

shells,pilingthemeatsonaleaf.Istandguard,fidgetyandhot

andrawwiththeemotionsoftheday.

Thirsty.Iamsothirsty.FinallyIcan’tstanditanymore.

“Finnick,whydon’tyoustandguardandI’llhuntaroundsome

moreforwater,”Isay.Noone’sthrilledwiththeideaofme

goingoffalone,butthethreatofdehydrationhangsoverus.

“Don’tworry,Iwon’tgofar,”IpromisePeeta.

“I’llgo,too,”hesays.

“No,I’mgoingtodosomehuntingifIcan,”Itellhim.I

don’tadd,“Andyoucan’tcomebecauseyou’retooloud.”But

it’simplied.Hewouldbothscareoffpreyandendangermewith

hisheavytread.“Iwon’tbelong.”

Imovestealthilythroughthetrees,happytofindthatthe

groundlendsitselftosoundlessfootsteps.Iworkmywaydown

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atadiagonal,butIfindnothingexceptmorelush,greenplant

life.

Thesoundofthecannonbringsmetoahalt.Theinitial

bloodbathattheCornucopiamustbeover.Thedeathtollofthe

tributesisnowavailable.Icounttheshots,eachrepresentingone

deadvictor.Eight.Notasmanyaslastyear.Butitseemslike

moresinceIknowmostoftheirnames.

Suddenlyweak,Ileanagainstatreetorest,feelingtheheat

drawthemoisturefrommybodylikeasponge.Already,

swallowingisdifficultandfatigueiscreepinguponme.Itry

rubbingmyhandacrossmybelly,hopingsomesympathetic

pregnantwomanwillbecomemysponsorandHaymitchcan

sendinsomewater.Noluck.Isinktotheground.

Inmystillness,Ibegintonoticetheanimals:strangebirds

withbrilliantplumage,treelizardswithflickeringbluetongues,

andsomethingthatlookslikeacrossbetweenaratandapossum

clingingonthebranchesclosetothetrunk.Ishootoneofthe

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latteroutofatreetogetacloserlook.

It’sugly,allright,abigrodentwithafuzzofmottledgray

furandtwowicked-lookinggnawingteethprotrudingoverits

lowerlip.AsI’mguttingandskinningit,Inoticesomething

else.Itsmuzzleiswet.Likeananimalthat’sbeendrinkingfrom

astream.Excited,Istartatitshometreeandmoveslowlyoutin

aspiral.Itcan’tbefar,thecreature’swatersource.

Nothing.Ifindnothing.Notsomuchasadewdrop.

Eventually,becauseIknowPeetawillbeworriedaboutme,I

headbacktothecamp,hotterandmorefrustratedthanever.

WhenIarrive,Iseetheothershavetransformedtheplace.

MagsandFinnickhavecreatedahutofsortsoutofthegrass

mats,openononesidebutwiththreewalls,afloor,andaroof.

MagshasalsoplaitedseveralbowlsthatPeetahasfilledwith

roastednuts.Theirfacesturntomehopefully,butIgivemy

headashake.“No.Nowater.It’soutthere,though.Heknew

whereitwas,”Isay,hoistingtheskinnedrodentupforalltosee.

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“He’dbeendrinkingrecentlywhenIshothimoutofatree,butI

couldn’tfindhissource.Iswear,Icoveredeveryinchofground

inathirty-yardradius.”

“Canweeathim?”Peetaasks.

“Idon’tknowforsure.Buthismeatdoesn’tlookthat

differentfromasquirrel’s.Heoughttobecooked....”Ihesitate

asIthinkoftryingtostartafireoutherefromcompletescratch.

EvenifIsucceed,there’sthesmoketothinkabout.We’reallso

closetogetherinthisarena,there’snochanceofhidingit.

Peetahasanotheridea.Hetakesacubeofrodentmeat,

skewersitonthetipofapointedstick,andletsitfallintothe

forcefield.There’sasharpsizzleandthestickfliesback.The

chunkofmeatisblackenedontheoutsidebutwellcooked

inside.Wegivehimaroundofapplause,thenquicklystop,

rememberingwhereweare.

Thewhitesunsinksintherosyskyaswegatherinthehut.

I’mstillleeryaboutthenuts,butFinnicksaysMagsrecognized

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themfromanotherGames.Ididn’tbotherspendingtimeatthe

edible-plantsstationintrainingbecauseitwassoeffortlessfor

melastyear.NowIwishIhad.Forsurelytherewouldhavebeen

someoftheunfamiliarplantssurroundingme.AndImighthave

guessedabitmoreaboutwhereIwasheaded.Magsseemsfine,

though,andshe’sbeeneatingthenutsforhours.SoIpickoneup

andtakeasmallbite.Ithasamild,slightlysweetflavorthat

remindsmeofachestnut.Idecideit’sallright.Therodent’s

strongandgameybutsurprisinglyjuicy.Really,it’snotabad

mealforourfirstnightinthearena.Ifonlywehadsomethingto

washitdownwith.

Finnickasksalotofquestionsabouttherodent,whichwe

decidetocallatreerat.Howhighwasit,howlongdidIwatchit

beforeIshot,andwhatwasitdoing?Idon’trememberitdoing

muchofanything.Snufflingaroundforinsectsorsomething.

I’mdreadingthenight.Atleastthetightlywovengrass

offerssomeprotectionfromwhateverslinksacrossthejungle

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floorafterhours.Butashorttimebeforethesunslipsbelowthe

horizon,apalewhitemoonrises,makingthingsjustvisible

enough.Ourconversationtrailsoffbecauseweknowwhat’s

coming.Wepositionourselvesinalineatthemouthofthehut

andPeetaslipshishandintomine.

TheskybrightenswhenthesealoftheCapitolappearsasif

floatinginspace.AsIlistentothestrainsoftheanthemIthink,

ItwillbeharderforFinnickandMags.Butitturnsouttobe

plentyhardformeaswell.Seeingthefacesoftheeightdead

victorsprojectedintothesky.

ThemanfromDistrict5,theoneFinnicktookoutwithhis

trident,isthefirsttoappear.Thatmeansthatallthetributesin1

through4arealive—thefourCareers,BeeteeandWiress,and,

ofcourse,MagsandFinnick.ThemanfromDistrict5is

followedbythemalemorphlingfrom6,CeceliaandWooffrom

8,bothfrom9,thewomanfrom10,andSeederfrom11.The

Capitolsealisbackwithafinalbitofmusicandthenthesky

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goesdarkexceptforthemoon.

Noonespeaks.Ican’tpretendIknewanyofthemwell.But

I’mthinkingofthosethreekidshangingontoCeceliawhenthey

tookheraway.Seeder’skindnesstomeatourmeeting.Eventhe

thoughtoftheglazed-eyedmorphlingpaintingmycheekswith

yellowflowersgivesmeapang.Alldead.Allgone.

Idon’tknowhowlongwemighthavesathereifitweren’t

forthearrivalofthesilverparachute,whichglidesdownthrough

thefoliagetolandbeforeus.Noonereachesforit.

“Whoseisit,doyouthink?”Isayfinally.

“Notelling,”saysFinnick.“Whydon’tweletPeetaclaimit,

sincehediedtoday?”

Peetauntiesthecordandflattensoutthecircleofsilk.On

theparachutesitsasmallmetalobjectthatIcan’tplace.“What

isit?”Iask.Nooneknows.Wepassitfromhandtohand,taking

turnsexaminingit.It’sahollowmetaltube,taperedslightlyat

oneend.Ontheotherendasmalllipcurvesdownward.It’s

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vaguelyfamiliar.Apartthatcouldhavefallenoffabicycle,a

curtainrod,anything,really.

Peetablowsononeendtoseeifitmakesasound.Itdoesn’t.

Finnickslideshispinkieintoit,testingitoutasaweapon.

Useless.

“Canyoufishwithit,Mags?”Iask.Mags,whocanfishwith

almostanything,shakesherheadandgrunts.

Itakeitandrollitbackandforthonmypalm.Sincewe’re

allies,HaymitchwillbeworkingwiththeDistrict4mentors.He

hadahandinchoosingthisgift.Thatmeansit’svaluable.

Lifesaving,even.Ithinkbacktolastyear,whenIwantedwater

sobadly,buthewouldn’tsenditbecauseheknewIcouldfindit

ifItried.Haymitch’sgifts,orlackthereof,carryweighty

messages.Icanalmosthearhimgrowlingatme,Useyourbrain

ifyouhaveone.Whatisit?

Iwipethesweatfrommyeyesandholdthegiftoutinthe

moonlight.Imoveitthiswayandthat,viewingitfromdifferent

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angles,coveringportionsandthenrevealingthem.Tryingto

makeitdivulgeitspurposetome.Finally,infrustration,Ijam

oneendintothedirt.“Igiveup.Maybeifwehookupwith

BeeteeorWiresstheycanfigureitout.”

Istretchout,pressingmyhotcheekonthegrassmat,staring

atthethinginaggravation.Peetarubsatensespotbetweenmy

shouldersandIletmyselfrelaxalittle.Iwonderwhythisplace

hasn’tcooledoffatallnowthatthesun’sgonedown.Iwonder

what’sgoingonbackhome.

Prim.Mymother.Gale.Madge.Ithinkofthemwatchingme

fromhome.AtleastIhopethey’reathome.Nottakeninto

custodybyThread.BeingpunishedasCinnais.AsDariusis.

Punishedbecauseofme.Everybody.

Ibegintoacheforthem,formydistrict,formywoods.A

decentwoodswithsturdyhardwoodtrees,plentifulfood,game

thatisn’tcreepy.Rushingstreams.Coolbreezes.No,coldwinds

toblowthisstiflingheataway.Iconjureupsuchawindinmy

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mind,lettingitfreezemycheeksandnumbmyfingers,andallat

once,thepieceofmetalhalfburiedintheblackearthhasa

name.

“Aspile!”Iexclaim,sittingboltupright.

“What?”asksFinnick.

Iwrestlethethingfromthegroundandbrushitclean.Cup

myhandaroundthetaperedend,concealingit,andlookatthe

lip.Yes,I’veseenoneofthesebefore.Onacold,windydaylong

ago,whenIwasoutinthewoodswithmyfather.Insertedsnugly

intoaholedrilledinthesideofamaple.Apathwayforthesap

tofollowasitflowedintoourbucket.Maplesyrupcouldmake

evenourdullbreadatreat.Aftermyfatherdied,Ididn’tknow

whathappenedtothehandfulofspileshehad.Hiddenoutinthe

woodssomewhere,probably.Nevertobefound.

“It’saspile.Sortoflikeafaucet.Youputitinatreeandsap

comesout.”Ilookatthesinewygreentrunksaroundme.“Well,

therightsortoftree.”

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“Sap?”asksFinnick.Theydon’thavetherightkindoftrees

bythesea,either.

“Tomakesyrup,”saysPeeta.“Buttheremustbesomething

elseinsidethesetrees.”

We’reallonourfeetatonce.Ourthirst.Thelackofsprings.

Thetreerat’ssharpfrontteethandwetmuzzle.Therecanonly

beonethingworthhavinginsidethesetrees.Finnickgoesto

hammerthespileintothegreenbarkofamassivetreewitha

rock,butIstophim.“Wait.Youmightdamageit.Weneedto

drillaholefirst,”Isay.

There’snothingtodrillwith,soMagsoffersherawland

Peetadrivesitstraightintothebark,buryingthespiketwo

inchesdeep.HeandFinnicktaketurnsopeninguptheholewith

theawlandtheknivesuntilitcanholdthespile.Iwedgeitin

carefullyandweallstandbackinanticipation.Atfirstnothing

happens.Thenadropofwaterrollsdownthelipandlandsin

Mags’spalm.Shelicksitoffandholdsoutherhandformore.

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Bywigglingandadjustingthespile,wegetathinstream

runningout.Wetaketurnsholdingourmouthsunderthetap,

wettingourparchedtongues.Magsbringsoverabasket,andthe

grassissotightlywovenitholdswater.Wefillthebasketand

passitaround,takingdeepgulpsand,later,luxuriously,

splashingourfacesclean.Likeeverythinghere,thewater’son

thewarmside,butthisisnotimetobepicky.

Withoutourthirsttodistractus,we’reallawareofhow

exhaustedweareandmakepreparationsforthenight.Lastyear,

IalwaystriedtohavemygearreadyincaseIhadtomakea

speedyretreatinthenight.Thisyear,there’snobackpackto

prepare.Justmyweapons,whichwon’tleavemygrasp,anyway.

ThenIthinkofthespileandwrestitfromthetreetrunk.Istripa

toughvineofitsleaves,threaditthroughthehollowcenter,and

tiethespilesecurelytomybelt.

FinnickofferstotakethefirstwatchandIlethim,knowing

ithastobeoneofthetwoofusuntilPeeta’srestedup.Ilie

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downbesidePeetaonthefloorofthehut,tellingFinnicktowake

mewhenhe’stired.InsteadIfindmyselfjarredfromsleepafew

hourslaterbywhatseemstobethetollingofabell.Bong!Bong!

It’snotexactlyliketheonetheyringintheJusticeBuildingon

NewYear’sbutcloseenoughformetorecognizeit.Peetaand

Magssleepthroughit,butFinnickhasthesamelookof

attentivenessIfeel.Thetollingstops.

“Icountedtwelve,”hesays.

Inod.Twelve.Whatdoesthatsignify?Oneringforeach

district?Maybe.Butwhy?“Meananything,doyouthink?”

“Noidea,”hesays.

Wewaitforfurtherinstructions,maybeamessagefrom

ClaudiusTemplesmith.Aninvitationtoafeast.Theonlything

ofnoteappearsinthedistance.Adazzlingboltofelectricity

strikesatoweringtreeandthenalightningstormbegins.Iguess

it’sanindicationofrain,ofawatersourceforthosewhodon’t

havementorsassmartasHaymitch.

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“Gotosleep,Finnick.It’smyturntowatch,anyway,”Isay.

Finnickhesitates,butnoonecanstayawakeforever.He

settlesdownatthemouthofthehut,onehandgrippedarounda

trident,anddriftsintoarestlesssleep.

Isitwithmybowloaded,watchingthejungle,whichis

ghostlypaleandgreeninthemoonlight.Afteranhourorso,the

lightningstops.Icanheartheraincomingin,though,pattering

ontheleavesafewhundredyardsaway.Ikeepwaitingforitto

reachusbutitneverdoes.

Thesoundofthecannonstartlesme,althoughitmakeslittle

impressiononmysleepingcompanions.There’snopointin

awakeningthemforthis.Anothervictordead.Idon’tevenallow

myselftowonderwhoitis.

Theelusiverainshutsoffsuddenly,likethestormdidlast

yearinthearena.

Momentsafteritstops,Iseethefogslidingsoftlyinfrom

thedirectionoftherecentdownpour.Justareaction.Coolrain

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onthesteamingground,Ithink.Itcontinuestoapproachata

steadypace.Tendrilsreachforwardandthencurllikefingers,as

iftheyarepullingtherestbehindthem.AsIwatch,Ifeelthe

hairsonmyneckbegintorise.Something’swrongwiththisfog.

Theprogressionofthefrontlineistoouniformtobenatural.

Andifit’snotnatural...

AsickeninglysweetodorbeginstoinvademynostrilsandI

reachfortheothers,shoutingforthemtowakeup.

Inthefewsecondsittakestorousethem,Ibegintoblister.

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Tiny,searingstabs.Whereverthedropletsofmisttouchmy

skin.

“Run!”Iscreamattheothers.“Run!”

Finnicksnapsawakeinstantly,risingtocounteranenemy.

Butwhenheseesthewalloffog,hetossesastill-sleepingMags

ontohisbackandtakesoff.Peetaisonhisfeetbutnotasalert.I

grabhisarmandbegintopropelhimthroughthejungleafter

Finnick.

“Whatisit?Whatisit?”hesaysinbewilderment.

“Somekindoffog.Poisonousgas.Hurry,Peeta!”Iurge.I

cantellthathowevermuchhedenieditduringtheday,the

aftereffectsofhittingtheforcefieldhavebeensignificant.He’s

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slow,muchslowerthanusual.Andthetangleofvinesand

undergrowth,whichunbalancemeoccasionally,triphimatevery

step.

Ilookbackatthewalloffogextendinginastraightlineas

farasIcanseeineitherdirection.Aterribleimpulsetoflee,to

abandonPeetaandsavemyself,shootsthroughme.Itwouldbe

sosimple,torunfullout,perhapstoevenclimbatreeabovethe

fogline,whichseemstotopoutataboutfortyfeet.Iremember

howIdidjustthiswhenthemuttationsappearedinthelast

Games.TookoffandonlythoughtofPeetawhenI’dreachedthe

Cornucopia.Butthistime,Itrapmyterror,pushitdown,and

staybyhisside.Thistimemysurvivalisn’tthegoal.Peeta’sis.I

thinkoftheeyesgluedtothetelevisionscreensinthedistricts,

seeingifIwillrun,astheCapitolwishes,orholdmyground.

Ilockmyfingerstightlyintohisandsay,“Watchmyfeet.

JusttrytostepwhereIstep.”Ithelps.Weseemtomovealittle

faster,butneverenoughtoaffordarest,andthemistcontinues

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tolapatourheels.Dropletsspringfreeofthebodyofvapor.

Theyburn,butnotlikefire.Lessasenseofheatandmoreof

intensepainasthechemicalsfindourflesh,clingtoit,and

burrowdownthroughthelayersofskin.Ourjumpsuitsareno

helpatall.Wemayaswellbedressedintissuepaper,forallthe

protectiontheygive.

Finnick,whoboundedoffinitially,stopswhenherealizes

we’rehavingproblems.Butthisisnotathingyoucanfight,only

evade.Heshoutsencouragement,tryingtomoveusalong,and

thesoundofhisvoiceactsasaguide,thoughlittlemore.

Peeta’sartificiallegcatchesinaknotofcreepersandhe

sprawlsforwardbeforeIcancatchhim.AsIhelphimup,I

becomeawareofsomethingscarierthantheblisters,more

debilitatingthantheburns.Theleftsideofhisfacehassagged,

asifeverymuscleinithasdied.Theliddroops,almost

concealinghiseye.Hismouthtwistsinanoddangletowardthe

ground.“Peeta—”Ibegin.Andthat’swhenIfeelthespasms

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runupmyarm.

Whateverchemicallacesthefogdoesmorethanburn—it

targetsournerves.Awholenewkindoffearshootsthroughme

andIyankPeetaforward,whichonlycauseshimtostumble

again.BythetimeIgethimtohisfeet,bothofmyarmsare

twitchinguncontrollably.Thefoghasmovedinonus,thebody

ofitlessthanayardaway.SomethingiswrongwithPeeta’s

legs;he’stryingtowalkbuttheymoveinaspastic,puppetlike

fashion.

IfeelhimlurchforwardandrealizeFinnickhascomeback

forusandishaulingPeetaalong.Iwedgemyshoulder,which

stillseemsundermycontrol,underPeeta’sarmanddomybest

tokeepupwithFinnick’srapidpace.Weputabouttenyards

betweenusandthefogwhenFinnickstops.

“It’snogood.I’llhavetocarryhim.CanyoutakeMags?”he

asksme.

“Yes,”Isaystoutly,althoughmyheartsinks.It’struethat

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Magscan’tweighmorethanaboutseventypounds,butI’mnot

verybigmyself.Still,I’msureI’vecarriedheavierloads.Ifonly

myarmswouldstopjumpingaround.Isquatdownandshe

positionsherselfovermyshoulder,thewaysheridesonFinnick.

Islowlystraightenmylegsand,withmykneeslocked,Ican

manageher.FinnickhasPeetaslungacrosshisbacknowandwe

moveforward,Finnickleading,mefollowinginthetrailhe

breaksthroughthevines.

Onthefogcomes,silentandsteadyandflat,exceptforthe

graspingtendrils.Althoughmyinstinctistorundirectlyaway

fromit,IrealizeFinnickismovingatadiagonaldownthehill.

He’stryingtokeepadistancefromthegaswhilesteeringus

towardthewaterthatsurroundstheCornucopia.Yes,water,I

thinkastheaciddropletsboredeeperintome.NowI’mso

thankfulIdidn’tkillFinnick,becausehowwouldIhavegotten

Peetaoutofherealive?Sothankfultohavesomeoneelseonmy

side,evenifit’sonlytemporarily.

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It’snotMags’sfaultwhenIbeginfalling.She’sdoing

everythingshecantobeaneasypassenger,butthefactis,there

isonlysomuchweightIcanhandle.Especiallynowthatmy

rightlegseemstobegoingstiff.ThefirsttwotimesIcrashto

theground,Imanagetomakeitbackonmyfeet,butthethird

time,Icannotgetmylegtocooperate.AsIstruggletogetup,it

givesoutandMagsrollsoffontothegroundbeforeme.Iflail

around,tryingtousevinesandtrunkstorightmyself.

Finnick’sbackbymyside,Peetahangingoverhim.“It’sno

use,”Isay.“Canyoutakethemboth?Goonahead,I’llcatch

up.”Asomewhatdoubtfulproposal,butIsayitwithasmuch

suretyasIcanmuster.

IcanseeFinnick’seyes,greeninthemoonlight.Icansee

themasclearasday.Almostlikeacat’s,withastrange

reflectivequality.Maybebecausetheyareshinywithtears.

“No,”hesays.“Ican’tcarrythemboth.Myarmsaren’t

working.”It’strue.Hisarmsjerkuncontrollablyathissides.His

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handsareempty.Ofhisthreetridents,onlyoneremains,andit’s

inPeeta’shands.“I’msorry,Mags.Ican’tdoit.”

Whathappensnextissofast,sosenseless,Ican’tevenmove

tostopit.Magshaulsherselfup,plantsakissonFinnick’slips,

andthenhobblesstraightintothefog.Immediately,herbodyis

seizedbywildcontortionsandshefallstothegroundina

horribledance.

Iwanttoscream,butmythroatisonfire.Itakeonefutile

stepinherdirectionwhenIhearthecannonblast,knowherheart

hasstopped,thatsheisdead.“Finnick?”Icallouthoarsely,but

hehasalreadyturnedfromthescene,alreadycontinuedhis

retreatfromthefog.Draggingmyuselesslegbehindme,I

staggerafterhim,havingnoideawhatelsetodo.

Timeandspacelosemeaningasthefogseemstoinvademy

brain,muddlingmythoughts,makingeverythingunreal.Some

deep-rootedanimaldesireforsurvivalkeepsmestumblingafter

FinnickandPeeta,continuingtomove,althoughI’mprobably

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deadalready.Partsofmearedead,orclearlydying.AndMagsis

dead.ThisissomethingIknow,ormaybejustthinkIknow,

becauseitmakesnosenseatall.

MoonlightglintingonFinnick’sbronzehair,beadsof

searingpainpepperingme,alegturnedtowood.Ifollow

Finnickuntilhecollapsesontheground,Peetastillontopof

him.Iseemtohavenoabilitytostopmyownforwardmotion

andsimplypropelmyselfonwarduntilItripovertheirprone

bodies,justonemoreontheheap.Thisiswhereandhowand

whenwealldie,Ithink.Butthethoughtisabstractandfarless

alarmingthanthecurrentagoniesofmybody.IhearFinnick

groanandmanagetodragmyselfofftheothers.NowIcansee

thewalloffog,whichhastakenonapearlywhitequality.Maybe

it’smyeyesplayingtricks,orthemoonlight,butthefogseems

tobetransforming.Yes,it’sbecomingthicker,asifithas

pressedupagainstaglasswindowandisbeingforcedto

condense.Isquintharderandrealizethefingersnolonger

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protrudefromit.Infact,ithasstoppedmovingforwardentirely.

LikeotherhorrorsIhavewitnessedinthearena,ithasreached

theendofitsterritory.EitherthatortheGamemakershave

decidednottokillusjustyet.

“It’sstopped,”Itrytosay,butonlyanawfulcroakingsound

comesfrommyswollenmouth.“It’sstopped,”Isayagain,and

thistimeImustbeclearer,becausebothPeetaandFinnickturn

theirheadstothefog.Itbeginstoriseupwardnow,asifbeing

slowlyvacuumedintothesky.Wewatchuntilithasallbeen

suckedawayandnottheslightestwispremains.

PeetarollsoffFinnick,whoturnsoverontohisback.Welie

theregasping,twitching,ourmindsandbodiesinvadedbythe

poison.Afterafewminutespass,Peetavaguelygesturesupward.

“Mon-hees.”IlookupandspotapairofwhatIguessare

monkeys.Ihaveneverseenalivemonkey—there’snothing

likethatinourwoodsathome.ButImusthaveseenapicture,or

oneintheGames,becausewhenIseethecreatures,thesame

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wordcomestomymind.Ithinkthesehaveorangefur,although

it’shardtotell,andareabouthalfthesizeofafull-grown

human.Itakethemonkeysforagoodsign.Surelytheywould

nothangaroundiftheairwasdeadly.Forawhile,wequietly

observeoneanother,humansandmonkeys.ThenPeetastruggles

tohiskneesandcrawlsdowntheslope.Weallcrawl,since

walkingnowseemsasremarkableafeatasflying;wecrawluntil

thevinesturntoanarrowstripofsandybeachandthewarm

waterthatsurroundstheCornucopialapsourfaces.Ijerkbackas

ifI’vetouchedanopenflame.

Rubbingsaltinawound.ForthefirsttimeItrulyappreciate

theexpression,becausethesaltinthewatermakesthepainof

mywoundssoblindingInearlyblackout.Butthere’sanother

sensation,ofdrawingout.Iexperimentbygingerlyplacingonly

myhandinthewater.Torturous,yes,butthenlessso.And

throughthebluelayerofwater,Iseeamilkysubstanceleaching

outofthewoundsonmyskin.Asthewhitenessdiminishes,so

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doesthepain.Iunbucklemybeltandstripoffmyjumpsuit,

whichislittlemorethanaperforatedrag.Myshoesand

undergarmentsareinexplicablyunaffected.Littlebylittle,one

smallportionofalimbatatime,Isoakthepoisonoutofmy

wounds.Peetaseemstobedoingthesame.ButFinnickbacked

awayfromthewateratfirsttouchandliesfacedownonthesand,

eitherunwillingorunabletopurgehimself.

Finally,whenIhavesurvivedtheworst,openingmyeyes

underwater,sniffingwaterintomysinusesandsnortingitout,

andevengarglingrepeatedlytowashoutmythroat,I’m

functionalenoughtohelpFinnick.Somefeelinghasreturnedto

myleg,butmyarmsarestillriddledwithspasms.Ican’tdrag

Finnickintothewater,andpossiblythepainwouldkillhim,

anyway.SoIscoopupshakyhandfulsandemptythemonhis

fists.Sincehe’snotunderwater,thepoisoncomesoutofhis

woundsjustasitwentin,inwispsoffogthatItakegreatcareto

steerclearof.Peetarecoversenoughtohelpme.Hecutsaway

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Finnick’sjumpsuit.Somewherehefindstwoshellsthatwork

muchbetterthanourhandsdo.Weconcentrateonsoaking

Finnick’sarmsfirst,sincetheyhavebeensobadlydamaged,and

eventhoughalotofwhitestuffpoursoutofthem,hedoesn’t

notice.

Hejustliesthere,eyesshut,givinganoccasionalmoan.

Ilookaroundwithgrowingawarenessofhowdangerousa

positionwe’rein.It’snight,yes,butthismoongivesofftoo

muchlightforconcealment.We’reluckynoone’sattackedus

yet.WecouldseethemcomingfromtheCornucopia,butifall

fourCareersattacked,they’doverpowerus.Iftheydidn’tspotus

atfirst,Finnick’smoanswouldgiveusawaysoon.

“We’vegottogetmoreofhimintothewater,”Iwhisper.

Butwecan’tputhiminface-first,notwhilehe’sinthis

condition.PeetanodstoFinnick’sfeet.Weeachtakeone,pull

himonehundredandeightydegreesaround,andstarttodrag

himintothesaltwater.Justafewinchesatatime.Hisankles.

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Waitafewminutes.Uptohismidcalf.Wait.Hisknees.Clouds

ofwhiteswirloutfromhisfleshandhegroans.Wecontinueto

detoxifyhim,bitbybit.WhatIfindisthatthelongerIsitinthe

water,thebetterIfeel.Notjustmyskin,butmybrainand

musclecontrolcontinuetoimprove.IcanseePeeta’sface

beginningtoreturntonormal,hiseyelidopening,thegrimace

leavinghismouth.

Finnickslowlybeginstorevive.Hiseyesopen,focusonus,

andregisterawarenessthathe’sbeinghelped.Iresthisheadon

mylapandwelethimsoakabouttenminuteswitheverything

immersedfromtheneckdown.PeetaandIexchangeasmileas

Finnickliftshisarmsabovetheseawater.

“There’sjustyourheadleft,Finnick.That’stheworstpart,

butyou’llfeelmuchbetterafter,ifyoucanbearit,”Peetasays.

Wehelphimtositupandlethimgripourhandsashepurgeshis

eyesandnoseandmouth.Histhroatisstilltoorawtospeak.

“I’mgoingtotrytotapatree,”Isay.Myfingersfumbleat

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mybeltandfindthespilestillhangingfromitsvine.

“Letmemaketheholefirst,”saysPeeta.“Youstaywith

him.You’rethehealer.”

That’sajoke,Ithink.ButIdon’tsayitoutloud,since

Finnickhasenoughtodealwith.Hegottheworstofthefog,

althoughI’mnotsurewhy.Maybebecausehe’sthebiggestor

maybebecausehehadtoexerthimselfthemost.Andthen,of

course,there’sMags.Istilldon’tunderstandwhathappened

there.WhyheessentiallyabandonedhertocarryPeeta.Whyshe

notonlydidn’tquestionit,butranstraighttoherdeathwithouta

moment’shesitation.Wasitbecauseshewassooldthatherdays

werenumbered,anyway?DidtheythinkthatFinnickwould

standabetterchanceofwinningifhehadPeetaandmeasallies?

ThehaggardlookonFinnick’sfacetellsmethatnowisnotthe

momenttoask.

InsteadItrytoputmyselfbacktogether.Irescuemy

mockingjaypinfrommyruinedjumpsuitandpinittothestrap

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ofmyundershirt.Theflotationbeltmustbeacidresistant,since

itlooksasgoodasnew.Icanswim,sotheflotationbelt’snot

reallynecessary,butBrutusblockedmyarrowwithhis,soI

buckleitbackon,thinkingitmightoffersomeprotection.Iundo

myhairandcombitwithmyfingers,thinningitout

considerablysincethefogdropletsdamagedit.ThenIbraidback

what’sleftofit.

Peetahasfoundagoodtreeabouttenyardsfromthenarrow

stripofbeach.Wecanhardlyseehim,butthesoundofhisknife

againstthewoodentrunkiscrystalclear.Iwonderwhat

happenedtotheawl.Magsmust’veeitherdroppeditortakenit

intothefogwithher.Anyway,it’sgone.

Ihavemovedoutabitfartherintotheshallows,floating

alternatelyonmybellyandback.IftheseawaterhealedPeeta

andme,itseemstobetransformingFinnickaltogether.He

beginstomoveslowly,justtestinghislimbs,andgradually

beginstoswim.Butit’snotlikemeswimming,therhythmic

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strokes,theevenpace.It’slikewatchingsomestrangesea

animalcomingbacktolife.Hedivesandsurfaces,spraying

wateroutofhismouth,rollsoverandoverinsomebizarre

corkscrewmotionthatmakesmedizzyeventowatch.Andthen,

whenhe’sbeenunderwatersolongIfeelcertainhe’sdrowned,

hisheadpopsuprightnexttomeandIstart.

“Don’tdothat,”Isay.

“What?Comeuporstayunder?”hesays.

“Either.Neither.Whatever.Justsoakinthewaterand

behave,”Isay.“Orifyoufeelthisgood,let’sgohelpPeeta.”

Injusttheshorttimeittakestocrosstotheedgeofthe

jungle,Ibecomeawareofthechange.Putitdowntoyearsof

hunting,ormaybemyreconstructedeardoesworkalittlebetter

thananyoneintended.ButIsensethemassofwarmbodies

poisedaboveus.Theydon’tneedtochatterorscream.Themere

breathingofsomanyisenough.

ItouchFinnick’sarmandhefollowsmygazeupward.I

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don’tknowhowtheyarrivedsosilently.Perhapstheydidn’t.

We’veallbeenabsorbedinrestoringourbodies.Duringthat

timethey’veassembled.Notfiveortenbutscoresofmonkeys

weighdownthelimbsofthejungletrees.Thepairwespotted

whenwefirstescapedthefogfeltlikeawelcomingcommittee.

Thiscrewfeelsominous.

IarmmybowwithtwoarrowsandFinnickadjuststhe

tridentinhishand.“Peeta,”Isayascalmlyaspossible.“Ineed

yourhelpwithsomething.”

“Okay,justaminute.IthinkI’vejustaboutgotit,”hesays,

stilloccupiedwiththetree.“Yes,there.Haveyougotthespile?”

“Ido.Butwe’vefoundsomethingyou’dbettertakealook

at,”Icontinueinameasuredvoice.“Onlymovetowardus

quietly,soyoudon’tstartleit.”Forsomereason,Idon’twant

himtonoticethemonkeys,orevenglancetheirway.Thereare

creaturesthatinterpretmereeyecontactasaggression.

Peetaturnstous,pantingfromhisworkonthetree.Thetone

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ofmyrequestissooddthatit’salertedhimtosomeirregularity.

“Okay,”hesayscasually.Hebeginstomovethroughthejungle,

andalthoughIknowhe’stryinghardtobequiet,thishasnever

beenhisstrongsuit,evenwhenhehadtwosoundlegs.Butit’s

allright,he’smoving,themonkeysareholdingtheirpositions.

He’sjustfiveyardsfromthebeachwhenhesensesthem.His

eyesonlydartupforasecond,butit’sasifhe’striggereda

bomb.Themonkeysexplodeintoashriekingmassoforangefur

andconvergeonhim.

I’veneverseenanyanimalmovesofast.Theyslidedown

thevinesasifthethingsweregreased.Leapimpossible

distancesfromtreetotree.Fangsbared,hacklesraised,claws

shootingoutlikeswitchblades.Imaybeunfamiliarwith

monkeys,butanimalsinnaturedon’tactlikethis.“Mutts!”I

spitoutasFinnickandIcrashintothegreenery.

Iknoweveryarrowmustcount,andtheydo.Intheeerie

light,Ibringdownmonkeyaftermonkey,targetingeyesand

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heartsandthroats,sothateachhitmeansadeath.Butstillit

wouldn’tbeenoughwithoutFinnickspearingthebeastslikefish

andflingingthemaside,Peetaslashingawaywithhisknife.I

feelclawsonmyleg,downmyback,beforesomeonetakesout

theattacker.Theairgrowsheavywithtrampledplants,thescent

ofblood,andthemustystinkofthemonkeys.PeetaandFinnick

andIpositionourselvesinatriangle,afewyardsapart,our

backstooneanother.Myheartsinksasmyfingersdrawbackmy

lastarrow.ThenIrememberPeetahasasheath,too.Andhe’s

notshooting,he’shackingawaywiththatknife.Myownknifeis

outnow,butthemonkeysarequicker,canspringinandoutso

fastyoucanbarelyreact.

“Peeta!”Ishout.“Yourarrows!”

Peetaturnstoseemypredicamentandisslidingoffhis

sheathwhenithappens.Amonkeylungesoutofatreeforhis

chest.Ihavenoarrow,nowaytoshoot.Icanhearthethudof

Finnick’stridentfindinganothermarkandknowhisweaponis

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occupied.Peeta’sknifearmisdisabledashetriestoremovethe

sheath.Ithrowmyknifeattheoncomingmuttbutthecreature

somersaults,evadingtheblade,andstaysonitstrajectory.

Weaponless,defenseless,IdotheonlythingIcanthinkof.I

runforPeeta,toknockhimtotheground,toprotecthisbody

withmine,eventhoughIknowIwon’tmakeitintime.

Shedoes,though.Materializing,itseems,fromthinair.One

momentnowhere,thenextreelinginfrontofPeeta.Already

bloody,mouthopeninahigh-pitchedscream,pupilsenlargedso

hereyesseemlikeblackholes.

TheinsanemorphlingfromDistrict6throwsupherskeletal

armsasiftoembracethemonkey,anditsinksitsfangsintoher

chest.

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Peetadropsthesheathandburieshisknifeintothemonkey’s

back,stabbingitagainandagainuntilitreleasesitsjaw.He

kicksthemuttaway,bracingformore.Ihavehisarrowsnow,a

loadedbow,andFinnickatmyback,breathinghardbutnot

activelyengaged.

“Comeon,then!Comeon!”shoutsPeeta,pantingwithrage.

Butsomethinghashappenedtothemonkeys.Theyare

withdrawing,backinguptrees,fadingintothejungle,asifsome

unheardvoicecallsthemaway.AGamemaker’svoice,telling

themthisisenough.

“Gether,”IsaytoPeeta.“We’llcoveryou.”

Peetagentlyliftsupthemorphlingandcarriesherthelast

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fewyardstothebeachwhileFinnickandIkeepourweaponsat

theready.Butexceptfortheorangecarcassesontheground,the

monkeysaregone.Peetalaysthemorphlingonthesand.Icut

awaythematerialoverherchest,revealingthefourdeep

puncturewounds.Bloodslowlytricklesfromthem,makingthem

lookfarlessdeadlythantheyare.Therealdamageisinside.By

thepositionoftheopenings,Ifeelcertainthebeastruptured

somethingvital,alung,maybeevenherheart.

Sheliesonthesand,gaspinglikeafishoutofwater.Sagging

skin,sicklygreen,herribsasprominentasachild’sdeadof

starvation.Surelyshecouldaffordfood,butturnedtothe

morphlingjustasHaymitchturnedtodrink,Iguess.Everything

aboutherspeaksofwaste—herbody,herlife,thevacantlook

inhereyes.Iholdoneofhertwitchinghands,unclearwhetherit

movesfromthepoisonthataffectedournerves,theshockofthe

attack,orwithdrawalfromthedrugthatwashersustenance.

Thereisnothingwecando.Nothingbutstaywithherwhileshe

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dies.

“I’llwatchthetrees,”Finnicksaysbeforewalkingaway.I’d

liketowalkaway,too,butshegripsmyhandsotightlyIwould

havetopryoffherfingers,andIdon’thavethestrengthforthat

kindofcruelty.IthinkofRue,howmaybeIcouldsingasongor

something.ButIdon’tevenknowthemorphling’sname,let

aloneifshelikessongs.Ijustknowshe’sdying.

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.”

ThemorphlingstaresintoPeeta’seyes,hangingontohis

words.

“Onetime,IspentthreedaysmixingpaintuntilIfoundthe

rightshadeforsunlightonwhitefur.Yousee,Ikeptthinkingit

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wasyellow,butitwasmuchmorethanthat.Layersofallsortsof

color.Onebyone,”saysPeeta.

Themorphling’sbreathingisslowingintoshallowcatch-

breaths.Herfreehanddabblesinthebloodonherchest,making

thetinyswirlingmotionsshesolovedtopaintwith.

“Ihaven’tfiguredoutarainbowyet.Theycomesoquickly

andleavesosoon.Ineverhaveenoughtimetocapturethem.

Justabitofbluehereorpurplethere.Andthentheyfadeaway

again.Backintotheair,”saysPeeta.

ThemorphlingseemsmesmerizedbyPeeta’swords.

Entranced.SheliftsupatremblinghandandpaintswhatIthink

mightbeafloweronPeeta’scheek.

“Thankyou,”hewhispers.“Thatlooksbeautiful.”

Foramoment,themorphling’sfacelightsupinagrinand

shemakesasmallsqueakingsound.Thenherblood-dappled

handfallsbackontoherchest,shegivesonelasthuffofair,and

thecannonfires.Thegriponmyhandreleases.

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Peetacarriesheroutintothewater.Hereturnsandsits

besideme.ThemorphlingfloatsouttowardtheCornucopiafora

while,thenthehovercraftappearsandafour-prongedclaw

drops,encasesher,carriesherintothenightsky,andshe’sgone.

Finnickrejoinsus,hisfistfullofmyarrowsstillwetwith

monkeyblood.Hedropsthembesidemeonthesand.“Thought

youmightwantthese.”

“Thanks,”Isay.Iwadeintothewaterandwashoffthegore,

frommyweapons,mywounds.BythetimeIreturntothejungle

togathersomemosstodrythem,allthemonkeys’bodieshave

vanished.

“Wheredidtheygo?”Iask.

“Wedon’tknowexactly.Thevinesshiftedandtheywere

gone,”saysFinnick.

Westareatthejungle,numbandexhausted.Inthequiet,I

noticethatthespotswherethefogdropletstouchedmyskinhave

scabbedover.They’vestoppedhurtingandbeguntoitch.

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Intensely.Itrytothinkofthisasagoodsign.Thattheyare

healing.IglanceoveratPeeta,atFinnick,andseethey’reboth

scratchingattheirdamagedfaces.Yes,evenFinnick’sbeauty

hasbeenmarredbythisnight.

“Don’tscratch,”Isay,wantingbadlytoscratchmyself.ButI

knowit’stheadvicemymotherwouldgive.“You’llonlybring

infection.Thinkit’ssafetotryforthewateragain?”

WemakeourwaybacktothetreePeetawastapping.

FinnickandIstandwithourweaponspoisedwhileheworksthe

spilein,butnothreatappears.Peeta’sfoundagoodveinandthe

waterbeginstogushfromthespile.Weslakeourthirst,letthe

warmwaterpouroverouritchingbodies.Wefillahandfulof

shellswithdrinkingwaterandgobacktothebeach.

It’sstillnight,thoughdawncan’tbetoomanyhoursaway.

UnlesstheGamemakerswantittobe.“Whydon’tyoutwoget

somerest?”Isay.“I’llwatchforawhile.”

“No,Katniss,I’drather,”saysFinnick.Ilookinhiseyes,at

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hisface,andrealizehe’sbarelyholdingbacktears.Mags.The

leastIcandoisgivehimtheprivacytomournher.

“Allright,Finnick,thanks,”Isay.Iliedownonthesand

withPeeta,whodriftsoffatonce.Istareintothenight,thinking

ofwhatadifferenceadaymakes.Howyesterdaymorning,

Finnickwasonmykilllist,andnowI’mwillingtosleepwith

himasmyguard.HesavedPeetaandletMagsdieandIdon’t

knowwhy.OnlythatIcanneversettlethebalanceowedbetween

us.AllIcandoatthemomentisgotosleepandlethimgrievein

peace.AndsoIdo.

It’smidmorningwhenIopenmyeyesagain.Peeta’sstillout

besideme.Aboveus,amatofgrasssuspendedonbranches

shieldsourfacesfromthesunlight.IsitupandseethatFinnick’s

handshavenotbeenidle.Twowovenbowlsarefilledwithfresh

water.Athirdholdsamessofshellfish.

Finnicksitsonthesand,crackingthemopenwithastone.

“They’rebetterfresh,”hesays,rippingachunkoffleshfroma

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shellandpoppingitintohismouth.HiseyesarestillpuffybutI

pretendnottonotice.

MystomachbeginstogrowlatthesmelloffoodandIreach

forone.Thesightofmyfingernails,cakedwithblood,stopsme.

I’vebeenscratchingmyskinrawinmysleep.

“Youknow,ifyouscratchyou’llbringoninfection,”says

Finnick.

“That’swhatI’veheard,”Isay.Igointothesaltwaterand

washofftheblood,tryingtodecidewhichIhatemore,painor

itching.Fedup,Istompbackontothebeach,turnmyface

upward,andsnap,“Hey,Haymitch,ifyou’renottoodrunk,we

couldusealittlesomethingforourskin.”

It’salmostfunnyhowquicklytheparachuteappearsabove

me.Ireachupandthetubelandssquarelyinmyopenhand.

“Abouttime,”Isay,butIcan’tkeepthescowlonmyface.

Haymitch.WhatIwouldn’tgiveforfiveminutesofconversation

withhim.

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IplunkdownonthesandnexttoFinnickandscrewthelid

offthetube.Insideisathick,darkointmentwithapungent

smell,acombinationoftarandpineneedles.Iwrinklemynose

asIsqueezeaglobofthemedicineontomypalmandbeginto

massageitintomyleg.Asoundofpleasureslipsoutofmy

mouthasthestufferadicatesmyitching.Italsostainsmyscabby

skinaghastlygray-green.AsIstartonthesecondlegItossthe

tubetoFinnick,whoeyesmedoubtfully.

“It’slikeyou’redecomposing,”saysFinnick.ButIguessthe

itchingwinsout,becauseafteraminuteFinnickbeginstotreat

hisownskin,too.Really,thecombinationofthescabsandthe

ointmentlookshideous.Ican’thelpenjoyinghisdistress.

“PoorFinnick.Isthisthefirsttimeinyourlifeyouhaven’t

lookedpretty?”Isay.

“Itmustbe.Thesensation’scompletelynew.Howhaveyou

manageditalltheseyears?”heasks.

“Justavoidmirrors.You’llforgetaboutit,”Isay.

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“NotifIkeeplookingatyou,”hesays.

Weslatherourselvesdown,eventakingturnsrubbingthe

ointmentintoeachother’sbackswheretheundershirtsdon’t

protectourskin.“I’mgoingtowakePeeta,”Isay.

“No,wait,”saysFinnick.“Let’sdoittogether.Putourfaces

rightinfrontofhis.”

Well,there’ssolittleopportunityforfunleftinmylife,I

agree.WepositionourselvesoneithersideofPeeta,leanover

untilourfacesareinchesfromhisnose,andgivehimashake.

“Peeta.Peeta,wakeup,”Isayinasoft,singsongvoice.

Hiseyelidsflutteropenandthenhejumpslikewe’ve

stabbedhim.“Aa!”

FinnickandIfallbackinthesand,laughingourheadsoff.

Everytimewetrytostop,welookatPeeta’sattempttomaintain

adisdainfulexpressionanditsetsusoffagain.Bythetimewe

pullourselvestogether,I’mthinkingthatmaybeFinnickOdairis

allright.Atleastnotasvainorself-importantasI’dthought.

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Notsobadatall,really.AndjustasI’vecometothisconclusion,

aparachutelandsnexttouswithafreshloafofbread.

RememberingfromlastyearhowHaymitch’sgiftsareoften

timedtosendamessage,Imakeanotetomyself.Befriends

withFinnick.You’llgetfood.

Finnickturnsthebreadoverinhishands,examiningthe

crust.Abittoopossessively.It’snotnecessary.It’sgotthat

greentintfromseaweedthatthebreadfromDistrict4always

has.Weallknowit’shis.Maybehe’sjustrealizedhowprecious

itis,andthathemayneverseeanotherloafagain.Maybesome

memoryofMagsisassociatedwiththecrust.Butallhesaysis,

“Thiswillgowellwiththeshellfish.”

WhileIhelpPeetacoathisskinwiththeointment,Finnick

deftlycleansthemeatfromtheshellfish.Wegatherroundand

eatthedelicioussweetfleshwiththesaltybreadfromDistrict4.

Wealllookmonstrous—theointmentseemstobecausing

someofthescabstopeel—butI’mgladforthemedicine.Not

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justbecauseitgivesrelieffromtheitching,butalsobecauseit

actsasprotectionfromthatblazingwhitesuninthepinksky.By

itsposition,Iestimateitmustbegoingonteno’clock,that

we’vebeeninthearenaforaboutaday.Elevenofusaredead.

Thirteenalive.Somewhereinthejungle,tenareconcealed.

ThreeorfouraretheCareers.Idon’treallyfeelliketryingto

rememberwhotheothersare.

Forme,thejunglehasquicklyevolvedfromaplaceof

protectiontoasinistertrap.Iknowatsomepointwe’llbeforced

toreenteritsdepths,eithertohuntorbehunted,butforright

nowI’mplanningtosticktoourlittlebeach.AndIdon’thear

PeetaorFinnicksuggestingwedootherwise.Forawhilethe

jungleseemsalmoststatic,humming,shimmering,butnot

flauntingitsdangers.Then,inthedistance,comesscreaming.

Acrossfromus,awedgeofthejunglebeginstovibrate.An

enormouswavecrestshighonthehill,toppingthetreesand

roaringdowntheslope.Ithitstheexistingseawaterwithsuch

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forcethat,eventhoughwe’reasfaraswecangetfromit,the

surfbubblesuparoundourknees,settingourfewpossessions

afloat.Amongthethreeofus,wemanagetocollecteverything

beforeit’scarriedoff,exceptforourchemical-riddled

jumpsuits,whicharesoeatenawaynoonecaresifwelosethem.

Acannonfires.Weseethehovercraftappearoverthearea

wherethewavebeganandpluckabodyfromthetrees.Twelve,I

think.

Thecircleofwaterslowlycalmsdown,havingabsorbedthe

giantwave.Werearrangeourthingsbackonthewetsandand

areabouttosettledownwhenIseethem.Threefigures,about

twospokesaway,stumblingontothebeach.“There,”Isay

quietly,noddinginthenewcomers’direction.PeetaandFinnick

followmygaze.Asifbypreviousagreement,weallfadeback

intotheshadowsofthejungle.

Thetrio’sinbadshape—youcanseethatrightoff.Oneis

beingpracticallydraggedoutbyasecond,andthethirdwanders

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inloopycircles,asifderanged.They’reasolidbrick-redcolor,

asifthey’vebeendippedinpaintandleftouttodry.

“Whoisthat?”asksPeeta.“Orwhat?Muttations?”

Idrawbackanarrow,readyingforanattack.Butallthat

happensisthattheonewhowasbeingdraggedcollapsesonthe

beach.Thedraggerstampsthegroundinfrustrationand,inan

apparentfitoftemper,turnsandshovesthecircling,deranged

oneover.

Finnick’sfacelightsup.“Johanna!”hecalls,andrunsforthe

redthings.

“Finnick!”IhearJohanna’svoicereply.

IexchangealookwithPeeta.“Whatnow?”Iask.

“Wecan’treallyleaveFinnick,”hesays.

“Guessnot.Comeon,then,”Isaygrouchily,becauseevenif

I’dhadalistofallies,JohannaMasonwoulddefinitelynothave

beenonit.ThetwoofustrompdownthebeachtowhereFinnick

andJohannaarejustmeetingup.Aswemoveincloser,Iseeher

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companions,andconfusionsetsin.That’sBeeteeontheground

onhisbackandWiresswho’sregainedherfeettocontinue

makingloops.“She’sgotWiressandBeetee.”

“NutsandVolts?”saysPeeta,equallypuzzled.“I’vegotto

hearhowthishappened.”

Whenwereachthem,Johanna’sgesturingtowardthejungle

andtalkingveryfasttoFinnick.“Wethoughtitwasrain,you

know,becauseofthelightning,andwewereallsothirsty.But

whenitstartedcomingdown,itturnedouttobeblood.Thick,

hotblood.Youcouldn’tsee,youcouldn’tspeakwithoutgettinga

mouthful.Wejuststaggeredaround,tryingtogetoutofit.

That’swhenBlighthittheforcefield.”

“I’msorry,Johanna,”saysFinnick.Ittakesamomentto

placeBlight.IthinkhewasJohanna’smalecounterpartfrom

District7,butIhardlyrememberseeinghim.Cometothinkof

it,Idon’teventhinkheshowedupfortraining.

“Yeah,well,hewasn’tmuch,buthewasfromhome,”she

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says.“Andheleftmealonewiththesetwo.”ShenudgesBeetee,

who’sbarelyconscious,withhershoe.“Hegotaknifeinthe

backattheCornucopia.Andher—”

WealllookoveratWiress,who’scirclingaround,coatedin

driedblood,andmurmuring,“Tick,tock.Tick,tock.”

“Yeah,weknow.Tick,tock.Nutsisinshock,”saysJohanna.

ThisseemstodrawWiressinherdirectionandshecareensinto

Johanna,whoharshlyshoveshertothebeach.“Juststaydown,

willyou?”

“Layoffher,”Isnap.

Johannanarrowsherbrowneyesatmeinhatred.“Layoff

her?”shehisses.ShestepsforwardbeforeIcanreactandslaps

mesohardIseestars.“Whodoyouthinkgotthemoutofthat

bleedingjungleforyou?You—”Finnicktossesherwrithing

bodyoverhisshoulderandcarriesheroutintothewaterand

repeatedlydunksherwhileshescreamsalotofreallyinsulting

thingsatme.ButIdon’tshoot.Becauseshe’swithFinnickand

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becauseofwhatshesaid,aboutgettingthemforme.

“Whatdidshemean?Shegotthemforme?”IaskPeeta.

“Idon’tknow.Youdidwantthemoriginally,”hereminds

me.

“Yeah,Idid.Originally.”Butthatanswersnothing.Ilook

downatBeetee’sinertbody.“ButIwon’thavethemlongunless

wedosomething.”

PeetaliftsBeeteeupinhisarmsandItakeWiressbythe

handandwegobacktoourlittlebeachcamp.IsitWiressinthe

shallowssoshecangetwashedupabit,butshejustclutchesher

handstogetherandoccasionallymumbles,“Tick,tock.”Iunhook

Beetee’sbeltandfindaheavymetalcylinderattachedtotheside

witharopeofvines.Ican’ttellwhatitis,butifhethoughtit

wasworthsaving,I’mnotgoingtobetheonewholosesit.Itoss

ituponthesand.Beetee’sclothesaregluedtohimwithblood,

soPeetaholdshiminthewaterwhileIloosenthem.Ittakes

sometimetogetthejumpsuitoff,andthenwefindhisunder-

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garmentsaresaturatedwithbloodaswell.There’snochoicebut

tostriphimnakedtogethimclean,butIhavetosaythisdoesn’t

makemuchofanimpressiononmeanymore.Ourkitchentable’s

beenfullofsomanynakedmenthisyear.Youkindofgetused

toitafterawhile.

WeputdownFinnick’smatandlayBeeteeonhisstomach

sowecanexaminehisback.There’sagashaboutsixincheslong

runningfromhisshoulderbladetobelowhisribs.Fortunately

it’snottoodeep.He’slostalotofblood,though—youcantell

bythepallorofhisskin—andit’sstilloozingoutofthewound.

Isitbackonmyheels,tryingtothink.WhatdoIhaveto

workwith?Seawater?Ifeellikemymotherwhenherfirstline

ofdefensefortreatingeverythingwassnow.Ilookoveratthe

jungle.Ibetthere’sawholepharmacyinthereifIknewhowto

useit.Butthesearen’tmyplants.ThenIthinkaboutthemoss

Magsgavemetoblowmynose.“Berightback,”ItellPeeta.

Fortunatelythestuffseemstobeprettycommoninthejungle.I

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ripanarmfulfromthenearbytreesandcarryitbacktothe

beach.Imakeathickpadoutofthemoss,placeitonBeetee’s

cut,andsecureitbytyingvinesaroundhisbody.Wegetsome

waterintohimandthenpullhimintotheshadeattheedgeofthe

jungle.

“Ithinkthat’sallwecando,”Isay.

“It’sgood.You’regoodwiththishealingstuff,”hesays.

“It’sinyourblood.”

“No,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“Igotmyfather’sblood.”The

kindthatquickensduringahunt,notanepidemic.“I’mgoingto

seeaboutWiress.”

ItakeahandfulofthemosstouseasaragandjoinWiress

intheshallows.Shedoesn’tresistasIworkoffherclothing,

scrubthebloodfromherskin.Buthereyesaredilatedwithfear,

andwhenIspeak,shedoesn’trespondexcepttosaywithever-

increasingurgency,“Tick,tock.”Shedoesseemtobetryingto

tellmesomething,butwithnoBeeteetoexplainherthoughts,

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I’mataloss.

“Yes,tick,tock.Tick,tock,”Isay.Thisseemstocalmher

downalittle.Iwashoutherjumpsuituntilthere’shardlyatrace

ofblood,andhelpherbackintoit.It’snotdamagedlikeours

were.Herbelt’sfine,soIfastenthaton,too.ThenIpinher

undergarments,alongwithBeetee’s,undersomerocksandlet

themsoak.

BythetimeI’verinsedoutBeetee’sjumpsuit,ashinyclean

JohannaandpeelingFinnickhavejoinedus.Forawhile,Johanna

gulpswaterandstuffsherselfwithshellfishwhileItrytocoax

somethingintoWiress.Finnicktellsaboutthefogandthe

monkeysinadetached,almostclinicalvoice,avoidingthemost

importantdetailofthestory.

Everybodyofferstoguardwhiletheothersrest,butinthe

end,it’sJohannaandIwhostayup.MebecauseI’mreally

rested,shebecauseshesimplyrefusestoliedown.Thetwoofus

sitinsilenceonthebeachuntiltheothershavegonetosleep.

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JohannaglancesoveratFinnick,tobesure,thenturnstome.

“How’dyouloseMags?”

“Inthefog.FinnickhadPeeta.IhadMagsforawhile.Then

Icouldn’tlifther.Finnicksaidhecouldn’ttakethemboth.She

kissedhimandwalkedrightintothepoison,”Isay.

“ShewasFinnick’smentor,youknow,”Johannasays

accusingly.

“No,Ididn’t,”Isay.

“Shewashalfhisfamily,”shesaysafewmomentslater,but

there’slessvenombehindit.

Wewatchthewaterlapupovertheundergarments.“Sowhat

wereyoudoingwithNutsandVolts?”Iask.

“Itoldyou—Igotthemforyou.Haymitchsaidifwewere

tobealliesIhadtobringthemtoyou,”saysJohanna.“That’s

whatyoutoldhim,right?”

No,Ithink.ButInodmyheadinassent.“Thanks.I

appreciateit.”

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“Ihopeso.”Shegivesmealookfilledwithloathing,like

I’mthebiggestdragpossibleonherlife.Iwonderifthisiswhat

it’sliketohaveanoldersisterwhoreallyhatesyou.

“Tick,tock,”Ihearbehindme.IturnandseeWiresshas

crawledover.Hereyesarefocusedonthejungle.

“Oh,goody,she’sback.Okay,I’mgoingtosleep.Youand

Nutscanguardtogether,”Johannasays.Shegoesoverandflings

herselfdownbesideFinnick.

“Tick,tock,”whispersWiress.Iguideherinfrontofmeand

gethertoliedown,strokingherarmtosootheher.Shedriftsoff,

stirringrestlessly,occasionallysighingoutherphrase.“Tick,

tock.”

“Tick,tock,”Iagreesoftly.“It’stimeforbed.Tick,tock.Go

tosleep.”

Thesunrisesintheskyuntilit’sdirectlyoverus.Itmustbe

noon,Ithinkabsently.Notthatitmatters.Acrossthewater,off

totheright,Iseetheenormousflashasthelightningbolthitsthe

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treeandtheelectricalstormbeginsagain.Rightinthesamearea

itdidlastnight.Someonemusthavemovedintoitsrange,

triggeredtheattack.Isitforawhilewatchingthelightning,

keepingWiresscalm,lulledintoasortofpeacefulnessbythe

lappingofthewater.Ithinkoflastnight,howthelightning

beganjustafterthebelltolled.Twelvebongs.

“Tick,tock,”Wiresssays,surfacingtoconsciousnessfora

momentandthengoingbackunder.

Twelvebongslastnight.Likeitwasmidnight.Then

lightning.Thesunoverheadnow.Likeit’snoon.Andlightning.

SlowlyIriseupandsurveythearena.Thelightningthere.In

thenextpiewedgeovercamethebloodrain,whereJohanna,

Wiress,andBeeteewerecaught.Wewouldhavebeeninthe

thirdsection,rightnexttothat,whenthefogappeared.Andas

soonasitwassuckedaway,themonkeysbegantogatherinthe

fourth.Tick,tock.Myheadsnapstotheotherside.Acoupleof

hoursago,ataroundten,thatwavecameoutofthesecond

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sectiontotheleftofwherethelightningstrikesnow.Atnoon.At

midnight.Atnoon.

“Tick,tock,”Wiresssaysinhersleep.Asthelightning

ceasesandthebloodrainbeginsjusttotherightofit,herwords

suddenlymakesense.

“Oh,”Isayundermybreath.“Tick,tock.”Myeyessweep

aroundthefullcircleofthearenaandIknowshe’sright.“Tick,

tock.Thisisaclock.”

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Aclock.Icanalmostseethehandstickingaroundthe

twelve-sectionedfaceofthearena.Eachhourbeginsanew

horror,anewGamemakerweapon,andendstheprevious.

Lightning,bloodrain,fog,monkeys—thosearethefirstfour

hoursontheclock.Andatten,thewave.Idon’tknowwhat

happensintheotherseven,butIknowWiressisright.

Atpresent,thebloodrain’sfallingandwe’reonthebeach

belowthemonkeysegment,fartooclosetothefogformy

liking.Dothevariousattacksstaywithintheconfinesofthe

jungle?Notnecessarily.Thewavedidn’t.Ifthatfogleachesout

ofthejungle,orthemonkeysreturn...

“Getup,”Iorder,shakingPeetaandFinnickandJohanna

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awake.“Getup—wehavetomove.”There’senoughtime,

though,toexplaintheclocktheorytothem.AboutWiress’stick-

tockingandhowthemovementsoftheinvisiblehandstriggera

deadlyforceineachsection.

IthinkI’veconvincedeveryonewho’sconsciousexcept

Johanna,who’snaturallyopposedtolikinganythingIsuggest.

Butevensheagreesit’sbettertobesafethansorry.

WhiletheotherscollectourfewpossessionsandgetBeetee

backintohisjumpsuit,IrouseWiress.Sheawakeswitha

panicked“tick,tock!”

“Yes,tick,tock,thearena’saclock.It’saclock,Wiress,you

wereright,”Isay.“Youwereright.”

Relieffloodsherface—Iguessbecausesomebodyhas

finallyunderstoodwhatshe’sknownprobablyfromthefirst

tollingofthebells.“Midnight.”

“Itstartsatmidnight,”Iconfirm.

Amemorystrugglestosurfaceinmybrain.Iseeaclock.

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No,it’sawatch,restinginPlutarchHeavensbee’spalm.“It

startsatmidnight,”Plutarchsaid.Andthenmymockingjaylit

upbrieflyandvanished.Inretrospect,it’slikehewasgivingme

aclueaboutthearena.Butwhywouldhe?Atthetime,Iwasno

moreatributeintheseGamesthanhewas.Maybehethoughtit

wouldhelpmeasamentor.Ormaybethishadbeentheplanall

along.

Wiressnodsatthebloodrain.“One-thirty,”shesays.

“Exactly.One-thirty.Andattwo,aterriblepoisonousfog

beginsthere,”Isay,pointingatthenearbyjungle.“Sowehave

tomovesomewheresafenow.”Shesmilesandstandsup

obediently.“Areyouthirsty?”Ihandherthewovenbowlandshe

gulpsdownaboutaquart.Finnickgivesherthelastbitofbread

andshegnawsonit.Withtheinabilitytocommunicate

overcome,she’sfunctioningagain.

Icheckmyweapons.Tieupthespileandthetubeof

medicineintheparachuteandfixittomybeltwithvine.

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Beetee’sstillprettyoutofit,butwhenPeetatriestolifthim,

heobjects.“Wire,”hesays.

“She’srighthere,”Peetatellshim.“Wiressisfine.She’s

coming,too.”

ButstillBeeteestruggles.“Wire,”heinsists.

“Oh,Iknowwhathewants,”saysJohannaimpatiently.She

crossesthebeachandpicksupthecylinderwetookfromhisbelt

whenwewerebathinghim.It’scoatedinathicklayerof

congealedblood.“Thisworthlessthing.It’ssomekindofwireor

something.That’showhegotcut.RunninguptotheCornucopia

togetthis.Idon’tknowwhatkindofweaponit’ssupposedtobe.

Iguessyoucouldpulloffapieceanduseitasagarroteor

something.Butreally,canyouimagineBeeteegarroting

somebody?”

“HewonhisGameswithwire.Settingupthatelectrical

trap,”saysPeeta.“It’sthebestweaponhecouldhave.”

There’ssomethingoddaboutJohannanotputtingthis

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together.Somethingthatdoesn’tquiteringtrue.Suspicious.

“Seemslikeyou’dhavefiguredthatout,”Isay.“Sinceyou

nicknamedhimVoltsandall.”

Johanna’seyesnarrowatmedangerously.“Yeah,thatwas

reallystupidofme,wasn’tit?”shesays.“IguessImusthave

beendistractedbykeepingyourlittlefriendsalive.Whileyou

were...what,again?GettingMagskilledoff?”

Myfingerstightenontheknifehandleatmybelt.

“Goahead.Tryit.Idon’tcareifyouareknockedup,I’llrip

yourthroatout,”saysJohanna.

IknowIcan’tkillherrightnow.Butit’sjustamatterof

timewithJohannaandme.Beforeoneofusoffstheother.

“Maybeweallhadbetterbecarefulwherewestep,”says

Finnick,shootingmealook.Hetakesthecoilandsetsiton

Beetee’schest.“There’syourwire,Volts.Watchwhereyouplug

it.”

Peetapicksupthenow-unresistingBeetee.“Whereto?”

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“I’dliketogototheCornucopiaandwatch.Justtomake

surewe’rerightabouttheclock,”saysFinnick.Itseemsasgood

aplanasany.Besides,Iwouldn’tmindthechanceofgoingover

theweaponsagain.Andtherearesixofusnow.Evenifyou

countBeeteeandWiressout,we’vegotfourgoodfighters.It’s

sodifferentfromwhereIwaslastyearatthispoint,doing

everythingonmyown.Yes,it’sgreattohavealliesaslongas

youcanignorethethoughtthatyou’llhavetokillthem.

BeeteeandWiresswillprobablyfindsomewaytodieon

theirown.Ifwehavetorunfromsomething,howfarwouldthey

get?Johanna,frankly,Icouldeasilykillifitcamedownto

protectingPeeta.Ormaybeevenjusttoshutherup.WhatI

reallyneedisforsomeonetotakeoutFinnickforme,sinceI

don’tthinkIcandoitpersonally.Notafterallhe’sdonefor

Peeta.Ithinkaboutmaneuveringhimintosomekindof

encounterwiththeCareers.It’scold,Iknow.Butwhataremy

options?Nowthatweknowabouttheclock,heprobablywon’t

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dieinthejungle,sosomeone’sgoingtohavetokillhimin

battle.

Becausethisissorepellenttothinkabout,mymind

franticallytriestochangetopics.Buttheonlythingthatdistracts

mefrommycurrentsituationisfantasizingaboutkilling

PresidentSnow.Notveryprettydaydreamsforaseventeen-year-

oldgirl,Iguess,butverysatisfying.

Wewalkdownthenearestsandstrip,approachingthe

Cornucopiawithcare,justincasetheCareersareconcealed

there.Idoubttheyare,becausewe’vebeenonthebeachfor

hoursandthere’sbeennosignoflife.Thearea’sabandoned,asI

expected.Onlythebiggoldenhornandthepicked-overpileof

weaponsremain.

WhenPeetalaysBeeteeinthebitofshadetheCornucopia

provides,hecallsouttoWiress.Shecrouchesbesidehimandhe

putsthecoilofwireinherhands.“Cleanit,willyou?”heasks.

Wiressnodsandscampersovertothewater’sedge,where

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shedunksthecoilinthewater.Shestartsquietlysingingsome

funnylittlesong,aboutamouserunningupaclock.Itmustbe

forchildren,butitseemstomakeherhappy.

“Oh,notthesongagain,”saysJohanna,rollinghereyes.

“Thatwentonforhoursbeforeshestartedtick-tocking.”

SuddenlyWiressstandsupverystraightandpointstothe

jungle.“Two,”shesays.

Ifollowherfingertowherethewalloffoghasjustbegunto

seepoutontothebeach.“Yes,look,Wiressisright.It’stwo

o’clockandthefoghasstarted.”

“Likeclockwork,”saysPeeta.“Youwereverysmartto

figurethatout,Wiress.”

Wiresssmilesandgoesbacktosinginganddunkinghercoil.

“Oh,she’smorethansmart,”saysBeetee.“She’sintuitive.”We

allturntolookatBeetee,whoseemstobecomingbacktolife.

“Shecansensethingsbeforeanyoneelse.Likeacanaryinoneof

yourcoalmines.”

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“What’sthat?”Finnickasksme.

“It’sabirdthatwetakedownintotheminestowarnusif

there’sbadair,”Isay.

“What’sitdo,die?”asksJohanna.

“Itstopssingingfirst.That’swhenyoushouldgetout.Butif

theair’stoobad,itdies,yes.Andsodoyou.”Idon’twanttotalk

aboutdyingsongbirds.Theybringupthoughtsofmyfather’s

deathandRue’sdeathandMaysileeDonner’sdeathandmy

motherinheritinghersongbird.Oh,great,andnowI’mthinking

ofGale,deepdowninthathorriblemine,withPresidentSnow’s

threathangingoverhishead.Soeasytomakeitlooklikean

accidentdownthere.Asilentcanary,aspark,andnothingmore.

Igobacktoimaginingkillingthepresident.

DespiteherannoyanceatWiress,Johanna’sashappyasI’ve

seenherinthearena.WhileI’maddingtomystockofarrows,

shepokesarounduntilshecomesupwithapairoflethal-looking

axes.ItseemsanoddchoiceuntilIseeherthrowonewithsuch

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forceitsticksinthesun-softenedgoldoftheCornucopia.Of

course.JohannaMason.District7.Lumber.Ibetshe’sbeen

tossingaroundaxessinceshecouldtoddle.It’slikeFinnickwith

histrident.OrBeeteewithhiswire.Ruewithherknowledgeof

plants.Irealizeit’sjustanotherdisadvantagetheDistrict12

tributeshavefacedovertheyears.Wedon’tgodowninthe

minesuntilwe’reeighteen.Itlookslikemostoftheother

tributeslearnsomethingabouttheirtradesearlyon.Thereare

thingsyoudoinaminethatcouldcomeinhandyintheGames.

Wieldingapick.Blowingthingsup.Giveyouanedge.Theway

myhuntingdid.Butwelearnthemtoolate.

WhileI’vebeenmessingwiththeweapons,Peeta’sbeen

squattingontheground,drawingsomethingwiththetipofhis

knifeonalarge,smoothleafhebroughtfromthejungle.Ilook

overhisshoulderandseehe’screatingamapofthearena.Inthe

centeristheCornucopiaonitscircleofsandwiththetwelve

stripsbranchingoutfromit.Itlookslikeapieslicedintotwelve

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equalwedges.There’sanothercirclerepresentingthewaterline

andaslightlylargeroneindicatingtheedgeofthejungle.“Look

howtheCornucopia’spositioned,”hesaystome.

IexaminetheCornucopiaandseewhathemeans.“Thetail

pointstowardtwelveo’clock,”Isay.

“Right,sothisisthetopofourclock,”hesays,andquickly

scratchesthenumbersonethroughtwelvearoundtheclockface.

“Twelvetooneisthelightningzone.”Hewriteslightningintiny

printinthecorrespondingwedge,thenworksclockwiseadding

blood,fog,andmonkeysinthefollowingsections.

“Andtentoelevenisthewave,”Isay.Headdsit.Finnick

andJohannajoinusatthispoint,armedtotheteethwithtridents,

axes,andknives.

“Didyounoticeanythingunusualintheothers?”Iask

JohannaandBeetee,sincetheymighthaveseensomethingwe

didn’t.Butallthey’veseenisalotofblood.“Iguesstheycould

holdanything.”

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“I’mgoingtomarktheoneswhereweknowthe

Gamemakers’weaponfollowsusoutpastthejungle,sowe’ll

stayclearofthose,”saysPeeta,drawingdiagonallinesonthe

fogandwavebeaches.Thenhesitsback.“Well,it’salotmore

thanweknewthismorning,anyway.”

Weallnodinagreement,andthat’swhenInoticeit.The

silence.Ourcanaryhasstoppedsinging.

Idon’twait.IloadanarrowasItwistandgetaglimpseofa

dripping-wetGlosslettingWiressslidetotheground,herthroat

slitopeninabrightredsmile.Thepointofmyarrowdisappears

intohisrighttemple,andintheinstantittakestoreload,

JohannahasburiedanaxbladeinCashmere’schest.Finnick

knocksawayaspearBrutusthrowsatPeetaandtakesEnobaria’s

knifeinhisthigh.Iftherewasn’taCornucopiatoduckbehind,

they’dbedead,bothofthetributesfromDistrict2.Ispring

forwardinpursuit.Boom!Boom!Boom!Thecannonconfirms

there’snowaytohelpWiress,noneedtofinishoffGlossor

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Cashmere.MyalliesandIareroundingthehorn,startingtogive

chasetoBrutusandEnobaria,whoaresprintingdownasand

striptowardthejungle.

SuddenlythegroundjerksbeneathmyfeetandI’mflungon

mysideinthesand.ThecircleoflandthatholdstheCornucopia

startsspinningfast,reallyfast,andIcanseethejunglegoingby

inablur.Ifeelthecentrifugalforcepullingmetowardthewater

anddigmyhandsandfeetintothesand,tryingtogetsome

purchaseontheunstableground.Betweentheflyingsandandthe

dizziness,Ihavetosqueezemyeyesshut.Thereisliterally

nothingIcandobutholdonuntil,withnodeceleration,weslam

toastop.

Coughingandqueasy,Isitupslowlytofindmycompanions

inthesamecondition.Finnick,Johanna,andPeetahavehungon.

Thethreedeadbodieshavebeentossedoutintotheseawater.

Thewholething,frommissingWiress’ssongtonow,can’t

havetakenmorethanaminuteortwo.Wesittherepanting,

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scrapingthesandoutofourmouths.

“Where’sVolts?”saysJohanna.We’reonourfeet.One

wobblycircleoftheCornucopiaconfirmshe’sgone.Finnick

spotshimabouttwentyyardsoutinthewater,barelykeeping

afloat,andswimsouttohaulhimin.

That’swhenIrememberthewireandhowimportantitwas

tohim.Ilookfranticallyaround.Whereisit?Whereisit?And

thenIseeit,stillclutchedinWiress’shands,faroutinthewater.

MystomachcontractsatthethoughtofwhatImustdonext.

“Coverme,”Isaytotheothers.Itossasidemyweaponsandrace

downthestripclosesttoherbody.Withoutslowingdown,Idive

intothewaterandstartforher.Outofthecornerofmyeye,Ican

seethehovercraftappearingoverus,theclawstartingtodescend

totakeheraway.ButIdon’tstop.Ijustkeepswimmingashard

asIcanandendupslammingintoherbody.Icomeupgasping,

tryingtoavoidswallowingthebloodstainedwaterthatspreads

outfromtheopenwoundinherneck.She’sfloatingonherback,

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borneupbyherbeltanddeath,staringintothatrelentlesssun.

AsItreadwater,Ihavetowrenchthecoilofwirefromher

fingers,becauseherfinalgriponitissotight.There’snothingI

candothenbutclosehereyelids,whispergood-bye,andswim

away.BythetimeIswingthecoilupontothesandandpull

myselffromthewater,herbody’sgone.ButIcanstilltasteher

bloodmingledwiththeseasalt.

IwalkbacktotheCornucopia.Finnick’sgottenBeeteeback

alive,althoughalittlewaterlogged,sittingupandsnortingout

water.Hehadthegoodsensetohangontohisglasses,soatleast

hecansee.Iplacethereelofwireonhislap.It’ssparkling

clean,nobloodleftatall.Heunravelsapieceofthewireand

runsitthroughhisfingers.ForthefirsttimeIseeit,andit’s

unlikeanywireIknow.Apalegoldencolorandasfineasa

pieceofhair.Iwonderhowlongitis.Theremustbemilesofthe

stufftofillthelargespool.ButIdon’task,becauseIknowhe’s

thinkingofWiress.

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Ilookattheothers’soberfaces.NowFinnick,Johanna,and

Beeteehavealllosttheirdistrictpartners.IcrosstoPeetaand

wrapmyarmsaroundhim,andforawhileweallstaysilent.

“Let’sgetoffthisstinkingisland,”Johannasaysfinally.

There’sonlythematterofourweaponsnow,whichwe’ve

largelyretained.Fortunatelythevinesherearestrongandthe

spileandtubeofmedicinewrappedintheparachutearestill

securedtomybelt.Finnickstripsoffhisundershirtandtiesit

aroundthewoundEnobaria’sknifemadeinhisthigh;it’snot

deep.Beeteethinkshecanwalknow,ifwegoslowly,soIhelp

himup.Wedecidetoheadtothebeachattwelveo’clock.That

shouldprovidehoursofcalmandkeepusclearofanypoisonous

residue.AndthenPeeta,Johanna,andFinnickheadoffinthree

differentdirections.

“Twelveo’clock,right?”saysPeeta.“Thetailpointsat

twelve.”

“Beforetheyspunus,”saysFinnick.“Iwasjudgingbythe

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sun.”

“Thesunonlytellsyouit’sgoingonfour,Finnick,”Isay.

“IthinkKatniss’spointis,knowingthetimedoesn’tmean

younecessarilyknowwherefourisontheclock.Youmighthave

ageneralideaofthedirection.Unlessyouconsiderthatthey

mayhaveshiftedtheouterringofjungleaswell,”saysBeetee.

No,Katniss’spointwasalotmorebasicthanthat.Beetee’s

articulatedatheoryfarbeyondmycommentonthesun.ButI

justnodmyheadlikeI’vebeenonthesamepageallalong.“Yes,

soanyoneofthesepathscouldleadtotwelveo’clock,”Isay.

WecirclearoundtheCornucopia,scrutinizingthejungle.It

hasabafflinguniformity.Irememberthetalltreethattookthe

firstlightningstrikeattwelveo’clock,buteverysectorhasa

similartree.JohannathinkstofollowEnobaria’sandBrutus’s

tracks,buttheyhavebeenblownorwashedaway.There’sno

waytotellwhereanythingis.“Ishouldhavenevermentioned

theclock,”Isaybitterly.“Nowthey’vetakenthatadvantage

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awayaswell.”

“Onlytemporarily,”saysBeetee.“Atten,we’llseethewave

againandbebackontrack.”

“Yes,theycan’tredesignthewholearena,”saysPeeta.

“Itdoesn’tmatter,”saysJohannaimpatiently.“Youhadto

tellusorweneverwouldhavemovedourcampinthefirstplace,

brainless.”Ironically,herlogical,ifdemeaning,replyistheonly

onethatcomfortsme.Yes,Ihadtotellthemtogetthemto

move.“Comeon,Ineedwater.Anyonehaveagoodgut

feeling?”

Werandomlychooseapathandtakeit,havingnoideawhat

numberwe’reheadedfor.Whenwereachthejungle,wepeer

intoit,tryingtodecipherwhatmaybewaitinginside.

“Well,itmustbemonkeyhour.AndIdon’tseeanyofthem

inthere,”saysPeeta.“I’mgoingtotrytotapatree.”

“No,it’smyturn,”saysFinnick.

“I’llatleastwatchyourback,”Peetasays.

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“Katnisscandothat,”saysJohanna.“Weneedyoutomake

anothermap.Theotherwashedaway.”Sheyanksalargeleafoff

atreeandhandsittohim.

Foramoment,I’msuspiciousthey’retryingtodivideand

killus.Butitdoesn’tmakesense.I’llhavetheadvantageon

Finnickifhe’sdealingwiththetreeandPeeta’smuchbigger

thanJohanna.SoIfollowFinnickaboutfifteenyardsintothe

jungle,wherehefindsagoodtreeandstartsstabbingtomakea

holewithhisknife.

AsIstandthere,weaponsready,Ican’tlosetheuneasy

feelingthatsomethingisgoingonandthatithastodowith

Peeta.Iretraceoursteps,startingfromthemomentthegong

rangout,searchingforthesourceofmydiscomfort.Finnick

towingPeetainoffhismetalplate.FinnickrevivingPeetaafter

theforcefieldstoppedhisheart.Magsrunningintothefogso

thatFinnickcouldcarryPeeta.Themorphlinghurlingherselfin

frontofhimtoblockthemonkey’sattack.Thefightwiththe

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Careerswassoquick,butdidn’tFinnickblockBrutus’sspear

fromhittingPeetaeventhoughitmeanttakingEnobaria’sknife

inhisleg?AndevennowJohannahashimdrawingamapona

leafratherthanriskingthejungle....

Thereisnoquestionaboutit.Forreasonscompletely

unfathomabletome,someoftheothervictorsaretryingtokeep

himalive,evenifitmeanssacrificingthemselves.

I’mdumbfounded.Foronething,that’smyjob.Foranother,

itdoesn’tmakesense.Onlyoneofuscangetout.Sowhyhave

theychosenPeetatoprotect?WhathasHaymitchpossiblysaid

tothem,whathashebargainedwithtomakethemputPeeta’s

lifeabovetheirown?

IknowmyownreasonsforkeepingPeetaalive.He’smy

friend,andthisismywaytodefytheCapitol,tosubvertits

terribleGames.ButifIhadnorealtiestohim,whatwouldmake

mewanttosavehim,tochoosehimovermyself?Certainlyheis

brave,butwehaveallbeenbraveenoughtosurviveaGames.

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Thereisthatqualityofgoodnessthat’shardtooverlook,butstill

...andthenIthinkofit,whatPeetacandosomuchbetterthan

therestofus.Hecanusewords.Heobliteratedtherestofthe

fieldatbothinterviews.Andmaybeit’sbecauseofthat

underlyinggoodnessthathecanmoveacrowd—no,acountry

—tohissidewiththeturnofasimplesentence.

Irememberthinkingthatwasthegifttheleaderofour

revolutionshouldhave.HasHaymitchconvincedtheothersof

this?ThatPeeta’stonguewouldhavefargreaterpoweragainst

theCapitolthananyphysicalstrengththerestofuscouldclaim?

Idon’tknow.Itstillseemslikeareallylongleapforsomeofthe

tributes.Imean,we’retalkingaboutJohannaMasonhere.But

whatotherexplanationcantherebefortheirdecidedeffortsto

keephimalive?

“Katniss,gotthatspile?”Finnickasks,snappingmebackto

reality.Icutthevinethattiesthespiletomybeltandholdthe

metaltubeouttohim.

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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.

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Whereisshe?Whataretheydoingtoher?“Prim!”Icryout.

“Prim!”Onlyanotheragonizedscreamanswersme.Howdidshe

gethere?WhyisshepartoftheGames?“Prim!”

Vinescutintomyfaceandarms,creepersgrabmyfeet.But

Iamgettingclosertoher.Closer.Veryclosenow.Sweatpours

downmyface,stingingthehealingacidwounds.Ipant,tryingto

getsomeuseoutofthewarm,moistairthatseemsemptyof

oxygen.Primmakesasound—suchalost,irretrievablesound

—thatIcan’tevenimaginewhattheyhavedonetoevokeit.

“Prim!”Iripthroughawallofgreenintoasmallclearing

andthesoundrepeatsdirectlyaboveme.Aboveme?Myhead

whipsback.Dotheyhaveherupinthetrees?Idesperatelysearch

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thebranchesbutseenothing.“Prim?”Isaypleadingly.Ihearher

butcan’tseeher.Hernextwailringsout,clearasabell,and

there’snomistakingthesource.It’scomingfromthemouthofa

small,crestedblackbirdperchedonabranchabouttenfeetover

myhead.AndthenIunderstand.

It’sajabberjay.

I’veneverseenonebefore—Ithoughttheynolonger

existed—andforamoment,asIleanagainstthetrunkofthe

tree,clutchingthestitchinmyside,Iexamineit.Themuttation,

theforerunner,thefather.Ipullupamentalimageofa

mockingbird,fuseitwiththejabberjay,andyes,Icanseehow

theymatedtomakemymockingjay.Thereisnothingaboutthe

birdthatsuggestsit’samutt.Nothingexceptthehorriblylifelike

soundsofPrim’svoicestreamingfromitsmouth.Isilenceit

withanarrowinitsthroat.Thebirdfallstotheground.Iremove

myarrowandwringitsneckforgoodmeasure.ThenIhurlthe

revoltingthingintothejungle.Nodegreeofhungerwouldever

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temptmetoeatit.

Itwasn’treal,Itellmyself.Thesamewaythemuttation

wolveslastyearweren’treallythedeadtributes.It’sjusta

sadistictrickoftheGamemakers.

Finnickcrashesintotheclearingtofindmewipingmyarrow

cleanwithsomemoss.“Katniss?”

“It’sokay.I’mokay,”Isay,althoughIdon’tfeelokayatall.

“IthoughtIheardmysisterbut—”Thepiercingshriekcutsme

off.It’sanothervoice,notPrim’s,maybeayoungwoman’s.I

don’trecognizeit.ButtheeffectonFinnickisinstantaneous.

ThecolorvanishesfromhisfaceandIcanactuallyseehispupils

dilateinfear.“Finnick,wait!”Isay,reachingouttoreassure

him,buthe’sboltedaway.Goneoffinpursuitofthevictim,as

mindlesslyasIpursuedPrim.“Finnick!”Icall,butIknowhe

won’tturnbackandwaitformetogivearationalexplanation.

SoallIcandoisfollowhim.

It’snoefforttotrackhim,eventhoughhe’smovingsofast,

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sinceheleavesaclear,trampledpathinhiswake.Butthebirdis

atleastaquartermileaway,mostofituphill,andbythetimeI

reachhim,I’mwinded.He’scirclingaroundagianttree.The

trunkmustbefourfeetindiameterandthelimbsdon’teven

beginuntiltwentyfeetup.Thewoman’sshrieksemanatefrom

somewhereinthefoliage,butthejabberjay’sconcealed.

Finnick’sscreamingaswell,overandover.“Annie!Annie!”

He’sinastateofpanicandcompletelyunreachable,soIdowhat

Iwoulddoanyway.Iscaleanadjacenttree,locatethejabberjay,

andtakeitoutwithanarrow.Itfallsstraightdown,landingright

atFinnick’sfeet.Hepicksitup,slowlymakingtheconnection,

butwhenIslidedowntojoinhim,helooksmoredespairingthan

ever.

“It’sallright,Finnick.It’sjustajabberjay.They’replaying

atrickonus,”Isay.“It’snotreal.It’snotyour...Annie.”

“No,it’snotAnnie.Butthevoicewashers.Jabberjays

mimicwhattheyhear.Wheredidtheygetthosescreams,

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Katniss?”hesays.

IcanfeelmyowncheeksgrowpaleasIunderstandhis

meaning.“Oh,Finnick,youdon’tthinkthey...”

“Yes.Ido.That’sexactlywhatIthink,”hesays.

IhaveanimageofPriminawhiteroom,strappedtoatable,

whilemasked,robedfigureselicitthosesoundsfromher.

Somewheretheyaretorturingher,ordidtortureher,togetthose

sounds.MykneesturntowaterandIsinktotheground.Finnick

istryingtotellmesomething,butIcan’thearhim.WhatIdo

finallyhearisanotherbirdstartingupsomewhereofftomyleft.

Andthistime,thevoiceisGale’s.

FinnickcatchesmyarmbeforeIcanrun.“No.It’snothim.”

Hestartspullingmedownhill,towardthebeach.“We’regetting

outofhere!”ButGale’svoiceissofullofpainIcan’thelp

strugglingtoreachit.“It’snothim,Katniss!It’samutt!”

Finnickshoutsatme.“Comeon!”Hemovesmealong,half

dragging,halfcarryingme,untilIcanprocesswhathesaid.He’s

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right,it’sjustanotherjabberjay.Ican’thelpGalebychasingit

down.Butthatdoesn’tchangethefactthatitisGale’svoice,and

somewhere,sometime,someonehasmadehimsoundlikethis.

IstopfightingFinnick,though,andlikethenightinthefog,

IfleewhatIcan’tfight.Whatcanonlydomeharm.Onlythis

timeit’smyheartandnotmybodythat’sdisintegrating.This

mustbeanotherweaponoftheclock.Fouro’clock,Iguess.

Whenthehandstick-tockontothefour,themonkeysgohome

andthejabberjayscomeouttoplay.Finnickisright—getting

outofhereistheonlythingtodo.Althoughtherewillbenothing

HaymitchcansendinaparachutethatwillhelpeitherFinnickor

merecoverfromthewoundsthebirdshaveinflicted.

IcatchsightofPeetaandJohannastandingatthetreeline

andI’mfilledwithamixtureofreliefandanger.Whydidn’t

Peetacometohelpme?Whydidnoonecomeafterus?Even

nowhehangsback,hishandsraised,palmstowardus,lips

movingbutnowordsreachingus.Why?

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Thewallissotransparent,FinnickandIrunsmackintoit

andbouncebackontothejunglefloor.I’mlucky.Myshoulder

tooktheworstoftheimpact,whereasFinnickhitface-firstand

nowhisnoseisgushingblood.ThisiswhyPeetaandJohanna

andevenBeetee,whoIseesadlyshakinghisheadbehindthem,

havenotcometoouraid.Aninvisiblebarrierblockstheareain

frontofus.It’snotaforcefield.Youcantouchthehard,smooth

surfaceallyoulike.ButPeeta’sknifeandJohanna’saxcan’t

makeadentinit.Iknow,withoutcheckingmorethanafewfeet

tooneside,thatitenclosestheentirefour-to-five-o’clock

wedge.Thatwewillbetrappedlikeratsuntilthehourpasses.

PeetapresseshishandagainstthesurfaceandIputmyown

uptomeetit,asifIcanfeelhimthroughthewall.Iseehislips

movingbutIcan’thearhim,can’thearanythingoutsideour

wedge.Itrytomakeoutwhathe’ssaying,butIcan’tfocus,soI

juststareathisface,doingmybesttohangontomysanity.

Thenthebirdsbegintoarrive.Onebyone.Perchinginthe

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surroundingbranches.Andacarefullyorchestratedchorusof

horrorbeginstospilloutoftheirmouths.Finnickgivesupat

once,hunchingontheground,clenchinghishandsoverhisears

asifhe’stryingtocrushhisskull.Itrytofightforawhile.

Emptyingmyquiverofarrowsintothehatedbirds.Butevery

timeonedropsdead,anotherquicklytakesitsplace.Andfinally

IgiveupandcurlupbesideFinnick,tryingtoblockoutthe

excruciatingsoundsofPrim,Gale,mymother,Madge,Rory,

Vick,evenPosy,helplesslittlePosy....

Iknowit’sstoppedwhenIfeelPeeta’shandsonme,feel

myselfliftedfromthegroundandoutofthejungle.ButIstay

eyessqueezedshut,handsovermyears,musclestoorigidto

release.Peetaholdsmeonhislap,speakingsoothingwords,

rockingmegently.IttakesalongtimebeforeIbegintorelaxthe

irongriponmybody.AndwhenIdo,thetremblingbegins.

“It’sallright,Katniss,”hewhispers.

“Youdidn’thearthem,”Ianswer.

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“IheardPrim.Rightinthebeginning.Butitwasn’ther,”he

says.“Itwasajabberjay.”

“Itwasher.Somewhere.Thejabberjayjustrecordedit,”I

say.

“No,that’swhattheywantyoutothink.ThesamewayI

wonderedifGlimmer’seyeswereinthatmuttlastyear.But

thoseweren’tGlimmer’seyes.Andthatwasn’tPrim’svoice.Or

ifitwas,theytookitfromanintervieworsomethingand

distortedthesound.Madeitsaywhatevershewassaying,”he

says.

“No,theyweretorturingher,”Ianswer.“She’sprobably

dead.”

“Katniss,Primisn’tdead.HowcouldtheykillPrim?We’re

almostdowntothefinaleightofus.Andwhathappensthen?”

Peetasays.

“Sevenmoreofusdie,”Isayhopelessly.

“No,backhome.Whathappenswhentheyreachthefinal

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

eighttributesintheGames?”HeliftsmychinsoIhavetolook

athim.Forcesmetomakeeyecontact.“Whathappens?Atthe

finaleight?”

Iknowhe’stryingtohelpme,soImakemyselfthink.“At

thefinaleight?”Irepeat.“Theyinterviewyourfamilyand

friendsbackhome.”

“That’sright,”saysPeeta.“Theyinterviewyourfamilyand

friends.Andcantheydothatifthey’vekilledthemall?”

“No?”Iask,stillunsure.

“No.That’showweknowPrim’salive.She’llbethefirst

onetheyinterview,won’tshe?”heasks.

Iwanttobelievehim.Badly.It’sjust...thosevoices...

“FirstPrim.Thenyourmother.Yourcousin,Gale.Madge,”

hecontinues.“Itwasatrick,Katniss.Ahorribleone.Butwe’re

theonlyoneswhocanbehurtbyit.We’retheonesinthe

Games.Notthem.”

“Youreallybelievethat?”Isay.

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“Ireallydo,”saysPeeta.Iwaver,thinkingofhowPeetacan

makeanyonebelieveanything.IlookoveratFinnickfor

confirmation,seehe’sfixatedonPeeta,hiswords.

“Doyoubelieveit,Finnick?”Iask.

“Itcouldbetrue.Idon’tknow,”hesays.“Couldtheydothat,

Beetee?Takesomeone’sregularvoiceandmakeit...”

“Oh,yes.It’snoteventhatdifficult,Finnick.Ourchildren

learnasimilartechniqueinschool,”saysBeetee.

“OfcoursePeeta’sright.ThewholecountryadoresKatniss’s

littlesister.Iftheyreallykilledherlikethis,they’dprobably

haveanuprisingontheirhands,”saysJohannaflatly.“Don’t

wantthat,dothey?”Shethrowsbackherheadandshouts,

“Wholecountryinrebellion?Wouldn’twantanythinglikethat!”

Mymouthdropsopeninshock.Noone,ever,saysanything

likethisintheGames.Absolutely,they’vecutawayfrom

Johanna,areeditingherout.ButIhaveheardherandcannever

thinkaboutheragaininthesameway.She’llneverwinany

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awardsforkindness,butshecertainlyisgutsy.Orcrazy.She

picksupsomeshellsandheadstowardthejungle.“I’mgetting

water,”shesays.

Ican’thelpcatchingherhandasshepassesme.“Don’tgoin

there.Thebirds—”Irememberthebirdsmustbegone,butI

stilldon’twantanyoneinthere.Notevenher.

“Theycan’thurtme.I’mnotliketherestofyou.There’sno

oneleftIlove,”Johannasays,andfreesherhandwithan

impatientshake.Whenshebringsmebackashellofwater,I

takeitwithasilentnodofthanks,knowinghowmuchshewould

despisethepityinmyvoice.

WhileJohannacollectswaterandmyarrows,Beeteefiddles

withhiswire,andFinnicktakestothewater.Ineedtocleanup,

too,butIstayinPeeta’sarms,stilltooshakentomove.

“WhodidtheyuseagainstFinnick?”heasks.

“SomebodynamedAnnie,”Isay.

“MustbeAnnieCresta,”hesays.

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“Who?”Iask.

“AnnieCresta.ShewasthegirlMagsvolunteeredfor.She

wonaboutfiveyearsago,”saysPeeta.

Thatwouldhavebeenthesummeraftermyfatherdied,when

Ifirstbeganfeedingmyfamily,whenmywholebeingwas

occupiedwithbattlingstarvation.“Idon’trememberthose

Gamesmuch,”Isay.“Wasthattheearthquakeyear?”

“Yeah.Annie’stheonewhowentmadwhenherdistrict

partnergotbeheaded.Ranoffbyherselfandhid.Butan

earthquakebrokeadamandmostofthearenagotflooded.She

wonbecauseshewasthebestswimmer,”saysPeeta.

“Didshegetbetterafter?”Iask.“Imean,hermind?”

“Idon’tknow.Idon’tremembereverseeingheratthe

Gamesagain.Butshedidn’tlooktoostableduringthereaping

thisyear,”saysPeeta.

Sothat’swhoFinnickloves,Ithink.Nothisstringoffancy

loversintheCapitol.Butapoor,madgirlbackhome.

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Acannonblastbringsusalltogetheronthebeach.A

hovercraftappearsinwhatweestimatetobethesix-to-seven-

o’clockzone.Wewatchastheclawdipsdownfivedifferent

timestoretrievethepiecesofonebody,tornapart.It’s

impossibletotellwhoitwas.Whateverhappensatsixo’clock,I

neverwanttoknow.

Peetadrawsanewmaponaleaf,addingaJJforjabber-jays

inthefour-to-five-o’clocksectionandsimplywritingbeastin

theonewherewesawthetributecollectedinpieces.Wenow

haveagoodideaofwhatsevenofthehourswillbring.Andif

there’sanypositivetothejabberjayattack,it’sthatitletus

knowwhereweareontheclockfaceagain.

Finnickweavesyetanotherwaterbasketandanetfor

fishing.Itakeaquickswimandputmoreointmentonmyskin.

ThenIsitattheedgeofthewater,cleaningthefishFinnick

catchesandwatchingthesundropbelowthehorizon.Thebright

moonisalreadyontherise,fillingthearenawiththatstrange

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twilight.We’reabouttosettledowntoourmealofrawfish

whentheanthembegins.Andthenthefaces...

Cashmere.Gloss.Wiress.Mags.ThewomanfromDistrict5.

ThemorphlingwhogaveherlifeforPeeta.Blight.Themanfrom

10.

Eightdead.Pluseightfromthefirstnight.Two-thirdsofus

goneinadayandahalf.Thatmustbesomekindofrecord.

“They’rereallyburningthroughus,”saysJohanna.

“Who’sleft?BesidesusfiveandDistrictTwo?”asks

Finnick.

“Chaff,”saysPeeta,withoutneedingtothinkaboutit.

Perhapshe’sbeenkeepinganeyeoutforhimbecauseof

Haymitch.

Aparachutecomesdownwithapileofbite-sizedsquare-

shapedrolls.“Thesearefromyourdistrict,right,Beetee?”Peeta

asks.

“Yes,fromDistrictThree,”hesays.“Howmanyarethere?”

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Finnickcountsthem,turningeachoneoverinhishands

beforehesetsitinaneatconfiguration.Idon’tknowwhatitis

withFinnickandbread,butheseemsobsessedwithhandlingit.

“Twenty-four,”hesays.

“Aneventwodozen,then?”saysBeetee.

“Twenty-fouronthenose,”saysFinnick.“Howshouldwe

dividethem?”

“Let’seachhavethree,andwhoeverisstillaliveatbreakfast

cantakeavoteontherest,”saysJohanna.Idon’tknowwhythis

makesmelaughalittle.Iguessbecauseit’strue.WhenIdo,

Johannagivesmealookthat’salmostapproving.No,not

approving.Butmaybeslightlypleased.

Wewaituntilthegiantwavehasfloodedoutoftheten-to-

eleven-o’clocksection,waitforthewatertorecede,andthengo

tothatbeachtomakecamp.Theoretically,weshouldhaveafull

twelvehoursofsafetyfromthejungle.There’sanunpleasant

chorusofclicking,probablyfromsomeeviltypeofinsect,

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comingfromtheeleven-to-twelve-o’clockwedge.Butwhatever

ismakingthesoundstayswithintheconfinesofthejungleand

wekeepoffthatpartofthebeachincasethey’rejustwaitingfor

acarelesslyplacedfootfalltoswarmout.

Idon’tknowhowJohanna’sstillonherfeet.She’sonlyhad

aboutanhourofsleepsincetheGamesstarted.PeetaandI

volunteerforthefirstwatchbecausewe’rebetterrested,and

becausewewantsometimealone.Theothersgoout

immediately,althoughFinnick’ssleepisrestless.Everynowand

thenIhearhimmurmuringAnnie’sname.

PeetaandIsitonthedampsand,facingawayfromeach

other,myrightshoulderandhippressedagainsthis.Iwatchthe

waterashewatchesthejungle,whichisbetterforme.I’mstill

hauntedbythevoicesofthejabberjays,whichunfortunatelythe

insectscan’tdrownout.AfterawhileIrestmyheadagainsthis

shoulder.Feelhishandcaressmyhair.

“Katniss,”hesayssoftly,“it’snousepretendingwedon’t

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knowwhattheotheroneistryingtodo.”No,Iguessthereisn’t,

butit’snofundiscussingit,either.Well,notforus,anyway.The

Capitolviewerswillbegluedtotheirsetssotheydon’tmissone

wretchedword.

“Idon’tknowwhatkindofdealyouthinkyou’vemadewith

Haymitch,butyoushouldknowhemademepromisesaswell.”

Ofcourse,Iknowthis,too.HetoldPeetatheycouldkeepme

alivesothathewouldn’tbesuspicious.“SoIthinkwecan

assumehewaslyingtooneofus.”

Thisgetsmyattention.Adoubledeal.Adoublepromise.

WithonlyHaymitchknowingwhichoneisreal.Iraisemyhead,

meetPeeta’seyes.“Whyareyousayingthisnow?”

“BecauseIdon’twantyouforgettinghowdifferentour

circumstancesare.Ifyoudie,andIlive,there’snolifeformeat

allbackinDistrictTwelve.You’remywholelife,”hesays.“I

wouldneverbehappyagain.”Istarttoobjectbutheputsafinger

tomylips.“It’sdifferentforyou.I’mnotsayingitwouldn’tbe

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hard.Butthereareotherpeoplewho’dmakeyourlifeworth

living.”

Peetapullsthechainwiththegolddiskfromaroundhis

neck.HeholdsitinthemoonlightsoIcanclearlyseethe

mockingjay.ThenhisthumbslidesalongacatchIdidn’tnotice

beforeandthediskpopsopen.It’snotsolid,asIhadthought,but

alocket.Andwithinthelocketarephotos.Ontherightside,my

motherandPrim,laughing.Andontheleft,Gale.Actually

smiling.

Thereisnothingintheworldthatcouldbreakmefasterat

thismomentthanthesethreefaces.AfterwhatIheardthis

afternoon...itistheperfectweapon.

“Yourfamilyneedsyou,Katniss,”Peetasays.

Myfamily.Mymother.Mysister.Andmypretendcousin

Gale.ButPeeta’sintentionisclear.ThatGalereallyismy

family,orwillbeoneday,ifIlive.ThatI’llmarryhim.So

Peeta’sgivingmehislifeandGaleatthesametime.Toletme

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knowIshouldn’teverhavedoubtsaboutit.Everything.That’s

whatPeetawantsmetotakefromhim.

Iwaitforhimtomentionthebaby,toplaytothecameras,

buthedoesn’t.Andthat’showIknowthatnoneofthisispartof

theGames.Thatheistellingmethetruthaboutwhathefeels.

“Noonereallyneedsme,”hesays,andthere’snoself-pityin

hisvoice.It’struehisfamilydoesn’tneedhim.Theywillmourn

him,aswillahandfuloffriends.Buttheywillgeton.Even

Haymitch,withthehelpofalotofwhiteliquor,willgeton.I

realizeonlyonepersonwillbedamagedbeyondrepairifPeeta

dies.Me.

“Ido,”Isay.“Ineedyou.”Helooksupset,takesadeep

breathasiftobeginalongargument,andthat’snogood,no

goodatall,becausehe’llstartgoingonaboutPrimandmy

motherandeverythingandI’lljustgetconfused.Sobeforehe

cantalk,Istophislipswithakiss.

Ifeelthatthingagain.ThethingIonlyfeltoncebefore.In

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thecavelastyear,whenIwastryingtogetHaymitchtosendus

food.IkissedPeetaaboutathousandtimesduringthoseGames

andafter.Buttherewasonlyonekissthatmademefeel

somethingstirdeepinside.Onlyonethatmademewantmore.

Butmyheadwoundstartedbleedingandhemademeliedown.

Thistime,thereisnothingbutustointerruptus.Andaftera

fewattempts,Peetagivesupontalking.Thesensationinsideme

growswarmerandspreadsoutfrommychest,downthroughmy

body,outalongmyarmsandlegs,tothetipsofmybeing.

Insteadofsatisfyingme,thekisseshavetheoppositeeffect,of

makingmyneedgreater.IthoughtIwassomethingofanexpert

onhunger,butthisisanentirelynewkind.

It’sthefirstcrackofthelightningstorm—thebolthitting

thetreeatmidnight—thatbringsustooursenses.Itrouses

Finnickaswell.Hesitsupwithasharpcry.Iseehisfingers

diggingintothesandashereassureshimselfthatwhatever

nightmareheinhabitedwasn’treal.

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“Ican’tsleepanymore,”hesays.“Oneofyoushouldrest.”

Onlythendoesheseemtonoticeourexpressions,thewaywe’re

wrappedaroundeachother.“Orbothofyou.Icanwatchalone.”

Peetawon’tlethim,though.“It’stoodangerous,”hesays.

“I’mnottired.Youliedown,Katniss.”Idon’tobjectbecauseI

doneedtosleepifI’mtobeofanyusekeepinghimalive.Ilet

himleadmeovertowheretheothersare.Heputsthechainwith

thelocketaroundmyneck,thenrestshishandoverthespot

whereourbabywouldbe.“You’regoingtomakeagreatmother,

youknow,”hesays.Hekissesmeonelasttimeandgoesbackto

Finnick.

Hisreferencetothebabysignalsthatourtime-outfromthe

Gamesisover.Thatheknowstheaudiencewillbewondering

whyhehasn’tusedthemostpersuasiveargumentinhisarsenal.

Thatsponsorsmustbemanipulated.

ButasIstretchoutonthesandIwonder,coulditbemore?

LikearemindertomethatIcouldstillonedayhavekidswith

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Gale?Well,ifthatwasit,itwasamistake.Becauseforone

thing,that’sneverbeenpartofmyplan.Andforanother,ifonly

oneofuscanbeaparent,anyonecanseeitshouldbePeeta.

AsIdriftoff,Itrytoimaginethatworld,somewhereinthe

future,withnoGames,noCapitol.Aplacelikethemeadowin

thesongIsangtoRueasshedied.WherePeeta’schildcouldbe

safe.

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WhenIwake,Ihaveabrief,deliciousfeelingofhappiness

thatissomehowconnectedwithPeeta.Happiness,ofcourse,isa

completeabsurdityatthispoint,sinceattheratethingsare

going,I’llbedeadinaday.Andthat’sthebest-casescenario,if

I’mabletoeliminatetherestofthefield,includingmyself,and

getPeetacrownedasthewinneroftheQuarterQuell.Still,the

sensation’ssounexpectedandsweetIclingtoit,ifonlyfora

fewmoments.Beforethegrittysand,thehotsun,andmyitching

skindemandareturntoreality.

Everyone’salreadyupandwatchingthedescentofa

parachutetothebeach.Ijointhemforanotherdeliveryofbread.

It’sidenticaltotheonewereceivedthenightbefore.Twenty-

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fourrollsfromDistrict3.Thatgivesusthirty-threeinall.We

eachtakefive,leavingeightinreserve.Noonesaysit,buteight

willdivideupperfectlyafterthenextdeath.Somehow,inthe

lightofday,jokingaboutwhowillbearoundtoeattherollshas

lostitshumor.

Howlongcanwekeepthisalliance?Idon’tthinkanyone

expectedthenumberoftributestodropsoquickly.WhatifIam

wrongabouttheothersprotectingPeeta?Ifthingsweresimply

coincidental,orit’sallbeenastrategytowinourtrusttomake

useasyprey,orIdon’tunderstandwhat’sactuallygoingon?

Wait,there’snoifsaboutthat.Idon’tunderstandwhat’sgoing

on.AndifIdon’t,it’stimeforPeetaandmetoclearoutofhere.

IsitnexttoPeetaonthesandtoeatmyrolls.Forsome

reason,it’sdifficulttolookathim.Maybeitwasallthatkissing

lastnight,althoughthetwoofuskissingisn’tanythingnew.It

mightnotevenhavefeltanydifferentforhim.Maybeit’s

knowingthebriefamountoftimewehaveleft.Andhowwe’re

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workingatsuchcross-purposeswhenitcomestowhoshould

survivetheseGames.

Afterweeat,Itakehishandandtughimtowardthewater.

“Comeon.I’llteachyouhowtoswim.”Ineedtogethimaway

fromtheotherswherewecandiscussbreakingaway.Itwillbe

tricky,becauseoncetheyrealizewe’reseveringthealliance,

we’llbeinstanttargets.

IfIwasreallyteachinghimtoswim,I’dmakehimtakeoff

thebeltsinceitkeepshimafloat,butwhatdoesitmatternow?

SoIjustshowhimthebasicstrokeandlethimpracticegoing

backandforthinwaist-highwater.Atfirst,InoticeJohanna

keepingacarefuleyeonus,buteventuallyshelosesinterestand

goestotakeanap.Finnick’sweavinganewnetoutofvinesand

Beeteeplayswithhiswire.Iknowthetimehascome.

WhilePeetahasbeenswimming,I’vediscoveredsomething.

Myremainingscabsarestartingtopeeloff.Bygentlyrubbinga

handfulofsandupanddownmyarm,Icleanofftherestofthe

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scales,revealingfreshnewskinunderneath.IstopPeeta’s

practice,onthepretextofshowinghimhowtoridhimselfofthe

itchyscabs,andaswescrubourselves,Ibringupourescape.

“Look,thepoolisdowntoeight.Ithinkit’stimewetook

off,”Isayundermybreath,althoughIdoubtanyofthetributes

canhearme.

Peetanods,andIcanseehimconsideringmyproposition.

Weighingiftheoddswillbeinourfavor.“Tellyouwhat,”he

says.“Let’sstickarounduntilBrutusandEnobariaaredead.I

thinkBeetee’stryingtoputtogethersomekindoftrapforthem

now.Then,Ipromise,we’llgo.”

I’mnotentirelyconvinced.Butifweleavenow,we’llhave

twosetsofadversariesafterus.Maybethree,becausewho

knowswhatChaff’supto?Plustheclocktocontendwith.And

thenthere’sBeeteetothinkof.Johannaonlybroughthimforme,

andifweleaveshe’llsurelykillhim.ThenIremember.Ican’t

protectBeetee,too.Therecanonlybeonevictorandithastobe

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Peeta.Imustacceptthis.Imustmakedecisionsbasedonhis

survivalonly.

“Allright,”Isay.“We’llstayuntiltheCareersaredead.But

that’stheendofit.”IturnandwavetoFinnick.“Hey,Finnick,

comeonin!Wefiguredouthowtomakeyouprettyagain!”

Thethreeofusscourallthescabsfromourbodies,helping

withtheothers’backs,andcomeoutthesamepinkasthesky.

Weapplyanotherroundofmedicinebecausetheskinseemstoo

delicateforthesunlight,butitdoesn’tlookhalfasbadon

smoothskinandwillbegoodcamouflageinthejungle.

Beeteecallsusover,anditturnsoutthatduringallthose

hoursoffiddlingwithwire,hehasindeedcomeupwithaplan.

“Ithinkwe’llallagreeournextjobistokillBrutusand

Enobaria,”hesaysmildly.“Idoubtthey’llattackusopenly

again,nowthatthey’resooutnumbered.Wecouldtrackthem

down,Isuppose,butit’sdangerous,exhaustingwork.”

“Doyouthinkthey’vefiguredoutabouttheclock?”Iask.

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“Iftheyhaven’t,they’llfigureitoutsoonenough.Perhaps

notasspecificallyaswehave.Buttheymustknowthatatleast

someofthezonesarewiredforattacksandthatthey’re

reoccurringinacircularfashion.Also,thefactthatourlastfight

wascutoffbyGamemakerinterventionwillnothavegone

unnoticedbythem.Weknowitwasanattempttodisorientus,

buttheymustbeaskingthemselveswhyitwasdone,andthis,

too,mayleadthemtotherealizationthatthearena’saclock,”

saysBeetee.“SoIthinkourbestbetwillbesettingourown

trap.”

“Wait,letmegetJohannaup,”saysFinnick.“She’llberabid

ifshethinksshemissedsomethingthisimportant.”

“Ornot,”Imutter,sinceshe’salwaysprettymuchrabid,but

Idon’tstophim,becauseI’dbeangrymyselfifIwasexcluded

fromaplanatthispoint.

Whenshe’sjoinedus,Beeteeshoosusallbackabitsohe

canhaveroomtoworkinthesand.Heswiftlydrawsacircleand

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dividesitintotwelvewedges.It’sthearena,notrenderedin

Peeta’sprecisestrokesbutintheroughlinesofamanwhose

mindisoccupiedbyother,farmorecomplexthings.“Ifyou

wereBrutusandEnobaria,knowingwhatyoudonowaboutthe

jungle,wherewouldyoufeelsafest?”Beeteeasks.There’s

nothingpatronizinginhisvoice,andyetIcan’thelpthinkinghe

remindsmeofaschoolteacherabouttoeasechildrenintoa

lesson.Perhapsit’stheagedifference,orsimplythatBeeteeis

probablyaboutamilliontimessmarterthantherestofus.

“Wherewearenow.Onthebeach,”saysPeeta.“It’sthe

safestplace.”

“Sowhyaren’ttheyonthebeach?”saysBeetee.

“Becausewe’rehere,”saysJohannaimpatiently.

“Exactly.We’rehere,claimingthebeach.Nowwherewould

yougo?”saysBeetee.

Ithinkaboutthedeadlyjungle,theoccupiedbeach.“I’dhide

justattheedgeofthejungle.SoIcouldescapeifanattackcame.

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AndsoIcouldspyonus.”

“Alsotoeat,”Finnicksays.“Thejungle’sfullofstrange

creaturesandplants.Butbywatchingus,I’dknowtheseafood’s

safe.”

Beeteesmilesatusasifwe’veexceededhisexpectations.

“Yes,good.Youdosee.Nowhere’swhatIpropose:atwelve

o’clockstrike.Whathappensexactlyatnoonandatmidnight?”

“Thelightningbolthitsthetree,”Isay.

“Yes.SowhatI’msuggestingisthatafterthebolthitsat

noon,butbeforeithitsatmidnight,werunmywirefromthat

treeallthewaydownintothesaltwater,whichis,ofcourse,

highlyconductive.Whentheboltstrikes,theelectricitywill

traveldownthewireandintonotonlythewaterbutalsothe

surroundingbeach,whichwillstillbedampfromtheteno’clock

wave.Anyoneincontactwiththosesurfacesatthatmomentwill

beelectrocuted,”saysBeetee.

There’salongpausewhilewealldigestBeetee’splan.It

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seemsabitfantasticaltome,impossibleeven.Butwhy?I’veset

thousandsofsnares.Isn’tthisjustalargersnarewithamore

scientificcomponent?Coulditwork?Howcanweevenquestion

it,wetributestrainedtogatherfishandlumberandcoal?What

doweknowaboutharnessingpowerfromthesky?

Peetatakesastabatit.“Willthatwirereallybeableto

conductthatmuchpower,Beetee?Itlookssofragile,likeit

wouldjustburnup.”

“Oh,itwill.Butnotuntilthecurrenthaspassedthroughit.It

willactsomethinglikeafuse,infact.Excepttheelectricitywill

travelalongit,”saysBeetee.

“Howdoyouknow?”asksJohanna,clearlynotconvinced.

“BecauseIinventedit,”saysBeetee,asifslightlysurprised.

“It’snotactuallywireintheusualsense.Noristhelightning

naturallightningnorthetreearealtree.Youknowtreesbetter

thananyofus,Johanna.Itwouldbedestroyedbynow,wouldn’t

it?”

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“Yes,”shesaysglumly.

“Don’tworryaboutthewire—itwilldojustwhatIsay,”

Beeteeassuresus.

“Andwherewillwebewhenthishappens?”asksFinnick.

“Farenoughupinthejungletobesafe,”Beeteereplies.

“TheCareerswillbesafe,too,then,unlessthey’reinthe

vicinityofthewater,”Ipointout.

“That’sright,”saysBeetee.

“Butalltheseafoodwillbecooked,”saysPeeta.

“Probablymorethancooked,”saysBeetee.“Wewillmost

likelybeeliminatingthatasafoodsourceforgood.Butyou

foundotherediblethingsinthejungle,right,Katniss?”

“Yes.Nutsandrats,”Isay.“Andwehavesponsors.”

“Well,then.Idon’tseethatasaproblem,”saysBeetee.“But

aswearealliesandthiswillrequireallourefforts,thedecision

ofwhetherornottoattemptitisuptoyoufour.”

Wearelikeschoolchildren.Completelyunabletodisputehis

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theorywithanythingbutthemostelementaryconcerns.Mostof

whichdon’tevenhaveanythingtodowithhisactualplan.Ilook

attheothers’disconcertedfaces.“Whynot?”Isay.“Ifitfails,

there’snoharmdone.Ifitworks,there’sadecentchancewe’ll

killthem.Andevenifwedon’tandjustkilltheseafood,Brutus

andEnobarialoseitasafoodsource,too.”

“Isaywetryit,”saysPeeta.“Katnissisright.”

FinnicklooksatJohannaandraiseshiseyebrows.Hewill

notgoforwardwithouther.“Allright,”shesaysfinally.“It’s

betterthanhuntingthemdowninthejungle,anyway.AndI

doubtthey’llfigureoutourplan,sincewecanbarelyunderstand

itourselves.”

Beeteewantstoinspectthelightningtreebeforehehastorig

it.Judgingbythesun,it’saboutnineinthemorning.Wehaveto

leaveourbeachsoon,anyway.Sowebreakcamp,walkoverto

thebeachthatbordersthelightningsection,andheadintothe

jungle.Beetee’sstilltooweaktohikeuptheslopeonhisown,so

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FinnickandPeetataketurnscarryinghim.IletJohannalead

becauseit’saprettystraightshotuptothetree,andIfigureshe

can’tgetustoolost.Besides,Icandoalotmoredamagewitha

sheathofarrowsthanshecanwithtwoaxes,soI’mthebestone

tobringuptherear.

Thedense,muggyairweighsonme.There’sbeennobreak

fromitsincetheGamesbegan.IwishHaymitchwouldstop

sendingusthatDistrict3breadandgetussomemoreofthat

District4stuff,becauseI’vesweatedoutbucketsinthelasttwo

days,andeventhoughI’vehadthefish,I’mcravingsalt.Apiece

oficewouldbeanothergoodidea.Oracolddrinkofwater.I’m

gratefulforthefluidfromthetrees,butit’sthesame

temperatureastheseawaterandtheairandtheothertributesand

me.We’realljustonebig,warmstew.

Aswenearthetree,FinnicksuggestsItakethelead.

“Katnisscanheartheforcefield,”heexplainstoBeeteeand

Johanna.

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“Hearit?”asksBeetee.

“OnlywiththeeartheCapitolreconstructed,”Isay.Guess

whoI’mnotfoolingwiththatstory?Beetee.Becausesurelyhe

remembersthatheshowedmehowtospotaforcefield,and

probablyit’simpossibletohearforcefields,anyway.But,for

whateverreason,hedoesn’tquestionmyclaim.

“Thenbyallmeans,letKatnissgofirst,”hesays,pausinga

momenttowipethesteamoffhisglasses.“Forcefieldsare

nothingtoplayaroundwith.”

Thelightningtree’sunmistakableasittowerssohighabove

theothers.Ifindabunchofnutsandmakeeverybodywaitwhile

Imoveslowlyuptheslope,tossingthenutsaheadofme.ButI

seetheforcefieldalmostimmediately,evenbeforeanuthitsit,

becauseit’sonlyaboutfifteenyardsaway.Myeyes,whichare

sweepingthegreenerybeforeme,catchsightoftherippled

squarehighupandtomyright.Ithrowanutdirectlyinfrontof

meandhearitsizzleinconfirmation.

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“Juststaybelowthelightningtree,”Itelltheothers.

Wedivideupduties.FinnickguardsBeeteewhilehe

examinesthetree,Johannatapsforwater,Peetagathersnuts,and

Ihuntnearby.Thetreeratsdon’tseemtohaveanyfearof

humans,soItakedownthreeeasily.Thesoundoftheteno’clock

waveremindsmeIshouldgetback,andIreturntotheothersand

cleanmykill.ThenIdrawalineinthedirtafewfeetfromthe

forcefieldasaremindertokeepback,andPeetaandIsettle

downtoroastnutsandsearcubesofrat.

Beeteeisstillmessingaroundthetree,doingIdon’tknow

what,takingmeasurementsandsuch.Atonepointhesnapsoffa

sliverofbark,joinsus,andthrowsitagainsttheforcefield.It

bouncesbackandlandsontheground,glowing.Inafew

momentsitreturnstoitsoriginalcolor.“Well,thatexplainsa

lot,”saysBeetee.IlookatPeetaandcan’thelpbitingmylipto

keepfromlaughingsinceitexplainsabsolutelynothingto

anyonebutBeetee.

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Aboutthistimewehearthesoundofclicksrisingfromthe

sectoradjacenttous.Thatmeansit’seleveno’clock.It’sfar

louderinthejunglethanitwasonthebeachlastnight.Weall

listenintently.

“It’snotmechanical,”Beeteesaysdecidedly.

“I’dguessinsects,”Isay.“Maybebeetles.”

“Somethingwithpincers,”addsFinnick.

Thesoundswells,asifalertedbyourquietwordstothe

proximityofliveflesh.Whateverismakingthatclicking,Ibetit

couldstripustotheboneinseconds.

“Weshouldgetoutofhere,anyway,”saysJohanna.“There’s

lessthananhourbeforethelightningstarts.”

Wedon’tgothatfar,though.Onlytotheidenticaltreeinthe

blood-rainsection.Wehaveapicnicofsorts,squattingonthe

ground,eatingourjunglefood,waitingfortheboltthatsignals

noon.AtBeetee’srequest,Iclimbupintothecanopyasthe

clickingbeginstofadeout.Whenthelightningstrikes,it’s

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dazzling,evenfromhere,eveninthisbrightsunlight.It

completelyencompassesthedistanttree,makingitglowahot

blue-whiteandcausingthesurroundingairtocracklewith

electricity.IswingdownandreportmyfindingstoBeetee,who

seemssatisfied,evenifI’mnotterriblyscientific.

Wetakeacircuitousroutebacktotheteno’clockbeach.The

sandissmoothanddamp,sweptcleanbytherecentwave.Beetee

essentiallygivesustheafternoonoffwhileheworkswiththe

wire.Sinceit’shisweaponandtherestofushavetodefertohis

knowledgesoentirely,there’stheoddfeelingofbeingletoutof

schoolearly.Atfirstwetaketurnshavingnapsintheshadowy

edgeofthejungle,butbylateafternooneveryoneisawakeand

restless.Wedecide,sincethismightbeourlastchancefor

seafood,tomakeasortoffeastofit.UnderFinnick’sguidance

wespearfishandgathershellfish,evendiveforoysters.Ilike

thislastpartbest,notbecauseIhaveanygreatappetitefor

oysters.Ionlyevertastedthemonce,intheCapitol,andI

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couldn’tgetaroundthesliminess.Butit’slovely,deepdown

underthewater,likebeinginadifferentworld.Thewater’svery

clear,andschoolsofbright-huedfishandstrangeseaflowers

decoratethesandfloor.

JohannakeepswatchwhileFinnick,Peeta,andIcleanand

layouttheseafood.Peeta’sjustpriedopenanoysterwhenIhear

himgivealaugh.“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.

Peetarinsesthepearloffinthewaterandhandsittome.

“Foryou.”Iholditoutonmypalmandexamineitsiridescent

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surfaceinthesunlight.Yes,Iwillkeepit.Forthefewremaining

hoursofmylifeIwillkeepitclose.ThislastgiftfromPeeta.

TheonlyoneIcanreallyaccept.Perhapsitwillgivemestrength

inthefinalmoments.

“Thanks,”Isay,closingmyfistaroundit.Ilookcoollyinto

theblueeyesofthepersonwhoisnowmygreatestopponent,the

personwhowouldkeepmealiveathisownexpense.AndI

promisemyselfIwilldefeathisplan.

Thelaughterdrainsfromthoseeyes,andtheyarestaringso

intenselyintomine,it’sliketheycanreadmythoughts.“The

locketdidn’twork,didit?”Peetasays,eventhoughFinnickis

rightthere.Eventhougheveryonecanhearhim.“Katniss?”

“Itworked,”Isay.

“ButnotthewayIwanteditto,”hesays,avertinghisglance.

Afterthathewilllookatnothingbutoysters.

Justaswe’reabouttoeat,aparachuteappearsbearingtwo

supplementstoourmeal.Asmallpotofspicyredsauceandyet

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anotherroundofrollsfromDistrict3.Finnick,ofcourse,

immediatelycountsthem.“Twenty-fouragain,”hesays.

Thirty-tworolls,then.Soweeachtakefive,leavingseven,

whichwillneverdivideequally.It’sbreadforonlyone.

Thesaltyfishflesh,thesucculentshellfish.Eventheoysters

seemtasty,vastlyimprovedbythesauce.Wegorgeourselves

untilnoonecanholdanotherbite,andeventhenthereare

leftovers.Theywon’tkeep,though,sowetossalltheremaining

foodbackintothewatersotheCareerswon’tgetitwhenwe

leave.Noonebothersabouttheshells.Thewaveshouldclear

thoseaway.

There’snothingtodonowbutwait.PeetaandIsitatthe

edgeofthewater,handinhand,wordless.Hegavehisspeech

lastnightbutitdidn’tchangemymind,andnothingIcansay

willchangehis.Thetimeforpersuasivegiftsisover.

Ihavethepearl,though,securedinaparachutewiththespile

andthemedicineatmywaist.IhopeitmakesitbacktoDistrict

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12.

SurelymymotherandPrimwillknowtoreturnittoPeeta

beforetheyburymybody.

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Theanthembegins,buttherearenofacesintheskytonight.

Theaudiencewillberestless,thirstingforblood.Beetee’strap

holdsenoughpromise,though,thattheGamemakershaven’tsent

inotherattacks.Perhapstheyaresimplycurioustoseeifitwill

work.

AtwhatFinnickandIjudgetobeaboutnine,weleaveour

shell-strewncamp,crosstothetwelveo’clockbeach,andbegin

toquietlyhikeuptothelightningtreeinthelightofthemoon.

Ourfullstomachsmakeusmoreuncomfortableandbreathless

thanwewereonthemorning’sclimb.Ibegintoregretthoselast

dozenoysters.

BeeteeasksFinnicktoassisthim,andtherestofusstand

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guard.Beforeheevenattachesanywiretothetree,Beetee

unrollsyardsandyardsofthestuff.HehasFinnicksecureit

tightlyaroundabrokenbranchandlayitontheground.Then

theystandoneithersideofthetree,passingthespoolbackand

forthastheywrapthewirearoundandaroundthetrunk.Atfirst

itseemsarbitrary,thenIseeapattern,likeanintricatemaze,

appearinginthemoonlightonBeetee’sside.Iwonderifitmakes

anydifferencehowthewire’splaced,orifthisismerelytoadd

tothespeculationoftheaudience.Ibetmostofthemknowas

muchaboutelectricityasIdo.

Theworkonthetrunk’scompletedjustaswehearthewave

begin.I’veneverreallyworkedoutatwhatpointintheten

o’clockhouriterupts.Theremustbesomebuildup,thenthe

waveitself,thentheaftermathoftheflooding.Buttheskytells

meten-thirty.

ThisiswhenBeeteerevealstherestoftheplan.Sincewe

movemostswiftlythroughthetrees,hewantsJohannaandmeto

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takethecoildownthroughthejungle,unwindingthewireaswe

go.Wearetolayitacrossthetwelveo’clockbeachanddropthe

metalspool,withwhateverisleft,deepintothewater,making

sureitsinks.Thenrunforthejungle.Ifwegonow,rightnow,

weshouldmakeittosafety.

“Iwanttogowiththemasaguard,”Peetasaysimmediately.

Afterthemomentwiththepearl,Iknowhe’slesswillingthan

evertoletmeoutofhissight.

“You’retooslow.Besides,I’llneedyouonthisend.Katniss

willguard,”saysBeetee.“There’snotimetodebatethis.I’m

sorry.Ifthegirlsaretogetoutoftherealive,theyneedtomove

now.”HehandsthecoiltoJohanna.

Idon’tliketheplananymorethanPeetadoes.HowcanI

protecthimatadistance?ButBeetee’sright.Withhisleg,Peeta

istooslowtomakeitdowntheslopeintime.JohannaandIare

thefastestandmostsure-footedonthejunglefloor.Ican’tthink

ofanyalternative.AndifItrustanyoneherebesidesPeeta,it’s

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Beetee.

“It’sokay,”ItellPeeta.“We’lljustdropthecoilandcome

straightbackup.”

“Notintothelightningzone,”Beeteeremindsme.“Headfor

thetreeintheone-to-two-o’clocksector.Ifyoufindyou’re

runningoutoftime,moveoveronemore.Don’teventhinkabout

goingbackonthebeach,though,untilIcanassessthedamage.”

ItakePeeta’sfaceinmyhands.“Don’tworry.I’llseeyouat

midnight.”Igivehimakissand,beforehecanobjectany

further,IletgoandturntoJohanna.“Ready?”

“Whynot?”saysJohannawithashrug.She’sclearlyno

happieraboutbeingteamedupthanIam.Butwe’reallcaughtup

inBeetee’strap.“Youguard,I’llunwind.Wecantradeoff

later.”

Withoutfurtherdiscussion,weheaddowntheslope.Infact

there’sverylittlediscussionbetweenusatall.Wemoveata

prettygoodclip,onemanningthecoil,theotherkeepingwatch.

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Abouthalfwaydown,weheartheclickingbeginningtorise,

indicatingit’saftereleven.

“Betterhurry,”Johannasays.“Iwanttoputalotofdistance

betweenmeandthatwaterbeforethelightninghits.Justincase

Voltsmiscalculatedsomething.”

“I’lltakethecoilforawhile,”Isay.It’sharderworklaying

outthewirethanguarding,andshe’shadalongturn.

“Here,”Johannasays,passingmethecoil.

Bothofourhandsarestillonthemetalcylinderwhenthere’s

aslightvibration.Suddenlythethingoldenwirefromabove

springsdownatus,bunchingintangledloopsandcurlsaround

ourwrists.Thentheseveredendsnakesuptoourfeet.

Itonlytakesasecondtoregisterthisrapidturnofevents.

JohannaandIlookateachother,butneitherofushastosayit.

Someonenotfaraboveushascutthewire.Andtheywillbeon

usatanymoment.

Myhandfreesitselffromthewireandhasjustclosedonthe

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feathersofanarrowwhenthemetalcylindersmashesintothe

sideofmyhead.ThenextthingIknow,I’mlyingonmybackin

thevines,aterriblepaininmylefttemple.Something’swrong

withmyeyes.MyvisionblursinandoutoffocusasIstrainto

makethetwomoonsfloatingupintheskyintoone.It’shardto

breathe,andIrealizeJohanna’ssittingonmychest,pinningme

attheshoulderswithherknees.

There’sastabinmyleftforearm.ItrytojerkawaybutI’m

stilltooincapacitated.Johanna’sdiggingsomething,Iguessthe

pointofherknife,intomyflesh,twistingitaround.There’san

excruciatingrippingsensationandwarmthrunsdownmywrist,

fillingmypalm.Sheswipesdownmyarmandcoatshalfmy

facewithmyblood.

“Staydown!”shehisses.HerweightleavesmybodyandI’m

alone.

Staydown?Ithink.What?Whatishappening?Myeyes

shut,blockingouttheinconsistentworld,asItrytomakesense

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ofmysituation.

AllIcanthinkofisJohannashovingWiresstothebeach.

“Juststaydown,willyou?”Butshedidn’tattackWiress.Not

likethis.I’mnotWiress,anyway.I’mnotNuts.“Juststaydown,

willyou?”echoesaroundinsidemybrain.

Footstepscoming.Twopairs.Heavy,nottryingtoconceal

theirwhereabouts.

Brutus’svoice.“She’sgoodasdead!Comeon,Enobaria!”

Feetmovingintothenight.

AmI?Idriftinandoutofconsciousnesslookingforan

answer.AmIasgoodasdead?I’minnopositiontomakean

argumenttothecontrary.Infact,rationalthinkingisastruggle.

ThismuchIknow.Johannaattackedme.Smashedthatcylinder

intomyhead.Cutmyarm,probablydoingirreparabledamageto

veinsandarteries,andthenBrutusandEnobariashowedup

beforeshehadtimetofinishmeoff.

Theallianceisover.FinnickandJohannamusthavehadan

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agreementtoturnonustonight.Iknewweshouldhaveleftthis

morning.Idon’tknowwhereBeeteestands.ButI’mfairgame,

andsoisPeeta.

Peeta!Myeyesflyopeninpanic.Peetaiswaitingupbythe

tree,unsuspectingandoffguard.MaybeFinnickhasevenkilled

himalready.“No,”Iwhisper.Thatwirewascutfromashort

distanceawaybytheCareers.FinnickandBeeteeandPeeta—

theycan’tknowwhat’sgoingondownhere.Theycanonlybe

wonderingwhathashappened,whythewirehasgoneslackor

maybeevensprungbacktothetree.This,initself,can’tbea

signaltokill,canit?SurelythiswasjustJohannadecidingthe

timehadcometobreakwithus.Killme.Escapefromthe

Careers.ThenbringFinnickintothefightassoonaspossible.

Idon’tknow.Idon’tknow.IonlyknowthatImustgetback

toPeetaandkeephimalive.IttakeseveryounceofwillIhaveto

pushupintoasittingpositionanddragmyselfupthesideofa

treetomyfeet.It’sluckyIhavesomethingtoholdontobecause

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thejungle’stiltingbackandforth.Withoutanywarning,Ilean

forwardandvomituptheseafoodfeast,heavinguntiltherecan’t

possiblybeanoysterleftinmybody.Tremblingandslickwith

sweat,Iassessmyphysicalcondition.

AsIliftupmydamagedarm,bloodspraysmeintheface

andtheworldmakesanotheralarmingshift.Isqueezemyeyes

shutandclingtothetreeuntilthingssteadyalittle.ThenItakea

fewcarefulstepstoaneighboringtree,pulloffsomemoss,and

withoutexaminingthewoundfurther,tightlybandagemyarm.

Better.Definitelybetternottoseeit.ThenIallowmyhandto

tentativelytouchmyheadwound.There’sahugelumpbutnot

toomuchblood.ObviouslyI’vegotsomeinternaldamage,butI

don’tseemindangerofbleedingtodeath.Atleastnotthrough

myhead.

Idrymyhandsonmossandgetashakygriponmybowwith

mydamagedleftarm.Securethenotchofanarrowtothestring.

Makemyfeetmoveuptheslope.

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Peeta.Mydyingwish.Mypromise.Tokeephimalive.My

heartliftsabitwhenIrealizehemustbealivebecauseno

cannonhasfired.MaybeJohannawasactingalone,knowing

Finnickwouldsidewithheronceherintentionswereclear.

Althoughit’shardtoguesswhatgoesonbetweenthosetwo.I

thinkofhowhelookedtoherforconfirmationbeforehe’dagree

tohelpsetBeetee’strap.There’samuchdeeperalliancebased

onyearsoffriendshipandwhoknowswhatelse.Therefore,if

Johannahasturnedonme,IshouldnolongertrustFinnick.

IreachthisconclusiononlysecondsbeforeIhearsomeone

runningdowntheslopetowardme.NeitherPeetanorBeetee

couldmoveatthispace.Iduckbehindacurtainofvines,

concealingmyselfjustintime.Finnickfliesbyme,hisskin

shadowywithmedicine,leapingthroughtheundergrowthlikea

deer.Hesoonreachesthesiteofmyattack,mustseetheblood.

“Johanna!Katniss!”hecalls.Istayputuntilhegoesinthe

directionJohannaandtheCareerstook.

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ImoveasquicklyasIcanwithoutsendingtheworldintoa

whirl.Myheadthrobswiththerapidbeatofmyheart.The

insects,possiblyexcitedbythesmellofblood,haveincreased

theirclickinguntilit’sacontinuousroarinmyears.No,wait.

Maybemyearsareactuallyringingfromthehit.Untilthe

insectsshutup,itwillbeimpossibletotell.Butwhentheinsects

gosilent,thelightningwillstart.Ihavetomovefaster.Ihaveto

gettoPeeta.

Theboomofacannonpullsmeupshort.Someonehasdied.

Iknowthatwitheveryonerunningaroundarmedandscaredright

now,itcouldbeanybody.Butwhoeveritis,Ibelievethedeath

willtriggerakindoffree-for-allouthereinthenight.People

willkillfirstandwonderabouttheirmotiveslater.Iforcemy

legsintoarun.

SomethingsnagsmyfeetandIsprawloutontheground.I

feelitwrappingaroundme,entwiningmeinsharpfibers.Anet!

ThismustbeoneofFinnick’sfancynets,positionedtotrapme,

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andhemustbenearby,tridentinhand.Iflailaroundfora

moment,onlyworkingthewebmoretightlyaroundme,andthen

Icatchaglimpseofitinthemoonlight.Confused,Iliftmyarm

andseeit’sentangledinshimmeringgoldenthreads.It’snotone

ofFinnick’snetsatall,butBeetee’swire.Icarefullyrisetomy

feetandfindI’minapatchofthestuffthatcaughtonatrunkon

itswaybacktothelightningtree.SlowlyIdisengagemyself

fromthewire,stepoutofitsreach,andcontinueuphill.

Onthegoodside,I’montherightpathandhavenotbeenso

disorientedbytheheadinjuryastolosemysenseofdirection.

Onthebadside,thewirehasremindedmeoftheoncoming

lightningstorm.Icanstillheartheinsects,butaretheystarting

tofade?

IkeeptheloopsofwireafewfeettomyleftasaguideasI

runbuttakegreatcarenottotouchthem.Ifthoseinsectsare

fadingandthefirstboltisabouttostrikethetree,thenallits

powerwillcomesurgingdownthatwireandanyoneincontact

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withitwilldie.

Thetreeswimsintoview,itstrunkfestoonedwithgold.I

slowdown,trytomovewithsomestealth,butI’mreallyjust

luckytobeupright.Ilookforasignoftheothers.Noone.No

oneisthere.“Peeta?”Icallsoftly.“Peeta?”

AsoftmoananswersmeandIwhiparoundtofindafigure

lyinghigherupontheground.“Beetee!”Iexclaim.Ihurryand

kneelbesidehim.Themoanmusthavebeeninvoluntary.He’s

notconscious,althoughIcanseenowoundexceptagashbelow

thecrookofhiselbow.Igrabanearbyhandfulofmossand

clumsilywrapitwhileItrytorousehim.“Beetee!Beetee,

what’sgoingon!Whocutyou?Beetee!”Ishakehimintheway

youshouldnevershakeaninjuredperson,butIdon’tknowwhat

elsetodo.Hemoansagainandbrieflyraisesahandtowardme

off.

ThisiswhenInoticehe’sholdingaknife,onePeetawas

carryingearlier,Ithink,whichiswrappedlooselyinwire.

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Perplexed,Istandandliftthewire,confirmingit’sattachedback

atthetree.Ittakesmeamomenttorememberthesecond,much

shorterstrandthatBeeteewoundaroundabranchandleftonthe

groundbeforeheevenbeganhisdesignonthetree.I’dthoughtit

hadsomeelectricalsignificance,hadbeensetasidetobeused

later.Butitneverwas,becausethere’sprobablyagoodtwenty,

twenty-fiveyardshere.

Isquinthardupthehillandrealizewe’reonlyafewpaces

fromtheforcefield.There’sthetelltalesquare,highupandto

myright,justasitwasthismorning.WhatdidBeeteedo?Didhe

actuallytrytodrivetheknifeintotheforcefieldthewayPeeta

didbyaccident?Andwhat’sthedealwiththewire?Wasthishis

backupplan?Ifelectrifyingthewaterfailed,didhemeantosend

thelightningbolt’senergyintotheforcefield?Whatwouldthat

do,anyway?Nothing?Agreatdeal?Fryusall?Theforcefield

mustmostlybeenergy,too,Iguess.TheoneintheTraining

Centerwasinvisible.Thisoneseemstosomehowmirrorthe

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jungle.ButI’veseenitfalterwhenPeeta’sknifestruckitand

whenmyarrowshit.Therealworldliesrightbehindit.

Myearsarenotringing.Itwastheinsectsafterall.Iknow

thatnowbecausetheyaredyingoutquicklyandIhearnothing

butthejunglesounds.Beeteeisuseless.Ican’trousehim.Ican’t

savehim.Idon’tknowwhathewastryingtodowiththeknife

andthewireandhe’sincapableofexplaining.Themossbandage

onmyarmissoakedandthere’snousefoolingmyself.I’mso

light-headedI’llblackoutinamatterofminutes.I’vegottoget

awayfromthistreeand—

“Katniss!”Ihearhisvoicethoughhe’safardistanceaway.

Butwhatishedoing?Peetamusthavefiguredoutthateveryone

ishuntingusbynow.“Katniss!”

Ican’tprotecthim.Ican’tmovefastorfarandmyshooting

abilitiesarequestionableatbest.IdotheonethingIcantodraw

theattackersawayfromhimandovertome.“Peeta!”Iscream

out.“Peeta!I’mhere!Peeta!”Yes,Iwilldrawthemin,anyin

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myvicinity,awayfromPeetaandovertomeandthelightning

treethatwillsoonbeaweaponinandofitself.“I’mhere!I’m

here!”Hewon’tmakeit.Notwiththatleginthenight.Hewill

nevermakeitintime.“Peeta!”

It’sworking.Icanhearthemcoming.Twoofthem.Crashing

throughthejungle.MykneesstarttogiveoutandIsinkdown

nexttoBeetee,restingmyweightonmyheels.Mybowand

arrowliftintoposition.IfIcantakethemout,willPeetasurvive

therest?

EnobariaandFinnickreachthelightningtree.Theycan’tsee

me,sittingabovethemontheslope,myskincamouflagedin

ointment.IhomeinonEnobaria’sneck.Withanyluck,whenI

killher,Finnickwillduckbehindthetreeforcoverjustasthe

lightningboltstrikes.Anditwillbeanysecond.There’sonlya

faintinsectclickhereandthere.Icankillthemnow.Icankill

themboth.

Anothercannon.

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“Katniss!”Peeta’svoicehowlsforme.ButthistimeIdon’t

answer.Beeteestillbreathesfaintlybesideme.HeandIwill

soondie.FinnickandEnobariawilldie.Peetaisalive.Two

cannonshavesounded.Brutus,Johanna,Chaff.Twoofthemare

alreadydead.ThatwillleavePeetawithonlyonetributetokill.

AndthatistheverybestIcando.Oneenemy.

Enemy.Enemy.Thewordistuggingatarecentmemory.

Pullingitintothepresent.ThelookonHaymitch’sface.

“Katniss,whenyou’reinthearena...”Thescowl,the

misgiving.“What?”IhearmyownvoicetightenasIbristleat

someunspokenaccusation.“Youjustrememberwhotheenemy

is,”Haymitchsays.“That’sall.”

Haymitch’slastwordsofadvicetome.WhywouldIneed

reminding?Ihavealwaysknownwhotheenemyis.Whostarves

andtorturesandkillsusinthearena.Whowillsoonkill

everyoneIlove.

Mybowdropsashismeaningregisters.Yes,Iknowwhothe

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enemyis.Andit’snotEnobaria.

IfinallyseeBeetee’sknifewithcleareyes.Myshaking

handsslidethewirefromthehilt,winditaroundthearrowjust

abovethefeathers,andsecureitwithaknotpickedupin

training.

Irise,turningtotheforcefield,fullyrevealingmyselfbutno

longercaring.OnlycaringaboutwhereIshoulddirectmytip,

whereBeeteewouldhavedriventheknifeifhe’dbeenableto

choose.Mybowtiltsupatthewaveringsquare,theflaw,the...

whatdidhecallitthatday?Thechinkinthearmor.Iletthe

arrowfly,seeithititsmarkandvanish,pullingthethreadof

goldbehindit.

Myhairstandsonendandthelightningstrikesthetree.

Aflashofwhiterunsupthewire,andforjustamoment,the

domeburstsintoadazzlingbluelight.I’mthrownbackwardto

theground,bodyuseless,paralyzed,eyesfrozenwide,as

featherybitsofmatterraindownonme.Ican’treachPeeta.I

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can’tevenreachmypearl.Myeyesstraintocaptureonelast

imageofbeautytotakewithme.

Rightbeforetheexplosionsbegin,Ifindastar.

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Everythingseemstoeruptatonce.Theearthexplodesinto

showersofdirtandplantmatter.Treesburstintoflames.Even

theskyfillswithbrightlycoloredblossomsoflight.Ican’tthink

whythesky’sbeingbombeduntilIrealizetheGamemakersare

shootingofffireworksupthere,whiletherealdestructionoccurs

ontheground.Justincaseit’snotenoughfunwatchingthe

obliterationofthearenaandtheremainingtributes.Orperhaps

toilluminateourgoryends.

Willtheyletanyonesurvive?Willtherebeavictorofthe

Seventy-fifthHungerGames?Maybenot.Afterall,whatisthis

QuarterQuellbut...whatwasitPresidentSnowreadfromthe

card?

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“...aremindertotherebelsthateventhestrongestamong

themcannotovercomethepoweroftheCapitol...”

Noteventhestrongestofthestrongwilltriumph.Perhaps

theyneverintendedtohaveavictorintheseGamesatall.Or

perhapsmyfinalactofrebellionforcedtheirhand.

I’msorry,Peeta,Ithink.I’msorryIcouldn’tsaveyou.Save

him?MorelikelyIstolehislastchanceatlife,condemnedhim,

bydestroyingtheforcefield.Maybe,ifwehadallplayedbythe

rules,theymighthavelethimlive.

Thehovercraftmaterializesabovemewithoutwarning.Ifit

wasquiet,andamockingjayperchedcloseathand,Iwouldhave

heardthejunglegosilentandthenthebird’scallthatprecedes

theappearanceoftheCapitol’saircraft.Butmyearscouldnever

makeoutanythingsodelicateinthisbombardment.

Theclawdropsfromtheundersideuntilit’sdirectly

overhead.Themetaltalonsslideunderme.Iwanttoscream,run,

smashmywayoutofitbutI’mfrozen,helplesstodoanything

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butferventlyhopeI’lldiebeforeIreachtheshadowyfigures

awaitingmeabove.Theyhavenotsparedmylifetocrownme

victorbuttomakemydeathasslowandpublicaspossible.

Myworstfearsareconfirmedwhenthefacethatgreetsme

insidethehovercraftbelongstoPlutarchHeavensbee,Head

Gamemaker.WhatamessIhavemadeofhisbeautifulGames

withtheclevertickingclockandthefieldofvictors.Hewill

sufferforhisfailure,probablylosehislife,butnotbeforehe

seesmepunished.Hishandreachesforme,Ithinktostrikeme,

buthedoessomethingworse.Withhisthumbandhisforefinger,

heslidesmyeyelidsshut,sentencingmetothevulnerabilityof

darkness.TheycandoanythingtomenowandIwillnoteven

seeitcoming.

Myheartpoundssohardthebloodbeginstostreamfrom

beneathmysoakedmossbandage.Mythoughtsgrowfoggy.

PossiblyIcanbleedtodeathbeforetheycanrevivemeafterall.

Inmymind,Iwhisperathank-youtoJohannaMasonforthe

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excellentwoundsheinflictedasIblackout.

WhenIswimbackintosemiconsciousness,IcanfeelI’m

lyingonapaddedtable.There’sthepinchingsensationoftubes

inmyleftarm.Theyaretryingtokeepmealivebecause,ifI

slidequietly,privatelyintodeath,itwillbeavictory.I’mstill

largelyunabletomove,openmyeyelids,raisemyhead.Butmy

rightarmhasregainedalittlemotion.Itflopsacrossmybody,

feelinglikeaflipper,no,somethinglessanimated,likeaclub.I

havenorealmotorcoordination,noproofthatIevenstillhave

fingers.YetImanagetoswingmyarmarounduntilIripthe

tubesout.AbeepinggoesoffbutIcan’tstayawaketofindout

whoitwillsummon.

ThenexttimeIsurface,myhandsaretieddowntothetable,

thetubesbackinmyarm.Icanopenmyeyesandliftmyhead

slightly,though.I’minalargeroomwithlowceilingsanda

silverylight.Therearetworowsofbedsfacingeachother.Ican

hearthebreathingofwhatIassumearemyfellowvictors.

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DirectlyacrossfrommeIseeBeeteewithabouttendifferent

machineshookeduptohim.Justletusdie!Iscreaminmymind.

Islammyheadbackhardonthetableandgooutagain.

WhenIfinally,truly,wakeup,therestraintsaregone.Iraise

myhandandfindIhavefingersthatcanmoveatmycommand

again.Ipushmyselftoasittingpositionandholdontothe

paddedtableuntiltheroomsettlesintofocus.Myleftarmis

bandagedbutthetubesdangleoffstandsbythebed.

I’maloneexceptforBeetee,whostillliesinfrontofme,

beingsustainedbyhisarmyofmachines.Wherearetheothers,

then?Peeta,Finnick,Enobaria,and...and...onemore,right?

EitherJohannaorChafforBrutuswasstillalivewhenthebombs

began.I’msurethey’llwanttomakeanexampleofusall.But

wherehavetheytakenthem?Movedthemfromhospitalto

prison?

“Peeta...”Iwhisper.Isowantedtoprotecthim.Amstill

resolvedto.SinceIhavefailedtokeephimsafeinlife,Imust

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findhim,killhimnowbeforetheCapitolgetstochoosethe

agonizingmeansofhisdeath.Islidemylegsoffthetableand

lookaroundforaweapon.Thereareafewsyringessealedin

sterileplasticonatablenearBeetee’sbed.Perfect.AllI’llneed

isairandaclearshotatoneofhisveins.

Ipauseforamoment,considerkillingBeetee.ButifIdo,

themonitorswillstartbeepingandI’llbecaughtbeforeIgetto

Peeta.ImakeasilentpromisetoreturnandfinishhimoffifI

can.

I’mnakedexceptforathinnightgown,soIslipthesyringe

underthebandagethatcoversthewoundonmyarm.Thereare

noguardsatthedoor.NodoubtI’mmilesbeneaththeTraining

CenterorinsomeCapitolstronghold,andthepossibilityofmy

escapeisnonexistent.Itdoesn’tmatter.I’mnotescaping,just

finishingajob.

Icreepdownanarrowhallwaytoametaldoorthatstands

slightlyajar.Someoneisbehindit.Itakeoutthesyringeand

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gripitinmyhand.Flatteningmyselfagainstthewall,Ilistento

thevoicesinside.

“CommunicationsaredowninSeven,Ten,andTwelve.But

Elevenhascontroloftransportationnow,sothere’satleasta

hopeofthemgettingsomefoodout.”

PlutarchHeavensbee.Ithink.AlthoughI’veonlyreally

spokenwithhimonce.Ahoarsevoiceasksaquestion.

“No,I’msorry.There’snowayIcangetyoutoFour.But

I’vegivenspecialordersforherretrievalifpossible.It’sthebest

Icando,Finnick.”

Finnick.Mymindstrugglestomakesenseofthe

conversation,ofthefactthatit’stakingplacebetweenPlutarch

HeavensbeeandFinnick.IshesonearanddeartotheCapitol

thathe’llbeexcusedhiscrimes?Ordidhereallyhavenoidea

whatBeeteeintended?Hecroaksoutsomethingelse.Something

heavywithdespair.

“Don’tbestupid.That’stheworstthingyoucoulddo.Get

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herkilledforsure.Aslongasyou’realive,they’llkeepheralive

forbait,”saysHaymitch.

SaysHaymitch!Ibangthroughthedoorandstumbleintothe

room.Haymitch,Plutarch,andaverybeat-upFinnicksitaround

atablelaidwithamealnooneiseating.Daylightstreamsinthe

curvedwindows,andinthedistanceIseethetopofaforestof

trees.Weareflying.

“Doneknockingyourselfout,sweetheart?”saysHaymitch,

theannoyanceclearinhisvoice.ButasIcareenforwardhesteps

upandcatchesmywrists,steadyingme.Helooksatmyhand.

“Soit’syouandasyringeagainsttheCapitol?See,thisiswhy

nooneletsyoumaketheplans.”Istareathim

uncomprehendingly.“Dropit.”Ifeelthepressureincreaseonmy

rightwristuntilmyhandisforcedtoopenandIreleasethe

syringe.HesettlesmeinachairnexttoFinnick.

Plutarchputsabowlofbrothinfrontofme.Aroll.Slipsa

spoonintomyhand.“Eat,”hesaysinamuchkindervoicethan

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Haymitchused.

Haymitchsitsdirectlyinfrontofme.“Katniss,I’mgoingto

explainwhathappened.Idon’twantyoutoaskanyquestions

untilI’mthrough.Doyouunderstand?”

Inodnumbly.Andthisiswhathetellsme.

Therewasaplantobreakusoutofthearenafromthe

momenttheQuellwasannounced.Thevictortributesfrom3,4,

6,7,8,and11hadvaryingdegreesofknowledgeaboutit.

PlutarchHeavensbeehasbeen,forseveralyears,partofan

undercovergroupaimingtooverthrowtheCapitol.Hemadesure

thewirewasamongtheweapons.Beeteewasinchargeof

blowingaholeintheforcefield.Thebreadwereceivedinthe

arenawascodeforthetimeoftherescue.Thedistrictwherethe

breadoriginatedindicatedtheday.Three.Thenumberofrolls

thehour.Twenty-four.ThehovercraftbelongstoDistrict13.

BonnieandTwill,thewomenImetinthewoodsfrom8,were

rightaboutitsexistenceanditsdefensecapabilities.Weare

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currentlyonaveryroundaboutjourneytoDistrict13.

Meanwhile,mostofthedistrictsinPanemareinfull-scale

rebellion.

HaymitchstopstoseeifIamfollowing.Ormaybeheis

doneforthemoment.

It’sanawfullottotakein,thiselaborateplaninwhichIwas

apiece,justasIwasmeanttobeapieceintheHungerGames.

Usedwithoutconsent,withoutknowledge.AtleastintheHunger

Games,IknewIwasbeingplayedwith.

Mysupposedfriendshavebeenalotmoresecretive.

“Youdidn’ttellme.”MyvoiceisasraggedasFinnick’s.

“NeitheryounorPeetaweretold.Wecouldn’triskit,”says

Plutarch.“Iwasevenworriedyoumightmentionmy

indiscretionwiththewatchduringtheGames.”Hepullsouthis

pocketwatchandrunshisthumbacrossthecrystal,lightingup

themockingjay.“Ofcourse,whenIshowedyouthis,Iwas

merelytippingyouoffaboutthearena.Asamentor.Ithoughtit

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mightbeafirststeptowardgainingyourtrust.Ineverdreamed

you’dbeatributeagain.”

“Istilldon’tunderstandwhyPeetaandIweren’tletinonthe

plan,”Isay.

“Becauseoncetheforcefieldblew,you’dbethefirstones

they’dtrytocapture,andthelessyouknew,thebetter,”says

Haymitch.

“Thefirstones?Why?”Isay,tryingtohangontothetrain

ofthought.

“Forthesamereasontherestofusagreedtodietokeepyou

alive,”saysFinnick.

“No,Johannatriedtokillme,”Isay.

“Johannaknockedyououttocutthetrackerfromyourarm

andleadBrutusandEnobariaawayfromyou,”saysHaymitch.

“What?”MyheadachessoandIwantthemtostoptalkingin

circles.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re—”

“Wehadtosaveyoubecauseyou’rethemockingjay,

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Katniss,”saysPlutarch.“Whileyoulive,therevolutionlives.”

Thebird,thepin,thesong,theberries,thewatch,the

cracker,thedressthatburstintoflames.Iamthemockingjay.

TheonethatsurviveddespitetheCapitol’splans.Thesymbolof

therebellion.

It’swhatIsuspectedinthewoodswhenIfoundBonnieand

Twillescaping.ThoughIneverreallyunderstoodthemagnitude.

Butthen,Iwasn’tmeanttounderstand.IthinkofHaymitch’s

sneeringatmyplanstofleeDistrict12,startmyownuprising,

eventheverynotionthatDistrict13couldexist.Subterfugesand

deceptions.Andifhecoulddothat,behindhismaskofsarcasm

anddrunkenness,soconvincinglyandforsolong,whatelsehas

heliedabout?Iknowwhatelse.

“Peeta,”Iwhisper,myheartsinking.

“TheotherskeptPeetaalivebecauseifhedied,weknew

there’dbenokeepingyouinanalliance,”saysHaymitch.“And

wecouldn’triskleavingyouunprotected.”Hiswordsarematter-

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of-fact,hisexpressionunchanged,buthecan’thidethetingeof

graythatcolorshisface.

“WhereisPeeta?”Ihissathim.

“HewaspickedupbytheCapitolalongwithJohannaand

Enobaria,”saysHaymitch.Andfinallyhehasthedecencyto

drophisgaze.

Technically,Iamunarmed.Butnooneshouldever

underestimatetheharmthatfingernailscando,especiallyifthe

targetisunprepared.Ilungeacrossthetableandrakeminedown

Haymitch’sface,causingbloodtoflowanddamagetooneeye.

Thenwearebothscreamingterrible,terriblethingsateach

other,andFinnickistryingtodragmeout,andIknowit’sall

Haymitchcandonottoripmeapart,butI’mthemockingjay.

I’mthemockingjayandit’stoohardkeepingmealiveasitis.

OtherhandshelpFinnickandI’mbackonmytable,mybody

restrained,mywriststieddown,soIslammyheadinfuryagain

andagainagainstthetable.Aneedlepokesmyarmandmyhead

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hurtssobadlyIstopfightingandsimplywailinahorrible,

dying-animalway,untilmyvoicegivesout.

Thedrugcausessedation,notsleep,soIamtrappedinfuzzy,

dullyachingmiseryforwhatseemslikealways.Theyreinsert

theirtubesandtalktomeinsoothingvoicesthatneverreachme.

AllIcanthinkofisPeeta,lyingonasimilartablesomewhere,

whiletheytrytobreakhimforinformationhedoesn’tevenhave.

“Katniss.Katniss,I’msorry.”Finnick’svoicecomesfrom

thebednexttomeandslipsintomyconsciousness.Perhaps

becausewe’reinthesamekindofpain.“Iwantedtogobackfor

himandJohanna,butIcouldn’tmove.”

Idon’tanswer.FinnickOdair’sgoodintentionsmeanless

thannothing.

“It’sbetterforhimthanJohanna.They’llfigureouthe

doesn’tknowanythingprettyfast.Andtheywon’tkillhimif

theythinktheycanusehimagainstyou,”saysFinnick.

“Likebait?”Isaytotheceiling.“Likehowthey’lluseAnnie

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forbait,Finnick?”

IcanhearhimweepingbutIdon’tcare.Theyprobably

won’tevenbothertoquestionher,she’ssofargone.Goneright

offthedeependyearsagoinherGames.There’sagoodchance

I’mheadedinthesamedirection.MaybeI’malreadygoing

crazyandnoonehasthehearttotellme.Ifeelcrazyenough.

“Iwishshewasdead,”hesays.“Iwishtheywerealldead

andwewere,too.Itwouldbebest.”

Well,there’snogoodresponsetothat.Icanhardlydisputeit

sinceIwaswalkingaroundwithasyringetokillPeetawhenI

foundthem.DoIreallywanthimdead?WhatIwant...whatI

wantistohavehimback.ButI’llnevergethimbacknow.Even

iftherebelforcescouldsomehowoverthrowtheCapitol,youcan

besurePresidentSnow’slastactwouldbetocutPeeta’sthroat.

No.Iwillnevergethimback.Sothendeadisbest.

ButwillPeetaknowthatorwillhekeepfighting?He’sso

strongandsuchagoodliar.Doeshethinkhehasachanceof

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surviving?Doesheevencareifhedoes?Hewasn’tplanningon

it,anyway.Hehadalreadysignedoffonlife.Maybe,ifheknows

Iwasrescued,he’sevenhappy.Feelshefulfilledhismissionto

keepmealive.

IthinkIhatehimevenmorethanIdoHaymitch.

Igiveup.Stopspeaking,responding,refusefoodandwater.

Theycanpumpwhatevertheywantintomyarm,butittakes

morethanthattokeepapersongoingonceshe’slostthewillto

live.IevenhaveafunnynotionthatifIdodie,maybePeetawill

beallowedtolive.NotasafreepersonbutasanAvoxor

something,waitingonthefuturetributesofDistrict12.Then

maybehecouldfindsomewaytoescape.Mydeathcould,in

fact,stillsavehim.

Ifitcan’t,nomatter.It’senoughtodieofspite.Topunish

Haymitch,who,ofallthepeopleinthisrottingworld,hasturned

PeetaandmeintopiecesinhisGames.Itrustedhim.Iputwhat

waspreciousinHaymitch’shands.Andhehasbetrayedme.

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“See,thisiswhynooneletsyoumaketheplans,”hesaid.

That’strue.Nooneintheirrightmindwouldletmemake

theplans.BecauseIobviouslycan’ttellafriendfromanenemy.

Alotofpeoplecomebytotalktome,butImakealltheir

wordssoundliketheclickingoftheinsectsinthejungle.

Meaninglessanddistant.Dangerous,butonlyifapproached.

Wheneverthewordsstarttobecomedistinct,Imoanuntilthey

givememorepainkillerandthatfixesthingsrightup.

Untilonetime,IopenmyeyesandfindsomeoneIcannot

blockoutlookingdownatme.Someonewhowillnotplead,or

explain,orthinkhecanaltermydesignwithentreaties,because

healonereallyknowshowIoperate.

“Gale,”Iwhisper.

“Hey,Catnip.”Hereachesdownandpushesastrandofhair

outofmyeyes.Onesideofhisfacehasbeenburnedfairly

recently.Hisarmisinasling,andIcanseebandagesunderhis

miner’sshirt.Whathashappenedtohim?Howisheevenhere?

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Somethingverybadhashappenedbackhome.

ItisnotsomuchaquestionofforgettingPeetaas

rememberingtheothers.AllittakesisonelookatGaleandthey

comesurgingintothepresent,demandingtobeacknowledged.

“Prim?”Igasp.

“She’salive.Soisyourmother.Igotthemoutintime,”he

says.

“They’renotinDistrictTwelve?”Iask.

“AftertheGames,theysentinplanes.Droppedfirebombs.”

Hehesitates.“Well,youknowwhathappenedtotheHob.”

Idoknow.Isawitgoup.Thatoldwarehouseembeddedwith

coaldust.Thewholedistrict’scoveredwiththestuff.Anewkind

ofhorrorbeginstoriseupinsidemeasIimaginefirebombs

hittingtheSeam.

“They’renotinDistrictTwelve?”Irepeat.Asifsayingit

willsomehowfendoffthetruth.

“Katniss,”Galesayssoftly.

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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.”

ENDOFBOOKTWO

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Contents
TitlePage
Dedication
PartI:“TheAshes”
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
PartII:“TheAssault”
10
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11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
PartIII:“TheAssassin”
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
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Epilogue

Acknowledgments

AbouttheAuthor

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Istaredownatmyshoes,watchingasafinelayerofash

settlesonthewornleather.ThisiswherethebedIsharedwith

mysister,Prim,stood.Overtherewasthekitchentable.The

bricksofthechimney,whichcollapsedinacharredheap,

provideapointofreferencefortherestofthehouse.Howelse

couldIorientmyselfinthisseaofgray?

AlmostnothingremainsofDistrict12.Amonthago,the

Capitol’sfirebombsobliteratedthepoorcoalminers’housesin

theSeam,theshopsinthetown,eventheJusticeBuilding.The

onlyareathatescapedincinerationwastheVictor’sVillage.I

don’tknowwhyexactly.Perhapssoanyoneforcedtocomehere

onCapitolbusinesswouldhavesomewheredecenttostay.The

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oddreporter.Acommitteeassessingtheconditionofthecoal

mines.AsquadofPeacekeeperscheckingforreturningrefugees.

Butnooneisreturningexceptme.Andthat’sonlyforabrief

visit.TheauthoritiesinDistrict13wereagainstmycoming

back.Theyvieweditasacostlyandpointlessventure,giventhat

atleastadozeninvisiblehovercraftarecirclingoverheadformy

protectionandthere’snointelligencetobegained.Ihadtosee

it,though.SomuchsothatImadeitaconditionofmy

cooperatingwithanyoftheirplans.

Finally,PlutarchHeavensbee,theHeadGamemakerwhohad

organizedtherebelsintheCapitol,threwuphishands.“Lether

go.Bettertowasteadaythananothermonth.Maybealittletour

ofTwelveisjustwhatsheneedstoconvinceherwe’reonthe

sameside.”

Thesameside.ApainstabsmylefttempleandIpressmy

handagainstit.RightonthespotwhereJohannaMasonhitme

withthecoilofwire.ThememoriesswirlasItrytosortoutwhat

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istrueandwhatisfalse.Whatseriesofeventsledmetobe

standingintheruinsofmycity?Thisishardbecausetheeffects

oftheconcussionshegavemehaven’tcompletelysubsidedand

mythoughtsstillhaveatendencytojumbletogether.Also,the

drugstheyusetocontrolmypainandmoodsometimesmakeme

seethings.Iguess.I’mstillnotentirelyconvincedthatIwas

hallucinatingthenightthefloorofmyhospitalroom

transformedintoacarpetofwrithingsnakes.

Iuseatechniqueoneofthedoctorssuggested.Istartwith

thesimplestthingsIknowtobetrueandworktowardthemore

complicated.Thelistbeginstorollinmyhead....

MynameisKatnissEverdeen.Iamseventeenyearsold.My

homeisDistrict12.IwasintheHungerGames.Iescaped.The

Capitolhatesme.Peetawastakenprisoner.Heisthoughttobe

dead.Mostlikelyheisdead.Itisprobablybestifheisdead....

“Katniss.ShouldIcomedown?”MybestfriendGale’svoice

reachesmethroughtheheadsettherebelsinsistedIwear.He’s

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upinahovercraft,watchingmecarefully,readytoswoopinif

anythinggoesamiss.IrealizeI’mcroucheddownnow,elbows

onmythighs,myheadbracedbetweenmyhands.Imustlookon

thevergeofsomekindofbreakdown.Thiswon’tdo.Notwhen

they’refinallyweaningmeoffthemedication.

Istraightenupandwavehisofferaway.“No.I’mfine.”To

reinforcethis,Ibegintomoveawayfrommyoldhouseandin

towardthetown.Galeaskedtobedroppedoffin12withme,but

hedidn’tforcetheissuewhenIrefusedhiscompany.He

understandsIdon’twantanyonewithmetoday.Notevenhim.

Somewalksyouhavetotakealone.

Thesummer’sbeenscorchinghotanddryasabone.There’s

beennexttonoraintodisturbthepilesofashleftbytheattack.

Theyshifthereandthere,inreactiontomyfootsteps.Nobreeze

toscatterthem.IkeepmyeyesonwhatIrememberastheroad,

becausewhenIfirstlandedintheMeadow,Iwasn’tcarefulandI

walkedrightintoarock.Onlyitwasn’tarock—itwas

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someone’sskull.Itrolledoverandoverandlandedfaceup,and

foralongtimeIcouldn’tstoplookingattheteeth,wondering

whosetheywere,thinkingofhowminewouldprobablylookthe

samewayundersimilarcircumstances.

Isticktotheroadoutofhabit,butit’sabadchoice,because

it’sfulloftheremainsofthosewhotriedtoflee.Somewere

incineratedentirely.Butothers,probablyovercomewithsmoke,

escapedtheworstoftheflamesandnowliereekinginvarious

statesofdecomposition,carrionforscavengers,blanketedby

flies.Ikilledyou,IthinkasIpassapile.Andyou.Andyou.

BecauseIdid.Itwasmyarrow,aimedatthechinkinthe

forcefieldsurroundingthearena,thatbroughtonthisfirestorm

ofretribution.ThatsentthewholecountryofPanemintochaos.

InmyheadIhearPresidentSnow’swords,spokenthe

morningIwastobegintheVictoryTour.“KatnissEverdeen,the

girlwhowasonfire,youhaveprovidedasparkthat,left

unattended,maygrowtoaninfernothatdestroysPanem.”It

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turnsouthewasn’texaggeratingorsimplytryingtoscareme.

Hewas,perhaps,genuinelyattemptingtoenlistmyhelp.ButI

hadalreadysetsomethinginmotionthatIhadnoabilityto

control.

Burning.Stillburning,Ithinknumbly.Thefiresatthecoal

minesbelchblacksmokeinthedistance.There’snooneleftto

care,though.Morethanninetypercentofthedistrict’s

populationisdead.Theremainingeighthundredorsoare

refugeesinDistrict13—which,asfarasI’mconcerned,isthe

samethingasbeinghomelessforever.

IknowIshouldn’tthinkthat;IknowIshouldbegratefulfor

thewaywehavebeenwelcomed.Sick,wounded,starving,and

empty-handed.Still,IcannevergetaroundthefactthatDistrict

13wasinstrumentalin12’sdestruction.Thisdoesn’tabsolveme

ofblame—there’splentyofblametogoaround.Butwithout

them,Iwouldnothavebeenpartofalargerplottooverthrowthe

Capitolorhadthewherewithaltodoit.

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ThecitizensofDistrict12hadnoorganizedresistance

movementoftheirown.Nosayinanyofthis.Theyonlyhadthe

misfortunetohaveme.Somesurvivorsthinkit’sgoodluck,

though,tobefreeofDistrict12atlast.Tohaveescapedthe

endlesshungerandoppression,theperilousmines,thelashof

ourfinalHeadPeacekeeper,RomulusThread.Tohaveanew

homeatallisseenasawondersince,upuntilashorttimeago,

wehadn’tevenknownthatDistrict13stillexisted.

Thecreditforthesurvivors’escapehaslandedsquarelyon

Gale’sshoulders,althoughhe’sloathtoacceptit.Assoonasthe

QuarterQuellwasover—assoonasIhadbeenliftedfromthe

arena—theelectricityinDistrict12wascut,thetelevisions

wentblack,andtheSeambecamesosilent,peoplecouldhear

oneanother’sheartbeats.Noonedidanythingtoprotestor

celebratewhathadhappenedinthearena.Yetwithinfifteen

minutes,theskywasfilledwithhoverplanesandthebombswere

rainingdown.

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ItwasGalewhothoughtoftheMeadow,oneofthefew

placesnotfilledwitholdwoodenhomesembeddedwithcoal

dust.Heherdedthosehecouldinitsdirection,includingmy

motherandPrim.Heformedtheteamthatpulleddownthefence

—nowjustaharmlesschain-linkbarrier,withtheelectricityoff

—andledthepeopleintothewoods.Hetookthemtotheonly

placehecouldthinkof,thelakemyfatherhadshownmeasa

child.Anditwasfromtheretheywatchedthedistantflameseat

upeverythingtheyknewintheworld.

Bydawnthebomberswerelonggone,thefiresdying,the

finalstragglersroundedup.MymotherandPrimhadsetupa

medicalareafortheinjuredandwereattemptingtotreatthem

withwhatevertheycouldgleanfromthewoods.Galehadtwo

setsofbowsandarrows,onehuntingknife,onefishingnet,and

overeighthundredterrifiedpeopletofeed.Withthehelpof

thosewhowereable-bodied,theymanagedforthreedays.And

that’swhenthehovercraftunexpectedlyarrivedtoevacuatethem

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toDistrict13,wherethereweremorethanenoughclean,white

livingcompartments,plentyofclothing,andthreemealsaday.

Thecompartmentshadthedisadvantageofbeingunderground,

theclothingwasidentical,andthefoodwasrelativelytasteless,

butfortherefugeesof12,thesewereminorconsiderations.They

weresafe.Theywerebeingcaredfor.Theywerealiveand

eagerlywelcomed.

Thisenthusiasmwasinterpretedaskindness.Butaman

namedDalton,aDistrict10refugeewho’dmadeitto13onfoot

afewyearsago,leakedtherealmotivetome.“Theyneedyou.

Me.Theyneedusall.Awhileback,therewassomesortofpox

epidemicthatkilledabunchofthemandleftalotmoreinfertile.

Newbreedingstock.That’showtheyseeus.”Backin10,he’d

workedononeofthebeefranches,maintainingthegenetic

diversityoftheherdwiththeimplantationoflong-frozencow

embryos.He’sverylikelyrightabout13,becausetheredon’t

seemtobenearlyenoughkidsaround.Butsowhat?We’renot

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beingkeptinpens,we’rebeingtrainedforwork,thechildrenare

beingeducated.Thoseoverfourteenhavebeengivenentry-level

ranksinthemilitaryandareaddressedrespectfullyas“Soldier.”

Everysinglerefugeewasgrantedautomaticcitizenshipbythe

authoritiesof13.

Still,Ihatethem.But,ofcourse,Ihatealmosteverybody

now.Myselfmorethananyone.

Thesurfacebeneathmyfeethardens,andunderthecarpetof

ash,Ifeelthepavingstonesofthesquare.Aroundtheperimeter

isashallowborderofrefusewheretheshopsstood.Aheapof

blackenedrubblehasreplacedtheJusticeBuilding.Iwalktothe

approximatesiteofthebakeryPeeta’sfamilyowned.Nothing

muchleftbutthemeltedlumpoftheoven.Peeta’sparents,his

twoolderbrothers—noneofthemmadeitto13.Fewerthana

dozenofwhatpassedforDistrict12’swell-to-doescapedthe

fire.Peetawouldhavenothingtocomehometo,anyway.Except

me...

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Ibackawayfromthebakeryandbumpintosomething,lose

mybalance,andfindmyselfsittingonahunkofsun-heated

metal.Ipuzzleoverwhatitmighthavebeen,thenremember

Thread’srecentrenovationsofthesquare.Stocks,whipping

posts,andthis,theremainsofthegallows.Bad.Thisisbad.It

bringsonthefloodofimagesthattormentsme,awakeorasleep.

Peetabeingtortured—drowned,burned,lacerated,shocked,

maimed,beaten—astheCapitoltriestogetinformationabout

therebellionthathedoesn’tknow.Isqueezemyeyesshutand

trytoreachforhimacrossthehundredsandhundredsofmiles,

tosendmythoughtsintohismind,tolethimknowheisnot

alone.Butheis.AndIcan’thelphim.

Running.Awayfromthesquareandtotheoneplacethefire

didnotdestroy.Ipassthewreckageofthemayor’shouse,where

myfriendMadgelived.Nowordofherorherfamily.Werethey

evacuatedtotheCapitolbecauseofherfather’sposition,orleft

totheflames?Ashesbillowuparoundme,andIpullthehemof

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myshirtupovermymouth.It’snotwonderingwhatIbreathein,

butwho,thatthreatenstochokeme.

Thegrasshasbeenscorchedandthegraysnowfellhereas

well,butthetwelvefinehousesoftheVictor’sVillageare

unscathed.IboltintothehouseIlivedinforthepastyear,slam

thedoorclosed,andleanbackagainstit.Theplaceseems

untouched.Clean.Eerilyquiet.WhydidIcomebackto12?How

canthisvisithelpmeanswerthequestionIcan’tescape?

“WhatamIgoingtodo?”Iwhispertothewalls.BecauseI

reallydon’tknow.

Peoplekeeptalkingatme,talking,talking,talking.Plutarch

Heavensbee.Hiscalculatingassistant,FulviaCardew.A

mishmashofdistrictleaders.Militaryofficials.ButnotAlma

Coin,thepresidentof13,whojustwatches.She’sfiftyorso,

withgrayhairthatfallsinanunbrokensheettohershoulders.

I’msomewhatfascinatedbyherhair,sinceit’ssouniform,so

withoutaflaw,awisp,evenasplitend.Hereyesaregray,but

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notlikethoseofpeoplefromtheSeam.They’reverypale,asif

almostallthecolorhasbeensuckedoutofthem.Thecolorof

slushthatyouwishwouldmeltaway.

Whattheywantisformetotrulytakeontherolethey

designedforme.Thesymboloftherevolution.TheMockingjay.

Itisn’tenough,whatI’vedoneinthepast,defyingtheCapitolin

theGames,providingarallyingpoint.Imustnowbecomethe

actualleader,theface,thevoice,theembodimentofthe

revolution.Thepersonwhothedistricts—mostofwhichare

nowopenlyatwarwiththeCapitol—cancountontoblazethe

pathtovictory.Iwon’thavetodoitalone.Theyhaveawhole

teamofpeopletomakemeover,dressme,writemyspeeches,

orchestratemyappearances—asifthatdoesn’tsoundhorribly

familiar—andallIhavetodoisplaymypart.SometimesI

listentothemandsometimesIjustwatchtheperfectlineof

Coin’shairandtrytodecideifit’sawig.Eventually,Ileavethe

roombecausemyheadstartstoacheorit’stimetoeatorifI

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don’tgetabovegroundImightstartscreaming.Idon’tbotherto

sayanything.Isimplygetupandwalkout.

Yesterdayafternoon,asthedoorwasclosingbehindme,I

heardCoinsay,“Itoldyouweshouldhaverescuedtheboy

first.”MeaningPeeta.Icouldn’tagreemore.Hewould’vebeen

anexcellentmouthpiece.

Andwhodidtheyfishoutofthearenainstead?Me,who

won’tcooperate.Beetee,anolderinventorfrom3,whoIrarely

seebecausehewaspulledintoweaponsdevelopmenttheminute

hecouldsitupright.Literally,theywheeledhishospitalbedinto

sometopsecretareaandnowheonlyoccasionallyshowsupfor

meals.He’sverysmartandverywillingtohelpthecause,but

notreallyfirebrandmaterial.Thenthere’sFinnickOdair,thesex

symbolfromthefishingdistrict,whokeptPeetaaliveinthe

arenawhenIcouldn’t.TheywanttotransformFinnickintoa

rebelleaderaswell,butfirstthey’llhavetogethimtostay

awakeformorethanfiveminutes.Evenwhenheisconscious,

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youhavetosayeverythingtohimthreetimestogetthroughto

hisbrain.Thedoctorssayit’sfromtheelectricalshockhe

receivedinthearena,butIknowit’salotmorecomplicatedthan

that.IknowthatFinnickcan’tfocusonanythingin13because

he’stryingsohardtoseewhat’shappeningintheCapitolto

Annie,themadgirlfromhisdistrictwho’stheonlypersonon

earthheloves.

Despiteseriousreservations,IhadtoforgiveFinnickforhis

roleintheconspiracythatlandedmehere.He,atleast,hassome

ideaofwhatI’mgoingthrough.Andittakestoomuchenergyto

stayangrywithsomeonewhocriessomuch.

Imovethroughthedownstairsonhunter’sfeet,reluctantto

makeanysound.Ipickupafewremembrances:aphotoofmy

parentsontheirweddingday,abluehairribbonforPrim,the

familybookofmedicinalandedibleplants.Thebookfallsopen

toapagewithyellowflowersandIshutitquicklybecauseitwas

Peeta’sbrushthatpaintedthem.

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WhatamIgoingtodo?

Isthereanypointindoinganythingatall?Mymother,my

sister,andGale’sfamilyarefinallysafe.Asfortherestof12,

peopleareeitherdead,whichisirreversible,orprotectedin13.

Thatleavestherebelsinthedistricts.Ofcourse,Ihatethe

Capitol,butIhavenoconfidencethatmybeingtheMockingjay

willbenefitthosewhoaretryingtobringitdown.HowcanI

helpthedistrictswheneverytimeImakeamove,itresultsin

sufferingandlossoflife?TheoldmanshotinDistrict11for

whistling.Thecrackdownin12afterIintervenedinGale’s

whipping.Mystylist,Cinna,beingdragged,bloodyand

unconscious,fromtheLaunchRoombeforetheGames.

Plutarch’ssourcesbelievehewaskilledduringinterrogation.

Brilliant,enigmatic,lovelyCinnaisdeadbecauseofme.Ipush

thethoughtawaybecauseit’stooimpossiblypainfultodwellon

withoutlosingmyfragileholdonthesituationentirely.

WhatamIgoingtodo?

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TobecometheMockingjay...couldanygoodIdopossibly

outweighthedamage?WhocanItrusttoanswerthatquestion?

Certainlynotthatcrewin13.Iswear,nowthatmyfamilyand

Gale’sareoutofharm’sway,Icouldrunaway.Exceptforone

unfinishedpieceofbusiness.Peeta.IfIknewforsurethathewas

dead,Icouldjustdisappearintothewoodsandneverlookback.

ButuntilIdo,I’mstuck.

Ispinonmyheelatthesoundofahiss.Inthekitchen

doorway,backarched,earsflattened,standstheugliesttomcatin

theworld.“Buttercup,”Isay.Thousandsofpeoplearedead,but

hehassurvivedandevenlookswellfed.Onwhat?Hecangetin

andoutofthehousethroughawindowwealwaysleftajarinthe

pantry.Hemusthavebeeneatingfieldmice.Irefusetoconsider

thealternative.

Isquatdownandextendahand.“Comehere,boy.”Not

likely.He’sangryathisabandonment.Besides,I’mnotoffering

food,andmyabilitytoprovidescrapshasalwaysbeenmymain

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redeemingqualitytohim.Forawhile,whenweusedtomeetup

attheoldhousebecausewebothdislikedthisnewone,we

seemedtobebondingalittle.That’sclearlyover.Heblinks

thoseunpleasantyelloweyes.

“WanttoseePrim?”Iask.Hernamecatcheshisattention.

Besideshisown,it’stheonlywordthatmeansanythingtohim.

Hegivesarustymeowandapproachesme.Ipickhimup,

strokinghisfur,thengototheclosetanddigoutmygamebag

andunceremoniouslystuffhimin.There’snootherwayI’llbe

abletocarryhimonthehovercraft,andhemeanstheworldto

mysister.Hergoat,Lady,ananimalofactualvalue,has

unfortunatelynotmadeanappearance.

Inmyheadset,IhearGale’svoicetellingmewemustgo

back.ButthegamebaghasremindedmeofonemorethingthatI

want.Islingthestrapofthebagoverthebackofachairand

dashupthestepstomybedroom.Insidetheclosethangsmy

father’shuntingjacket.BeforetheQuell,Ibroughtitherefrom

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theoldhouse,thinkingitspresencemightbeofcomforttomy

motherandsisterwhenIwasdead.Thankgoodness,orit’dbe

ashnow.

ThesoftleatherfeelssoothingandforamomentI’mcalmed

bythememoriesofthehoursspentwrappedinit.Then,

inexplicably,mypalmsbegintosweat.Astrangesensation

creepsupthebackofmyneck.Iwhiparoundtofacetheroom

andfinditempty.Tidy.Everythinginitsplace.Therewasno

soundtoalarmme.What,then?

Mynosetwitches.It’sthesmell.Cloyingandartificial.A

dabofwhitepeeksoutofavaseofdriedflowersonmydresser.I

approachitwithcautioussteps.There,allbutobscuredbyits

preservedcousins,isafreshwhiterose.Perfect.Downtothelast

thornandsilkenpetal.

AndIknowimmediatelywho’ssentittome.

PresidentSnow.

WhenIbegintogagatthestench,Ibackawayandclearout.

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Howlonghasitbeenhere?Aday?Anhour?Therebelsdida

securitysweepoftheVictor’sVillagebeforeIwasclearedto

comehere,checkingforexplosives,bugs,anythingunusual.But

perhapstherosedidn’tseemnoteworthytothem.Onlytome.

Downstairs,Isnagthegamebagoffthechair,bouncingit

alongtheflooruntilIrememberit’soccupied.Onthelawn,I

franticallysignaltothehovercraftwhileButtercupthrashes.I

jabhimwithmyelbow,butthisonlyinfuriateshim.A

hovercraftmaterializesandaladderdropsdown.Isteponand

thecurrentfreezesmeuntilI’mliftedonboard.

Galehelpsmefromtheladder.“Youallright?”

“Yeah,”Isay,wipingthesweatoffmyfacewithmysleeve.

Heleftmearose!Iwanttoscream,butit’snotinformation

I’msureIshouldsharewithsomeonelikePlutarchlookingon.

Firstofall,becauseitwillmakemesoundcrazy.LikeIeither

imaginedit,whichisquitepossible,orI’moverreacting,which

willbuymeatripbacktothedrug-induceddreamlandI’mtrying

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sohardtoescape.Noonewillfullyunderstand—howit’snot

justaflower,notevenjustPresidentSnow’sflower,buta

promiseofrevenge—becausenooneelsesatinthestudywith

himwhenhethreatenedmebeforetheVictoryTour.

Positionedonmydresser,thatwhite-as-snowroseisa

personalmessagetome.Itspeaksofunfinishedbusiness.It

whispers,Icanfindyou.Icanreachyou.PerhapsIamwatching

younow.

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ArethereCapitolhoverplanesspeedingintoblowusoutof

thesky?AswetraveloverDistrict12,Iwatchanxiouslyfor

signsofanattack,butnothingpursuesus.Afterseveralminutes,

whenIhearanexchangebetweenPlutarchandthepilot

confirmingthattheairspaceisclear,Ibegintorelaxalittle.

Galenodsatthehowlscomingfrommygamebag.“NowI

knowwhyyouhadtogoback.”

“Iftherewasevenachanceofhisrecovery.”Idumpthebag

ontoaseat,wheretheloathsomecreaturebeginsalow,deep-

throatedgrowl.“Oh,shutup,”ItellthebagasIsinkintothe

cushionedwindowseatacrossfromit.

Galesitsnexttome.“Prettybaddownthere?”

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“Couldn’tbemuchworse,”Ianswer.Ilookinhiseyesand

seemyowngriefreflectedthere.Ourhandsfindeachother,

holdingfasttoapartof12thatSnowhassomehowfailedto

destroy.Wesitinsilencefortherestofthetripto13,whichonly

takesaboutforty-fiveminutes.Amereweek’sjourneyonfoot.

BonnieandTwill,theDistrict8refugeeswhoIencounteredin

thewoodslastwinter,weren’tsofarfromtheirdestinationafter

all.Theyapparentlydidn’tmakeit,though.WhenIaskedabout

themin13,nooneseemedtoknowwhoIwastalkingabout.

Diedinthewoods,Iguess.

Fromtheair,13looksaboutascheerfulas12.Therubble

isn’tsmoking,thewaytheCapitolshowsitontelevision,but

there’snexttonolifeaboveground.Intheseventy-fiveyears

sincetheDarkDays—when13wassaidtohavebeen

obliteratedinthewarbetweentheCapitolandthedistricts—

almostallnewconstructionhasbeenbeneaththeearth’ssurface.

Therewasalreadyasubstantialundergroundfacilityhere,

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developedovercenturiestobeeitheraclandestinerefugefor

governmentleadersintimeofwaroralastresortforhumanityif

lifeabovebecameunlivable.Mostimportantforthepeopleof

13,itwasthecenteroftheCapitol’snuclearweapons

developmentprogram.DuringtheDarkDays,therebelsin13

wrestedcontrolfromthegovernmentforces,trainedtheir

nuclearmissilesontheCapitol,andthenstruckabargain:They

wouldplaydeadinexchangeforbeingleftalone.TheCapitol

hadanothernucleararsenaloutwest,butitcouldn’tattack13

withoutcertainretaliation.Itwasforcedtoaccept13’sdeal.The

Capitoldemolishedthevisibleremainsofthedistrictandcutoff

allaccessfromtheoutside.PerhapstheCapitol’sleadersthought

that,withouthelp,13woulddieoffonitsown.Italmostdida

fewtimes,butitalwaysmanagedtopullthroughduetostrict

sharingofresources,strenuousdiscipline,andconstantvigilance

againstanyfurtherattacksfromtheCapitol.

Nowthecitizenslivealmostexclusivelyunderground.You

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cangooutsideforexerciseandsunlightbutonlyatveryspecific

timesinyourschedule.Youcan’tmissyourschedule.Every

morning,you’resupposedtostickyourrightarminthis

contraptioninthewall.Ittattoosthesmoothinsideofyour

forearmwithyourscheduleforthedayinasicklypurpleink.

7:00—Breakfast.7:30—KitchenDuties.8:30—Education

Center,Room17.Andsoon.Theinkisindelibleuntil22:00—

Bathing.That’swhenwhateverkeepsitwaterresistantbreaks

downandthewholeschedulerinsesaway.Thelights-outat

22:30signalsthateveryonenotonthenightshiftshouldbein

bed.

Atfirst,whenIwassoillinthehospital,Icouldforgobeing

imprinted.ButonceImovedintoCompartment307withmy

motherandsister,Iwasexpectedtogetwiththeprogram.

Exceptforshowingupformeals,though,Iprettymuchignore

thewordsonmyarm.Ijustgobacktoourcompartmentor

wanderaround13orfallasleepsomewherehidden.An

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abandonedairduct.Behindthewaterpipesinthelaundry.

There’saclosetintheEducationCenterthat’sgreatbecauseno

oneeverseemstoneedschoolsupplies.They’resofrugalwith

thingshere,wasteispracticallyacriminalactivity.Fortunately,

thepeopleof12haveneverbeenwasteful.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.Herfaceturnedtomatored,makingthe

silverflowersinlaidinherplumpcheeksevenmorenoticeable.

Theveryportraitofexcess.Oneofmyfewpleasuresin13is

watchingthehandfulofpamperedCapitol“rebels”squirmingas

theytrytofitin.

Idon’tknowhowlongI’llbeabletogetawaywithmy

completedisregardfortheclockworkprecisionofattendance

requiredbymyhosts.Rightnow,theyleavemealonebecause

I’mclassifiedasmentallydisoriented—itsayssorightonmy

plasticmedicalbracelet—andeveryonehastotoleratemy

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ramblings.Butthatcan’tlastforever.Neithercantheirpatience

withtheMockingjayissue.

Fromthelandingpad,GaleandIwalkdownaseriesof

stairwaystoCompartment307.Wecouldtaketheelevator,only

itremindsmetoomuchoftheonethatliftedmeintothearena.

I’mhavingahardtimeadjustingtobeingundergroundsomuch.

Butafterthesurrealencounterwiththerose,forthefirsttime

thedescentmakesmefeelsafer.

Ihesitateatthedoormarked307,anticipatingthequestions

frommyfamily.“WhatamIgoingtotellthemaboutTwelve?”I

askGale.

“Idoubtthey’llaskfordetails.Theysawitburn.They’ll

mostlybeworriedabouthowyou’rehandlingit.”Galetouches

mycheek.“LikeIam.”

Ipressmyfaceagainsthishandforamoment.“I’llsurvive.”

ThenItakeadeepbreathandopenthedoor.Mymotherand

sisterarehomefor18:00—Reflection,ahalfhourofdowntime

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beforedinner.Iseetheconcernontheirfacesastheytryto

gaugemyemotionalstate.Beforeanyonecanaskanything,I

emptymygamebaganditbecomes18:00—CatAdoration.

Primjustsitsonthefloorweepingandrockingthatawful

Buttercup,whointerruptshispurringonlyforanoccasionalhiss

atme.Hegivesmeaparticularlysmuglookwhenshetiesthe

blueribbonaroundhisneck.

Mymotherhugstheweddingphototightlyagainstherchest

andthenplacesit,alongwiththebookofplants,onour

government-issuedchestofdrawers.Ihangmyfather’sjacketon

thebackofachair.Foramoment,theplacealmostseemslike

home.SoIguessthetripto12wasn’tacompletewaste.

We’reheadingdowntothedininghallfor18:30—Dinner

whenGale’scommunicuffbeginstobeep.Itlookslikean

oversizedwatch,butitreceivesprintmessages.Beinggranteda

communicuffisaspecialprivilegethat’sreservedforthose

importanttothecause,astatusGaleachievedbyhisrescueof

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thecitizensof12.“TheyneedthetwoofusinCommand,”he

says.

TrailingafewstepsbehindGale,Itrytocollectmyself

beforeI’mthrownintowhat’ssuretobeanotherrelentless

Mockingjaysession.IlingerinthedoorwayofCommand,the

high-techmeeting/warcouncilroomcompletewith

computerizedtalkingwalls,electronicmapsshowingthetroop

movementsinvariousdistricts,andagiantrectangulartable

withcontrolpanelsI’mnotsupposedtotouch.Noonenotices

me,though,becausethey’reallgatheredatatelevisionscreenat

thefarendoftheroomthatairstheCapitolbroadcastaroundthe

clock.I’mthinkingImightbeabletoslipawaywhenPlutarch,

whoseampleframehasbeenblockingthetelevision,catches

sightofmeandwavesurgentlyformetojointhem.Ireluctantly

moveforward,tryingtoimaginehowitcouldbeofinterestto

me.It’salwaysthesame.Warfootage.Propaganda.Replaying

thebombingsofDistrict12.Anominousmessagefrom

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PresidentSnow.Soit’salmostentertainingtoseeCaesar

Flickerman,theeternalhostoftheHungerGames,withhis

paintedfaceandsparklysuit,preparingtogiveaninterview.

UntilthecamerapullsbackandIseethathisguestisPeeta.

Asoundescapesme.Thesamecombinationofgaspand

groanthatcomesfrombeingsubmergedinwater,deprivedof

oxygentothepointofpain.IpushpeopleasideuntilIamright

infrontofhim,myhandrestingonthescreen.Isearchhiseyes

foranysignofhurt,anyreflectionoftheagonyoftorture.There

isnothing.Peetalookshealthytothepointofrobustness.His

skinisglowing,flawless,inthatfull-body-polishway.His

manner’scomposed,serious.Ican’treconcilethisimagewith

thebattered,bleedingboywhohauntsmydreams.

Caesarsettleshimselfmorecomfortablyinthechairacross

fromPeetaandgiveshimalonglook.“So...Peeta...welcome

back.”

Peetasmilesslightly.“Ibetyouthoughtyou’ddoneyourlast

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interviewwithme,Caesar.”

“Iconfess,Idid,”saysCaesar.“ThenightbeforetheQuarter

Quell...well,whoeverthoughtwe’dseeyouagain?”

“Itwasn’tpartofmyplan,that’sforsure,”saysPeetawitha

frown.

Caesarleansintohimalittle.“Ithinkitwascleartoallof

uswhatyourplanwas.Tosacrificeyourselfinthearenasothat

KatnissEverdeenandyourchildcouldsurvive.”

“Thatwasit.Clearandsimple.”Peeta’sfingerstracethe

upholsteredpatternonthearmofthechair.“Butotherpeople

hadplansaswell.”

Yes,otherpeoplehadplans,Ithink.HasPeetaguessed,then,

howtherebelsusedusaspawns?Howmyrescuewasarranged

fromthebeginning?Andfinally,howourmentor,Haymitch

Abernathy,betrayedusbothforacausehepretendedtohaveno

interestin?

Inthesilencethatfollows,Inoticethelinesthathave

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formedbetweenPeeta’seyebrows.Hehasguessedorhehasbeen

told.ButtheCapitolhasnotkilledorevenpunishedhim.For

rightnow,thatexceedsmywildesthopes.Idrinkinhis

wholeness,thesoundness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.

“Whydon’tyoutellusaboutthatlastnightinthearena?”

suggestsCaesar.“Helpussortafewthingsout.”

Peetanodsbuttakeshistimespeaking.“Thatlastnight...

totellyouaboutthatlastnight...well,firstofall,youhaveto

imaginehowitfeltinthearena.Itwaslikebeinganinsect

trappedunderabowlfilledwithsteamingair.Andallaround

you,jungle...greenandaliveandticking.Thatgiantclock

tickingawayyourlife.Everyhourpromisingsomenewhorror.

Youhavetoimaginethatinthepasttwodays,sixteenpeople

havedied—someofthemdefendingyou.Attheratethingsare

going,thelasteightwillbedeadbymorning.Saveone.The

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

victor.Andyourplanisthatitwon’tbeyou.”

Mybodybreaksoutinasweatatthememory.Myhand

slidesdownthescreenandhangslimplyatmyside.Peeta

doesn’tneedabrushtopaintimagesfromtheGames.Heworks

justaswellinwords.

“Onceyou’reinthearena,therestoftheworldbecomes

verydistant,”hecontinues.“Allthepeopleandthingsyouloved

orcaredaboutalmostceasetoexist.Thepinkskyandthe

monstersinthejungleandthetributeswhowantyourblood

becomeyourfinalreality,theonlyonethatevermattered.As

badasitmakesyoufeel,you’regoingtohavetodosomekilling,

becauseinthearena,youonlygetonewish.Andit’svery

costly.”

“Itcostsyourlife,”saysCaesar.

“Oh,no.Itcostsalotmorethanyourlife.Tomurder

innocentpeople?”saysPeeta.“Itcostseverythingyouare.”

“Everythingyouare,”repeatsCaesarquietly.

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Ahushhasfallenovertheroom,andIcanfeelitspreading

acrossPanem.Anationleaningintowarditsscreens.Becauseno

onehasevertalkedaboutwhatit’sreallylikeinthearenabefore.

Peetagoeson.“Soyouholdontoyourwish.Andthatlast

night,yes,mywishwastosaveKatniss.Butevenwithout

knowingabouttherebels,itdidn’tfeelright.Everythingwastoo

complicated.IfoundmyselfregrettingIhadn’trunoffwithher

earlierintheday,asshehadsuggested.Buttherewasnogetting

outofitatthatpoint.”

“YouweretoocaughtupinBeetee’splantoelectrifythesalt

lake,”saysCaesar.

“Toobusyplayingallieswiththeothers.Ishouldhavenever

letthemseparateus!”Peetaburstsout.“That’swhenIlosther.”

“Whenyoustayedatthelightningtree,andsheandJohanna

Masontookthecoilofwiredowntothewater,”Caesarclarifies.

“Ididn’twantto!”Peetaflushesinagitation.“ButIcouldn’t

arguewithBeeteewithoutindicatingwewereabouttobreak

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awayfromthealliance.Whenthatwirewascut,everythingjust

wentinsane.Icanonlyrememberbitsandpieces.Tryingtofind

her.WatchingBrutuskillChaff.KillingBrutusmyself.Iknow

shewascallingmyname.Thenthelightningbolthitthetree,

andtheforcefieldaroundthearena...blewout.”

“Katnissblewitout,Peeta,”saysCaesar.“You’veseenthe

footage.”

“Shedidn’tknowwhatshewasdoing.Noneofuscould

followBeetee’splan.Youcanseehertryingtofigureoutwhatto

dowiththatwire,”Peetasnapsback.

“Allright.Itjustlookssuspicious,”saysCaesar.“Asifshe

waspartoftherebels’planallalong.”

Peeta’sonhisfeet,leaningintoCaesar’sface,handslocked

onthearmsofhisinterviewer’schair.“Really?Andwasitpart

ofherplanforJohannatonearlykillher?Forthatelectricshock

toparalyzeher?Totriggerthebombing?”He’syellingnow.

“Shedidn’tknow,Caesar!Neitherofusknewanythingexcept

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thatweweretryingtokeepeachotheralive!”

CaesarplaceshishandonPeeta’schestinagesturethat’s

bothself-protectiveandconciliatory.“Okay,Peeta,Ibelieve

you.”

“Okay.”PeetawithdrawsfromCaesar,pullingbackhis

hands,runningthemthroughhishair,mussinghiscarefully

styledblondcurls.Heslumpsbackinhischair,distraught.

Caesarwaitsamoment,studyingPeeta.“Whataboutyour

mentor,HaymitchAbernathy?”

Peeta’sfacehardens.“Idon’tknowwhatHaymitchknew.”

“Couldhehavebeenpartoftheconspiracy?”asksCaesar.

“Henevermentionedit,”saysPeeta.

Caesarpresseson.“Whatdoesyourhearttellyou?”

“ThatIshouldn’thavetrustedhim,”saysPeeta.“That’sall.”

Ihaven’tseenHaymitchsinceIattackedhimonthe

hovercraft,leavinglongclawmarksdownhisface.Iknowit’s

beenbadforhimhere.District13strictlyforbidsanyproduction

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orconsumptionofintoxicatingbeverages,andeventherubbing

alcoholinthehospitaliskeptunderlockandkey.Finally,

Haymitchisbeingforcedintosobriety,withnosecretstashesor

home-brewedconcoctionstoeasehistransition.They’vegothim

inseclusionuntilhe’sdriedout,ashe’snotdeemedfitforpublic

display.Itmustbeexcruciating,butIlostallmysympathyfor

HaymitchwhenIrealizedhowhehaddeceivedus.Ihopehe’s

watchingtheCapitolbroadcastnow,sohecanseethatPeetahas

casthimoffaswell.

CaesarpatsPeeta’sshoulder.“Wecanstopnowifyou

want.”

“Wastheremoretodiscuss?”saysPeetawryly.

“Iwasgoingtoaskyourthoughtsonthewar,butifyou’re

tooupset...”beginsCaesar.

“Oh,I’mnottooupsettoanswerthat.”Peetatakesadeep

breathandthenlooksstraightintothecamera.“Iwanteveryone

watching—whetheryou’reontheCapitolortherebelside—to

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stopforjustamomentandthinkaboutwhatthiswarcould

mean.Forhumanbeings.Wealmostwentextinctfightingone

anotherbefore.Nowournumbersareevenfewer.Ourconditions

moretenuous.Isthisreallywhatwewanttodo?Killourselves

offcompletely?Inthehopesthat—what?Somedecentspecies

willinheritthesmokingremainsoftheearth?”

“Idon’treally...I’mnotsureI’mfollowing...”says

Caesar.

“Wecan’tfightoneanother,Caesar,”Peetaexplains.“There

won’tbeenoughofuslefttokeepgoing.Ifeverybodydoesn’t

laydowntheirweapons—andImean,asinverysoon—it’sall

over,anyway.”

“So...you’recallingforacease-fire?”Caesarasks.

“Yes.I’mcallingforacease-fire,”saysPeetatiredly.“Now

whydon’tweasktheguardstotakemebacktomyquarterssoI

canbuildanotherhundredcardhouses?”

Caesarturnstothecamera.“Allright.Ithinkthatwrapsit

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up.Sobacktoourregularlyscheduledprogramming.”

Musicplaysthemout,andthenthere’sawomanreadinga

listofexpectedshortagesintheCapitol—freshfruit,solar

batteries,soap.Iwatchherwithuncharacteristicabsorption,

becauseIknoweveryonewillbewaitingformyreactiontothe

interview.Butthere’snowayIcanprocessitallsoquickly—

thejoyofseeingPeetaaliveandunharmed,hisdefenseofmy

innocenceincollaboratingwiththerebels,andhisundeniable

complicitywiththeCapitolnowthathe’scalledforacease-fire.

Oh,hemadeitsoundasifhewerecondemningbothsidesinthe

war.Butatthispoint,withonlyminorvictoriesfortherebels,a

cease-firecouldonlyresultinareturntoourpreviousstatus.Or

worse.

Behindme,IcanheartheaccusationsagainstPeetabuilding.

Thewordstraitor,liar,andenemybounceoffthewalls.SinceI

canneitherjoinintherebels’outragenorcounterit,Idecidethe

bestthingtodoisclearout.AsIreachthedoor,Coin’svoice

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risesabovetheothers.“Youhavenotbeendismissed,Soldier

Everdeen.”

OneofCoin’smenlaysahandonmyarm.It’snotan

aggressivemove,really,butafterthearena,Ireactdefensively

toanyunfamiliartouch.Ijerkmyarmfreeandtakeoffrunning

downthehalls.Behindme,there’sthesoundofascuffle,butI

don’tstop.Myminddoesaquickinventoryofmyoddlittle

hidingplaces,andIwindupinthesupplycloset,curledup

againstacrateofchalk.

“You’realive,”Iwhisper,pressingmypalmsagainstmy

cheeks,feelingthesmilethat’ssowideitmustlooklikea

grimace.Peeta’salive.Andatraitor.Butatthemoment,Idon’t

care.Notwhathesays,orwhohesaysitfor,onlythatheisstill

capableofspeech.

Afterawhile,thedooropensandsomeoneslipsin.Gale

slidesdownbesideme,hisnosetricklingblood.

“Whathappened?”Iask.

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“IgotinBoggs’sway,”heanswerswithashrug.Iusemy

sleevetowipehisnose.“Watchit!”

Itrytobegentler.Patting,notwiping.“Whichoneishe?”

“Oh,youknow.Coin’sright-handlackey.Theonewhotried

tostopyou.”Hepushesmyhandaway.“Quit!You’llbleedme

todeath.”

Thetricklehasturnedtoasteadystream.Igiveuponthe

first-aidattempts.“YoufoughtwithBoggs?”

“No,justblockedthedoorwaywhenhetriedtofollowyou.

Hiselbowcaughtmeinthenose,”saysGale.

“They’llprobablypunishyou,”Isay.

“Alreadyhave.”Heholdsuphiswrist.Istareatit

uncomprehendingly.“Cointookbackmycommunicuff.”

Ibitemylip,tryingtoremainserious.Butitseemsso

ridiculous.“I’msorry,SoldierGaleHawthorne.”

“Don’tbe,SoldierKatnissEverdeen.”Hegrins.“Ifeltlikea

jerkwalkingaroundwithitanyway.”Webothstartlaughing.“I

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thinkitwasquiteademotion.”

Thisisoneofthefewgoodthingsabout13.GettingGale

back.WiththepressureoftheCapitol’sarrangedmarriage

betweenPeetaandmegone,we’vemanagedtoregainour

friendship.Hedoesn’tpushitanyfurther—trytokissmeor

talkaboutlove.EitherI’vebeentoosick,orhe’swillingtogive

mespace,orheknowsit’sjusttoocruelwithPeetainthehands

oftheCapitol.Whateverthecase,I’vegotsomeonetotellmy

secretstoagain.

“Whoarethesepeople?”Isay.

“They’reus.Ifwe’dhadnukesinsteadofafewlumpsof

coal,”heanswers.

“IliketothinkTwelvewouldn’thaveabandonedtherestof

therebelsbackintheDarkDays,”Isay.

“Wemighthave.Ifitwasthat,surrender,orstartanuclear

war,”saysGale.“Inaway,it’sremarkabletheysurvivedatall.”

Maybeit’sbecauseIstillhavetheashesofmyowndistrict

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onmyshoes,butforthefirsttime,Igivethepeopleof13

somethingIhavewithheldfromthem:credit.Forstayingalive

againstallodds.Theirearlyyearsmusthavebeenterrible,

huddledinthechambersbeneaththegroundaftertheircitywas

bombedtodust.Populationdecimated,nopossibleallytoturnto

foraid.Overthepastseventy-fiveyears,they’velearnedtobe

self-sufficient,turnedtheircitizensintoanarmy,andbuiltanew

societywithnohelpfromanyone.Theywouldbeevenmore

powerfulifthatpoxepidemichadn’tflattenedtheirbirthrateand

madethemsodesperateforanewgenepoolandbreeders.

Maybetheyaremilitaristic,overlyprogrammed,andsomewhat

lackinginasenseofhumor.They’rehere.Andwillingtotakeon

theCapitol.

“Still,ittookthemlongenoughtoshowup,”Isay.

“Itwasn’tsimple.Theyhadtobuilduparebelbaseinthe

Capitol,getsomesortofundergroundorganizedinthedistricts,”

hesays.“Thentheyneededsomeonetosetthewholethingin

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

motion.Theyneededyou.”

“TheyneededPeeta,too,buttheyseemtohaveforgotten

that,”Isay.

Gale’sexpressiondarkens.“Peetamighthavedonealotof

damagetonight.Mostoftherebelswilldismisswhathesaid

immediately,ofcourse.Buttherearedistrictswherethe

resistanceisshakier.Thecease-fire’sclearlyPresidentSnow’s

idea.ButitseemssoreasonablecomingoutofPeeta’smouth.”

I’mafraidofGale’sanswer,butIaskanyway.“Whydoyou

thinkhesaidit?”

“Hemighthavebeentortured.Orpersuaded.Myguessishe

madesomekindofdealtoprotectyou.He’dputforththeideaof

thecease-fireifSnowlethimpresentyouasaconfusedpregnant

girlwhohadnoideawhatwasgoingonwhenshewastaken

prisonerbytherebels.Thisway,ifthedistrictslose,there’sstill

achanceofleniencyforyou.Ifyouplayitright.”Imuststill

lookperplexedbecauseGaledeliversthenextlineveryslowly.

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“Katniss...he’sstilltryingtokeepyoualive.”

Tokeepmealive?AndthenIunderstand.TheGamesare

stillon.Wehaveleftthearena,butsincePeetaandIweren’t

killed,hislastwishtopreservemylifestillstands.Hisideaisto

havemelielow,remainsafeandimprisoned,whilethewar

playsout.Thenneithersidewillreallyhavecausetokillme.

AndPeeta?Iftherebelswin,itwillbedisastrousforhim.Ifthe

Capitolwins,whoknows?Maybewe’llbothbeallowedtolive

—ifIplayitright—towatchtheGamesgoon....

Imagesflashthroughmymind:thespearpiercingRue’s

bodyinthearena,Galehangingsenselessfromthewhipping

post,thecorpse-litteredwastelandofmyhome.Andforwhat?

Forwhat?Asmybloodturnshot,Irememberotherthings.My

firstglimpseofanuprisinginDistrict8.Thevictorslockedhand

inhandthenightbeforetheQuarterQuell.Andhowitwasno

accident,myshootingthatarrowintotheforcefieldinthearena.

HowbadlyIwantedittolodgedeepintheheartofmyenemy.

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Ispringup,upsettingaboxofahundredpencils,sending

themscatteringaroundthefloor.

“Whatisit?”Galeasks.

“Therecan’tbeacease-fire.”Ileandown,fumblingasI

shovethesticksofdarkgraygraphitebackintothebox.“We

can’tgoback.”

“Iknow.”Galesweepsupahandfulofpencilsandtapsthem

onthefloorintoperfectalignment.

“WhateverreasonPeetahadforsayingthosethings,he’s

wrong.”Thestupidstickswon’tgointheboxandIsnapseveral

inmyfrustration.

“Iknow.Giveithere.You’rebreakingthemtobits.”He

pullstheboxfrommyhandsandrefillsitwithswift,concise

motions.

“Hedoesn’tknowwhattheydidtoTwelve.Ifhecould’ve

seenwhatwasontheground—”Istart.

“Katniss,I’mnotarguing.IfIcouldhitabuttonandkill

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everylivingsoulworkingfortheCapitol,Iwoulddoit.Without

hesitation.”Heslidesthelastpencilintotheboxandflipsthelid

closed.“Thequestionis,whatareyougoingtodo?”

Itturnsoutthequestionthat’sbeeneatingawayatmehas

onlyeverhadonepossibleanswer.ButittookPeeta’sployfor

metorecognizeit.

WhatamIgoingtodo?

Itakeadeepbreath.Myarmsriseslightly—asifrecalling

theblack-and-whitewingsCinnagaveme—thencometorestat

mysides.

“I’mgoingtobetheMockingjay.”

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Buttercup’seyesreflectthefaintglowofthesafetylight

overthedoorasheliesinthecrookofPrim’sarm,backonthe

job,protectingherfromthenight.She’ssnuggledclosetomy

mother.Asleep,theylookjustastheydidthemorningofthe

reapingthatlandedmeinmyfirstGames.Ihaveabedtomyself

becauseI’mrecuperatingandbecausenoonecansleepwithme

anyway,whatwiththenightmaresandthethrashingaround.

Aftertossingandturningforhours,Ifinallyacceptthatit

willbeawakefulnight.UnderButtercup’swatchfuleye,Itiptoe

acrossthecoldtiledfloortothedresser.

Themiddledrawercontainsmygovernment-issuedclothes.

Everyonewearsthesamegraypantsandshirt,theshirttuckedin

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atthewaist.Underneaththeclothes,IkeepthefewitemsIhad

onmewhenIwasliftedfromthearena.Mymockingjaypin.

Peeta’stoken,thegoldlocketwithphotosofmymotherand

PrimandGaleinside.Asilverparachutethatholdsaspilefor

tappingtrees,andthepearlPeetagavemeafewhoursbeforeI

blewouttheforcefield.District13confiscatedmytubeofskin

ointmentforuseinthehospital,andmybowandarrowsbecause

onlyguardshaveclearancetocarryweapons.They’rein

safekeepinginthearmory.

Ifeelaroundfortheparachuteandslidemyfingersinside

untiltheyclosearoundthepearl.Isitbackonmybedcross-

leggedandfindmyselfrubbingthesmoothiridescentsurfaceof

thepearlbackandforthagainstmylips.Forsomereason,it’s

soothing.Acoolkissfromthegiverhimself.

“Katniss?”Primwhispers.She’sawake,peeringatme

throughthedarkness.“What’swrong?”

“Nothing.Justabaddream.Gobacktosleep.”It’s

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automatic.ShuttingPrimandmymotheroutofthingstoshield

them.

Carefulnottorousemymother,Primeasesherselffromthe

bed,scoopsupButtercup,andsitsbesideme.Shetouchesthe

handthathascurledaroundthepearl.“You’recold.”Takinga

spareblanketfromthefootofthebed,shewrapsitaroundall

threeofus,envelopingmeinherwarmthandButtercup’sfurry

heataswell.“Youcouldtellme,youknow.I’mgoodatkeeping

secrets.EvenfromMother.”

She’sreallygone,then.Thelittlegirlwiththebackofher

shirtstickingoutlikeaducktail,theonewhoneededhelp

reachingthedishes,andwhobeggedtoseethefrostedcakesin

thebakerywindow.Timeandtragedyhaveforcedhertogrow

tooquickly,atleastformytaste,intoayoungwomanwho

stitchesbleedingwoundsandknowsourmothercanhearonlyso

much.

“Tomorrowmorning,I’mgoingtoagreetobethe

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Mockingjay,”Itellher.

“Becauseyouwanttoorbecauseyoufeelforcedintoit?”she

asks.

Ilaughalittle.“Both,Iguess.No,Iwantto.Ihaveto,ifit

willhelptherebelsdefeatSnow.”Isqueezethepearlmore

tightlyinmyfist.“It’sjust...Peeta.I’mafraidifwedowin,

therebelswillexecutehimasatraitor.”

Primthinksthisover.“Katniss,Idon’tthinkyouunderstand

howimportantyouaretothecause.Importantpeopleusuallyget

whattheywant.IfyouwanttokeepPeetasafefromtherebels,

youcan.”

IguessI’mimportant.Theywenttoalotoftroubletorescue

me.Theytookmeto12.“Youmean...Icoulddemandthatthey

givePeetaimmunity?Andthey’dhavetoagreetoit?”

“Ithinkyoucoulddemandalmostanythingandthey’dhave

toagreetoit.”Primwrinklesherbrow.“Onlyhowdoyouknow

they’llkeeptheirword?”

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IrememberalloftheliesHaymitchtoldPeetaandmetoget

ustodowhathewanted.What’stokeeptherebelsfrom

renegingonthedeal?Averbalpromisebehindcloseddoors,

evenastatementwrittenonpaper—thesecouldeasily

evaporateafterthewar.Theirexistenceorvaliditydenied.Any

witnessesinCommandwillbeworthless.Infact,they’d

probablybetheoneswritingoutPeeta’sdeathwarrant.I’llneed

amuchlargerpoolofwitnesses.I’llneedeveryoneIcanget.

“Itwillhavetobepublic,”Isay.Buttercupgivesaflickof

histailthatItakeasagreement.“I’llmakeCoinannounceitin

frontoftheentirepopulationofThirteen.”

Primsmiles.“Oh,that’sgood.It’snotaguarantee,butitwill

bemuchharderforthemtobackoutoftheirpromise.”

Ifeelthekindofreliefthatfollowsanactualsolution.“I

shouldwakeyouupmoreoften,littleduck.”

“Iwishyouwould,”saysPrim.Shegivesmeakiss.“Tryand

sleepnow,allright?”AndIdo.

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Inthemorning,Iseethat7:00—Breakfastisdirectly

followedby7:30—Command,whichisfinesinceImayaswell

starttheballrolling.Atthedininghall,Iflashmyschedule,

whichincludessomekindofIDnumber,infrontofasensor.As

Islidemytrayalongthemetalshelfbeforethevatsoffood,Isee

breakfastisitsusualdependableself—abowlofhotgrain,a

cupofmilk,andasmallscoopoffruitorvegetables.Today,

mashedturnips.Allofitcomesfrom13’sundergroundfarms.I

sitatthetableassignedtotheEverdeensandtheHawthornesand

someotherrefugees,andshovelmyfooddown,wishingfor

seconds,butthereareneversecondshere.Theyhavenutrition

downtoascience.Youleavewithenoughcaloriestotakeyouto

thenextmeal,nomore,noless.Servingsizeisbasedonyour

age,height,bodytype,health,andamountofphysicallabor

requiredbyyourschedule.Thepeoplefrom12arealready

gettingslightlylargerportionsthanthenativesof13inaneffort

tobringusuptoweight.Iguessbonysoldierstiretooquickly.

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It’sworking,though.Injustamonth,we’restartingtolook

healthier,particularlythekids.

GalesetshistraybesidemeandItrynottostareathis

turnipstoopathetically,becauseIreallywantmore,andhe’s

alreadytooquicktoslipmehisfood.EventhoughIturnmy

attentiontoneatlyfoldingmynapkin,aspoonfulofturnipsslops

intomybowl.

“You’vegottostopthat,”Isay.ButsinceI’malready

scoopingupthestuff,it’snottooconvincing.“Really.It’s

probablyillegalorsomething.”Theyhaveverystrictrulesabout

food.Forinstance,ifyoudon’tfinishsomethingandwantto

saveitforlater,youcan’ttakeitfromthedininghall.

Apparently,intheearlydays,therewassomeincidentoffood

hoarding.ForacoupleofpeoplelikeGaleandme,who’vebeen

inchargeofourfamilies’foodsupplyforyears,itdoesn’tsit

well.Weknowhowtobehungry,butnothowtobetoldhowto

handlewhatprovisionswehave.Insomeways,District13is

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evenmorecontrollingthantheCapitol.

“Whatcantheydo?They’vealreadygotmycommunicuff,”

saysGale.

AsIscrapemybowlclean,Ihaveaninspiration.“Hey,

maybeIshouldmakethataconditionofbeingtheMockingjay.”

“ThatIcanfeedyouturnips?”hesays.

“No,thatwecanhunt.”Thatgetshisattention.“We’dhave

togiveeverythingtothekitchen.Butstill,wecould...”Idon’t

havetofinishbecauseheknows.Wecouldbeaboveground.Out

inthewoods.Wecouldbeourselvesagain.

“Doit,”hesays.“Now’sthetime.Youcouldaskforthe

moonandthey’dhavetofindsomewaytogetit.”

Hedoesn’tknowthatI’malreadyaskingforthemoonby

demandingtheysparePeeta’slife.BeforeIcandecidewhether

ornottotellhim,abellsignalstheendofoureatingshift.The

thoughtoffacingCoinalonemakesmenervous.“Whatareyou

scheduledfor?”

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Galecheckshisarm.“NuclearHistoryclass.Where,bythe

way,yourabsencehasbeennoted.”

“IhavetogotoCommand.Comewithme?”Iask.

“Allright.Buttheymightthrowmeoutafteryesterday.”As

wegotodropoffourtrays,hesays,“Youknow,youbetterput

Buttercuponyourlistofdemands,too.Idon’tthinktheconcept

ofuselesspetsiswellknownhere.”

“Oh,they’llfindhimajob.Tattooitonhispawevery

morning,”Isay.ButImakeamentalnotetoincludehimfor

Prim’ssake.

BythetimewegettoCommand,Coin,Plutarch,andalltheir

peoplehavealreadyassembled.ThesightofGaleraisessome

eyebrows,butnoonethrowshimout.Mymentalnoteshave

becometoojumbled,soIaskforapieceofpaperandapencil

rightoff.Myapparentinterestintheproceedings—thefirst

I’veshownsinceI’vebeenhere—takesthembysurprise.

Severallooksareexchanged.Probablytheyhadsomeextra-

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speciallectureplannedforme.Butinstead,Coinpersonally

handsmethesupplies,andeveryonewaitsinsilencewhileIsit

atthetableandscrawloutmylist.Buttercup.Hunting.Peeta’s

immunity.Announcedinpublic.

Thisisit.Probablymyonlychancetobargain.Think.What

elsedoyouwant?Ifeelhim,standingatmyshoulder.Gale,I

addtothelist.Idon’tthinkIcandothiswithouthim.

Theheadache’scomingonandmythoughtsbegintotangle.

Ishutmyeyesandstarttorecitesilently.

MynameisKatnissEverdeen.Iamseventeenyearsold.My

homeisDistrict12.IwasintheHungerGames.Iescaped.The

Capitolhatesme.Peetawastakenprisoner.Heisalive.Heisa

traitorbutalive.Ihavetokeephimalive....

Thelist.Itstillseemstoosmall.Ishouldtrytothinkbigger,

beyondourcurrentsituationwhereIamoftheutmost

importance,tothefuturewhereImaybeworthnothing.

Shouldn’tIbeaskingformore?Formyfamily?Forthe

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remainderofmypeople?Myskinitcheswiththeashesofthe

dead.Ifeelthesickeningimpactoftheskullagainstmyshoe.

Thescentofbloodandrosesstingsmynose.

Thepencilmovesacrossthepageonitsown.Iopenmyeyes

andseethewobblyletters.IKILLSNOW.Ifhe’scaptured,I

wanttheprivilege.

Plutarchgivesadiscreetcough.“Aboutdonethere?”I

glanceupandnoticetheclock.I’vebeensittingherefortwenty

minutes.Finnickisn’ttheonlyonewithattentionproblems.

“Yeah,”Isay.Myvoicesoundshoarse,soIclearmythroat.

“Yeah,sothisisthedeal.I’llbeyourMockingjay.”

Iwaitsotheycanmaketheirsoundsofrelief,congratulate,

slaponeanotherontheback.Coinstaysasimpassiveasever,

watchingme,unimpressed.

“ButIhavesomeconditions.”Ismoothoutthelistand

begin.“Myfamilygetstokeepourcat.”Mytiniestrequestsets

offanargument.TheCapitolrebelsseethisasanonissue—of

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course,Icankeepmypet—whilethosefrom13spelloutwhat

extremedifficultiesthispresents.Finallyit’sworkedoutthat

we’llbemovedtothetoplevel,whichhastheluxuryofaneight-

inchwindowaboveground.Buttercupmaycomeandgotodohis

business.Hewillbeexpectedtofeedhimself.Ifhemisses

curfew,hewillbelockedout.Ifhecausesanysecurityproblems,

he’llbeshotimmediately.

Thatsoundsokay.Notsodifferentfromhowhe’sbeen

livingsinceweleft.Exceptfortheshootingpart.Ifhelookstoo

thin,Icansliphimafewentrails,providedmynextrequestis

allowed.

“Iwanttohunt.WithGale.Outinthewoods,”Isay.This

giveseveryonepause.

“Wewon’tgofar.We’lluseourownbows.Youcanhavethe

meatforthekitchen,”addsGale.

Ihurryonbeforetheycansayno.“It’sjust...Ican’t

breatheshutupherelikea...Iwouldgetbetter,faster,if...I

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couldhunt.”

Plutarchbeginstoexplainthedrawbackshere—the

dangers,theextrasecurity,theriskofinjury—butCoincuts

himoff.“No.Letthem.Givethemtwohoursaday,deducted

fromtheirtrainingtime.Aquarter-mileradius.With

communicationunitsandtrackeranklets.What’snext?”

Iskimmylist.“Gale.I’llneedhimwithmetodothis.”

“Withyouhow?Offcamera?Byyoursideatalltimes?Do

youwanthimpresentedasyournewlover?”Coinasks.

Shehasn’tsaidthiswithanyparticularmalice—quitethe

contrary,herwordsareverymatter-of-fact.Butmymouthstill

dropsopeninshock.“What?”

“Ithinkweshouldcontinuethecurrentromance.Aquick

defectionfromPeetacouldcausetheaudiencetolosesympathy

forher,”saysPlutarch.“Especiallysincetheythinkshe’s

pregnantwithhischild.”

“Agreed.So,on-screen,Galecansimplybeportrayedasa

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fellowrebel.Isthatallright?”saysCoin.Ijuststareather.She

repeatsherselfimpatiently.“ForGale.Willthatbesufficient?”

“Wecanalwaysworkhiminasyourcousin,”saysFulvia.

“We’renotcousins,”GaleandIsaytogether.

“Right,butweshouldprobablykeepthatupforappearances’

sakeoncamera,”saysPlutarch.“Offcamera,he’sallyours.

Anythingelse?”

I’mrattledbytheturnintheconversation.Theimplications

thatIcouldsoreadilydisposeofPeeta,thatI’minlovewith

Gale,thatthewholethinghasbeenanact.Mycheeksbeginto

burn.TheverynotionthatI’mdevotinganythoughttowhoI

wantpresentedasmylover,givenourcurrentcircumstances,is

demeaning.Iletmyangerpropelmeintomygreatestdemand.

“Whenthewarisover,ifwe’vewon,Peetawillbepardoned.”

Deadsilence.IfeelGale’sbodytense.IguessIshouldhave

toldhimbefore,butIwasn’tsurehowhe’drespond.Notwhenit

involvedPeeta.

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“Noformofpunishmentwillbeinflicted,”Icontinue.Anew

thoughtoccurstome.“Thesamegoesfortheothercaptured

tributes,JohannaandEnobaria.”Frankly,Idon’tcareabout

Enobaria,theviciousDistrict2tribute.Infact,Idislikeher,but

itseemswrongtoleaveherout.

“No,”saysCoinflatly.

“Yes,”Ishootback.“It’snottheirfaultyouabandonedthem

inthearena.WhoknowswhattheCapitol’sdoingtothem?”

“They’llbetriedwithotherwarcriminalsandtreatedasthe

tribunalseesfit,”shesays.

“They’llbegrantedimmunity!”Ifeelmyselfrisingfrommy

chair,myvoicefullandresonant.“Youwillpersonallypledge

thisinfrontoftheentirepopulationofDistrictThirteenandthe

remainderofTwelve.Soon.Today.Itwillberecordedforfuture

generations.Youwillholdyourselfandyourgovernment

responsiblefortheirsafety,oryou’llfindyourselfanother

Mockingjay!”

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Mywordshangintheairforalongmoment.

“That’sher!”IhearFulviahisstoPlutarch.“Rightthere.

Withthecostume,gunfireinthebackground,justahintof

smoke.”

“Yes,that’swhatwewant,”saysPlutarchunderhisbreath.

Iwanttoglareatthem,butIfeelitwouldbeamistaketo

turnmyattentionfromCoin.Icanseehertallyingthecostofmy

ultimatum,weighingitagainstmypossibleworth.

“Whatdoyousay,President?”asksPlutarch.“Youcould

issueanofficialpardon,giventhecircumstances.Theboy...

he’snotevenofage.”

“Allright,”Coinsaysfinally.“Butyou’dbetterperform.”

“I’llperformwhenyou’vemadetheannouncement,”Isay.

“CallanationalsecurityassemblyduringReflectiontoday,”

sheorders.“I’llmaketheannouncementthen.Isthereanything

leftonyourlist,Katniss?”

Mypaper’scrumpledintoaballinmyrightfist.Iflattenthe

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sheetagainstthetableandreadthericketyletters.“Justone

morething.IkillSnow.”

Forthefirsttimeever,Iseethehintofasmileonthe

president’slips.“Whenthetimecomes,I’llflipyouforit.”

Maybeshe’sright.Icertainlydon’thavethesoleclaim

againstSnow’slife.AndIthinkIcancountonhergettingthe

jobdone.“Fairenough.”

Coin’seyeshaveflickeredtoherarm,theclock.She,too,

hasascheduletoadhereto.“I’llleaveherinyourhands,then,

Plutarch.”Sheexitstheroom,followedbyherteam,leaving

onlyPlutarch,Fulvia,Gale,andmyself.

“Excellent.Excellent.”Plutarchsinksdown,elbowsonthe

table,rubbinghiseyes.“YouknowwhatImiss?Morethan

anything?Coffee.Iaskyou,woulditbesounthinkabletohave

somethingtowashdownthegruelandturnips?”

“Wedidn’tthinkitwouldbequitesorigidhere,”Fulvia

explainstousasshemassagesPlutarch’sshoulders.“Notinthe

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higherranks.”

“Oratleastthere’dbetheoptionofalittlesideaction,”says

Plutarch.“Imean,evenTwelvehadablackmarket,right?”

“Yeah,theHob,”saysGale.“It’swherewetraded.”

“There,yousee?Andlookhowmoralyoutwoare!Virtually

incorruptible.”Plutarchsighs.“Oh,well,warsdon’tlastforever.

So,gladtohaveyouontheteam.”Hereachesahandouttothe

side,whereFulviaisalreadyextendingalargesketchbookbound

inblackleather.“Youknowingeneralwhatwe’reaskingofyou,

Katniss.I’mawareyouhavemixedfeelingsaboutparticipating.

Ihopethiswillhelp.”

Plutarchslidesthesketchbookacrosstome.Foramoment,I

lookatitsuspiciously.Thencuriositygetsthebetterofme.I

openthecovertofindapictureofmyself,standingstraightand

strong,inablackuniform.Onlyonepersoncouldhavedesigned

theoutfit,atfirstglanceutterlyutilitarian,atsecondaworkof

art.Theswoopofthehelmet,thecurvetothebreastplate,the

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slightfullnessofthesleevesthatallowsthewhitefoldsunderthe

armstoshow.Inhishands,Iamagainamockingjay.

“Cinna,”Iwhisper.

“Yes.Hemademepromisenottoshowyouthisbookuntil

you’ddecidedtobetheMockingjayonyourown.Believeme,I

wasverytempted,”saysPlutarch.“Goon.Flipthrough.”

Iturnthepagesslowly,seeingeachdetailoftheuniform.

Thecarefullytailoredlayersofbodyarmor,thehiddenweapons

inthebootsandbelt,thespecialreinforcementsovermyheart.

Onthefinalpage,underasketchofmymockingjaypin,Cinna’s

written,I’mstillbettingonyou.

“Whendidhe...”Myvoicefailsme.

“Let’ssee.Well,aftertheQuarterQuellannouncement.A

fewweeksbeforetheGamesmaybe?Therearenotonlythe

sketches.Wehaveyouruniforms.Oh,andBeetee’sgot

somethingreallyspecialwaitingforyoudowninthearmory.I

won’tspoilitbyhinting,”saysPlutarch.

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“You’regoingtobethebest-dressedrebelinhistory,”says

Galewithasmile.Suddenly,Irealizehe’sbeenholdingouton

me.LikeCinna,he’swantedmetomakethisdecisionallalong.

“OurplanistolaunchanAirtimeAssault,”saysPlutarch.

“Tomakeaseriesofwhatwecallpropos—whichisshortfor

‘propagandaspots’—featuringyou,andbroadcastthemtothe

entirepopulationofPanem.”

“How?TheCapitolhassolecontrolofthebroadcasts,”says

Gale.

“ButwehaveBeetee.Abouttenyearsago,heessentially

redesignedtheundergroundnetworkthattransmitsallthe

programming.Hethinksthere’sareasonablechanceitcanbe

done.Ofcourse,we’llneedsomethingtoair.So,Katniss,the

studioawaitsyourpleasure.”Plutarchturnstohisassistant.

“Fulvia?”

“PlutarchandIhavebeentalkingabouthowonearthwecan

pullthisoff.Wethinkthatitmightbebesttobuildyou,our

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rebelleader,fromtheoutside...in.Thatistosay,let’sfindthe

moststunningMockingjaylookpossible,andthenworkyour

personalityuptodeservingit!”shesaysbrightly.

“Youalreadyhaveheruniform,”saysGale.

“Yes,butisshescarredandbloody?Issheglowingwiththe

fireofrebellion?Justhowgrimycanwemakeherwithout

disgustingpeople?Atanyrate,shehastobesomething.Imean,

obviouslythis”—Fulviamovesinonmequickly,framingmy

facewithherhands—“won’tcutit.”Ijerkmyheadback

reflexivelybutshe’salreadybusygatheringherthings.“So,with

thatinmind,wehaveanotherlittlesurpriseforyou.Come,

come.”

Fulviagivesusawave,andGaleandIfollowherand

Plutarchoutintothehall.

“Sowellintended,andyetsoinsulting,”Galewhispersin

myear.

“WelcometotheCapitol,”Imouthback.ButFulvia’swords

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havenoeffectonme.Iwrapmyarmstightlyaroundthe

sketchbookandallowmyselftofeelhopeful.Thismustbethe

rightdecision.IfCinnawantedit.

Weboardanelevator,andPlutarchcheckshisnotes.“Let’s

see.It’sCompartmentThree-Nine-Oh-Eight.”Hepressesa

buttonmarked39,butnothinghappens.

“Youmusthavetokeyit,”saysFulvia.

Plutarchpullsakeyattachedtoathinchainfromunderhis

shirtandinsertsitintoaslotIhadn’tnoticedbefore.Thedoors

slideshut.“Ah,thereweare.”

Theelevatordescendsten,twenty,thirty-pluslevels,farther

downthanIevenknewDistrict13went.Itopensonawidewhite

corridorlinedwithreddoors,whichlookalmostdecorative

comparedtothegrayonesontheupperfloors.Eachisplainly

markedwithanumber.3901,3902,3903...

Aswestepout,Iglancebehindmetowatchtheelevator

closeandseeametallicgrateslideintoplaceovertheregular

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doors.WhenIturn,aguardhasmaterializedfromoneofthe

roomsatthefarendofthecorridor.Adoorswingssilentlyshut

behindhimashestridestowardus.

Plutarchmovestomeethim,raisingahandingreeting,and

therestofusfollowbehindhim.Somethingfeelsverywrong

downhere.It’smorethanthereinforcedelevator,orthe

claustrophobiaofbeingsofarunderground,orthecausticsmell

ofantiseptic.OnelookatGale’sfaceandIcantellhesensesit

aswell.

“Goodmorning,wewerejustlookingfor—”Plutarch

begins.

“Youhavethewrongfloor,”saystheguardabruptly.

“Really?”Plutarchdouble-checkshisnotes.“I’vegotThree-

Nine-Oh-Eightwrittenrighthere.Iwonderifyoucouldjustgive

acallupto—”

“I’mafraidIhavetoaskyoutoleavenow.Assignment

discrepanciescanbeaddressedattheHeadOffice,”saysthe

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guard.

It’srightaheadofus.Compartment3908.Justafewsteps

away.Thedoor—infact,allthedoors—seemincomplete.No

knobs.Theymustswingfreeonhingesliketheonetheguard

appearedthrough.

“Whereisthatagain?”asksFulvia.

“You’llfindtheHeadOfficeonLevelSeven,”saysthe

guard,extendinghisarmstocorralusbacktotheelevator.

Frombehinddoor3908comesasound.Justatinywhimper.

Likesomethingacoweddogmightmaketoavoidbeingstruck,

onlyalltoohumanandfamiliar.MyeyesmeetGale’sforjusta

moment,butit’slongenoughfortwopeoplewhooperatethe

waywedo.IletCinna’ssketchbookfallattheguard’sfeetwith

aloudbang.Asecondafterheleansdowntoretrieveit,Gale

leansdown,too,intentionallybumpingheads.“Oh,I’msorry,”

hesayswithalightlaugh,catchingtheguard’sarmsasifto

steadyhimself,turninghimslightlyawayfromme.

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That’smychance.Idartaroundthedistractedguard,push

openthedoormarked3908,andfindthem.Half-naked,bruised,

andshackledtothewall.

Myprepteam.

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Thestinkofunwashedbodies,staleurine,andinfection

breaksthroughthecloudofantiseptic.Thethreefiguresareonly

justrecognizablebytheirmoststrikingfashionchoices:Venia’s

goldfacialtattoos.Flavius’sorangecorkscrewcurls.Octavia’s

lightevergreenskin,whichnowhangstooloosely,asifherbody

wereaslowlydeflatingballoon.

Onseeingme,FlaviusandOctaviashrinkbackagainstthe

tiledwallslikethey’reanticipatinganattack,eventhoughIhave

neverhurtthem.Unkindthoughtsweremyworstoffenseagainst

them,andthoseIkepttomyself,sowhydotheyrecoil?

Theguard’sorderingmeout,butbytheshufflingthat

follows,IknowGalehassomehowdetainedhim.Foranswers,I

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crosstoVenia,whowasalwaysthestrongest.Icrouchdownand

takehericyhands,whichclutchminelikevises.

“Whathappened,Venia?”Iask.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”

“Theytookus.FromtheCapitol,”shesayshoarsely.

Plutarchentersbehindme.“Whatonearthisgoingon?”

“Whotookyou?”Ipressher.

“People,”shesaysvaguely.“Thenightyoubrokeout.”

“Wethoughtitmightbecomfortingforyoutohaveyour

regularteam,”Plutarchsaysbehindme.“Cinnarequestedit.”

“Cinnarequestedthis?”Isnarlathim.Becauseifthere’sone

thingIknow,it’sthatCinnawouldneverhaveapprovedthe

abuseofthesethree,whohemanagedwithgentlenessand

patience.“Whyaretheybeingtreatedlikecriminals?”

“Ihonestlydon’tknow.”There’ssomethinginhisvoicethat

makesmebelievehim,andthepalloronFulvia’sfaceconfirms

it.Plutarchturnstotheguard,who’sjustappearedinthe

doorwaywithGalerightbehindhim.“Iwasonlytoldtheywere

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

beingconfined.Whyaretheybeingpunished?”

“Forstealingfood.Wehadtorestrainthemafteran

altercationoversomebread,”saystheguard.

Venia’sbrowscometogetherasifshe’sstilltryingtomake

senseofit.“Noonewouldtellusanything.Weweresohungry.

Itwasjustonesliceshetook.”

Octaviabeginstosob,mufflingthesoundinherragged

tunic.Ithinkofhow,thefirsttimeIsurvivedthearena,Octavia

sneakedmearollunderthetablebecauseshecouldn’tbearmy

hunger.Icrawlacrosstohershakingform.“Octavia?”Itouch

herandsheflinches.“Octavia?It’sgoingtobeallright.I’llget

yououtofhere,okay?”

“Thisseemsextreme,”saysPlutarch.

“It’sbecausetheytookasliceofbread?”asksGale.

“Therewererepeatedinfractionsleadinguptothat.They

werewarned.Stilltheytookmorebread.”Theguardpausesa

moment,asifpuzzledbyourdensity.“Youcan’ttakebread.”

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Ican’tgetOctaviatouncoverherface,butsheliftsit

slightly.Theshacklesonherwristsshiftdownafewinches,

revealingrawsoresbeneaththem.“I’mbringingyoutomy

mother.”Iaddresstheguard.“Unchainthem.”

Theguardshakeshishead.“It’snotauthorized.”

“Unchainthem!Now!”Iyell.

Thisbreakshiscomposure.Averagecitizensdon’taddress

himthisway.“Ihavenoreleaseorders.Andyouhaveno

authorityto—”

“Doitonmyauthority,”saysPlutarch.“Wecametocollect

thesethreeanyway.They’reneededforSpecialDefense.I’lltake

fullresponsibility.”

Theguardleavestomakeacall.Hereturnswithasetof

keys.Theprepshavebeenforcedintocrampedbodypositions

forsolongthatevenoncetheshacklesareremoved,theyhave

troublewalking.Gale,Plutarch,andIhavetohelpthem.

Flavius’sfootcatchesonametalgrateoveracircularopeningin

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thefloor,andmystomachcontractswhenIthinkofwhyaroom

wouldneedadrain.Thestainsofhumanmiserythatmusthave

beenhosedoffthesewhitetiles...

Inthehospital,Ifindmymother,theonlyoneItrusttocare

forthem.Ittakesheraminutetoplacethethree,giventheir

currentcondition,butalreadyshewearsalookofconsternation.

AndIknowit’snotaresultofseeingabusedbodies,because

theywereherdailyfareinDistrict12,buttherealizationthat

thissortofthinggoesonin13aswell.

Mymotherwaswelcomedintothehospital,butshe’sviewed

asmoreofanursethanadoctor,despiteherlifetimeofhealing.

Still,nooneinterfereswhensheguidesthetriointoan

examinationroomtoassesstheirinjuries.Iplantmyselfona

benchinthehalloutsidethehospitalentrance,waitingtohear

herverdict.Shewillbeabletoreadintheirbodiesthepain

inflicteduponthem.

Galesitsnexttomeandputsanarmaroundmyshoulder.

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“She’llfixthemup.”Igiveanod,wonderingifhe’sthinking

abouthisownbrutalfloggingbackin12.

PlutarchandFulviatakethebenchacrossfromusbutdon’t

offeranycommentsonthestateofmyprepteam.Iftheyhadno

knowledgeofthemistreatment,thenwhatdotheymakeofthis

moveonPresidentCoin’spart?Idecidetohelpthemout.

“Iguesswe’veallbeenputonnotice,”Isay.

“What?No.Whatdoyoumean?”asksFulvia.

“Punishingmyprepteam’sawarning,”Itellher.“Notjust

tome.Buttoyou,too.Aboutwho’sreallyincontrolandwhat

happensifshe’snotobeyed.Ifyouhadanydelusionsabout

havingpower,I’dletthemgonow.Apparently,aCapitol

pedigreeisnoprotectionhere.Maybeit’sevenaliability.”

“ThereisnocomparisonbetweenPlutarch,who

mastermindedtherebelbreakout,andthosethreebeauticians,”

saysFulviaicily.

Ishrug.“Ifyousayso,Fulvia.Butwhatwouldhappenifyou

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gotonCoin’sbadside?Myprepteamwaskidnapped.Theycan

atleasthopetoonedayreturntotheCapitol.GaleandIcanlive

inthewoods.Butyou?Wherewouldyoutworun?”

“Perhapswe’realittlemorenecessarytothewareffortthan

yougiveuscreditfor,”saysPlutarch,unconcerned.

“Ofcourseyouare.Thetributeswerenecessarytothe

Games,too.Untiltheyweren’t,”Isay.“Andthenwewerevery

disposable—right,Plutarch?”

Thatendstheconversation.Wewaitinsilenceuntilmy

motherfindsus.“They’llbeallright,”shereports.“No

permanentphysicalinjuries.”

“Good.Splendid,”saysPlutarch.“Howsooncantheybeput

towork?”

“Probablytomorrow,”sheanswers.“You’llhavetoexpect

someemotionalinstability,afterwhatthey’vebeenthrough.

Theywereparticularlyillprepared,comingfromtheirlifeinthe

Capitol.”

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“Weren’tweall?”saysPlutarch.

Eitherbecausetheprepteam’sincapacitatedorI’mtooon

edge,PlutarchreleasesmefromMockingjaydutiesfortherest

oftheday.GaleandIheaddowntolunch,wherewe’reserved

beanandonionstew,athicksliceofbread,andacupofwater.

AfterVenia’sstory,thebreadsticksinmythroat,soIslidethe

restofitontoGale’stray.Neitherofusspeaksmuchduring

lunch,butwhenourbowlsareclean,Galepullsuphissleeve,

revealinghisschedule.“I’vegottrainingnext.”

Itugupmysleeveandholdmyarmnexttohis.“Me,too.”I

rememberthattrainingequalshuntingnow.

Myeagernesstoescapeintothewoods,ifonlyfortwohours,

overridesmycurrentconcerns.Animmersionintogreeneryand

sunlightwillsurelyhelpmesortoutmythoughts.Onceoffthe

maincorridors,GaleandIracelikeschoolchildrenforthe

armory,andbythetimewearrive,I’mbreathlessanddizzy.A

reminderthatI’mnotfullyrecovered.Theguardsprovideour

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oldweapons,aswellasknivesandaburlapsackthat’smeantfor

agamebag.Itoleratehavingthetrackerclampedtomyankle,

trytolookasifI’mlisteningwhentheyexplainhowtousethe

handheldcommunicator.Theonlythingthatsticksinmyheadis

thatithasaclock,andwemustbebackinside13bythe

designatedhourorourhuntingprivilegeswillberevoked.Thisis

oneruleIthinkIwillmakeanefforttoabide.

Wegooutsideintothelarge,fenced-intrainingareabeside

thewoods.Guardsopenthewell-oiledgateswithoutcomment.

Wewouldbehard-pressedtogetpastthisfenceonourown—

thirtyfeethighandalwaysbuzzingwithelectricity,toppedwith

razor-sharpcurlsofsteel.Wemovethroughthewoodsuntilthe

viewofthefencehasbeenobscured.Inasmallclearing,we

pauseanddropbackourheadstobaskinthesunlight.Iturnina

circle,myarmsextendedatmysides,revolvingslowlysoasnot

tosettheworldspinning.

ThelackofrainIsawin12hasdamagedtheplantshereas

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well,leavingsomewithbrittleleaves,buildingacrunchycarpet

underourfeet.Wetakeoffourshoes.Minedon’tfitright

anyway,sinceinthespiritofwaste-not-want-notthatrules13,I

wasissuedapairsomeonehadoutgrown.Apparently,oneofus

walksfunny,becausethey’rebrokeninallwrong.

Wehunt,likeintheolddays.Silent,needingnowordsto

communicate,becausehereinthewoodswemoveastwoparts

ofonebeing.Anticipatingeachother’smovements,watching

eachother’sbacks.Howlonghasitbeen?Eightmonths?Nine?

Sincewehadthisfreedom?It’snotexactlythesame,givenall

that’shappenedandthetrackersonouranklesandthefactthatI

havetorestsooften.Butit’saboutasclosetohappinessasI

thinkIcancurrentlyget.

Theanimalsherearenotnearlysuspiciousenough.That

extramomentittakestoplaceourunfamiliarscentmeanstheir

death.Inanhourandahalf,we’vegotamixeddozen—rabbits,

squirrels,andturkeys—anddecidetoknockofftospendthe

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remainingtimebyapondthatmustbefedbyanunderground

spring,sincethewater’scoolandsweet.

WhenGaleofferstocleanthegame,Idon’tobject.Isticka

fewmintleavesonmytongue,closemyeyes,andleanback

againstarock,soakinginthesounds,lettingthescorching

afternoonsunburnmyskin,almostatpeaceuntilGale’svoice

interruptsme.“Katniss,whydoyoucaresomuchaboutyour

prepteam?”

Iopenmyeyestoseeifhe’sjoking,buthe’sfrowningdown

attherabbithe’sskinning.“Whyshouldn’tI?”

“Hm.Let’ssee.Becausethey’vespentthelastyearprettying

youupforslaughter?”hesuggests.

“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.Theydon’tsee...Imean,theydon’tknow..

.”Igetknottedupinmywords.

“Theydon’tknowwhat,Katniss?”hesays.“Thattributes—

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whoaretheactualchildreninvolvedhere,notyourtriooffreaks

—areforcedtofighttothedeath?Thatyouweregoingintothat

arenaforpeople’samusement?Wasthatabigsecretinthe

Capitol?”

“No.Buttheydon’tviewitthewaywedo,”Isay.“They’re

raisedonitand—”

“Areyouactuallydefendingthem?”Heslipstheskinfrom

therabbitinonequickmove.

Thatstings,because,infact,Iam,andit’sridiculous.I

struggletofindalogicalposition.“IguessI’mdefendinganyone

who’streatedlikethatfortakingasliceofbread.Maybeit

remindsmetoomuchofwhathappenedtoyouoveraturkey!”

Still,he’sright.Itdoesseemstrange,mylevelofconcern

overtheprepteam.Ishouldhatethemandwanttoseethem

strungup.Butthey’resoclueless,andtheybelongedtoCinna,

andhewasonmyside,right?

“I’mnotlookingforafight,”Galesays.“ButIdon’tthink

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Coinwassendingyousomebigmessagebypunishingthemfor

breakingtheruleshere.Sheprobablythoughtyou’dseeitasa

favor.”Hestuffstherabbitinthesackandrises.“Webetterget

goingifwewanttomakeitbackontime.”

Iignorehisofferofahandupandgettomyfeetunsteadily.

“Fine.”Neitherofustalksonthewayback,butoncewe’re

insidethegate,Ithinkofsomethingelse.“DuringtheQuarter

Quell,OctaviaandFlaviushadtoquitbecausetheycouldn’tstop

cryingovermegoingbackin.AndVeniacouldbarelysaygood-

bye.”

“I’lltryandkeepthatinmindasthey...remakeyou,”says

Gale.

“Do,”Isay.

WehandthemeatovertoGreasySaeinthekitchen.She

likesDistrict13wellenough,eventhoughshethinksthecooks

aresomewhatlackinginimagination.Butawomanwhocameup

withapalatablewilddogandrhubarbstewisboundtofeelasif

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herhandsaretiedhere.

Exhaustedfromhuntingandmylackofsleep,Igobackto

mycompartmenttofinditstrippedbare,onlytoremember

we’vebeenmovedbecauseofButtercup.Imakemywayupto

thetopfloorandfindCompartmentE.Itlooksexactlylike

Compartment307,exceptforthewindow—twofeetwide,eight

incheshigh—centeredatthetopoftheoutsidewall.There’sa

heavymetalplatethatfastensoverit,butrightnowit’spropped

open,andacertaincatisnowheretobeseen.Istretchoutonmy

bed,andashaftofafternoonsunlightplaysonmyface.Thenext

thingIknow,mysisteriswakingmefor18:00—Reflection.

Primtellsmethey’vebeenannouncingtheassemblysince

lunch.Theentirepopulation,exceptthoseneededforessential

jobs,isrequiredtoattend.Wefollowdirectionstothe

Collective,ahugeroomthateasilyholdsthethousandswho

showup.Youcantellitwasbuiltforalargergathering,and

perhapsitheldonebeforethepoxepidemic.Primquietlypoints

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outthewidespreadfalloutfromthatdisaster—thepoxscarson

people’sbodies,theslightlydisfiguredchildren.“They’ve

sufferedalothere,”shesays.

Afterthismorning,I’minnomoodtofeelsorryfor13.“No

morethanwedidinTwelve,”Isay.Iseemymotherleadina

groupofmobilepatients,stillwearingtheirhospitalnightgowns

androbes.Finnickstandsamongthem,lookingdazedbut

gorgeous.Inhishandsheholdsapieceofthinrope,lessthana

footinlength,tooshortforevenhimtofashionintoausable

noose.Hisfingersmoverapidly,automaticallytyingand

unravelingvariousknotsashegazesabout.Probablypartofhis

therapy.Icrosstohimandsay,“Hey,Finnick.”Hedoesn’tseem

tonotice,soInudgehimtogethisattention.“Finnick!Howare

youdoing?”

“Katniss,”hesays,grippingmyhand.Relievedtoseea

familiarface,Ithink.“Whyarewemeetinghere?”

“ItoldCoinI’dbeherMockingjay.ButImadeherpromise

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togivetheothertributesimmunityiftherebelswon,”Itellhim.

“Inpublic,sothereareplentyofwitnesses.”

“Oh.Good.BecauseIworryaboutthatwithAnnie.That

she’llsaysomethingthatcouldbeconstruedastraitorous

withoutknowingit,”saysFinnick.

Annie.Uh-oh.Totallyforgother.“Don’tworry,Itookcare

ofit.”IgiveFinnick’shandasqueezeandheadstraightforthe

podiumatthefrontoftheroom.Coin,whoisglancingoverher

statement,raiseshereyebrowsatme.“IneedyoutoaddAnnie

Crestatotheimmunitylist,”Itellher.

Thepresidentfrownsslightly.“Who’sthat?”

“She’sFinnickOdair’s—”What?Idon’treallyknowwhat

tocallher.“She’sFinnick’sfriend.FromDistrictFour.Another

victor.ShewasarrestedandtakentotheCapitolwhenthearena

blewup.”

“Oh,themadgirl.That’snotreallynecessary,”shesays.

“Wedon’tmakeahabitofpunishinganyonethatfrail.”

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IthinkofthesceneIwalkedinonthismorning.OfOctavia

huddledagainstthewall.OfhowCoinandImusthavevastly

differentdefinitionsoffrailty.ButIonlysay,“No?Thenit

shouldn’tbeaproblemtoaddAnnie.”

“Allright,”saysthepresident,pencilinginAnnie’sname.

“Doyouwanttobeupherewithmefortheannouncement?”I

shakemyhead.“Ididn’tthinkso.Betterhurryandloseyourself

inthecrowd.I’mabouttobegin.”Imakemywaybackto

Finnick.

Wordsareanotherthingnotwastedin13.Coincallsthe

audiencetoattentionandtellsthemIhaveconsentedtobethe

Mockingjay,providedtheothervictors—Peeta,Johanna,

Enobaria,andAnnie—willbegrantedfullpardonforany

damagetheydototherebelcause.Intherumblingofthecrowd,

Ihearthedissent.IsupposenoonedoubtedIwouldwanttobe

theMockingjay.Sonamingaprice—onethatsparespossible

enemies—angersthem.Istandindifferenttothehostilelooks

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thrownmyway.

Thepresidentallowsafewmomentsofunrest,andthen

continuesinherbriskfashion.Onlynowthewordscomingout

ofhermoutharenewstome.“Butinreturnforthis

unprecedentedrequest,SoldierEverdeenhaspromisedtodevote

herselftoourcause.Itfollowsthatanydeviancefromher

mission,ineithermotiveordeed,willbeviewedasabreakin

thisagreement.Theimmunitywouldbeterminatedandthefate

ofthefourvictorsdeterminedbythelawofDistrictThirteen.As

wouldherown.Thankyou.”

Inotherwords,Istepoutoflineandwe’realldead.

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Anotherforcetocontendwith.Anotherpowerplayerwho

hasdecidedtousemeasapieceinhergames,althoughthings

neverseemtogoaccordingtoplan.Firsttherewerethe

Gamemakers,makingmetheirstarandthenscramblingto

recoverfromthathandfulofpoisonousberries.ThenPresident

Snow,tryingtousemetoputouttheflamesofrebellion,onlyto

havemyeverymovebecomeinflammatory.Next,therebels

ensnaringmeinthemetalclawthatliftedmefromthearena,

designatingmetobetheirMockingjay,andthenhavingto

recoverfromtheshockthatImightnotwantthewings.Andnow

Coin,withherfistfulofpreciousnukesandherwell-oiled

machineofadistrict,findingit’sevenhardertogrooma

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Mockingjaythantocatchone.Butshehasbeenthequickestto

determinethatIhaveanagendaofmyownandamthereforenot

tobetrusted.Shehasbeenthefirsttopubliclybrandmeasa

threat.

Irunmyfingersthroughthethicklayerofbubblesinmy

tub.Cleaningmeupisjustapreliminarysteptodeterminingmy

newlook.Withmyacid-damagedhair,sunburnedskin,andugly

scars,theprepteamhastomakemeprettyandthendamage,

burn,andscarmeinamoreattractiveway.

“RemakehertoBeautyBaseZero,”Fulviaorderedfirst

thingthismorning.“We’llworkfromthere.”BeautyBaseZero

turnsouttobewhatapersonwouldlooklikeiftheysteppedout

ofbedlookingflawlessbutnatural.Itmeansmynailsare

perfectlyshapedbutnotpolished.Myhairsoftandshinybutnot

styled.Myskinsmoothandclearbutnotpainted.Waxthebody

hairanderasethedarkcircles,butdon’tmakeanynoticeable

enhancements.IsupposeCinnagavethesameinstructionsthe

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firstdayIarrivedasatributeintheCapitol.Onlythatwas

different,sinceIwasacontestant.Asarebel,IthoughtI’dgetto

lookmorelikemyself.Butitseemsatelevisedrebelhasherown

standardstoliveupto.

AfterIrinsethelatherfrommybody,IturntofindOctavia

waitingwithatowel.SheissoalteredfromthewomanIknewin

theCapitol,strippedofthegaudyclothing,theheavymakeup,

thedyesandjewelryandknickknackssheadornedherhairwith.

Irememberhowonedaysheshowedupwithbrightpinktresses

studdedwithblinkingcoloredlightsshapedlikemice.Shetold

meshehadseveralmiceathomeaspets.Thethoughtrepulsed

meatthetime,sinceweconsidermicevermin,unlesscooked.

ButperhapsOctavialikedthembecausetheyweresmall,soft,

andsqueaky.Likeher.Asshepatsmedry,Itrytobecome

acquaintedwiththeDistrict13Octavia.Herrealhairturnsoutto

beaniceauburn.Herfaceisordinarybuthasanundeniable

sweetness.She’syoungerthanIthought.Maybeearlytwenties.

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Devoidofthethree-inchdecorativenails,herfingersappear

almoststubby,andtheycan’tstoptrembling.Iwanttotellher

it’sokay,thatI’llseethatCoinneverhurtsheragain.Butthe

multicoloredbruisesfloweringunderhergreenskinonlyremind

mehowimpotentIam.

Flavius,too,appearswashedoutwithouthispurplelipstick

andbrightclothes.He’smanagedtogethisorangeringletsback

insomesortoforder,though.It’sVeniawho’stheleastchanged.

Heraquahairliesflatinsteadofinspikesandyoucanseethe

rootsgrowingingray.However,thetattooswerealwaysher

moststrikingcharacteristic,andthey’reasgoldenandshocking

asever.ShecomesandtakesthetowelfromOctavia’shands.

“Katnissisnotgoingtohurtus,”shesaysquietlybutfirmly

toOctavia.“Katnissdidnotevenknowwewerehere.Things

willbebetternow.”Octaviagivesaslightnodbutdoesn’tdare

lookmeintheeye.

It’snosimplejobgettingmebacktoBeautyBaseZero,even

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withtheelaboratearsenalofproducts,tools,andgadgets

PlutarchhadtheforesighttobringfromtheCapitol.Myprepsdo

prettywelluntiltheytrytoaddressthespotonmyarmwhere

Johannadugoutthetracker.Noneofthemedicalteamwas

focusingonlookswhentheypatchedupthegapinghole.NowI

havealumpy,jaggedscarthatripplesoutoveraspacethesize

ofanapple.Usually,mysleevecoversit,butthewayCinna’s

Mockingjaycostumeisdesigned,thesleevesstopjustabovethe

elbow.It’ssuchaconcernthatFulviaandPlutarcharecalledin

todiscussit.Iswear,thesightofittriggersFulvia’sgagreflex.

ForsomeonewhoworkswithaGamemaker,she’sawfully

sensitive.ButIguessshe’susedtoseeingunpleasantthingsonly

onascreen.

“EveryoneknowsIhaveascarhere,”Isaysullenly.

“Knowingitandseeingitaretwodifferentthings,”says

Fulvia.“It’spositivelyrepulsive.PlutarchandIwillthinkof

somethingduringlunch.”

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“It’llbefine,”saysPlutarchwithadismissivewaveofhis

hand.“Maybeanarmbandorsomething.”

Disgusted,IgetdressedsoIcanheadtothedininghall.My

prepteamhuddlesinalittlegroupbythedoor.“Arethey

bringingyourfoodhere?”Iask.

“No,”saysVenia.“We’resupposedtogotoadininghall.”

IsighinwardlyasIimaginewalkingintothedininghall,

trailedbythesethree.Butpeoplealwaysstareatmeanyway.

Thiswillbemoreofthesame.“I’llshowyouwhereitis,”Isay.

“Comeon.”

ThecovertglancesandquietmurmursIusuallyevokeare

nothingcomparedtothereactionbroughtonbythesightofmy

bizarre-lookingprepteam.Thegapingmouths,thefinger

pointing,theexclamations.“Justignorethem,”Itellmyprep

team.Eyesdowncast,withmechanicalmovements,theyfollow

methroughtheline,acceptingbowlsofgrayishfishandokra

stewandcupsofwater.

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Wetakeseatsatmytable,besideagroupfromtheSeam.

Theyshowalittlemorerestraintthanthepeoplefrom13do,

althoughitmayjustbefromembarrassment.Leevy,whowasmy

neighborbackin12,givesacautioushellotothepreps,and

Gale’smother,Hazelle,whomustknowabouttheir

imprisonment,holdsupaspoonfulofthestew.“Don’tworry,”

shesays.“Tastesbetterthanitlooks.”

Butit’sPosy,Gale’sfive-year-oldsister,whohelpsthe

most.ShescootsalongthebenchtoOctaviaandtouchesherskin

withatentativefinger.“You’regreen.Areyousick?”

“It’safashionthing,Posy.Likewearinglipstick,”Isay.

“It’smeanttobepretty,”whispersOctavia,andIcanseethe

tearsthreateningtospilloverherlashes.

Posyconsidersthisandsaysmatter-of-factly,“Ithinkyou’d

beprettyinanycolor.”

ThetiniestofsmilesformsonOctavia’slips.“Thankyou.”

“IfyoureallywanttoimpressPosy,you’llhavetodye

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yourselfbrightpink,”saysGale,thumpinghistraydownbeside

me.“That’sherfavoritecolor.”Posygigglesandslidesback

downtohermother.GalenodsatFlavius’sbowl.“Iwouldn’tlet

thatgetcold.Itdoesn’timprovetheconsistency.”

Everyonegetsdowntoeating.Thestewdoesn’ttastebad,

butthere’sacertainsliminessthat’shardtogetaround.Likeyou

havetoswalloweverybitethreetimesbeforeitreallygoes

down.

Gale,who’snotusuallymuchofatalkerduringmeals,

makesanefforttokeeptheconversationgoing,askingaboutthe

makeover.Iknowit’shisattemptatsmoothingthingsover.We

arguedlastnightafterhesuggestedI’dleftCoinnochoicebutto

countermydemandforthevictors’safetywithoneofherown.

“Katniss,she’srunningthisdistrict.Shecan’tdoitifitseems

likeshe’scavingintoyourwill.”

“Youmeanshecan’tstandanydissent,evenifit’sfair,”I’d

countered.

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“Imeanyouputherinabadposition.MakinghergivePeeta

andtheothersimmunitywhenwedon’tevenknowwhatsortof

damagetheymightcause,”Galehadsaid.

“SoIshould’vejustgonewiththeprogramandlettheother

tributestaketheirchances?Notthatitmatters,becausethat’s

whatwe’realldoinganyway!”ThatwaswhenI’dslammedthe

doorinhisface.Ihadn’tsatwithhimatbreakfast,andwhen

Plutarchhadsenthimdowntotrainingthismorning,I’dlethim

gowithoutaword.Iknowheonlyspokeoutofconcernforme,

butIreallyneedhimtobeonmyside,notCoin’s.Howcanhe

notknowthat?

Afterlunch,GaleandIarescheduledtogodowntoSpecial

DefensetomeetBeetee.Asweridetheelevator,Galefinally

says,“You’restillangry.”

“Andyou’restillnotsorry,”Ireply.

“IstillstandbywhatIsaid.Doyouwantmetolieaboutit?”

heasks.

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“No,Iwantyoutorethinkitandcomeupwiththeright

opinion,”Itellhim.Butthisjustmakeshimlaugh.Ihavetolet

itgo.There’snopointintryingtodictatewhatGalethinks.

Which,ifI’mhonest,isonereasonItrusthim.

TheSpecialDefenselevelissituatedalmostasfardownas

thedungeonswherewefoundtheprepteam.It’sabeehiveof

roomsfullofcomputers,labs,researchequipment,andtesting

ranges.

WhenweaskforBeetee,we’redirectedthroughthemaze

untilwereachanenormousplate-glasswindow.Insideisthe

firstbeautifulthingI’veseenintheDistrict13compound:a

replicationofameadow,filledwithrealtreesandflowering

plants,andalivewithhummingbirds.Beeteesitsmotionlessina

wheelchairatthecenterofthemeadow,watchingaspring-green

birdhoverinmidairasitsipsnectarfromalargeorange

blossom.Hiseyesfollowthebirdasitdartsaway,andhecatches

sightofus.Hegivesafriendlywaveforustojoinhiminside.

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Theair’scoolandbreathable,nothumidandmuggyasI’d

expected.Fromallsidescomesthewhiroftinywings,whichI

usedtoconfusewiththesoundofinsectsinourwoodsathome.I

havetowonderwhatsortofflukeallowedsuchapleasingplace

tobebuilthere.

Beeteestillhasthepallorofsomeoneinconvalescence,but

behindthoseill-fittingglasses,hiseyesarealightwith

excitement.“Aren’ttheymagnificent?Thirteenhasbeen

studyingtheiraerodynamicshereforyears.Forwardand

backwardflight,andspeedsuptosixtymilesperhour.IfonlyI

couldbuildyouwingslikethese,Katniss!”

“DoubtIcouldmanagethem,Beetee,”Ilaugh.

“Hereonesecond,gonethenext.Canyoubringa

hummingbirddownwithanarrow?”heasks.

“I’venevertried.Notmuchmeatonthem,”Ianswer.

“No.Andyou’renotonetokillforsport,”hesays.“Ibet

they’dbehardtoshoot,though.”

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“Youcouldsnarethemmaybe,”Galesays.Hisfacetakeson

thatdistantlookitwearswhenhe’sworkingsomethingout.

“Takeanetwithaveryfinemesh.Encloseanareaandleavea

mouthofacouplesquarefeet.Baittheinsidewithnectar

flowers.Whilethey’refeeding,snapthemouthshut.They’dfly

awayfromthenoisebutonlyencounterthefarsideofthenet.”

“Wouldthatwork?”asksBeetee.

“Idon’tknow.Justanidea,”saysGale.“Theymight

outsmartit.”

“Theymight.Butyou’replayingontheirnaturalinstinctsto

fleedanger.Thinkinglikeyourprey...that’swhereyoufind

theirvulnerabilities,”saysBeetee.

IremembersomethingIdon’tliketothinkabout.In

preparationfortheQuell,IsawatapewhereBeetee,whowas

stillaboy,connectedtwowiresthatelectrocutedapackofkids

whowerehuntinghim.Theconvulsingbodies,thegrotesque

expressions.Beetee,inthemomentsthatleduptohisvictoryin

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thoselong-agoHungerGames,watchedtheothersdie.Nothis

fault.Onlyself-defense.Wewereallactingonlyinself-defense.

...

Suddenly,Iwanttoleavethehummingbirdroombefore

somebodystartssettingupasnare.“Beetee,Plutarchsaidyou

hadsomethingforme.”

“Right.Ido.Yournewbow.”Hepressesahandcontrolon

thearmofthechairandwheelsoutoftheroom.Aswefollow

himthroughthetwistsandturnsofSpecialDefense,heexplains

aboutthechair.“Icanwalkalittlenow.It’sjustthatItireso

quickly.It’seasierformetogetaroundthisway.How’sFinnick

doing?”

“He’s...he’shavingconcentrationproblems,”Ianswer.I

don’twanttosayhehadacompletementalmeltdown.

“Concentrationproblems,eh?”Beeteesmilesgrimly.“Ifyou

knewwhatFinnick’sbeenthroughthelastfewyears,you’d

knowhowremarkableitishe’sstillwithusatall.TellhimI’ve

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beenworkingonanewtridentforhim,though,willyou?

Somethingtodistracthimalittle.”Distractionseemstobethe

lastthingFinnickneeds,butIpromisetopassonthemessage.

FoursoldiersguardtheentrancetothehallmarkedSPECIAL

WEAPONRY.Checkingtheschedulesprintedonourforearmsis

justapreliminarystep.Wealsohavefinger-print,retinal,and

DNAscans,andhavetostepthroughspecialmetaldetectors.

Beeteehastoleavehiswheelchairoutside,althoughtheyprovide

himwithanotheroncewe’rethroughsecurity.Ifindthewhole

thingbizarrebecauseIcan’timagineanyoneraisedinDistrict13

beingathreatthegovernmentwouldhavetoguardagainst.Have

theseprecautionsbeenputinplacebecauseoftherecentinflux

ofimmigrants?

Atthedoorofthearmory,weencounterasecondroundof

identificationchecks—asifmyDNAmighthavechangedinthe

timeittooktowalktwentyyardsdownthehallway—andare

finallyallowedtoentertheweaponscollection.Ihavetoadmit

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thearsenaltakesmybreathaway.Rowuponrowoffirearms,

launchers,explosives,armoredvehicles.“Ofcourse,the

AirborneDivisionishousedseparately,”Beeteetellsus.

“Ofcourse,”Isay,asifthiswouldbeself-evident.Idon’t

knowwhereasimplebowandarrowcouldpossiblyfindaplace

inallthishigh-techequipment,butthenwecomeuponawallof

deadlyarcheryweapons.I’veplayedwithalotoftheCapitol’s

weaponsintraining,butnonedesignedformilitarycombat.I

focusmyattentiononalethal-lookingbowsoloadeddownwith

scopesandgadgetry,I’mcertainIcan’tevenliftit,letalone

shootit.

“Gale,maybeyou’dliketotryoutafewofthese,”says

Beetee.

“Seriously?”Galeasks.

“You’llbeissuedaguneventuallyforbattle,ofcourse.But

ifyouappearaspartofKatniss’steaminthepropos,oneof

thesewouldlookalittleshowier.Ithoughtyoumightliketofind

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onethatsuitsyou,”saysBeetee.

“Yeah,Iwould.”Gale’shandsclosearoundtheverybow

thatcaughtmyattentionamomentago,andheheftsitontohis

shoulder.Hepointsitaroundtheroom,peeringthroughthe

scope.

“Thatdoesn’tseemveryfairtothedeer,”Isay.

“Wouldn’tbeusingitondeer,wouldI?”heanswers.

“I’llberightback,”saysBeetee.Hepressesacodeintoa

panel,andasmalldoorwayopens.Iwatchuntilhe’sdisappeared

andthedoor’sshut.

“So,it’dbeeasyforyou?Usingthatonpeople?”Iask.

“Ididn’tsaythat.”Galedropsthebowtohisside.“ButifI’d

hadaweaponthatcould’vestoppedwhatIsawhappeninTwelve

...ifI’dhadaweaponthatcouldhavekeptyououtofthearena

...I’dhaveusedit.”

“Me,too,”Iadmit.ButIdon’tknowwhattotellhimabout

theaftermathofkillingaperson.Abouthowtheyneverleave

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you.

Beeteewheelsbackinwithatall,blackrectangularcase

awkwardlypositionedbetweenhisfootrestandhisshoulder.He

comestoahaltandtiltsittowardme.“Foryou.”

Isetthecaseflatonthefloorandundothelatchesalongone

side.Thetopopensonsilenthinges.Insidethecase,onabedof

crushedmaroonvelvet,liesastunningblackbow.“Oh,”I

whisperinadmiration.Iliftitcarefullyintotheairtoadmirethe

exquisitebalance,theelegantdesign,andthecurveofthelimbs

thatsomehowsuggeststhewingsofabirdextendedinflight.

There’ssomethingelse.Ihavetoholdverystilltomakesure

I’mnotimaginingit.No,thebowisaliveinmyhands.Ipressit

againstmycheekandfeeltheslighthumtravelthroughthe

bonesofmyface.“What’sitdoing?”Iask.

“Sayinghello,”explainsBeeteewithagrin.“Itheardyour

voice.”

“Itrecognizesmyvoice?”Iask.

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“Onlyyourvoice,”hetellsme.“Yousee,theywantedmeto

designabowbasedpurelyonlooks.Aspartofyourcostume,

youknow?ButIkeptthinking,Whatawaste.Imean,whatif

youdoneeditsometime?Asmorethanafashionaccessory?So

Ilefttheoutsidesimple,andlefttheinsidetomyimagination.

Bestexplainedinpractice,though.Wanttotrythoseout?”

Wedo.Atargetrangehasalreadybeenpreparedforus.The

arrowsthatBeeteedesignedarenolessremarkablethanthebow.

Betweenthetwo,Icanshootwithaccuracyoveronehundred

yards.Thevarietyofarrows—razorsharp,incendiary,

explosive—turnthebowintoamultipurposeweapon.Eachone

isrecognizablebyadistinctivecoloredshaft.Ihavetheoption

ofvoiceoverrideatanytime,buthavenoideawhyIwoulduse

it.Todeactivatethebow’sspecialproperties,Ineedonlytellit

“Goodnight.”Thenitgoestosleepuntilthesoundofmyvoice

wakesitagain.

I’mingoodspiritsbythetimeIgetbacktotheprepteam,

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leavingBeeteeandGalebehind.Isitpatientlythroughtherestof

thepaintjobanddonmycostume,whichnowincludesabloody

bandageoverthescaronmyarmtoindicateI’vebeeninrecent

combat.Veniaaffixesmymockingjaypinovermyheart.Itake

upmybowandthesheathofnormalarrowsthatBeeteemade,

knowingtheywouldneverletmewalkaroundwiththeloaded

ones.Thenwe’reoutonthesoundstage,whereIseemtostand

forhourswhiletheyadjustmakeupandlightingandsmoke

levels.Eventually,thecommandscomingviaintercomfromthe

invisiblepeopleinthemysteriousglassed-inboothbecome

fewerandfewer.FulviaandPlutarchspendmoretimestudying

andlesstimeadjustingme.Finally,there’squietontheset.Fora

fullfiveminutesIamsimplyconsidered.ThenPlutarchsays,“I

thinkthatdoesit.”

I’mbeckonedovertoamonitor.Theyplaybackthelastfew

minutesoftapingandIwatchthewomanonthescreen.Her

bodyseemslargerinstature,moreimposingthanmine.Herface

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smudgedbutsexy.Herbrowsblackanddrawninanangleof

defiance.Wispsofsmoke—suggestingshehaseitherjustbeen

extinguishedorisabouttoburstintoflames—risefromher

clothes.Idonotknowwhothispersonis.

Finnick,who’sbeenwanderingaroundthesetforafew

hours,comesupbehindmeandsayswithahintofhisold

humor,“They’lleitherwanttokillyou,kissyou,orbeyou.”

Everyone’ssoexcited,sopleasedwiththeirwork.It’snearly

timetobreakfordinner,buttheyinsistwecontinue.Tomorrow

we’llfocusonspeechesandinterviewsandhavemepretendto

beinrebelbattles.Todaytheywantjustoneslogan,justoneline

thattheycanworkintoashortpropotoshowtoCoin.

“PeopleofPanem,wefight,wedare,weendourhungerfor

justice!”That’stheline.Icantellbythewaytheypresentitthat

they’vespentmonths,maybeyears,workingitoutandarereally

proudofit.Itseemslikeamouthfultome,though.Andstiff.I

can’timagineactuallysayingitinreallife—unlessIwasusing

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aCapitolaccentandmakingfunofit.LikewhenGaleandIused

toimitateEffieTrinket’s“Maytheoddsbeeverinyourfavor!”

ButFulvia’srightinmyface,describingabattleI’vejustbeen

in,andhowmycomrades-in-armsarealllyingdeadaroundme,

andhow,torallytheliving,Imustturntothecameraandshout

outtheline!

I’mhustledbacktomyplace,andthesmokemachinekicks

in.Someonecallsforquiet,thecamerasstartrolling,andIhear

“Action!”SoIholdmybowovermyheadandyellwithallthe

angerIcanmuster,“PeopleofPanem,wefight,wedare,weend

ourhungerforjustice!”

There’sdeadsilenceontheset.Itgoeson.Andon.

Finally,theintercomcracklesandHaymitch’sacerbiclaugh

fillsthestudio.Hecontainshimselfjustlongenoughtosay,

“Andthat,myfriends,ishowarevolutiondies.”

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TheshockofhearingHaymitch’svoiceyesterday,of

learningthathewasnotonlyfunctionalbuthadsomemeasureof

controlovermylifeagain,enragedme.Ileftthestudiodirectly

andrefusedtoacknowledgehiscommentsfromtheboothtoday.

Evenso,Iknewimmediatelyhewasrightaboutmy

performance.

Ittookthewholeofthismorningforhimtoconvincethe

othersofmylimitations.ThatIcan’tpullitoff.Ican’tstandina

televisionstudiowearingacostumeandmakeupinacloudof

fakesmokeandrallythedistrictstovictory.It’samazing,really,

howlongIhavesurvivedthecameras.Thecreditforthat,of

course,goestoPeeta.Alone,Ican’tbetheMockingjay.

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WegatheraroundthehugetableinCommand.Coinandher

people.Plutarch,Fulvia,andmyprepteam.Agroupfrom12that

includesHaymitchandGale,butalsoafewothersIcan’t

explain,likeLeevyandGreasySae.Atthelastminute,Finnick

wheelsBeeteein,accompaniedbyDalton,thecattleexpertfrom

10.IsupposethatCoinhasassembledthisstrangeassortmentof

peopleaswitnessestomyfailure.

However,it’sHaymitchwhowelcomeseveryone,andbyhis

wordsIunderstandthattheyhavecomeathispersonal

invitation.Thisisthefirsttimewe’vebeeninaroomtogether

sinceIclawedhim.Iavoidlookingathimdirectly,butIcatcha

glimpseofhisreflectioninoneoftheshinycontrolconsoles

alongthewall.Helooksslightlyyellowandhaslostalotof

weight,givinghimashrunkenappearance.Forasecond,I’m

afraidhe’sdying.IhavetoremindmyselfthatIdon’tcare.

ThefirstthingHaymitchdoesistoshowthefootagewe’ve

justshot.IseemtohavereachedsomenewlowunderPlutarch

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andFulvia’sguidance.Bothmyvoiceandbodyhaveajerky,

disjointedquality,likeapuppetbeingmanipulatedbyunseen

forces.

“Allright,”Haymitchsayswhenit’sover.“Wouldanyone

liketoarguethatthisisofusetousinwinningthewar?”Noone

does.“Thatsavestime.So,let’sallbequietforaminute.Iwant

everyonetothinkofoneincidentwhereKatnissEverdeen

genuinelymovedyou.Notwhereyouwerejealousofher

hairstyle,orherdresswentupinflamesorshemadeahalfway

decentshotwithanarrow.NotwherePeetawasmakingyoulike

her.Iwanttohearonemomentwhereshemadeyoufeel

somethingreal.”

QuietstretchesoutandI’mbeginningtothinkitwillnever

end,whenLeevyspeaksup.“Whenshevolunteeredtotake

Prim’splaceatthereaping.BecauseI’msureshethoughtshe

wasgoingtodie.”

“Good.Excellentexample,”saysHaymitch.Hetakesa

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purplemarkerandwritesonanotepad.“Volunteeredforsisterat

reaping.”Haymitchlooksaroundthetable.“Somebodyelse.”

I’msurprisedthatthenextspeakerisBoggs,whoIthinkof

asamuscularrobotthatdoesCoin’sbidding.“Whenshesang

thesong.Whilethelittlegirldied.”Somewhereinmyheadan

imagesurfacesofBoggswithayoungboypercheduponhiship.

Inthedininghall,Ithink.Maybehe’snotarobotafterall.

“Whodidn’tgetchokedupatthat,right?”saysHaymitch,

writingitdown.

“IcriedwhenshedruggedPeetasoshecouldgogethim

medicineandwhenshekissedhimgood-bye!”blurtsout

Octavia.Thenshecovershermouth,likeshe’ssurethiswasa

badmistake.

ButHaymitchonlynods.“Oh,yeah.DrugsPeetatosavehis

life.Verynice.”

Themomentsbegintocomethickandfastandinno

particularorder.WhenItookRueonasanally.Extendedmy

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handtoChaffoninterviewnight.TriedtocarryMags.Andagain

andagainwhenIheldoutthoseberriesthatmeantdifferent

thingstodifferentpeople.LoveforPeeta.Refusaltogivein

underimpossibleodds.DefianceoftheCapitol’sinhumanity.

Haymitchholdsupthenotepad.“So,thequestionis,whatdo

allofthesehaveincommon?”

“TheywereKatniss’s,”saysGalequietly.“Noonetoldher

whattodoorsay.”

“Unscripted,yes!”saysBeetee.Hereachesoverandpatsmy

hand.“Soweshouldjustleaveyoualone,right?”

Peoplelaugh.Ievensmilealittle.

“Well,that’sallverynicebutnotveryhelpful,”saysFulvia

peevishly.“Unfortunately,heropportunitiesforbeingwonderful

areratherlimitedhereinThirteen.Sounlessyou’resuggesting

wetossherintothemiddleofcombat—”

“That’sexactlywhatI’msuggesting,”saysHaymitch.“Put

heroutinthefieldandjustkeepthecamerasrolling.”

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“Butpeoplethinkshe’spregnant,”Galepointsout.

“We’llspreadthewordthatshelostthebabyfromthe

electricalshockinthearena,”Plutarchreplies.“Verysad.Very

unfortunate.”

Theideaofsendingmeintocombatiscontroversial.But

Haymitchhasaprettytightcase.IfIperformwellonlyinreal-

lifecircumstances,thenintothemIshouldgo.“Everytimewe

coachherorgiveherlines,thebestwecanhopeforisokay.It

hastocomefromher.That’swhatpeoplearerespondingto.”

“Evenifwe’recareful,wecan’tguaranteehersafety,”says

Boggs.“She’llbeatargetforevery—”

“Iwanttogo,”Ibreakin.“I’mnohelptotherebelshere.”

“Andifyou’rekilled?”asksCoin.

“Makesureyougetsomefootage.Youcanusethat,

anyway,”Ianswer.

“Fine,”saysCoin.“Butlet’stakeitonestepatatime.Find

theleastdangeroussituationthatcanevokesomespontaneityin

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

you.”ShewalksaroundCommand,studyingtheilluminated

districtmapsthatshowtheongoingtrooppositionsinthewar.

“TakeherintoEightthisafternoon.Therewasheavybombing

thismorning,buttheraidseemstohaverunitscourse.Iwant

herarmedwithasquadofbodyguards.Cameracrewonthe

ground.Haymitch,you’llbeairborneandincontactwithher.

Let’sseewhathappensthere.Doesanyonehaveanyother

comments?”

“Washherface,”saysDalton.Everyoneturnstohim.“She’s

stillagirlandyoumadeherlookthirty-five.Feelswrong.Like

somethingtheCapitolwoulddo.”

AsCoinadjournsthemeeting,Haymitchasksherifhecan

speaktomeprivately.TheothersleaveexceptforGale,who

lingersuncertainlybymyside.“Whatareyouworriedabout?”

Haymitchaskshim.“I’mtheonewhoneedsthebodyguard.”

“It’sokay,”ItellGale,andhegoes.Thenthere’sjustthe

humoftheinstruments,thepurroftheventilationsystem.

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

Haymitchtakestheseatacrossfromme.“We’regoingto

havetoworktogetheragain.So,goahead.Justsayit.”

Ithinkofthesnarling,cruelexchangebackonthehover-

craft.Thebitternessthatfollowed.ButallIsayis“Ican’t

believeyoudidn’trescuePeeta.”

“Iknow,”hereplies.

There’sasenseofincompleteness.Andnotbecausehe

hasn’tapologized.Butbecausewewereateam.Wehadadealto

keepPeetasafe.Adrunken,unrealisticdealmadeinthedarkof

night,butadealjustthesame.Andinmyheartofhearts,Iknow

webothfailed.

“Nowyousayit,”Itellhim.

“Ican’tbelieveyoulethimoutofyoursightthatnight,”

saysHaymitch.

Inod.That’sit.“Iplayitoverandoverinmyhead.WhatI

couldhavedonetokeephimbymysidewithoutbreakingthe

alliance.Butnothingcomestome.”

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“Youdidn’thaveachoice.AndevenifIcould’vemade

Plutarchstayandrescuehimthatnight,thewholehovercraft

would’vegonedown.Webarelygotoutasitwas.”Ifinallymeet

Haymitch’seyes.Seameyes.Grayanddeepandringedwiththe

circlesofsleeplessnights.“He’snotdeadyet,Katniss.”

“We’restillinthegame.”Itrytosaythiswithoptimism,but

myvoicecracks.

“Stillin.AndI’mstillyourmentor.”Haymitchpointshis

markeratme.“Whenyou’reontheground,rememberI’m

airborne.I’llhavethebetterview,sodowhatItellyou.”

“We’llsee,”Ianswer.

IreturntotheRemakeRoomandwatchthestreaksof

makeupdisappeardownthedrainasIscrubmyfaceclean.The

personinthemirrorlooksragged,withherunevenskinandtired

eyes,butshelookslikeme.Iripthearmbandoff,revealingthe

uglyscarfromthetracker.There.Thatlookslikeme,too.

SinceI’llbeinacombatzone,Beeteehelpsmewitharmor

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Cinnadesigned.Ahelmetofsomeinterwovenmetalthatfits

closetomyhead.Thematerial’ssupple,likefabric,andcanbe

drawnbacklikeahoodincaseIdon’twantitupfull-time.A

vesttoreinforcetheprotectionovermyvitalorgans.Asmall

whiteearpiecethatattachestomycollarbyawire.Beetee

securesamasktomybeltthatIdon’thavetowearunlessthere’s

agasattack.“Ifyouseeanyonedroppingforreasonsyoucan’t

explain,putitonimmediately,”hesays.Finally,hestrapsa

sheathdividedintothreecylindersofarrowstomyback.“Just

remember:Rightside,fire.Leftside,explosive.Center,regular.

Youshouldn’tneedthem,butbettersafethansorry.”

BoggsshowsuptoescortmedowntotheAirborneDivision.

Justastheelevatorarrives,Finnickappearsinastateof

agitation.“Katniss,theywon’tletmego!ItoldthemI’mfine,

buttheywon’tevenletmerideinthehovercraft!”

ItakeinFinnick—hisbarelegsshowingbetweenhis

hospitalgownandslippers,histangleofhair,thehalf-knotted

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

ropetwistedaroundhisfingers,thewildlookinhiseyes—and

knowanypleaonmypartwillbeuseless.EvenIdon’tthinkit’s

agoodideatobringhim.SoIsmackmyhandonmyforehead

andsay,“Oh,Iforgot.It’sthisstupidconcussion.Iwassupposed

totellyoutoreporttoBeeteeinSpecialWeaponry.He’s

designedanewtridentforyou.”

Atthewordtrident,it’sasiftheoldFinnicksurfaces.

“Really?What’sitdo?”

“Idon’tknow.Butifit’sanythinglikemybowandarrows,

you’regoingtoloveit,”Isay.“You’llneedtotrainwithit,

though.”

“Right.Ofcourse.IguessIbettergetdownthere,”hesays.

“Finnick?”Isay.“Maybesomepants?”

Helooksdownathislegsasifnoticinghisoutfitforthefirst

time.Thenhewhipsoffhishospitalgown,leavinghiminjust

hisunderwear.“Why?Doyoufindthis”—hestrikesa

ridiculouslyprovocativepose—“distracting?”

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

Ican’thelplaughingbecauseit’sfunny,andit’sextrafunny

becauseitmakesBoggslooksouncomfortable,andI’mhappy

becauseFinnickactuallysoundsliketheguyImetattheQuarter

Quell.

“I’monlyhuman,Odair.”Igetinbeforetheelevatordoors

close.“Sorry,”IsaytoBoggs.

“Don’tbe.Ithoughtyou...handledthatwell,”hesays.

“Betterthanmyhavingtoarresthim,anyway.”

“Yeah,”Isay.Isneakasidelongglanceathim.He’s

probablyinhismid-forties,withclose-croppedgrayhairand

blueeyes.Incredibleposture.He’sspokenouttwicetodayin

waysthatmakemethinkhewouldratherbefriendsthan

enemies.MaybeIshouldgivehimachance.Buthejustseemsso

instepwithCoin....

There’saseriesofloudclicks.Theelevatorcomestoaslight

pauseandthenbeginstomovelaterallytotheleft.“Itgoes

sideways?”Iask.

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

“Yes.There’sawholenetworkofelevatorpathsunder

Thirteen,”heanswers.“Thisoneliesjustabovethetransport

spoketothefifthairliftplatform.It’stakingustotheHangar.”

TheHangar.Thedungeons.SpecialDefense.Somewhere

foodisgrown.Powergenerated.Airandwaterpurified.

“ThirteenisevenlargerthanIthought.”

“Can’ttakecreditformuchofit,”saysBoggs.“Webasically

inheritedtheplace.It’sbeenallwecandotokeepitrunning.”

Theclicksresume.Wedropdownagainbriefly—justa

coupleoflevels—andthedoorsopenontheHangar.

“Oh,”Iletoutinvoluntarilyatthesightofthefleet.Row

afterrowofdifferentkindsofhovercraft.“Didyouinheritthese,

too?”

“Somewemanufactured.SomewerepartoftheCapitol’sair

force.They’vebeenupdated,ofcourse,”saysBoggs.

Ifeelthattwingeofhatredagainst13again.“So,youhadall

this,andyoulefttherestofthedistrictsdefenselessagainstthe

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

Capitol.”

“It’snotthatsimple,”heshootsback.“Wewereinno

positiontolaunchacounterattackuntilrecently.Wecould

barelystayalive.Afterwe’doverthrownandexecutedthe

Capitol’speople,onlyahandfulofusevenknewhowtopilot.

Wecould’venukedthemwithmissiles,yes.Butthere’salways

thelargerquestion:Ifweengageinthattypeofwarwiththe

Capitol,wouldtherebeanyhumanlifeleft?”

“ThatsoundslikewhatPeetasaid.Andyouallcalledhima

traitor,”Icounter.

“Becausehecalledforacease-fire,”saysBoggs.“You’ll

noticeneithersidehaslaunchednuclearweapons.We’re

workingitouttheold-fashionedway.Overhere,Soldier

Everdeen.”Heindicatesoneofthesmallerhovercraft.

Imountthestairsandfinditpackedwiththetelevisioncrew

andequipment.Everyoneelseisdressedin13’sdarkgray

militaryjumpsuits,evenHaymitch,althoughheseemsunhappy

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

aboutthesnugnessofhiscollar.

FulviaCardewhustlesoverandmakesasoundoffrustration

whensheseesmycleanface.“Allthatwork,downthedrain.I’m

notblamingyou,Katniss.It’sjustthatveryfewpeopleareborn

withcamera-readyfaces.Likehim.”ShesnagsGale,who’sina

conversationwithPlutarch,andspinshimtowardus.“Isn’the

handsome?”

Galedoeslookstrikingintheuniform,Iguess.Butthe

questionjustembarrassesusboth,givenourhistory.I’mtrying

tothinkofawittycomeback,whenBoggssaysbrusquely,“Well,

don’texpectustobetooimpressed.WejustsawFinnickOdair

inhisunderwear.”IdecidetogoaheadandlikeBoggs.

There’sawarningoftheupcomingtakeoffandIstrap

myselfintoaseatnexttoGale,facingoffwithHaymitchand

Plutarch.Weglidethroughamazeoftunnelsthatopensoutonto

aplatform.Somesortofelevatordeviceliftsthecraftslowlyup

throughthelevels.Allatoncewe’reoutsideinalargefield

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surroundedbywoods,thenweriseofftheplatformandbecome

wrappedinclouds.

Nowthattheflurryofactivityleadinguptothismissionis

over,IrealizeIhavenoideawhatI’mfacingonthistripto

District8.Infact,Iknowverylittleabouttheactualstateofthe

war.Orwhatitwouldtaketowinit.Orwhatwouldhappenifwe

did.

Plutarchtriestolayitoutinsimpletermsforme.Firstof

all,everydistrictiscurrentlyatwarwiththeCapitolexcept2,

whichhasalwayshadafavoredrelationshipwithourenemies

despiteitsparticipationintheHungerGames.Theygetmore

foodandbetterlivingconditions.AftertheDarkDaysandthe

supposeddestructionof13,District2becametheCapitol’snew

centerofdefense,althoughit’spubliclypresentedasthehomeof

thenation’sstonequarries,inthesamewaythat13wasknown

forgraphitemining.District2notonlymanufacturesweaponry,

ittrainsandevensuppliesPeacekeepers.

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“Youmean...someofthePeacekeepersareborninTwo?”

Iask.“IthoughttheyallcamefromtheCapitol.”

Plutarchnods.“That’swhatyou’resupposedtothink.And

somedocomefromtheCapitol.Butitspopulationcouldnever

sustainaforcethatsize.Thenthere’stheproblemofrecruiting

Capitol-raisedcitizensforadulllifeofdeprivationinthe

districts.Atwenty-yearcommitmenttothePeacekeepers,no

marriage,nochildrenallowed.Somebuyintoitforthehonorof

thething,otherstakeitonasanalternativetopunishment.For

instance,jointhePeacekeepersandyourdebtsareforgiven.

ManypeopleareswampedindebtintheCapitol,butnotallof

themarefitformilitaryduty.SoDistrictTwoiswhereweturn

foradditionaltroops.It’sawayfortheirpeopletoescape

povertyandalifeinthequarries.They’reraisedwithawarrior

mind-set.You’veseenhoweagertheirchildrenaretovolunteer

tobetributes.”

CatoandClove.BrutusandEnobaria.I’veseentheir

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eagernessandtheirbloodlust,too.“Butalltheotherdistrictsare

onourside?”Iask.

“Yes.Ourgoalistotakeoverthedistrictsonebyone,

endingwithDistrictTwo,thuscuttingofftheCapitol’ssupply

chain.Then,onceit’sweakened,weinvadetheCapitolitself,”

saysPlutarch.“Thatwillbeawholeothertypeofchallenge.But

we’llcrossthatbridgewhenwecometoit.”

“Ifwewin,whowouldbeinchargeofthegovernment?”

Galeasks.

“Everyone,”Plutarchtellshim.“We’regoingtoforma

republicwherethepeopleofeachdistrictandtheCapitolcan

electtheirownrepresentativestobetheirvoiceinacentralized

government.Don’tlooksosuspicious;it’sworkedbefore.”

“Inbooks,”Haymitchmutters.

“Inhistorybooks,”saysPlutarch.“Andifourancestors

coulddoit,thenwecan,too.”

Frankly,ourancestorsdon’tseemmuchtobragabout.I

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mean,lookatthestatetheyleftusin,withthewarsandthe

brokenplanet.Clearly,theydidn’tcareaboutwhatwouldhappen

tothepeoplewhocameafterthem.Butthisrepublicideasounds

likeanimprovementoverourcurrentgovernment.

“Andifwelose?”Iask.

“Ifwelose?”Plutarchlooksoutattheclouds,andanironic

smiletwistshislips.“ThenIwouldexpectnextyear’sHunger

Gamestobequiteunforgettable.Thatremindsme.”Hetakesa

vialfromhisvest,shakesafewdeepvioletpillsintohishand,

andholdsthemouttous.“Wenamedthemnightlockinyour

honor,Katniss.Therebelscan’taffordforanyofustobe

capturednow.ButIpromise,itwillbecompletelypainless.”

Itakeholdofacapsule,unsureofwheretoputit.Plutarch

tapsaspotonmyshoulderatthefrontofmyleftsleeve.I

examineitandfindatinypocketthatbothsecuresandconceals

thepill.Evenifmyhandsweretied,Icouldleanmyhead

forwardandbiteitfree.

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Cinna,itseems,hasthoughtofeverything.

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Thehovercraftmakesaquick,spiraldescentontoawide

roadontheoutskirtsof8.Almostimmediately,thedooropens,

thestairsslideintoplace,andwe’respitoutontotheasphalt.

Themomentthelastpersondisembarks,theequipmentretracts.

Thenthecraftliftsoffandvanishes.I’mleftwithabodyguard

madeupofGale,Boggs,andtwoothersoldiers.TheTVcrew

consistsofapairofburlyCapitolcameramenwithheavymobile

camerasencasingtheirbodieslikeinsectshells,awoman

directornamedCressidawhohasashavedheadtattooedwith

greenvines,andherassistant,Messalla,aslimyoungmanwith

severalsetsofearrings.Oncarefulobservation,Iseehistongue

hasbeenpierced,too,andhewearsastudwithasilverballthe

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sizeofamarble.

Boggshustlesusofftheroadtowardarowofwarehousesas

asecondhovercraftcomesinforalanding.Thisonebrings

cratesofmedicalsuppliesandacrewofsixmedics—Icantell

bytheirdistinctivewhiteoutfits.WeallfollowBoggsdownan

alleythatrunsbetweentwodullgraywarehouses.Onlythe

occasionalaccessladdertotheroofinterruptsthescarredmetal

walls.Whenweemergeontothestreet,it’slikewe’veentered

anotherworld.

Thewoundedfromthismorning’sbombingarebeing

broughtin.Onhomemadestretchers,inwheelbarrows,oncarts,

slungacrossshoulders,andclenchedtightinarms.Bleeding,

limbless,unconscious.Propelledbydesperatepeopletoa

warehousewithasloppilypaintedHabovethedoorway.It’sa

scenefrommyoldkitchen,wheremymothertreatedthedying,

multipliedbyten,byfifty,byahundred.Ihadexpectedbombed-

outbuildingsandinsteadfindmyselfconfrontedwithbroken

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humanbodies.

Thisiswheretheyplanonfilmingme?IturntoBoggs.

“Thiswon’twork,”Isay.“Iwon’tbegoodhere.”

Hemustseethepanicinmyeyes,becausehestopsa

momentandplaceshishandsonmyshoulders.“Youwill.Just

letthemseeyou.Thatwilldomoreforthemthananydoctorin

theworldcould.”

Awomandirectingtheincomingpatientscatchessightofus,

doesasortofdoubletake,andthenstridesover.Herdarkbrown

eyesarepuffywithfatigueandshesmellsofmetalandsweat.A

bandagearoundherthroatneededchangingaboutthreedaysago.

Thestrapoftheautomaticweaponslungacrossherbackdigs

intoherneckandsheshiftshershouldertorepositionit.Witha

jerkofherthumb,sheordersthemedicsintothewarehouse.

Theycomplywithoutquestion.

“ThisisCommanderPaylorofEight,”saysBoggs.

“Commander,SoldierKatnissEverdeen.”

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Shelooksyoungtobeacommander.Earlythirties.But

there’sanauthoritativetonetohervoicethatmakesyoufeelher

appointmentwasn’tarbitrary.Besideher,inmyspanking-new

outfit,scrubbedandshiny,Ifeellikearecentlyhatchedchick,

untestedandonlyjustlearninghowtonavigatetheworld.

“Yeah,Iknowwhosheis,”saysPaylor.“You’realive,then.

Weweren’tsure.”AmIwrongoristhereanoteofaccusationin

hervoice?

“I’mstillnotsuremyself,”Ianswer.

“Beeninrecovery.”Boggstapshishead.“Badconcussion.”

Helowershisvoiceamoment.“Miscarriage.Butsheinsistedon

comingbytoseeyourwounded.”

“Well,we’vegotplentyofthose,”saysPaylor.

“Youthinkthisisagoodidea?”saysGale,frowningatthe

hospital.“Assemblingyourwoundedlikethis?”

Idon’t.Anysortofcontagiousdiseasewouldspreadthrough

thisplacelikewildfire.

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“Ithinkit’sslightlybetterthanleavingthemtodie,”says

Paylor.

“That’snotwhatImeant,”Galetellsher.

“Well,currentlythat’smyotheroption.Butifyoucomeup

withathirdandgetCointobackit,I’mallears.”Paylorwaves

metowardthedoor.“Comeonin,Mockingjay.Andbyall

means,bringyourfriends.”

Iglancebackatthefreakshowthatismycrew,steelmyself,

andfollowherintothehospital.Somesortofheavy,industrial

curtainhangsthelengthofthebuilding,formingasizable

corridor.Corpsesliesidebyside,curtainbrushingtheirheads,

whiteclothsconcealingtheirfaces.“We’vegotamassgrave

startedafewblockswestofhere,butIcan’tsparethemanpower

tomovethemyet,”saysPaylor.Shefindsaslitinthecurtainand

opensitwide.

MyfingerswraparoundGale’swrist.“Donotleavemy

side,”Isayundermybreath.

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“I’mrighthere,”heanswersquietly.

Istepthroughthecurtainandmysensesareassaulted.My

firstimpulseistocovermynosetoblockoutthestenchofsoiled

linen,putrefyingflesh,andvomit,allripeningintheheatofthe

warehouse.They’veproppedopenskylightsthatcrisscrossthe

highmetalroof,butanyairthat’smanagingtogetincan’tmake

adentinthefogbelow.Thethinshaftsofsunlightprovidethe

onlyillumination,andasmyeyesadjust,Icanmakeoutrow

uponrowofwounded,incots,onpallets,onthefloorbecause

therearesomanytoclaimthespace.Thedroneofblackflies,

themoaningofpeopleinpain,andthesobsoftheirattending

lovedoneshavecombinedintoawrenchingchorus.

Wehavenorealhospitalsinthedistricts.Wedieathome,

whichatthemomentseemsafardesirablealternativetowhat

liesinfrontofme.ThenIrememberthatmanyofthesepeople

probablylosttheirhomesinthebombings.

Sweatbeginstorundownmyback,fillmypalms.Ibreathe

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throughmymouthinanattempttodiminishthesmell.Black

spotsswimacrossmyfieldofvision,andIthinkthere’sareally

goodchanceIcouldfaint.ButthenIcatchsightofPaylor,who’s

watchingmesoclosely,waitingtoseewhatIammadeof,andif

anyofthemhavebeenrighttothinktheycancountonme.SoI

letgoofGaleandforcemyselftomovedeeperintothe

warehouse,towalkintothenarrowstripbetweentworowsof

beds.

“Katniss?”avoicecroaksoutfrommyleft,breakingapart

fromthegeneraldin.“Katniss?”Ahandreachesformeoutof

thehaze.Iclingtoitforsupport.Attachedtothehandisayoung

womanwithaninjuredleg.Bloodhasseepedthroughtheheavy

bandages,whicharecrawlingwithflies.Herfacereflectsher

pain,butsomethingelse,too,somethingthatseemscompletely

incongruouswithhersituation.“Isitreallyyou?”

“Yeah,it’sme,”Igetout.

Joy.That’stheexpressiononherface.Atthesoundofmy

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voice,itbrightens,erasesthesufferingmomentarily.

“You’realive!Wedidn’tknow.Peoplesaidyouwere,but

wedidn’tknow!”shesaysexcitedly.

“Igotprettybangedup.ButIgotbetter,”Isay.“Justlike

youwill.”

“I’vegottotellmybrother!”Thewomanstrugglestositup

andcallstosomeoneafewbedsdown.“Eddy!Eddy!She’shere!

It’sKatnissEverdeen!”

Aboy,probablyabouttwelveyearsold,turnstous.

Bandagesobscurehalfofhisface.ThesideofhismouthIcan

seeopensasiftoutteranexclamation.Igotohim,pushhis

dampbrowncurlsbackfromhisforehead.Murmuragreeting.

Hecan’tspeak,buthisonegoodeyefixesonmewithsuch

intensity,asifhe’stryingtomemorizeeverydetailofmyface.

Ihearmynameripplingthroughthehotair,spreadingout

intothehospital.“Katniss!KatnissEverdeen!”Thesoundsof

painandgriefbegintorecede,tobereplacedbywordsof

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anticipation.Fromallsides,voicesbeckonme.Ibegintomove,

claspingthehandsextendedtome,touchingthesoundpartsof

thoseunabletomovetheirlimbs,sayinghello,howareyou,

goodtomeetyou.Nothingofimportance,noamazingwordsof

inspiration.Butitdoesn’tmatter.Boggsisright.It’sthesightof

me,alive,thatistheinspiration.

Hungryfingersdevourme,wantingtofeelmyflesh.Asa

strickenmanclutchesmyfacebetweenhishands,Isendasilent

thank-youtoDaltonforsuggestingIwashoffthemakeup.How

ridiculous,howperverseIwouldfeelpresentingthatpainted

Capitolmasktothesepeople.Thedamage,thefatigue,the

imperfections.That’showtheyrecognizeme,whyIbelongto

them.

DespitehiscontroversialinterviewwithCaesar,manyask

aboutPeeta,assuremethattheyknowhewasspeakingunder

duress.Idomybesttosoundpositiveaboutourfuture,but

peoplearetrulydevastatedwhentheylearnI’velostthebaby.I

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wanttocomecleanandtelloneweepingwomanthatitwasalla

hoax,amoveinthegame,buttopresentPeetaasaliarnow

wouldnothelphisimage.Ormine.Orthecause.

Ibegintofullyunderstandthelengthstowhichpeoplehave

gonetoprotectme.WhatImeantotherebels.Myongoing

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.

Anewsensationbeginstogerminateinsideme.Butittakes

untilIamstandingonatable,wavingmyfinalgood-byestothe

hoarsechantingofmyname,todefineit.Power.Ihaveakindof

powerIneverknewIpossessed.Snowknewit,assoonasIheld

outthoseberries.Plutarchknewwhenherescuedmefromthe

arena.AndCoinknowsnow.Somuchsothatshemustpublicly

remindherpeoplethatIamnotincontrol.

Whenwe’reoutsideagain,Ileanagainstthewarehouse,

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catchingmybreath,acceptingthecanteenofwaterfromBoggs.

“Youdidgreat,”hesays.

Well,Ididn’tfaintorthrowuporrunoutscreaming.

Mostly,Ijustrodethewaveofemotionrollingthroughthe

place.

“Wegotsomenicestuffinthere,”saysCressida.Ilookat

theinsectcameramen,perspirationpouringfromundertheir

equipment.Messallascribblingnotes.Ihadforgottentheywere

evenfilmingme.

“Ididn’tdomuch,really,”Isay.

“Youhavetogiveyourselfsomecreditforwhatyou’vedone

inthepast,”saysBoggs.

WhatI’vedoneinthepast?Ithinkofthetrailofdestruction

inmywake—mykneesweakenandIslidedowntoasitting

position.“That’samixedbag.”

“Well,you’renotperfectbyalongshot.Buttimesbeing

whattheyare,you’llhavetodo,”saysBoggs.

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Galesquatsdownbesideme,shakinghishead.“Ican’t

believeyouletallthosepeopletouchyou.Ikeptexpectingyou

tomakeabreakforthedoor.”

“Shutup,”Isaywithalaugh.

“Yourmother’sgoingtobeveryproudwhensheseesthe

footage,”hesays.

“Mymotherwon’tevennoticeme.She’llbetooappalledby

theconditionsinthere.”IturntoBoggsandask,“Isitlikethisin

everydistrict?”

“Yes.Mostareunderattack.We’retryingtogetinaid

whereverwecan,butit’snotenough.”Hestopsaminute,

distractedbysomethinginhisearpiece.IrealizeIhaven’theard

Haymitch’svoiceonce,andfiddlewithmine,wonderingifit’s

broken.“We’retogettotheairstrip.Immediately,”Boggssays,

liftingmetomyfeetwithonehand.“There’saproblem.”

“Whatkindofproblem?”asksGale.

“Incomingbombers,”saysBoggs.Hereachesbehindmy

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neckandyanksCinna’shelmetupontomyhead.“Let’smove!”

Unsureofwhat’sgoingon,Itakeoffrunningalongthefront

ofthewarehouse,headingforthealleythatleadstotheairstrip.

ButIdon’tsenseanyimmediatethreat.Thesky’sanempty,

cloudlessblue.Thestreet’sclearexceptforthepeoplehauling

thewoundedtothehospital.There’snoenemy,noalarm.Then

thesirensbegintowail.Withinseconds,alow-flyingV-shaped

formationofCapitolhoverplanesappearsaboveus,andthe

bombsbegintofall.I’mblownoffmyfeet,intothefrontwallof

thewarehouse.There’sasearingpainjustabovethebackofmy

rightknee.Somethinghasstruckmybackaswell,butdoesn’t

seemtohavepenetratedmyvest.Itrytogetup,butBoggs

pushesmebackdown,shieldingmybodywithhisown.The

groundripplesundermeasbombafterbombdropsfromthe

planesanddetonates.

It’sahorrifyingsensationbeingpinnedagainstthewallas

thebombsraindown.Whatwasthatexpressionmyfatherused

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foreasykills?Likeshootingfishinabarrel.Wearethefish,the

streetthebarrel.

“Katniss!”I’mstartledbyHaymitch’svoiceinmyear.

“What?Yes,what?I’mhere!”Ianswer.

“Listentome.Wecan’tlandduringthebombing,butit’s

imperativeyou’renotspotted,”hesays.

“Sotheydon’tknowI’mhere?”Iassumed,asusual,itwas

mypresencethatbroughtonpunishment.

“Intelligencethinksno.Thatthisraidwasalready

scheduled,”saysHaymitch.

NowPlutarch’svoicecomesup,calmbutforceful.Thevoice

ofaHeadGamemakerusedtocallingtheshotsunderpressure.

“There’salightbluewarehousethreedownfromyou.Ithasa

bunkerinthefarnorthcorner.Canyougetthere?”

“We’lldoourbest,”saysBoggs.Plutarchmustbein

everyone’sear,becausemybodyguardsandcrewaregettingup.

MyeyeinstinctivelysearchesforGaleandseeshe’sonhisfeet,

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apparentlyunharmed.

“You’vegotmaybeforty-fivesecondstothenextwave,”

saysPlutarch.

Igiveagruntofpainasmyrightlegtakestheweightofmy

body,butIkeepmoving.Notimetoexaminetheinjury.Better

nottolooknow,anyway.Fortunately,IhaveonshoesthatCinna

designed.Theygriptheasphaltoncontactandspringfreeofit

onrelease.I’dbehopelessinthatill-fittingpairthat13assigned

tome.Boggshasthelead,butnooneelsepassesme.Instead

theymatchmypace,protectingmysides,myback.Iforce

myselfintoasprintasthesecondstickaway.Wepassthesecond

graywarehouseandrunalongadirtbrownbuilding.Upahead,I

seeafadedbluefacade.Homeofthebunker.Wehavejust

reachedanotheralley,needonlytocrossittoarriveatthedoor,

whenthenextwaveofbombsbegins.Iinstinctivelydiveintothe

alleyandrolltowardthebluewall.Thistimeit’sGalewho

throwshimselfovermetoprovideonemorelayerofprotection

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fromthebombing.Itseemstogoonlongerthistime,butweare

fartheraway.

Ishiftontomysideandfindmyselflookingdirectlyinto

Gale’seyes.Foraninstanttheworldrecedesandthereisjusthis

flushedface,hispulsevisibleathistemple,hislipsslightly

partedashetriestocatchhisbreath.

“Youallright?”heasks,hiswordsnearlydrownedoutbyan

explosion.

“Yeah.Idon’tthinkthey’veseenme,”Ianswer.“Imean,

they’renotfollowingus.”

“No,they’vetargetedsomethingelse,”saysGale.

“Iknow,butthere’snothingbacktherebut—”The

realizationhitsusatthesametime.

“Thehospital.”Instantly,Gale’supandshoutingtothe

others.“They’retargetingthehospital!”

“Notyourproblem,”saysPlutarchfirmly.“Gettothe

bunker.”

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“Butthere’snothingtherebutthewounded!”Isay.

“Katniss.”IhearthewarningnoteinHaymitch’svoiceand

knowwhat’scoming.“Don’tyoueventhinkabout—!”Iyank

theearpiecefreeandletithangfromitswire.Withthat

distractiongone,Ihearanothersound.Machinegunfirecoming

fromtheroofofthedirtbrownwarehouseacrossthealley.

Someoneisreturningfire.Beforeanyonecanstopme,Imakea

dashforanaccessladderandbegintoscaleit.Climbing.Oneof

thethingsIdobest.

“Don’tstop!”IhearGalesaybehindme.Thenthere’sthe

soundofhisbootonsomeone’sface.IfitbelongstoBoggs,

Gale’sgoingtopayforitdearlylateron.Imaketheroofand

dragmyselfontothetar.IstoplongenoughtopullGaleup

besideme,andthenwetakeofffortherowofmachinegunnests

onthestreetsideofthewarehouse.Eachlookstobemannedby

afewrebels.Weskidintoanestwithapairofsoldiers,hunching

downbehindthebarrier.

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“Boggsknowyou’reuphere?”TomyleftIseePaylor

behindoneoftheguns,lookingatusquizzically.

Itrytobeevasivewithoutflat-outlying.“Heknowswhere

weare,allright.”

Paylorlaughs.“Ibethedoes.Youbeentrainedinthese?”

Sheslapsthestockofhergun.

“Ihave.InThirteen,”saysGale.“ButI’dratherusemyown

weapons.”

“Yes,we’vegotourbows.”Iholdmineup,thenrealizehow

decorativeitmustseem.“It’smoredeadlythanitlooks.”

“Itwouldhavetobe,”saysPaylor.“Allright.Weexpectat

leastthreemorewaves.Theyhavetodroptheirsightshields

beforetheyreleasethebombs.That’sourchance.Staylow!”I

positionmyselftoshootfromoneknee.

“Betterstartwithfire,”saysGale.

Inodandpullanarrowfrommyrightsheath.Ifwemissour

targets,thesearrowswilllandsomewhere—probablythe

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warehousesacrossthestreet.Afirecanbeputout,butthe

damageanexplosivecandomaybeirreparable.

Suddenly,theyappearinthesky,twoblocksdown,maybea

hundredyardsaboveus.SevensmallbombersinaVformation.

“Geese!”IyellatGale.He’llknowexactlywhatImean.During

migrationseason,whenwehuntfowl,we’vedevelopedasystem

ofdividingthebirdssowedon’tbothtargetthesameones.Iget

thefarsideoftheV,Galetakesthenear,andwealternateshots

atthefrontbird.There’snotimeforfurtherdiscussion.I

estimatetheleadtimeonthehoverplanesandletmyarrowfly.I

catchtheinsidewingofone,causingittoburstintoflames.Gale

justmissesthepointplane.Afirebloomsonanempty

warehouseroofacrossfromus.Heswearsunderhisbreath.

ThehoverplaneIhitswervesoutofformation,butstill

releasesitsbombs.Itdoesn’tdisappear,though.Neitherdoes

oneotherIassumewashitbygunfire.Thedamagemustprevent

thesightshieldfromreactivating.

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“Goodshot,”saysGale.

“Iwasn’tevenaimingforthatone,”Imutter.I’dsetmy

sightsontheplaneinfrontofit.“They’refasterthanwethink.”

“Positions!”Paylorshouts.Thenextwaveofhoverplanesis

appearingalready.

“Fire’snogood,”Galesays.Inodandwebothload

explosive-tippedarrows.Thosewarehousesacrossthewaylook

desertedanyway.

Astheplanessweepsilentlyin,Imakeanotherdecision.

“I’mstanding!”IshouttoGale,andrisetomyfeet.Thisisthe

positionIgetthebestaccuracyfrom.Ileadearlierandscorea

directhitonthepointplane,blastingaholeinitsbelly.Gale

blowsthetailoffasecond.Itflipsandcrashesintothestreet,

settingoffaseriesofexplosionsasitscargogoesoff.

Withoutwarning,athirdVformationunveils.Thistime,

Galesquarelyhitsthepointplane.Itakethewingoffthesecond

bomber,causingittospinintotheonebehindit.Togetherthey

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collideintotheroofofthewarehouseacrossfromthehospital.A

fourthgoesdownfromgunfire.

“Allright,that’sit,”Paylorsays.

Flamesandheavyblacksmokefromthewreckageobscure

ourview.“Didtheyhitthehospital?”

“Musthave,”shesaysgrimly.

AsIhurrytowardtheladdersatthefarendofthewarehouse,

thesightofMessallaandoneoftheinsectsemergingfrom

behindanairductsurprisesme.Ithoughtthey’dstillbe

hunkereddowninthealley.

“They’regrowingonme,”saysGale.

Iscrambledownaladder.Whenmyfeethittheground,I

findabodyguard,Cressida,andtheotherinsectwaiting.Iexpect

resistance,butCressidajustwavesmetowardthehospital.She’s

yelling,“Idon’tcare,Plutarch!Justgivemefivemoreminutes!”

Notonetoquestionafreepass,Itakeoffintothestreet.

“Oh,no,”IwhisperasIcatchsightofthehospital.What

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usedtobethehospital.Imovepastthewounded,pastthe

burningplanewrecks,fixatedonthedisasteraheadofme.

Peoplescreaming,runningaboutfrantically,butunabletohelp.

Thebombshavecollapsedthehospitalroofandsetthebuilding

onfire,effectivelytrappingthepatientswithin.Agroupof

rescuershasassembled,tryingtoclearapathtotheinside.ButI

alreadyknowwhattheywillfind.Ifthecrushingdebrisandthe

flamesdidn’tgetthem,thesmokedid.

Gale’satmyshoulder.Thefactthathedoesnothingonly

confirmsmysuspicions.Minersdon’tabandonanaccidentuntil

it’shopeless.

“Comeon,Katniss.Haymitchsaystheycangetahovercraft

inforusnow,”hetellsme.ButIcan’tseemtomove.

“Whywouldtheydothat?Whywouldtheytargetpeople

whowerealreadydying?”Iaskhim.

“Scareothersoff.Preventthewoundedfromseekinghelp,”

saysGale.“Thosepeopleyoumet,theywereexpendable.To

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Snow,anyway.IftheCapitolwins,whatwillitdowithabunch

ofdamagedslaves?”

Irememberallthoseyearsinthewoods,listeningtoGale

rantagainsttheCapitol.Me,notpayingcloseattention.

Wonderingwhyheevenbotheredtodissectitsmotives.Why

thinkinglikeourenemywouldevermatter.Clearly,itcould

havematteredtoday.WhenGalequestionedtheexistenceofthe

hospital,hewasnotthinkingofdisease,butthis.Becausehe

neverunderestimatesthecrueltyofthoseweface.

IslowlyturnmybacktothehospitalandfindCressida,

flankedbytheinsects,standingacoupleofyardsinfrontofme.

Hermanner’sunrattled.Cooleven.“Katniss,”shesays,

“PresidentSnowjusthadthemairthebombinglive.Thenhe

madeanappearancetosaythatthiswashiswayofsendinga

messagetotherebels.Whataboutyou?Wouldyouliketotell

therebelsanything?”

“Yes,”Iwhisper.Theredblinkinglightononeofthe

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

camerascatchesmyeye.IknowI’mbeingrecorded.“Yes,”Isay

moreforcefully.Everyoneisdrawingawayfromme—Gale,

Cressida,theinsects—givingmethestage.ButIstayfocused

ontheredlight.“IwanttotelltherebelsthatIamalive.That

I’mrighthereinDistrictEight,wheretheCapitolhasjust

bombedahospitalfullofunarmedmen,women,andchildren.

Therewillbenosurvivors.”TheshockI’vebeenfeelingbegins

togivewaytofury.“Iwanttotellpeoplethatifyouthinkfor

onesecondtheCapitolwilltreatusfairlyifthere’sacease-fire,

you’redeludingyourself.Becauseyouknowwhotheyareand

whattheydo.”Myhandsgooutautomatically,asiftoindicate

thewholehorroraroundme.“Thisiswhattheydo!Andwemust

fightback!”

I’mmovingintowardthecameranow,carriedforwardby

myrage.“PresidentSnowsayshe’ssendingusamessage?Well,

Ihaveoneforhim.Youcantortureusandbombusandburnour

districtstotheground,butdoyouseethat?”Oneofthecameras

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followsasIpointtotheplanesburningontheroofofthe

warehouseacrossfromus.TheCapitolsealonawingglows

clearlythroughtheflames.“Fireiscatching!”Iamshouting

now,determinedthathewillnotmissaword.“Andifweburn,

youburnwithus!”

Mylastwordshangintheair.Ifeelsuspendedintime.Held

aloftinacloudofheatthatgeneratesnotfrommysurroundings,

butfrommyownbeing.

“Cut!”Cressida’svoicesnapsmebacktoreality,

extinguishesme.Shegivesmeanodofapproval.“That’sa

wrap.”

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Boggsappearsandgetsafirmlockonmyarm,butI’mnot

planningonrunningnow.Ilookoveratthehospital—justin

timetoseetherestofthestructuregiveway—andthefight

goesoutofme.Allthosepeople,thehundredsofwounded,the

relatives,themedicsfrom13,arenomore.IturnbacktoBoggs,

seetheswellingonhisfaceleftbyGale’sboot.I’mnoexpert,

butI’mprettysurehisnoseisbroken.Hisvoiceismoreresigned

thanangry,though.“Backtothelandingstrip.”Iobedientlytake

astepforwardandwinceasIbecomeawareofthepainbehind

myrightknee.Theadrenalinerushthatoverrodethesensation

haspassedandmybodypartsjoininachorusofcomplaints.I’m

bangedupandbloodyandsomeoneseemstobehammeringon

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mylefttemplefrominsidemyskull.Boggsquicklyexamines

myface,thenscoopsmeupandjogsfortherunway.Halfway

there,Ipukeonhisbulletproofvest.It’shardtotellbecausehe’s

shortofbreath,butIthinkhesighs.

Asmallhovercraft,differentfromtheonethattransportedus

here,waitsontherunway.Thesecondmyteam’sonboard,we

takeoff.Nocomfyseatsandwindowsthistime.Weseemtobe

insomesortofcargocraft.Boggsdoesemergencyfirstaidon

peopletoholdthemuntilwegetbackto13.Iwanttotakeoff

myvest,sinceIgotafairamountofvomitonitaswell,butit’s

toocoldtothinkaboutit.Ilieonthefloorwithmyheadin

Gale’slap.ThelastthingIrememberisBoggsspreadinga

coupleofburlapsacksoverme.

WhenIwakeup,I’mwarmandpatchedupinmyoldbedin

thehospital.Mymother’sthere,checkingmyvitalsigns.“How

doyoufeel?”

“Alittlebeat-up,butallright,”Isay.

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

“Nooneeventoldusyouweregoinguntilyouweregone,”

shesays.

Ifeelapangofguilt.Whenyourfamily’shadtosendyou

offtwicetotheHungerGames,thisisn’tthekindofdetailyou

shouldoverlook.“I’msorry.Theyweren’texpectingtheattack.I

wasjustsupposedtobevisitingthepatients,”Iexplain.“Next

time,I’llhavethemclearitwithyou.”

“Katniss,nooneclearsanythingwithme,”shesays.

It’strue.EvenIdon’t.Notsincemyfatherdied.Why

pretend?“Well,I’llhavethem...notifyyouanyway.”

Onthebedsidetableisapieceofshrapneltheyremoved

frommyleg.Thedoctorsaremoreconcernedwiththedamage

mybrainmighthavesufferedfromtheexplosions,sincemy

concussionhadn’tfullyhealedtobeginwith.ButIdon’thave

doublevisionoranythingandIcanthinkclearlyenough.I’ve

sleptrightthroughthelateafternoonandnight,andI’mstarving.

Mybreakfastisdisappointinglysmall.Justafewcubesofbread

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

soakinginwarmmilk.I’vebeencalleddowntoanearlymorning

meetingatCommand.Istarttogetupandthenrealizetheyplan

torollmyhospitalbeddirectlythere.Iwanttowalk,butthat’s

out,soInegotiatemywayintoawheelchair.Ifeelfine,really.

Exceptformyhead,andmyleg,andthesorenessfromthe

bruises,andthenauseathathitacoupleminutesafterIate.

Maybethewheelchair’sagoodidea.

Astheywheelmedown,IbegintogetuneasyaboutwhatI

willface.GaleandIdirectlydisobeyedordersyesterday,and

Boggshastheinjurytoproveit.Surely,therewillbe

repercussions,butwilltheygosofarasCoinannullingour

agreementforthevictors’immunity?HaveIstrippedPeetaof

whatlittleprotectionIcouldgivehim?

WhenIgettoCommand,theonlyoneswho’vearrivedare

Cressida,Messalla,andtheinsects.Messallabeamsandsays,

“There’sourlittlestar!”andtheothersaresmilingsogenuinely

thatIcan’thelpbutsmileinreturn.Theyimpressedmein8,

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followingmeontotheroofduringthebombing,makingPlutarch

backoffsotheycouldgetthefootagetheywanted.Theymore

thandotheirwork,theytakeprideinit.LikeCinna.

Ihaveastrangethoughtthatifwewereinthearenatogether,

Iwouldpickthemasallies.Cressida,Messalla,and—and—“I

havetostopcallingyou‘theinsects,’”Iblurtouttothe

cameramen.IexplainhowIdidn’tknowtheirnames,buttheir

suitssuggestedtheshelledcreatures.Thecomparisondoesn’t

seemtobotherthem.Evenwithoutthecamerashells,they

stronglyresembleeachother.Samesandyhair,redbeards,and

blueeyes.Theonewithclose-bittennailsintroduceshimselfas

Castorandtheother,who’shisbrother,asPollux.Iwaitfor

Polluxtosayhello,buthejustnods.AtfirstIthinkhe’sshyora

manoffewwords.Butsomethingtugsonme—thepositionof

hislips,theextraefforthetakestoswallow—andIknowbefore

Castortellsme.PolluxisanAvox.Theyhavecutouthistongue

andhewillneverspeakagain.AndInolongerhavetowonder

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whatmadehimriskeverythingtohelpbringdowntheCapitol.

Astheroomfills,Ibracemyselfforalesscongenial

reception.Buttheonlypeoplewhoregisteranykindof

negativityareHaymitch,who’salwaysoutofsorts,andasour-

facedFulviaCardew.Boggswearsaflesh-coloredplasticmask

fromhisupperliptohisbrow—Iwasrightaboutthebroken

nose—sohisexpression’shardtoread.CoinandGaleareinthe

midstofsomeexchangethatseemspositivelychummy.

WhenGaleslidesintotheseatnexttomywheelchair,Isay,

“Makingnewfriends?”

Hiseyesflickertothepresidentandback.“Well,oneofus

hastobeaccessible.”Hetouchesmytemplegently.“Howdo

youfeel?”

Theymusthaveservedstewedgarlicandsquashforthe

breakfastvegetable.Themorepeoplewhogather,thestronger

thefumesare.Mystomachturnsandthelightssuddenlyseem

toobright.“Kindofrocky,”Isay.“Howareyou?”

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“Fine.Theydugoutacoupleofpiecesofshrapnel.Nobig

deal,”hesays.

Coincallsthemeetingtoorder.“OurAirtimeAssaulthas

officiallylaunched.Foranyofyouwhomissedyesterday’s

twenty-hundredbroadcastofourfirstpropo—ortheseventeen

rerunsBeeteehasmanagedtoairsince—wewillbeginby

replayingit.”Replayingit?Sotheynotonlygotusablefootage,

they’vealreadyslappedtogetherapropoandaireditrepeatedly.

Mypalmsgrowmoistinanticipationofseeingmyselfon

television.WhatifI’mstillawful?WhatifI’masstiffand

pointlessasIwasinthestudioandthey’vejustgivenupon

gettinganythingbetter?Individualscreensslideupfromthe

table,thelightsdimslightly,andahushfallsovertheroom.

Atfirst,myscreenisblack.Thenatinysparkflickersinthe

center.Itblossoms,spreads,silentlyeatinguptheblackness

untiltheentireframeisablazewithafiresorealandintense,I

imagineIfeeltheheatemanatingfromit.Theimageofmy

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mockingjaypinemerges,glowingred-gold.Thedeep,resonant

voicethathauntsmydreamsbeginstospeak.Claudius

Templesmith,theofficialannounceroftheHungerGames,says,

“KatnissEverdeen,thegirlwhowasonfire,burnson.”

Suddenly,thereIam,replacingthemockingjay,standing

beforetherealflamesandsmokeofDistrict8.“Iwanttotellthe

rebelsthatIamalive.ThatI’mrighthereinDistrictEight,

wheretheCapitolhasjustbombedahospitalfullofunarmed

men,women,andchildren.Therewillbenosurvivors.”Cutto

thehospitalcollapsinginonitself,thedesperationofthe

onlookersasIcontinueinvoice-over.“Iwanttotellpeoplethat

ifyouthinkforonesecondtheCapitolwilltreatusfairlyif

there’sacease-fire,you’redeludingyourself.Becauseyouknow

whotheyareandwhattheydo.”Backtomenow,myhands

liftinguptoindicatetheoutragearoundme.“Thisiswhatthey

do!Andwemustfightback!”Nowcomesatrulyfantastic

montageofthebattle.Theinitialbombsfalling,usrunning,

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beingblowntotheground—aclose-upofmywound,which

looksgoodandbloody—scalingtheroof,divingintothenests,

andthensomeamazingshotsoftherebels,Gale,andmostlyme,

me,meknockingthoseplanesoutofthesky.Smash-cutbackto

memovinginonthecamera.“PresidentSnowsayshe’ssending

usamessage?Well,Ihaveoneforhim.Youcantortureusand

bombusandburnourdistrictstotheground,butdoyousee

that?”We’rewiththecamera,trackingtotheplanesburningon

theroofofthewarehouse.TightontheCapitolsealonawing,

whichmeltsbackintotheimageofmyface,shoutingatthe

president.“Fireiscatching!Andifweburn,youburnwithus!”

Flamesengulfthescreenagain.Superimposedontheminblack,

solidlettersarethewords:

IFWEBURN

YOUBURNWITHUS

Thewordscatchfireandthewholescreenburnsto

blackness.

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There’samomentofsilentrelish,thenapplausefollowedby

demandstoseeitagain.CoinindulgentlyhitstheREPLAYbutton,

andthistime,sinceIknowwhatwillhappen,Itrytopretendthat

I’mwatchingthisonmytelevisionathomeintheSeam.An

anti-Capitolstatement.There’sneverbeenanythinglikeiton

television.Notinmylifetime,anyway.

Bythetimethescreenburnstoblackasecondtime,Ineed

toknowmore.“DiditplayalloverPanem?Didtheyseeitinthe

Capitol?”

“NotintheCapitol,”saysPlutarch.“Wecouldn’toverride

theirsystem,althoughBeetee’sworkingonit.Butinallthe

districts.WeevengotitoninTwo,whichmaybemorevaluable

thantheCapitolatthispointinthegame.”

“IsClaudiusTemplesmithwithus?”Iask.

ThisgivesPlutarchagoodlaugh.“Onlyhisvoice.Butthat’s

oursforthetaking.Wedidn’tevenhavetodoanyspecial

editing.HesaidthatactuallineinyourfirstGames.”Heslaps

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hishandonthetable.“Whatsaywegiveanotherroundof

applausetoCressida,heramazingteam,and,ofcourse,ouron-

cameratalent!”

Iclap,too,untilIrealizeI’mtheon-cameratalentand

maybeit’sobnoxiousthatI’mapplaudingformyself,butno

one’spayingattention.Ican’thelpnoticingthestrainon

Fulvia’sface,though.Ithinkhowhardthismustbeforher,

watchingHaymitch’sideasucceedunderCressida’sdirection,

whenFulvia’sstudioapproachwassuchaflop.

Coinseemstohavereachedtheendofhertoleranceforself-

congratulation.“Yes,welldeserved.Theresultismorethanwe

hadhopedfor.ButIdohavetoquestionthewidemarginofrisk

thatyouwerewillingtooperatewithin.Iknowtheraidwas

unforeseen.However,giventhecircumstances,Ithinkweshould

discussthedecisiontosendKatnissintoactualcombat.”

Thedecision?Tosendmeintocombat?Thenshedoesn’t

knowthatIflagrantlydisregardedorders,rippedoutmy

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earpiece,andgavemybodyguardstheslip?Whatelsehavethey

keptfromher?

“Itwasatoughcall,”saysPlutarch,furrowinghisbrow.“But

thegeneralconsensuswasthatweweren’tgoingtogetanything

worthusingifwelockedherinabunkersomewhereeverytimea

gunwentoff.”

“Andyou’reallrightwiththat?”asksthepresident.

GalehastokickmeunderthetablebeforeIrealizethatshe’s

talkingtome.“Oh!Yeah,I’mcompletelyallrightwiththat.It

feltgood.Doingsomethingforachange.”

“Well,let’sbejustalittlemorejudiciouswithherexposure.

EspeciallynowthattheCapitolknowswhatshecando,”says

Coin.There’sarumbleofassentfromaroundthetable.

NoonehasrattedoutGaleandme.NotPlutarch,whose

authorityweignored.NotBoggswithhisbrokennose.Notthe

insectsweledintofire.NotHaymitch—no,waitaminute.

Haymitchisgivingmeadeadlysmileandsayingsweetly,

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“Yeah,wewouldn’twanttoloseourlittleMockingjaywhen

she’sfinallybeguntosing.”Imakeanotetomyselfnottoend

upaloneinaroomwithhim,becausehe’sclearlyhaving

vengefulthoughtsoverthatstupidearpiece.

“So,whatelsedoyouhaveplanned?”asksthepresident.

PlutarchnodstoCressida,whoconsultsaclipboard.“We

havesometerrificfootageofKatnissatthehospitalinEight.

Thereshouldbeanotherpropointhatwiththetheme‘Because

youknowwhotheyareandwhattheydo.’We’llfocuson

Katnissinteractingwiththepatients,particularlythechildren,

thebombingofthehospital,andthewreckage.Messalla’s

cuttingthattogether.We’realsothinkingaboutaMockingjay

piece.HighlightsomeofKatniss’sbestmomentsintercutwith

scenesofrebeluprisingsandwarfootage.Wecallthatone‘Fire

iscatching.’AndthenFulviacameupwithareallybrilliant

idea.”

Fulvia’smouthful-of-sour-grapesexpressionisstartledright

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offherface,butsherecovers.“Well,Idon’tknowhowbrilliant

itis,butIwasthinkingwecoulddoaseriesofproposcalledWe

Remember.Ineachone,wewouldfeatureoneofthedead

tributes.LittleRuefromElevenoroldMagsfromFour.Theidea

beingthatwecouldtargeteachdistrictwithaverypersonal

piece.”

“Atributetoyourtributes,asitwere,”saysPlutarch.

“Thatisbrilliant,Fulvia,”Isaysincerely.“It’stheperfect

waytoremindpeoplewhythey’refighting.”

“Ithinkitcouldwork,”shesays.“Ithoughtwemightuse

Finnicktointroandnarratethespots.Iftherewasinterestin

them.”

“Frankly,Idon’tseehowwecouldhavetoomanyWe

Rememberpropos,”saysCoin.“Canyoustartproducingthem

today?”

“Ofcourse,”saysFulvia,obviouslymollifiedbythe

responsetoheridea.

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Cressidahassmoothedeverythingoverinthecreative

departmentwithhergesture.PraisedFulviaforwhatis,infact,a

reallygoodidea,andclearedthewaytocontinueherownon-air

depictionoftheMockingjay.What’sinterestingisthatPlutarch

seemstohavenoneedtoshareinthecredit.Allhewantsisfor

theAirtimeAssaulttowork.IrememberthatPlutarchisaHead

Gamemaker,notamemberofthecrew.Notapieceinthe

Games.Therefore,hisworthisnotdefinedbyasingleelement,

butbytheoverallsuccessoftheproduction.Ifwewinthewar,

that’swhenPlutarchwilltakehisbow.Andexpecthisreward.

Thepresidentsendseveryoneofftogettowork,soGale

wheelsmebacktothehospital.Welaughalittleaboutthe

cover-up.Galesaysnoonewantedtolookbadbyadmittingthey

couldn’tcontrolus.I’mkinder,sayingtheyprobablydidn’twant

tojeopardizethechanceoftakingusoutagainnowthatthey’ve

gottensomedecentfootage.Boththingsareprobablytrue.Gale

hastogomeetBeeteedowninSpecialWeaponry,soIdozeoff.

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ItseemslikeI’veonlyshutmyeyesforafewminutes,but

whenIopenthem,IflinchatthesightofHaymitchsittinga

coupleoffeetfrommybed.Waiting.Possiblyforseveralhours

iftheclockisright.Ithinkaboutholleringforawitness,butI’m

goingtohavetofacehimsoonerorlater.

Haymitchleansforwardanddanglessomethingonathin

whitewireinfrontofmynose.It’shardtofocuson,butI’m

prettysurewhatitis.Hedropsittothesheets.“Thatisyour

earpiece.Iwillgiveyouexactlyonemorechancetowearit.If

youremoveitfromyourearagain,I’llhaveyoufittedwiththis.”

HeholdsupsomesortofmetalheadgearthatIinstantlyname

theheadshackle.“It’sanalternativeaudiounitthatlocksaround

yourskullandunderyourchinuntilit’sopenedwithakey.And

I’llhavetheonlykey.Ifforsomereasonyou’recleverenoughto

disableit”—Haymitchdumpstheheadshackleonthebedand

whipsoutatinysilverchip—“I’llauthorizethemtosurgically

implantthistransmitterintoyourearsothatImayspeaktoyou

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twenty-fourhoursaday.”

Haymitchinmyheadfull-time.Horrifying.“I’llkeepthe

earpiecein,”Imutter.

“Excuseme?”hesays.

“I’llkeeptheearpiecein!”Isay,loudenoughtowakeup

halfthehospital.

“Yousure?BecauseI’mequallyhappywithanyofthethree

options,”hetellsme.

“I’msure,”Isay.Iscrunchuptheearpiecewireprotectively

inmyfistandflingtheheadshacklebackinhisfacewithmy

freehand,buthecatchesiteasily.Probablywasexpectingmeto

throwit.“Anythingelse?”

Haymitchrisestogo.“WhileIwaswaiting...Iateyour

lunch.”

Myeyestakeintheemptystewbowlandtrayonmybed

table.“I’mgoingtoreportyou,”Imumbleintomypillow.

“Youdothat,sweetheart.”Hegoesout,safeinthe

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knowledgethatI’mnotthereportingkind.

Iwanttogobacktosleep,butI’mrestless.Imagesfrom

yesterdaybegintofloodintothepresent.Thebombing,thefiery

planecrashes,thefacesofthewoundedwhonolongerexist.I

imaginedeathfromallsides.Thelastmomentbeforeseeinga

shellhittheground,feelingthewingblownfrommyplaneand

thedizzyingnosediveintooblivion,thewarehouserooffalling

downatmewhileI’mpinnedhelplesslytomycot.ThingsIsaw,

inpersonoronthetape.ThingsIcausedwithapullofmy

bowstring.ThingsIwillneverbeabletoerasefrommymemory.

Atdinner,Finnickbringshistraytomybedsowecanwatch

thenewestpropotogetherontelevision.Hewasassigned

quartersonmyoldfloor,buthehassomanymentalrelapses,he

stillbasicallylivesinthehospital.Therebelsairthe“Because

youknowwhotheyareandwhattheydo”propothatMessalla

edited.ThefootageisintercutwithshortstudioclipsofGale,

Boggs,andCressidadescribingtheincident.It’shardtowatch

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myreceptioninthehospitalin8sinceIknowwhat’scoming.

Whenthebombsraindownontheroof,Iburymyfaceinmy

pillow,lookingupagainatabriefclipofmeattheend,afterall

thevictimsaredead.

AtleastFinnickdoesn’tapplaudoractallhappywhenit’s

done.Hejustsays,“Peopleshouldknowthathappened.Andnow

theydo.”

“Let’sturnitoff,Finnick,beforetheyrunitagain,”Iurge

him.ButasFinnick’shandmovestowardtheremotecontrol,I

cry,“Wait!”TheCapitolisintroducingaspecialsegmentand

somethingaboutitlooksfamiliar.Yes,it’sCaesarFlickerman.

AndIcanguesswhohisguestwillbe.

Peeta’sphysicaltransformationshocksme.Thehealthy,

clear-eyedboyIsawafewdaysagohaslostatleastfifteen

poundsanddevelopedanervoustremorinhishands.They’ve

stillgothimgroomed.Butunderneaththepaintthatcannotcover

thebagsunderhiseyes,andthefineclothesthatcannotconceal

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thepainhefeelswhenhemoves,isapersonbadlydamaged.

Mymindreels,tryingtomakesenseofit.Ijustsawhim!

Four—no,five—Ithinkitwasfivedaysago.Howhashe

deterioratedsorapidly?Whatcouldtheypossiblyhavedoneto

himinsuchashorttime?Thenithitsme.Ireplayinmymindas

muchasIcanofhisfirstinterviewwithCaesar,searchingfor

anythingthatwouldplaceitintime.Thereisnothing.They

couldhavetapedthatinterviewadayortwoafterIblewupthe

arena,thendonewhatevertheywantedtodotohimeversince.

“Oh,Peeta...”Iwhisper.

CaesarandPeetahaveafewemptyexchangesbeforeCaesar

askshimaboutrumorsthatI’mtapingproposforthedistricts.

“They’reusingher,obviously,”saysPeeta.“Towhipupthe

rebels.Idoubtsheevenreallyknowswhat’sgoingoninthewar.

What’satstake.”

“Isthereanythingyou’dliketotellher?”asksCaesar.

“Thereis,”saysPeeta.Helooksdirectlyintothecamera,

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rightintomyeyes.“Don’tbeafool,Katniss.Thinkforyourself.

They’veturnedyouintoaweaponthatcouldbeinstrumentalin

thedestructionofhumanity.Ifyou’vegotanyrealinfluence,use

ittoputthebrakesonthisthing.Useittostopthewarbeforeit’s

toolate.Askyourself,doyoureallytrustthepeopleyou’re

workingwith?Doyoureallyknowwhat’sgoingon?Andifyou

don’t...findout.”

Blackscreen.SealofPanem.Showover.

Finnickpressesthebuttonontheremotethatkillsthepower.

Inaminute,peoplewillbeheretododamagecontrolonPeeta’s

conditionandthewordsthatcameoutofhismouth.Iwillneed

torepudiatethem.Butthetruthis,Idon’ttrusttherebelsor

PlutarchorCoin.I’mnotconfidentthattheytellmethetruth.I

won’tbeabletoconcealthis.Footstepsareapproaching.

Finnickgripsmehardbythearms.“Wedidn’tseeit.”

“What?”Iask.

“Wedidn’tseePeeta.OnlythepropoonEight.Thenwe

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turnedthesetoffbecausetheimagesupsetyou.Gotit?”heasks.

Inod.“Finishyourdinner.”Ipullmyselftogetherenoughsothat

whenPlutarchandFulviaenter,Ihaveamouthfulofbreadand

cabbage.FinnickistalkingabouthowwellGalecameacrosson

camera.Wecongratulatethemonthepropo.Makeitclearitwas

sopowerful,wetunedoutrightafterward.Theylookrelieved.

Theybelieveus.

NoonementionsPeeta.

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Istoptryingtosleepaftermyfirstfewattemptsare

interruptedbyunspeakablenightmares.Afterthat,Ijustliestill

anddofakebreathingwheneversomeonechecksonme.Inthe

morning,I’mreleasedfromthehospitalandinstructedtotakeit

easy.Cressidaasksmetorecordafewlinesforanew

Mockingjaypropo.Atlunch,Ikeepwaitingforpeopletobring

upPeeta’sappearance,butnoonedoes.Someonemusthaveseen

itbesidesFinnickandme.

Ihavetraining,butGale’sscheduledtoworkwithBeeteeon

weaponsorsomething,soIgetpermissiontotakeFinnicktothe

woods.Wewanderaroundawhileandthenditchour

communicatorsunderabush.Whenwe’reasafedistanceaway,

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wesitanddiscussPeeta’sbroadcast.

“Ihaven’theardonewordaboutit.Noone’stoldyou

anything?”Finnicksays.Ishakemyhead.Hepausesbeforehe

asks,“NotevenGale?”I’mclingingtoashredofhopethatGale

honestlyknowsnothingaboutPeeta’smessage.ButIhaveabad

feelinghedoes.“Maybehe’stryingtofindatimetotellyou

privately.”

“Maybe,”Isay.

Westaysilentsolongthatabuckwandersintorange.Itake

itdownwithanarrow.Finnickhaulsitbacktothefence.

Fordinner,there’smincedvenisoninthestew.Galewalks

mebacktoCompartmentEafterweeat.WhenIaskhimwhat’s

beengoingon,againthere’snomentionofPeeta.Assoonasmy

motherandsisterareasleep,Islipthepearlfromthedrawerand

spendasecondsleeplessnightclutchingitinmyhand,replaying

Peeta’swordsinmyhead.“Askyourself,doyoureallytrustthe

peopleyou’reworkingwith?Doyoureallyknowwhat’sgoing

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on?Andifyoudon’t...findout.”Findout.What?Fromwho?

AndhowcanPeetaknowanythingexceptwhattheCapitoltells

him?It’sjustaCapitolpropo.Morenoise.ButifPlutarchthinks

it’sjusttheCapitolline,whydidn’thetellmeaboutit?Why

hasn’tanyoneletmeorFinnickknow?

Underthisdebateliestherealsourceofmydistress:Peeta.

Whathavetheydonetohim?Andwhataretheydoingtohim

rightnow?Clearly,SnowdidnotbuythestorythatPeetaandI

knewnothingabouttherebellion.Andhissuspicionshavebeen

reinforced,nowthatIhavecomeoutastheMockingjay.Peeta

canonlyguessabouttherebeltacticsormakeupthingstotell

historturers.Lies,oncediscovered,wouldbeseverelypunished.

Howabandonedbymehemustfeel.Inhisfirstinterview,he

triedtoprotectmefromtheCapitolandrebelsalike,andnot

onlyhaveIfailedtoprotecthim,I’vebroughtdownmore

horrorsuponhim.

Comemorning,Istickmyforearminthewallandstare

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groggilyattheday’sschedule.Immediatelyafterbreakfast,Iam

slatedforProduction.Inthedininghall,asIdownmyhotgrain

andmilkandmushybeets,IspotacommunicuffonGale’swrist.

“Whendidyougetthatback,SoldierHawthorne?”Iask.

“Yesterday.TheythoughtifI’mgoingtobeinthefieldwith

you,itcouldbeabackupsystemofcommunication,”saysGale.

Noonehaseverofferedmeacommunicuff.Iwonder,ifI

askedforone,wouldIgetit?“Well,Iguessoneofushastobe

accessible,”Isaywithanedgetomyvoice.

“What’sthatmean?”hesays.

“Nothing.Justrepeatingwhatyousaid,”Itellhim.“AndI

totallyagreethattheaccessibleoneshouldbeyou.IjusthopeI

stillhaveaccesstoyouaswell.”

Oureyeslock,andIrealizehowfuriousIamwithGale.That

Idon’tbelieveforasecondthathedidn’tseePeeta’spropo.That

Ifeelcompletelybetrayedthathedidn’ttellmeaboutit.We

knoweachothertoowellforhimnottoreadmymoodandguess

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whathascausedit.

“Katniss—”hebegins.Alreadytheadmissionofguiltisin

histone.

Igrabmytray,crosstothedepositarea,andslamthedishes

ontotherack.BythetimeI’minthehallway,he’scaughtup

withme.

“Whydidn’tyousaysomething?”heasks,takingmyarm.

“Whydidn’tI?”Ijerkmyarmfree.“Whydidn’tyou,Gale?

AndIdid,bytheway,whenIaskedyoulastnightaboutwhat

hadbeengoingon!”

“I’msorry.Allright?Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Iwantedto

tellyou,buteveryonewasafraidthatseeingPeeta’spropowould

makeyousick,”hesays.

“Theywereright.Itdid.Butnotquiteassickasyoulyingto

meforCoin.”Atthatmoment,hiscommunicuffstartsbeeping.

“Theresheis.Betterrun.Youhavethingstotellher.”

Foramoment,realhurtregistersonhisface.Thencold

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angerreplacesit.Heturnsonhisheelandgoes.MaybeIhave

beentoospiteful,notgivenhimenoughtimetoexplain.Maybe

everyoneisjusttryingtoprotectmebylyingtome.Idon’tcare.

I’msickofpeoplelyingtomeformyowngood.Becausereally

it’smostlyfortheirowngood.LietoKatnissabouttherebellion

soshedoesn’tdoanythingcrazy.Sendherintothearenawithout

acluesowecanfishherout.Don’ttellheraboutPeeta’spropo

becauseitmightmakehersick,andit’shardenoughtogeta

decentperformanceoutofherasitis.

Idofeelsick.Heartsick.Andtootiredforadayof

production.ButI’malreadyatRemake,soIgoin.Today,I

discover,wewillbereturningtoDistrict12.Cressidawantsto

dounscriptedinterviewswithGaleandmethrowinglightonour

demolishedcity.

“Ifyou’rebothupforthat,”saysCressida,lookingcloselyat

myface.

“Countmein,”Isay.Istand,uncommunicativeandstiff,a

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mannequin,asmyprepteamdressesme,doesmyhair,anddabs

makeuponmyface.Notenoughtoshow,onlyenoughtotakethe

edgeoffthecirclesundermysleeplesseyes.

BoggsescortsmedowntotheHangar,butwedon’ttalk

beyondapreliminarygreeting.I’mgratefultobesparedanother

exchangeaboutmydisobediencein8,especiallysincehismask

lookssouncomfortable.

Atthelastmoment,Iremembertosendamessagetomy

motheraboutmyleaving13,andstressthatitwon’tbe

dangerous.Weboardahovercraftfortheshortrideto12andI’m

directedtoaseatatatablewherePlutarch,Gale,andCressida

areporingoveramap.Plutarch’sbrimmingwithsatisfactionas

heshowsmethebefore/aftereffectsofthefirstcoupleofpropos.

Therebels,whowerebarelymaintainingafootholdinseveral

districts,haverallied.Theyhaveactuallytaken3and11—the

lattersocrucialsinceit’sPanem’smainfoodsupplier—and

havemadeinroadsinseveralotherdistrictsaswell.

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“Hopeful.Veryhopefulindeed,”saysPlutarch.“Fulvia’s

goingtohavethefirstroundofWeRememberspotsready

tonight,sowecantargettheindividualdistrictswiththeirdead.

Finnick’sabsolutelymarvelous.”

“It’spainfultowatch,actually,”saysCressida.“Heknewso

manyofthempersonally.”

“That’swhatmakesitsoeffective,”saysPlutarch.“Straight

fromtheheart.You’realldoingbeautifully.Coincouldnotbe

morepleased.”

Galedidn’ttellthem,then.Aboutmypretendingnottosee

Peetaandmyangerattheircover-up.ButIguessit’stoolittle,

toolate,becauseIstillcan’tletitgo.Itdoesn’tmatter.He’snot

speakingtome,either.

It’snotuntilwelandintheMeadowthatIrealizeHaymitch

isn’tamongourcompany.WhenIaskPlutarchabouthis

absence,hejustshakeshisheadandsays,“Hecouldn’tfaceit.”

“Haymitch?Notabletofacesomething?Wantedadayoff,

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morelikely,”Isay.

“Ithinkhisactualwordswere‘Icouldn’tfaceitwithouta

bottle,’”saysPlutarch.

Irollmyeyes,longoutofpatiencewithmymentor,his

weaknessfordrink,andwhathecanorcan’tconfront.Butabout

fiveminutesaftermyreturnto12,I’mwishingIhadabottle

myself.IthoughtI’dcometotermswith12’sdemise—heardof

it,seenitfromtheair,andwanderedthroughitsashes.Sowhy

doeseverythingbringonafreshpangofgrief?WasIsimplytoo

outofitbeforetofullyregisterthelossofmyworld?Orisitthe

lookonGale’sfaceashetakesinthedestructiononfootthat

makestheatrocityfeelbrand-new?

Cressidadirectstheteamtostartwithmeatmyoldhouse.I

askherwhatshewantsmetodo.“Whateveryoufeellike,”she

says.Standingbackinmykitchen,Idon’tfeellikedoing

anything.Infact,Ifindmyselffocusingupatthesky—theonly

roofleft—becausetoomanymemoriesaredrowningme.After

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awhile,Cressidasays,“That’sfine,Katniss.Let’smoveon.”

Galedoesn’tgetoffsoeasilyathisoldaddress.Cressida

filmshiminsilenceforafewminutes,butjustashepullsthe

oneremnantofhispreviouslifefromtheashes—atwisted

metalpoker—shestartstoquestionhimabouthisfamily,his

job,lifeintheSeam.Shemakeshimgobacktothenightofthe

firebombingandreenactit,startingathishouse,workinghis

waydownacrosstheMeadowandthroughthewoodstothelake.

Istragglebehindthefilmcrewandthebodyguards,feelingtheir

presencetobeaviolationofmybelovedwoods.Thisisaprivate

place,asanctuary,alreadycorruptedbytheCapitol’sevil.Even

afterwe’veleftbehindthecharredstumpsnearthefence,we’re

stilltrippingoverdecomposingbodies.Dowehavetorecordit

foreveryonetosee?

Bythetimewereachthelake,Galeseemstohavelosthis

abilitytospeak.Everyone’sdrippinginsweat—especially

CastorandPolluxintheirinsectshells—andCressidacallsfor

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abreak.Iscoopuphandfulsofwaterfromthelake,wishingI

coulddiveinandsurfacealoneandnakedandunobserved.I

wanderaroundtheperimeterforawhile.WhenIcomeback

aroundtothelittleconcretehousebesidethelake,Ipauseinthe

doorwayandseeGaleproppingthecrookedpokerhesalvaged

againstthewallbythehearth.ForamomentIhaveanimageof

alonestranger,sometimefarinthefuture,wanderinglostinthe

wildernessandcominguponthissmallplaceofrefuge,withthe

pileofsplitlogs,thehearth,thepoker.Wonderinghowitcame

tobe.GaleturnsandmeetsmyeyesandIknowhe’sthinking

aboutourlastmeetinghere.Whenwefoughtoverwhetherornot

torunaway.Ifwehad,wouldDistrict12stillbethere?Ithinkit

would.ButtheCapitolwouldstillbeincontrolofPanemas

well.

Cheesesandwichesarepassedaroundandweeattheminthe

shadeofthetrees.Iintentionallysitatthefaredgeofthegroup,

nexttoPollux,soIdon’thavetotalk.Noone’stalkingmuch,

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really.Intherelativequiet,thebirdstakebackthewoods.I

nudgePolluxwithmyelbowandpointoutasmallblackbird

withacrown.Ithopstoanewbranch,momentarilyopeningits

wings,showingoffitswhitepatches.Polluxgesturestomypin

andraiseshiseyebrowsquestioningly.Inod,confirmingit’sa

mockingjay.IholduponefingertosayWait,I’llshowyou,and

whistleabirdcall.Themockingjaycocksitsheadandwhistles

thecallrightbackatme.Then,tomysurprise,Polluxwhistlesa

fewnotesofhisown.Thebirdanswershimimmediately.

Pollux’sfacebreaksintoanexpressionofdelightandhehasa

seriesofmelodicexchangeswiththemockingjay.Myguessis

it’sthefirstconversationhe’shadinyears.Musicdraws

mockingjayslikeblossomsdobees,andinashortwhilehe’sgot

halfadozenofthemperchedinthebranchesoverourheads.He

tapsmeonthearmandusesatwigtowriteawordinthedirt.

SING?

Usually,I’ddecline,butit’skindofimpossibletosaynoto

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Pollux,giventhecircumstances.Besides,themocking-jays’

songvoicesaredifferentfromtheirwhistles,andI’dlikehimto

hearthem.So,beforeIactuallythinkaboutwhatI’mdoing,I

singRue’sfournotes,theonessheusedtosignaltheendofthe

workdayin11.Thenotesthatendedupasthebackgroundmusic

tohermurder.Thebirdsdon’tknowthat.Theypickupthe

simplephraseandbounceitbackandforthbetweenthemin

sweetharmony.JustastheydidintheHungerGamesbeforethe

muttationsbrokethroughthetrees,chasedusontothe

Cornucopia,andslowlygnawedCatotoabloodypulp—

“Wanttohearthemdoarealsong?”Iburstout.Anythingto

stopthosememories.I’monmyfeet,movingbackintothetrees,

restingmyhandontheroughtrunkofamaplewherethebirds

perch.Ihavenotsung“TheHangingTree”outloudforten

years,becauseit’sforbidden,butIremembereveryword.Ibegin

softly,sweetly,asmyfatherdid.



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“Areyou,areyou

Comingtothetree

Wheretheystrungupamantheysaymurderedthree.

Strangethingsdidhappenhere

Nostrangerwoulditbe

Ifwemetupatmidnightinthehangingtree.”



Themockingjaysbegintoaltertheirsongsastheybecome

awareofmynewoffering.



“Areyou,areyou

Comingtothetree

Wherethedeadmancalledoutforhislovetoflee.

Strangethingsdidhappenhere

Nostrangerwoulditbe

Ifwemetupatmidnightinthehangingtree.”



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Ihavethebirds’attentionnow.Inonemoreverse,surely

theywillhavecapturedthemelody,asit’ssimpleandrepeats

fourtimeswithlittlevariation.



“Areyou,areyou

Comingtothetree

WhereItoldyoutorun,sowe’dbothbefree.

Strangethingsdidhappenhere

Nostrangerwoulditbe

Ifwemetupatmidnightinthehangingtree.”



Ahushinthetrees.Justtherustleofleavesinthebreeze.

Butnobirds,mockingjayorother.Peeta’sright.Theydofall

silentwhenIsing.Justastheydidformyfather.



“Areyou,areyou

Comingtothetree

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Wearanecklaceofrope,sidebysidewithme.

Strangethingsdidhappenhere

Nostrangerwoulditbe

Ifwemetupatmidnightinthehangingtree.”



Thebirdsarewaitingformetocontinue.Butthat’sit.Last

verse.InthestillnessIrememberthescene.Iwashomefroma

dayinthewoodswithmyfather.SittingonthefloorwithPrim,

whowasjustatoddler,singing“TheHangingTree.”Makingus

necklacesoutofscrapsofoldropelikeitsaidinthesong,not

knowingtherealmeaningofthewords.Thetunewassimpleand

easytoharmonizeto,though,andbackthenIcouldmemorize

almostanythingsettomusicafteraroundortwo.Suddenly,my

mothersnatchedtheropenecklacesawayandwasyellingatmy

father.Istartedtocrybecausemymotherneveryelled,andthen

PrimwaswailingandIranoutsidetohide.AsIhadexactlyone

hidingspot—intheMeadowunderahoneysucklebush—my

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fatherfoundmeimmediately.Hecalmedmedownandtoldme

everythingwasfine,onlywe’dbetternotsingthatsong

anymore.Mymotherjustwantedmetoforgetit.So,ofcourse,

everywordwasimmediately,irrevocablybrandedintomybrain.

Wedidn’tsingitanymore,myfatherandI,orevenspeakof

it.Afterhedied,itusedtocomebacktomealot.Beingolder,I

begantounderstandthelyrics.Atthebeginning,itsoundslikea

guyistryingtogethisgirlfriendtosecretlymeetupwithhimat

midnight.Butit’sanoddplaceforatryst,ahangingtree,where

amanwashungformurder.Themurderer’slovermusthavehad

somethingtodowiththekilling,ormaybetheywerejustgoing

topunishheranyway,becausehiscorpsecalledoutforherto

flee.That’sweirdobviously,thetalking-corpsebit,butit’snot

untilthethirdversethat“TheHangingTree”beginstoget

unnerving.Yourealizethesingerofthesongisthedead

murderer.He’sstillinthehangingtree.Andeventhoughhetold

hislovertoflee,hekeepsaskingifshe’scomingtomeethim.

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ThephraseWhereItoldyoutorun,sowe’dbothbefreeisthe

mosttroublingbecauseatfirstyouthinkhe’stalkingaboutwhen

hetoldhertoflee,presumablytosafety.Butthenyouwonderif

hemeantforhertoruntohim.Todeath.Inthefinalstanza,it’s

clearthatthat’swhathe’swaitingfor.Hislover,withherrope

necklace,hangingdeadnexttohiminthetree.

Iusedtothinkthemurdererwasthecreepiestguy

imaginable.Now,withacoupleoftripstotheHungerGames

undermybelt,Idecidenottojudgehimwithoutknowingmore

details.Maybehisloverwasalreadysentencedtodeathandhe

wastryingtomakeiteasier.Toletherknowhe’dbewaiting.Or

maybehethoughttheplacehewasleavingherwasreallyworse

thandeath.Didn’tIwanttokillPeetawiththatsyringetosave

himfromtheCapitol?Wasthatreallymyonlyoption?Probably

not,butIcouldn’tthinkofanotheratthetime.

Iguessmymotherthoughtthewholethingwastootwisted

foraseven-year-old,though.Especiallyonewhomadeherown

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ropenecklaces.Itwasn’tlikehangingwassomethingthatonly

happenedinastory.Plentyofpeoplewereexecutedthatwayin

12.Youcanbetshedidn’twantmesingingitinfrontofmy

musicclass.Sheprobablywouldn’tlikemedoingitherefor

Polluxeven,butatleastI’mnot—wait,no,I’mwrong.AsI

glancesideways,IseeCastorhasbeentapingme.Everyoneis

watchingmeintently.AndPolluxhastearsrunningdownhis

cheeksbecausenodoubtmyfreakysonghasdredgedupsome

terribleincidentinhislife.Great.Isighandleanbackagainst

thetrunk.That’swhenthemockingjaysbegintheirrenditionof

“TheHangingTree.”Intheirmouths,it’squitebeautiful.

Consciousofbeingfilmed,IstandquietlyuntilIhearCressida

call,“Cut!”

Plutarchcrossestome,laughing.“Wheredoyoucomeup

withthisstuff?Noonewouldbelieveitifwemadeitup!”He

throwsanarmaroundmeandkissesmeonthetopofmyhead

withaloudsmack.“You’regolden!”

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“Iwasn’tdoingitforthecameras,”Isay.

“Luckytheywereon,then,”hesays.“Comeon,everybody,

backtotown!”

Aswetrudgebackthroughthewoods,wereachaboulder,

andbothGaleandIturnourheadsinthesamedirection,likea

pairofdogscatchingascentonthewind.Cressidanoticesand

askswhatliesthatway.Weadmit,withoutacknowledgingeach

other,it’souroldhuntingrendezvousplace.Shewantstoseeit,

evenafterwetellherit’snothingreally.

NothingbutaplacewhereIwashappy,Ithink.

Ourrockledgeoverlookingthevalley.Perhapsalittleless

greenthanusual,buttheblackberrybusheshangheavywith

fruit.Herebegancountlessdaysofhuntingandsnaring,fishing

andgathering,roamingtogetherthroughthewoods,unloading

ourthoughtswhilewefilledourgamebags.Thiswasthe

doorwaytobothsustenanceandsanity.Andwewereeach

other’skey.

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There’snoDistrict12toescapefromnow,noPeacekeepers

totrick,nohungrymouthstofeed.TheCapitoltookawayallof

that,andI’monthevergeoflosingGaleaswell.Theglueof

mutualneedthatbondedussotightlytogetherforallthoseyears

ismeltingaway.Darkpatches,notlight,showinthespaces

betweenus.Howcanitbethattoday,inthefaceof12’shorrible

demise,wearetooangrytoevenspeaktoeachother?

Galeasgoodasliedtome.Thatwasunacceptable,evenifhe

wasconcernedaboutmywell-being.Hisapologyseemed

genuine,though.AndIthrewitbackinhisfacewithaninsultto

makesureitstung.Whatishappeningtous?Whyarewealways

atoddsnow?It’sallamuddle,butIsomehowfeelthatifIwent

backtotherootofourtroubles,myactionswouldbeattheheart

ofit.DoIreallywanttodrivehimaway?

Myfingersencircleablackberryandpluckitfromitsstem.I

rollitgentlybetweenmythumbandforefinger.Suddenly,Iturn

tohimandtossitinhisdirection.“Andmaytheodds—”Isay.I

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throwithighsohehasplentyoftimetodecidewhethertoknock

itasideoracceptit.

Gale’seyestrainonme,nottheberry,butatthelast

moment,heopenshismouthandcatchesit.Hechews,swallows,

andthere’salongpausebeforehesays“—beeverinyour

favor.”Buthedoessayit.

Cressidahasussitinthenookintherocks,whereit’s

impossiblenottobetouching,andcoaxesusintotalkingabout

hunting.Whatdroveusoutintothewoods,howwemet,favorite

moments.Wethaw,begintolaughalittle,aswerelatemishaps

withbeesandwilddogsandskunks.Whentheconversation

turnstohowitfelttotranslateourskillwithweaponstothe

bombingin8,Istoptalking.Galejustsays,“Longoverdue.”

Bythetimewereachthetownsquare,afternoon’ssinking

intoevening.ItakeCressidatotherubbleofthebakeryandask

hertofilmsomething.TheonlyemotionIcanmusteris

exhaustion.“Peeta,thisisyourhome.Noneofyourfamilyhas

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beenheardofsincethebombing.Twelveisgone.Andyou’re

callingforacease-fire?”Ilookacrosstheemptiness.“There’s

noonelefttohearyou.”

Aswestandbeforethelumpofmetalthatwasthegallows,

Cressidaasksifeitherofushaseverbeentortured.Inanswer,

Galepullsoffhisshirtandturnshisbacktothecamera.Istareat

thelashmarks,andagainhearthewhistlingofthewhip,seehis

bloodyfigurehangingunconsciousbyhiswrists.

“I’mdone,”Iannounce.“I’llmeetyouattheVictor’s

Village.Somethingfor...mymother.”

IguessIwalkedhere,butthenextthingI’mconsciousofis

sittingonthefloorinfrontofthekitchencabinetsofourhouse

intheVictor’sVillage.Meticulouslyliningceramicjarsand

glassbottlesintoabox.Placingcleancottonbandagesbetween

themtopreventbreaking.Wrappingbunchesofdriedflowers.

Suddenly,Iremembertheroseonmydresser.Wasitreal?If

so,isitstillupthere?Ihavetoresistthetemptationtocheck.If

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it’sthere,itwillonlyfrightenmealloveragain.Ihurrywithmy

packing.

Whenthecabinetsareempty,IrisetofindthatGalehas

materializedinmykitchen.It’sdisturbinghowsoundlesslyhe

canappear.He’sleaningonthetable,hisfingersspreadwide

againstthewoodgrain.Isettheboxbetweenus.“Remember?”

heasks.“Thisiswhereyoukissedme.”

Sotheheavydoseofmorphlingadministeredafterthe

whippingwasn’tenoughtoerasethatfromhisconsciousness.“I

didn’tthinkyou’drememberthat,”Isay.

“Havetobedeadtoforget.Maybeevennotthen,”hetells

me.“MaybeI’llbelikethatmanin‘TheHangingTree.’Still

waitingforananswer.”Gale,whoIhaveneverseencry,has

tearsinhiseyes.Tokeepthemfromspillingover,Ireach

forwardandpressmylipsagainsthis.Wetasteofheat,ashes,

andmisery.It’sasurprisingflavorforsuchagentlekiss.He

pullsawayfirstandgivesmeawrysmile.“Iknewyou’dkiss

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me.”

“How?”Isay.BecauseIdidn’tknowmyself.

“BecauseI’minpain,”hesays.“That’stheonlywayIget

yourattention.”Hepicksupthebox.“Don’tworry,Katniss.It’ll

pass.”HeleavesbeforeIcananswer.

I’mtoowearytoworkthroughhislatestcharge.Ispendthe

shortridebackto13curledupinaseat,tryingtoignorePlutarch

goingonaboutoneofhisfavoritesubjects—weaponsmankind

nolongerhasatitsdisposal.High-flyingplanes,military

satellites,celldisintegrators,drones,biologicalweaponswith

expirationdates.Broughtdownbythedestructionofthe

atmosphereorlackofresourcesormoralsqueamishness.You

canheartheregretofaHeadGamemakerwhocanonlydreamof

suchtoys,whomustmakedowithhovercraftandland-to-land

missilesandplainoldguns.

AfterdroppingoffmyMockingjaysuit,Igostraighttobed

withouteating.Evenso,Primhastoshakemetogetmeupinthe

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morning.Afterbreakfast,Iignoremyscheduleandtakeanapin

thesupplycloset.WhenIcometo,crawlingoutfrombetween

theboxesofchalkandpencils,it’sdinnertimeagain.Igetan

extra-largeportionofpeasoupandamheadedbackto

CompartmentEwhenBoggsinterceptsme.

“There’sameetinginCommand.Disregardyourcurrent

schedule,”hesays.

“Done,”Isay.

“Didyoufollowitatalltoday?”heasksinexasperation.

“Whoknows?I’mmentallydisoriented.”Iholdupmywrist

toshowmymedicalbraceletandrealizeit’sgone.“See?Ican’t

evenremembertheytookmybracelet.Whydotheywantmein

Command?DidImisssomething?”

“IthinkCressidawantedtoshowyoutheTwelvepropos.But

Iguessyou’llseethemwhentheyair,”hesays.

“That’swhatIneedascheduleof.Whentheproposair,”I

say.Heshootsmealookbutdoesn’tcommentfurther.

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PeoplehavecrowdedintoCommand,butthey’vesavedmea

seatbetweenFinnickandPlutarch.Thescreensarealreadyupon

thetable,showingtheregularCapitolfeed.

“What’sgoingon?Aren’tweseeingtheTwelvepropos?”I

ask.

“Oh,no,”saysPlutarch.“Imean,possibly.Idon’tknow

exactlywhatfootageBeeteeplanstouse.”

“Beeteethinkshe’sfoundawaytobreakintothefeed

nationwide,”saysFinnick.“Sothatourproposwillairinthe

Capitol,too.He’sdownworkingonitinSpecialDefensenow.

There’sliveprogrammingtonight.Snow’smakingan

appearanceorsomething.Ithinkit’sstarting.”

TheCapitolsealappears,underscoredbytheanthem.Then

I’mstaringdirectlyintoPresidentSnow’ssnakeeyesashe

greetsthenation.Heseemsbarricadedbehindhispodium,but

thewhiteroseinhislapelisinfullview.Thecamerapullsback

toincludePeeta,offtoonesideinfrontofaprojectedmapof

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Panem.He’ssittinginanelevatedchair,hisshoessupportedbya

metalrung.Thefootofhisprostheticlegtapsoutastrange

irregularbeat.Beadsofsweathavebrokenthroughthelayerof

powderonhisupperlipandforehead.Butit’sthelookinhis

eyes—angryyetunfocused—thatfrightensmethemost.

“He’sworse,”Iwhisper.Finnickgraspsmyhand,togiveme

ananchor,andItrytohangon.

Peetabeginstospeakinafrustratedtoneabouttheneedfor

thecease-fire.Hehighlightsthedamagedonetokey

infrastructureinvariousdistricts,andashespeaks,partsofthe

maplightup,showingimagesofthedestruction.Abrokendam

in7.Aderailedtrainwithapooloftoxicwastespillingfromthe

tankcars.Agranarycollapsingafterafire.Allofthesehe

attributestorebelaction.

Bam!Withoutwarning,I’msuddenlyontelevision,standing

intherubbleofthebakery.

Plutarchjumpstohisfeet.“Hedidit!Beeteebrokein!”

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Theroom’sbuzzingwithreactionwhenPeeta’sback,

distracted.Hehasseenmeonthemonitor.Hetriestopickuphis

speechbymovingontothebombingofawaterpurification

plant,whenaclipofFinnicktalkingaboutRuereplaceshim.

Andthenthewholethingbreaksdownintoabroadcastbattle,as

theCapitoltechmasterstrytofendoffBeetee’sattack.Butthey

areunprepared,andBeetee,apparentlyanticipatinghewouldnot

holdontocontrol,hasanarsenaloffive-toten-secondclipsto

workwith.Wewatchtheofficialpresentationdeteriorateasit’s

pepperedwithchoiceshotsfromthepropos.

Plutarch’sinspasmsofdelightandmosteverybodyis

cheeringBeeteeon,butFinnickremainsstillandspeechless

besideme.ImeetHaymitch’seyesfromacrosstheroomandsee

myowndreadmirroredback.Therecognitionthatwithevery

cheer,Peetaslipsevenfartherfromourgrasp.

TheCapitolseal’sbackup,accompaniedbyaflataudio

tone.ThislastsabouttwentysecondsbeforeSnowandPeeta

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return.Thesetisinturmoil.We’rehearingfranticexchanges

fromtheirbooth.Snowplowsforward,sayingthatclearlythe

rebelsarenowattemptingtodisruptthedisseminationof

informationtheyfindincriminating,butbothtruthandjustice

willreign.Thefullbroadcastwillresumewhensecurityhasbeen

reinstated.HeasksPeetaif,giventonight’sdemonstration,he

hasanypartingthoughtsforKatnissEverdeen.

Atthementionofmyname,Peeta’sfacecontortsineffort.

“Katniss...howdoyouthinkthiswillend?Whatwillbeleft?

Nooneissafe.NotintheCapitol.Notinthedistricts.Andyou..

.inThirteen...”Heinhalessharply,asiffightingforair;his

eyeslookinsane.“Deadbymorning!”

Offcamera,Snoworders,“Endit!”Beeteethrowsthewhole

thingintochaosbyflashingastillshotofmestandinginfrontof

thehospitalatthree-secondintervals.Butbetweentheimages,

weareprivytothereal-lifeactionbeingplayedoutontheset.

Peeta’sattempttocontinuespeaking.Thecameraknockeddown

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torecordthewhitetiledfloor.Thescuffleofboots.Theimpact

oftheblowthat’sinseparablefromPeeta’scryofpain.

Andhisbloodasitsplattersthetiles.

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Thescreambeginsinmylowerbackandworksitswayup

throughmybodyonlytojaminmythroat.IamAvoxmute,

chokingonmygrief.EvenifIcouldreleasethemusclesinmy

neck,letthesoundtearintospace,wouldanyonenoticeit?The

room’sinanuproar.Questionsanddemandsringoutastheytry

todecipherPeeta’swords.“Andyou...inThirteen...deadby

morning!”Yetnooneisaskingaboutthemessengerwhose

bloodhasbeenreplacedbystatic.

Avoicecallstheotherstoattention.“Shutup!”Everypairof

eyesfallsonHaymitch.“It’snotsomebigmystery!Theboy’s

tellinguswe’reabouttobeattacked.Here.InThirteen.”

“Howwouldhehavethatinformation?”

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“Whyshouldwetrusthim?”

“Howdoyouknow?”

Haymitchgivesagrowloffrustration.“They’rebeatinghim

bloodywhilewespeak.Whatmoredoyouneed?Katniss,help

meouthere!”

Ihavetogivemyselfashaketofreemywords.“Haymitch’s

right.Idon’tknowwherePeetagottheinformation.Orifit’s

true.Buthebelievesitis.Andthey’re—”Ican’tsayaloudwhat

Snow’sdoingtohim.

“Youdon’tknowhim,”HaymitchsaystoCoin.“Wedo.Get

yourpeopleready.”

Thepresidentdoesn’tseemalarmed,onlysomewhat

perplexed,bythisturninevents.Shemullsoverthewords,

tappingonefingerlightlyontherimofthecontrolboardinfront

ofher.Whenshespeaks,sheaddressesHaymitchinaneven

voice.“Ofcourse,wehavepreparedforsuchascenario.

Althoughwehavedecadesofsupportfortheassumptionthat

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furtherdirectattacksonThirteenwouldbecounterproductiveto

theCapitol’scause.Nuclearmissileswouldreleaseradiation

intotheatmosphere,withincalculableenvironmentalresults.

Evenroutinebombingcouldbadlydamageourmilitary

compound,whichweknowtheyhopetoregain.And,ofcourse,

theyinviteacounterstrike.Itisconceivablethat,givenour

currentalliancewiththerebels,thosewouldbeviewedas

acceptablerisks.”

“Youthinkso?”saysHaymitch.It’sashadetoosincere,but

thesubtletiesofironyareoftenwastedin13.

“Ido.Atanyrate,we’reoverdueforaLevelFivesecurity

drill,”saysCoin.“Let’sproceedwiththelockdown.”Shebegins

totyperapidlyonherkeyboard,authorizingherdecision.The

momentsheraisesherhead,itbegins.

Therehavebeentwolow-leveldrillssinceIarrivedin13.I

don’tremembermuchaboutthefirst.Iwasinintensivecarein

thehospitalandIthinkthepatientswereexempted,asthe

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complicationsofremovingusforapracticedrilloutweighedthe

benefits.Iwasvaguelyawareofamechanicalvoiceinstructing

peopletocongregateinyellowzones.Duringthesecond,aLevel

Twodrillmeantforminorcrises—suchasatemporary

quarantinewhilecitizensweretestedforcontagionduringaflu

outbreak—weweresupposedtoreturntoourlivingquarters.I

stayedbehindapipeinthelaundryroom,ignoredthepulsating

beepscomingovertheaudiosystem,andwatchedaspider

constructaweb.Neitherexperiencehaspreparedmeforthe

wordless,eardrum-piercing,fear-inducingsirensthatnow

permeate13.Therewouldbenodisregardingthissound,which

seemsdesignedtothrowthewholepopulationintoafrenzy.But

thisis13andthatdoesn’thappen.

BoggsguidesFinnickandmeoutofCommand,alongthe

halltoadoorway,andontoawidestairway.Streamsofpeople

areconvergingtoformariverthatflowsonlydownward.Noone

shrieksortriestopushahead.Eventhechildrendon’tresist.We

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descend,flightafterflight,speechless,becausenowordcouldbe

heardabovethissound.IlookformymotherandPrim,butit’s

impossibletoseeanyonebutthoseimmediatelyaroundme.

They’rebothworkinginthehospitaltonight,though,sothere’s

nowaytheycanmissthedrill.

Myearspopandmyeyesfeelheavy.Wearecoal-minedeep.

Theonlyplusisthatthefartherweretreatintotheearth,theless

shrillthesirensbecome.It’sasiftheyweremeanttophysically

driveusawayfromthesurface,whichIsupposetheyare.Groups

ofpeoplebegintopeeloffintomarkeddoorwaysandstillBoggs

directsmedownward,untilfinallythestairsendattheedgeof

anenormouscavern.IstarttowalkstraightinandBoggsstops

me,showsmethatImustwavemyscheduleinfrontofascanner

sothatI’maccountedfor.Nodoubttheinformation’sgoingto

somecomputersomewheretomakesurenoone’sgoneastray.

Theplaceseemsunabletodecideifit’snaturalorman-

made.Certainareasofthewallsarestone,whilesteelbeamsand

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concreteheavilyreinforceothers.Sleepingbunksarehewnright

intotherockwalls.There’sakitchen,bathrooms,afirst-aid

station.Thisplacewasdesignedforanextendedstay.

Whitesignswithlettersornumbersareplacedatintervals

aroundthecavern.AsBoggstellsFinnickandmetoreporttothe

areathatmatchesourassignedquarters—inmycaseEfor

CompartmentE—Plutarchstrollsup.“Ah,hereyouare,”he

says.RecenteventshavehadlittleeffectonPlutarch’smood.He

stillhasahappyglowfromBeetee’ssuccessontheAirtime

Assault.Eyesontheforest,notonthetrees.NotonPeeta’s

punishmentor13’simminentblasting.“Katniss,obviouslythis

isabadmomentforyou,whatwithPeeta’ssetback,butyouneed

tobeawarethatotherswillbewatchingyou.”

“What?”Isay.Ican’tbelieveheactuallyjustdowngraded

Peeta’sdirecircumstancestoasetback.

“Theotherpeopleinthebunker,they’llbetakingtheircue

onhowtoreactfromyou.Ifyou’recalmandbrave,otherswill

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trytobeaswell.Ifyoupanic,itcouldspreadlikewildfire,”

explainsPlutarch.Ijuststareathim.“Fireiscatching,soto

speak,”hecontinues,asifI’mbeingslowontheuptake.

“Whydon’tIjustpretendI’moncamera,Plutarch?”Isay.

“Yes!Perfect.Oneisalwaysmuchbraverwithanaudience,”

hesays.“LookatthecouragePeetajustdisplayed!”

It’sallIcandonottoslaphim.

“I’vegottogetbacktoCoinbeforelockdown.Youkeepup

thegoodwork!”hesays,andthenheadsoff.

IcrosstothebigletterEpostedonthewall.Ourspace

consistsofatwelve-by-twelve-footsquareofstonefloor

delineatedbypaintedlines.Carvedintothewallaretwobunks

—oneofuswillbesleepingonthefloor—andaground-level

cubespaceforstorage.Apieceofwhitepaper,coatedinclear

plastic,readsBUNKERPROTOCOL.Istarefixedlyatthelittleblack

specksonthesheet.Forawhile,they’reobscuredbytheresidual

blooddropletsthatIcan’tseemtowipefrommyvision.Slowly,

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thewordscomeintofocus.Thefirstsectionisentitled“On

Arrival.”

1.MakesureallmembersofyourCompartmentare

accountedfor.

MymotherandPrimhaven’tarrived,butIwasoneofthe

firstpeopletoreachthebunker.Bothofthemareprobably

helpingtorelocatehospitalpatients.

2.GototheSupplyStationandsecureonepackforeach

memberofyourCompartment.ReadyyourLivingArea.Return

pack(s).

IscanthecavernuntilIlocatetheSupplyStation,adeep

roomsetoffbyacounter.Peoplewaitbehindit,butthere’snota

lotofactivitythereyet.Iwalkover,giveourcompartmentletter,

andrequestthreepacks.Amanchecksasheet,pullsthe

specifiedpacksfromshelving,andswingsthemupontothe

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counter.Afterslidingoneonmybackandgettingagriponthe

othertwowithmyhands,Iturntofindagrouprapidlyforming

behindme.“Excuseme,”IsayasIcarrymysuppliesthroughthe

others.Isitamatteroftiming?OrisPlutarchright?Arethese

peoplemodelingtheirbehavioronmine?

Backatourspace,Iopenoneofthepackstofindathin

mattress,bedding,twosetsofgrayclothing,atoothbrush,a

comb,andaflashlight.Onexaminingthecontentsoftheother

packs,Ifindtheonlydiscernibledifferenceisthattheycontain

bothgrayandwhiteoutfits.Thelatterwillbeformymotherand

Prim,incasetheyhavemedicalduties.AfterImakeupthebeds,

storetheclothes,andreturnthebackpacks,I’vegotnothingtodo

butobservethelastrule.

3.Awaitfurtherinstructions.

Isitcross-leggedonthefloortoawait.Asteadyflowof

peoplebeginstofilltheroom,claimingspaces,collecting

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supplies.Itwon’ttakelonguntiltheplaceisfullup.Iwonderif

mymotherandPrimaregoingtostaythenightatwhereverthe

hospitalpatientshavebeentaken.But,no,Idon’tthinkso.They

wereonthelisthere.I’mstartingtogetanxious,whenmy

motherappears.Ilookbehindherintoaseaofstrangers.

“Where’sPrim?”Iask.

“Isn’tshehere?”shereplies.“Shewassupposedtocome

straightdownfromthehospital.ShelefttenminutesbeforeI

did.Whereisshe?Wherecouldshehavegone?”

Isqueezemylidsshuttightforamoment,totrackherasI

wouldpreyonahunt.Seeherreacttothesirens,rushtohelpthe

patients,nodastheygestureforhertodescendtothebunker,and

thenhesitatewithheronthestairs.Tornforamoment.Butwhy?

Myeyesflyopen.“Thecat!Shewentbackforhim!”

“Oh,no,”mymothersays.WebothknowI’mright.We’re

pushingagainsttheincomingtide,tryingtogetoutofthe

bunker.Upahead,Icanseethempreparingtoshutthethick

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metaldoors.Slowlyrotatingthemetalwheelsoneitherside

inward.SomehowIknowthatoncetheyhavebeensealed,

nothingintheworldwillconvincethesoldierstoopenthem.

Perhapsitwillevenbebeyondtheircontrol.I’m

indiscriminatelyshovingpeopleasideasIshoutforthemto

wait.Thespacebetweenthedoorsshrinkstoayard,afoot;there

areonlyafewinchesleftwhenIjammyhandthroughthecrack.

“Openit!Letmeout!”Icry.

Consternationshowsonthesoldiers’facesastheyreverse

thewheelsabit.Notenoughtoletmepass,butenoughtoavoid

crushingmyfingers.Itaketheopportunitytowedgemy

shoulderintotheopening.“Prim!”Ihollerupthestairs.My

motherpleadswiththeguardsasItrytowrigglemywayout.

“Prim!”

ThenIhearit.Thefaintsoundoffootstepsonthestairs.

“We’recoming!”Ihearmysistercall.

“Holdthedoor!”ThatwasGale.

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“They’recoming!”Itelltheguards,andtheyslidethedoors

openaboutafoot.ButIdon’tdaremove—afraidthey’lllockus

allout—untilPrimappears,hercheeksflushedwithrunning,

haulingButtercup.IpullherinsideandGalefollows,twistingan

armloadofbaggagesidewaystogetitintothebunker.Thedoors

areclosedwithaloudandfinalclank.

“Whatwereyouthinking?”IgivePrimanangryshakeand

thenhugher,squashingButtercupbetweenus.

Prim’sexplanationisalreadyonherlips.“Icouldn’tleave

himbehind,Katniss.Nottwice.Youshouldhaveseenhim

pacingtheroomandhowling.He’dcomebacktoprotectus.”

“Okay.Okay.”Itakeafewbreathstocalmmyself,step

back,andliftButtercupbythescruffoftheneck.“Ishould’ve

drownedyouwhenIhadthechance.”Hisearsflattenandhe

raisesapaw.Ihissbeforehegetsachance,whichseemsto

annoyhimalittle,sinceheconsidershissinghisownpersonal

soundofcontempt.Inretaliation,hegivesahelplesskittenmew

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thatbringsmysisterimmediatelytohisdefense.

“Oh,Katniss,don’tteasehim,”shesays,foldinghimbackin

herarms.“He’salreadysoupset.”

TheideathatI’vewoundedthebrute’stinycatfeelingsjust

invitesfurthertaunting.ButPrim’sgenuinelydistressedforhim.

Soinstead,IvisualizeButtercup’sfurliningapairofgloves,an

imagethathashelpedmedealwithhimovertheyears.“Okay,

sorry.We’reunderthebigEonthewall.Bettergethimsettled

inbeforehelosesit.”Primhurriesoff,andIfindmyselfface-to-

facewithGale.He’sholdingtheboxofmedicalsuppliesfrom

ourkitchenin12.Siteofourlastconversation,kiss,fallout,

whatever.Mygamebag’sslungacrosshisshoulder.

“IfPeeta’sright,thesedidn’tstandachance,”hesays.

Peeta.Bloodlikeraindropsonthewindow.Likewetmudon

boots.

“Thanksfor...everything.”Itakeourstuff.“Whatwere

youdoingupinourrooms?”

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“Justdouble-checking,”hesays.“We’reinForty-Sevenif

youneedme.”

Practicallyeveryonewithdrewtotheirspaceswhenthedoors

shut,soIgettocrosstoournewhomewithatleastfivehundred

peoplewatchingme.Itrytoappearextracalmtomakeupfor

myfranticcrashingthroughthecrowd.Likethat’sfooling

anyone.Somuchforsettinganexample.Oh,whocares?Theyall

thinkI’mnutsanyway.Oneman,whoIthinkIknockedtothe

floor,catchesmyeyeandrubshiselbowresentfully.Ialmost

hissathim,too.

PrimhasButtercupinstalledonthelowerbunk,drapedina

blanketsothatonlyhisfacepokesout.Thisishowhelikestobe

whenthere’sthunder,theonethingthatactuallyfrightenshim.

Mymotherputsherboxcarefullyinthecube.Icrouch,myback

supportedbythewall,tocheckwhatGalemanagedtorescuein

myhuntingbag.Theplantbook,thehuntingjacket,myparents’

weddingphoto,andthepersonalcontentsofmydrawer.My

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mockingjaypinnowliveswithCinna’soutfit,butthere’sthe

goldlocketandthesilverparachutewiththespileandPeeta’s

pearl.Iknotthepearlintothecorneroftheparachute,buryit

deepintherecessesofthebag,asifit’sPeeta’slifeandnoone

cantakeitawayaslongasIguardit.

Thefaintsoundofthesirenscutsoffsharply.Coin’svoice

comesoverthedistrictaudiosystem,thankingusallforan

exemplaryevacuationoftheupperlevels.Shestressesthatthis

isnotadrill,asPeetaMellark,theDistrict12victor,has

possiblymadeatelevisedreferencetoanattackon13tonight.

That’swhenthefirstbombhits.There’saninitialsenseof

impactfollowedbyanexplosionthatresonatesinmyinnermost

parts,theliningofmyintestines,themarrowofmybones,the

rootsofmyteeth.We’reallgoingtodie,Ithink.Myeyesturn

upward,expectingtoseegiantcracksraceacrosstheceiling,

massivechunksofstonerainingdownonus,butthebunkeritself

givesonlyaslightshudder.ThelightsgooutandIexperience

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thedisorientationoftotaldarkness.Speechlesshumansounds—

spontaneousshrieks,raggedbreaths,babywhimpers,one

musicalbitofinsanelaughter—dancearoundinthechargedair.

Thenthere’sahumofagenerator,andadimwaveringglow

replacesthestarklightingthatisthenormin13.It’scloserto

whatwehadinourhomesin12,whenthecandlesandfire

burnedlowonawinter’snight.

IreachforPriminthetwilight,clampmyhandonherleg,

andpullmyselfovertoher.Hervoiceremainssteadyasshe

croonstoButtercup.“It’sallright,baby,it’sallright.We’llbe

okaydownhere.”

Mymotherwrapsherarmsaroundus.Iallowmyselftofeel

youngforamomentandrestmyheadonhershoulder.“Thatwas

nothinglikethebombsinEight,”Isay.

“Probablyabunkermissile,”saysPrim,keepinghervoice

soothingforthecat’ssake.“Welearnedaboutthemduringthe

orientationfornewcitizens.They’redesignedtopenetratedeep

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inthegroundbeforetheygooff.Becausethere’snopointin

bombingThirteenonthesurfaceanymore.”

“Nuclear?”Iask,feelingachillrunthroughme.

“Notnecessarily,”saysPrim.“Somejusthavealotof

explosivesinthem.But...itcouldbeeitherkind,Iguess.”

Thegloommakesithardtoseetheheavymetaldoorsatthe

endofthebunker.Wouldtheybeanyprotectionagainsta

nuclearattack?Andeveniftheywereonehundredpercent

effectiveatsealingouttheradiation,whichisreallyunlikely,

wouldweeverbeabletoleavethisplace?Thethoughtof

spendingwhateverremainsofmylifeinthisstonevault

horrifiesme.Iwanttorunmadlyforthedooranddemandtobe

releasedintowhateverliesabove.It’spointless.Theywould

neverletmeout,andImightstartsomekindofstampede.

“We’resofardown,I’msurewe’resafe,”saysmymother

wanly.Isshethinkingofmyfather’sbeingblowntonothingness

inthemines?“Itwasaclosecall,though.ThankgoodnessPeeta

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hadthewherewithaltowarnus.”

Thewherewithal.Ageneraltermthatsomehowincludes

everythingthatwasneededforhimtosoundthealarm.The

knowledge,theopportunity,thecourage.AndsomethingelseI

can’tdefine.Peetaseemedtohavebeenwagingasortofbattlein

hismind,fightingtogetthemessageout.Why?Theeasewith

whichhemanipulateswordsishisgreatesttalent.Washis

difficultyaresultofhistorture?Somethingmore?Like

madness?

Coin’svoice,perhapsashadegrimmer,fillsthebunker,the

volumelevelflickeringwiththelights.“Apparently,Peeta

Mellark’sinformationwassoundandweowehimagreatdebtof

gratitude.Sensorsindicatethefirstmissilewasnotnuclear,but

verypowerful.Weexpectmorewillfollow.Forthedurationof

theattack,citizensaretostayintheirassignedareasunless

otherwisenotified.”

Asoldieralertsmymotherthatshe’sneededinthefirst-aid

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station.She’sreluctanttoleaveus,eventhoughshe’llonlybe

thirtyyardsaway.

“We’llbefine,really,”Itellher.“Doyouthinkanything

couldgetpasthim?”IpointtoButtercup,whogivesmesucha

halfheartedhiss,weallhavetolaughalittle.EvenIfeelsorry

forhim.Aftermymothergoes,Isuggest,“Whydon’tyouclimb

inwithhim,Prim?”

“Iknowit’ssilly...butI’mafraidthebunkmightcollapse

onusduringtheattack,”shesays.

Ifthebunkscollapse,thewholebunkerwillhavegivenway

andburiedus,butIdecidethiskindoflogicwon’tactuallybe

helpful.Instead,IcleanoutthestoragecubeandmakeButtercup

abedinside.ThenIpullamattressinfrontofitformysister

andmetoshare.

We’regivenclearanceinsmallgroupstousethebathroom

andbrushourteeth,althoughshoweringhasbeencanceledfor

theday.IcurlupwithPrimonthemattress,doublelayeringthe

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blanketsbecausethecavernemitsadankchill.Buttercup,

miserableevenwithPrim’sconstantattention,huddlesinthe

cubeandexhalescatbreathinmyface.

Despitethedisagreeableconditions,I’mgladtohavetime

withmysister.MyextremepreoccupationsinceIcamehere—

no,sincethefirstGames,really—hasleftlittleattentionfor

her.Ihaven’tbeenwatchingoverherthewayIshould,thewayI

usedto.Afterall,itwasGalewhocheckedourcompartment,not

me.Somethingtomakeupfor.

IrealizeI’veneverevenbotheredtoaskherabouthowshe’s

handlingtheshockofcominghere.“So,howareyouliking

Thirteen,Prim?”Ioffer.

“Rightnow?”sheasks.Webothlaugh.“Imisshomebadly

sometimes.ButthenIrememberthere’snothinglefttomiss

anymore.Ifeelsaferhere.Wedon’thavetoworryaboutyou.

Well,notthesameway.”Shepauses,andthenashysmile

crossesherlips.“Ithinkthey’regoingtotrainmetobea

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doctor.”

It’sthefirstI’veheardofit.“Well,ofcourse,theyare.

They’dbestupidnotto.”

“They’vebeenwatchingmewhenIhelpoutinthehospital.

I’malreadytakingthemediccourses.It’sjustbeginner’sstuff.I

knowalotofitfromhome.Still,there’splentytolearn,”she

tellsme.

“That’sgreat,”Isay.Primadoctor.Shecouldn’tevendream

ofitin12.Somethingsmallandquiet,likeamatchbeingstruck,

lightsupthegloominsideme.Thisisthesortoffuturea

rebellioncouldbring.

“Whataboutyou,Katniss?Howareyoumanaging?”Her

fingertipmovesinshort,gentlestrokesbetweenButtercup’s

eyes.“Anddon’tsayyou’refine.”

It’strue.Whatevertheoppositeoffineis,that’swhatIam.

SoIgoaheadandtellheraboutPeeta,hisdeteriorationon-

screen,andhowIthinktheymustbekillinghimatthisvery

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moment.Buttercuphastorelyonhimselfforawhile,because

nowPrimturnsherattentiontome.Pullingmecloser,brushing

thehairbackbehindmyearswithherfingers.I’vestopped

talkingbecausethere’sreallynothinglefttosayandthere’sthis

piercingsortofpainwheremyheartis.MaybeI’mevenhaving

aheartattack,butitdoesn’tseemworthmentioning.

“Katniss,Idon’tthinkPresidentSnowwillkillPeeta,”she

says.Ofcourse,shesaysthis;it’swhatshethinkswillcalmme.

Buthernextwordscomeasasurprise.“Ifhedoes,hewon’thave

anyoneleftyouwant.Hewon’thaveanywaytohurtyou.”

Suddenly,Iamremindedofanothergirl,onewhohadseen

alltheeviltheCapitolhadtooffer.JohannaMason,thetribute

fromDistrict7,inthelastarena.Iwastryingtopreventherfrom

goingintothejunglewherethejabberjaysmimickedthevoices

oflovedonesbeingtortured,butshebrushedmeoff,saying,

“Theycan’thurtme.I’mnotliketherestofyou.There’snoone

leftIlove.”

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ThenIknowPrimisright,thatSnowcannotaffordtowaste

Peeta’slife,especiallynow,whiletheMockingjaycausesso

muchhavoc.He’skilledCinnaalready.Destroyedmyhome.My

family,Gale,andevenHaymitchareoutofhisreach.Peeta’sall

hehasleft.

“So,whatdoyouthinkthey’lldotohim?”Iask.

Primsoundsaboutathousandyearsoldwhenshespeaks.

“Whateverittakestobreakyou.”

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Whatwillbreakme?

Thisisthequestionthatconsumesmeoverthenextthree

daysaswewaittobereleasedfromourprisonofsafety.What

willbreakmeintoamillionpiecessothatIambeyondrepair,

beyondusefulness?Imentionittonoone,butitdevoursmy

wakinghoursandweavesitselfthroughoutmynightmares.

Fourmorebunkermissilesfalloverthisperiod,allmassive,

allverydamaging,butthere’snourgencytotheattack.The

bombsarespreadoutoverthelonghourssothatjustwhenyou

thinktheraidisover,anotherblastsendsshockwavesthrough

yourguts.Itfeelsmoredesignedtokeepusinlockdownthanto

decimate13.Cripplethedistrict,yes.Givethepeopleplentyto

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dotogettheplacerunningagain.Butdestroyit?No.Coinwas

rightonthatpoint.Youdon’tdestroywhatyouwanttoacquire

inthefuture.Iassumewhattheyreallywant,intheshortterm,is

tostoptheAirtimeAssaultsandkeepmeoffthetelevisionsof

Panem.

Wereceivenexttonoinformationaboutwhatishappening.

Ourscreensnevercomeon,andwegetonlybriefaudioupdates

fromCoinaboutthenatureofthebombs.Certainly,thewaris

stillbeingwaged,butastoitsstatus,we’reinthedark.

Insidethebunker,cooperationistheorderoftheday.We

adheretoastrictscheduleformealsandbathing,exerciseand

sleep.Smallperiodsofsocializationaregrantedtoalleviatethe

tedium.Ourspacebecomesverypopularbecausebothchildren

andadultshaveafascinationwithButtercup.Heattainscelebrity

statuswithhiseveninggameofCrazyCat.Icreatedthisby

accidentafewyearsago,duringawinterblackout.Yousimply

wiggleaflashlightbeamaroundonthefloor,andButtercuptries

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tocatchit.I’mpettyenoughtoenjoyitbecauseIthinkitmakes

himlookstupid.Inexplicably,everyoneherethinkshe’sclever

anddelightful.I’mevenissuedaspecialsetofbatteries—an

enormouswaste—tobeusedforthispurpose.Thecitizensof13

aretrulystarvedforentertainment.

It’sonthethirdnight,duringourgame,thatIanswerthe

questioneatingawayatme.CrazyCatbecomesametaphorfor

mysituation.IamButtercup.Peeta,thethingIwantsobadlyto

secure,isthelight.AslongasButtercupfeelshehasthechance

ofcatchingtheelusivelightunderhispaws,he’sbristlingwith

aggression.(That’showI’vebeensinceIleftthearena,with

Peetaalive.)Whenthelightgoesoutcompletely,Buttercup’s

temporarilydistraughtandconfused,butherecoversandmoves

ontootherthings.(That’swhatwouldhappenifPeetadied.)But

theonethingthatsendsButtercupintoatailspiniswhenIleave

thelightonbutputithopelesslyoutofhisreach,highonthe

wall,beyondevenhisjumpingskills.Hepacesbelowthewall,

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wails,andcan’tbecomfortedordistracted.He’suselessuntilI

shutthelightoff.(That’swhatSnowistryingtodotomenow,

onlyIdon’tknowwhatformhisgametakes.)

MaybethisrealizationonmypartisallSnowneeds.

ThinkingthatPeetawasinhispossessionandbeingtorturedfor

rebelinformationwasbad.Butthinkingthathe’sbeingtortured

specificallytoincapacitatemeisunendurable.Andit’sunderthe

weightofthisrevelationthatItrulybegintobreak.

AfterCrazyCat,we’redirectedtobed.Thepower’sbeen

comingandgoing;sometimesthelampsburnatfullbrightness,

othertimeswesquintatoneanotherinthebrownouts.At

bedtimetheyturnthelampstoneardarknessandactivatesafety

lightsineachspace.Prim,who’sdecidedthewallswillholdup,

snuggleswithButtercuponthelowerbunk.Mymother’sonthe

upper.Ioffertotakeabunk,buttheymakemekeeptothefloor

mattresssinceIflailaroundsomuchwhenI’msleeping.

I’mnotflailingnow,asmymusclesarerigidwiththe

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tensionofholdingmyselftogether.Thepainovermyheart

returns,andfromitIimaginetinyfissuresspreadingoutintomy

body.Throughmytorso,downmyarmsandlegs,overmyface,

leavingitcrisscrossedwithcracks.Onegoodjoltofabunker

missileandIcouldshatterintostrange,razor-sharpshards.

Whentherestless,wigglingmajorityhassettledintosleep,I

carefullyextricatemyselffrommyblanketandtiptoethrough

thecavernuntilIfindFinnick,feelingforsomeunspecified

reasonthathewillunderstand.Hesitsunderthesafetylightin

hisspace,knottinghisrope,notevenpretendingtorest.AsI

whispermydiscoveryofSnow’splantobreakme,itdawnson

me.ThisstrategyisveryoldnewstoFinnick.It’swhatbroke

him.

“Thisiswhatthey’redoingtoyouwithAnnie,isn’tit?”I

ask.

“Well,theydidn’tarrestherbecausetheythoughtshe’dbea

wealthofrebelinformation,”hesays.“TheyknowI’dnever

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haveriskedtellingheranythinglikethat.Forherown

protection.”

“Oh,Finnick.I’msosorry,”Isay.

“No,I’msorry.ThatIdidn’twarnyousomehow,”hetells

me.

Suddenly,amemorysurfaces.I’mstrappedtomybed,mad

withrageandgriefaftertherescue.Finnickistryingtoconsole

meaboutPeeta.“They’llfigureouthedoesn’tknowanything

prettyfast.Andtheywon’tkillhimiftheythinktheycanusehim

againstyou.”

“Youdidwarnme,though.Onthehovercraft.Onlywhen

yousaidthey’dusePeetaagainstme,Ithoughtyoumeantlike

bait.ToluremeintotheCapitolsomehow,”Isay.

“Ishouldn’thavesaideventhat.Itwastoolateforittobeof

anyhelptoyou.SinceIhadn’twarnedyoubeforetheQuarter

Quell,Ishould’veshutupabouthowSnowoperates.”Finnick

yanksontheendofhisrope,andanintricateknotbecomesa

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straightlineagain.“It’sjustthatIdidn’tunderstandwhenImet

you.AfteryourfirstGames,Ithoughtthewholeromancewasan

actonyourpart.Weallexpectedyou’dcontinuethatstrategy.

Butitwasn’tuntilPeetahittheforcefieldandnearlydiedthatI

—”Finnickhesitates.

Ithinkbacktothearena.HowIsobbedwhenFinnick

revivedPeeta.ThequizzicallookonFinnick’sface.Thewayhe

excusedmybehavior,blamingitonmypretendpregnancy.

“Thatyouwhat?”

“ThatIknewI’dmisjudgedyou.Thatyoudolovehim.I’m

notsayinginwhatway.Maybeyoudon’tknowyourself.But

anyonepayingattentioncouldseehowmuchyoucareabout

him,”hesaysgently.

Anyone?OnSnow’svisitbeforetheVictoryTour,he

challengedmetoeraseanydoubtsofmyloveforPeeta.

“Convinceme,”Snowsaid.Itseems,underthathotpinksky

withPeeta’slifeinlimbo,Ifinallydid.Andindoingso,Igave

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himtheweaponheneededtobreakme.

FinnickandIsitforalongtimeinsilence,watchingthe

knotsbloomandvanish,beforeIcanask,“Howdoyoubearit?”

Finnicklooksatmeindisbelief.“Idon’t,Katniss!

Obviously,Idon’t.Idragmyselfoutofnightmareseach

morningandfindthere’snoreliefinwaking.”Somethinginmy

expressionstopshim.“Betternottogiveintoit.Ittakesten

timesaslongtoputyourselfbacktogetherasitdoestofall

apart.”

Well,hemustknow.Itakeadeepbreath,forcingmyself

backintoonepiece.

“Themoreyoucandistractyourself,thebetter,”hesays.

“Firstthingtomorrow,we’llgetyouyourownrope.Untilthen,

takemine.”

Ispendtherestofthenightonmymattressobsessively

makingknots,holdingthemupforButtercup’sinspection.Ifone

lookssuspicious,heswipesitoutoftheairandbitesitafew

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timestomakesureit’sdead.Bymorning,myfingersaresore,

butI’mstillholdingon.

Withtwenty-fourhoursofquietbehindus,Coinfinally

announceswecanleavethebunker.Ouroldquartershavebeen

destroyedbythebombings.Everyonemustfollowexact

directionstotheirnewcompartments.Wecleanourspaces,as

directed,andfileobedientlytowardthedoor.

BeforeI’mhalfwaythere,Boggsappearsandpullsmefrom

theline.HesignalsforGaleandFinnicktojoinus.Peoplemove

asidetoletusby.SomeevensmileatmesincetheCrazyCat

gameseemstohavemadememorelovable.Outthedoor,upthe

stairs,downthehalltooneofthosemultidirectionalelevators,

andfinallywearriveatSpecialDefense.Nothingalongourroute

hasbeendamaged,butwearestillverydeep.

BoggsushersusintoaroomvirtuallyidenticaltoCommand.

Coin,Plutarch,Haymitch,Cressida,andeverybodyelsearound

thetablelooksexhausted.Someonehasfinallybrokenoutthe

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coffee—althoughI’msureit’sviewedonlyasanemergency

stimulant—andPlutarchhasbothhandswrappedtightlyaround

hiscupasifatanymomentitmightbetakenaway.

There’snosmalltalk.“Weneedallfourofyousuitedupand

aboveground,”saysthepresident.“Youhavetwohourstoget

footageshowingthedamagefromthebombing,establishthat

Thirteen’smilitaryunitremainsnotonlyfunctionalbut

dominant,and,mostimportant,thattheMockingjayisstillalive.

Anyquestions?”

“Canwehaveacoffee?”asksFinnick.

Steamingcupsarehandedout.Istaredistastefullyatthe

shinyblackliquid,neverhavingbeenmuchofafanofthestuff,

butthinkingitmighthelpmestayonmyfeet.Finnicksloshes

somecreaminmycupandreachesintothesugarbowl.“Wanta

sugarcube?”heasksinhisoldseductivevoice.That’showwe

met,withFinnickofferingmesugar.Surroundedbyhorsesand

chariots,costumedandpaintedforthecrowds,beforewewere

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allies.BeforeIhadanyideawhatmadehimtick.Thememory

actuallycoaxesasmileoutofme.“Here,itimprovesthetaste,”

hesaysinhisrealvoice,plunkingthreecubesinmycup.

AsIturntogosuitupastheMockingjay,IcatchGale

watchingmeandFinnickunhappily.Whatnow?Doeshe

actuallythinksomething’sgoingonbetweenus?Maybehesaw

megotoFinnick’slastnight.Iwould’vepassedtheHawthornes’

spacetogetthere.Iguessthatprobablyrubbedhimthewrong

way.MeseekingoutFinnick’scompanyinsteadofhis.Well,

fine.I’vegotropeburnonmyfingers,Icanbarelyholdmyeyes

open,andacameracrew’swaitingformetodosomething

brilliant.AndSnow’sgotPeeta.Galecanthinkwhateverhe

wants.

InmynewRemakeRoominSpecialDefense,myprepteam

slapsmeintomyMockingjaysuit,arrangesmyhair,andapplies

minimalmakeupbeforemycoffee’sevencooled.Intenminutes,

thecastandcrewofthenextproposaremakingthecircuitous

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trektotheoutside.Islurpmycoffeeaswetravel,findingthat

thecreamandsugargreatlyenhanceitsflavor.AsIknockback

thedregsthathavesettledtothebottomofthecup,Ifeelaslight

buzzstarttorunthroughmyveins.

Afterclimbingafinalladder,Boggshitsaleverthatopensa

trapdoor.Freshairrushesin.Itakebiggulpsandforthefirst

timeallowmyselftofeelhowmuchIhatedthebunker.We

emergeintothewoods,andmyhandsrunthroughtheleaves

overhead.Somearejuststartingtoturn.“Whatdayisit?”Iask

nooneinparticular.BoggstellsmeSeptemberbeginsnextweek.

September.ThatmeansSnowhashadPeetainhisclutches

forfive,maybesixweeks.Iexaminealeafonmypalmandsee

I’mshaking.Ican’twillmyselftostop.Iblamethecoffeeand

trytofocusonslowingmybreathing,whichisfartoorapidfor

mypace.

Debrisbeginstolittertheforestfloor.Wecometoourfirst

crater,thirtyyardswideandIcan’ttellhowdeep.Very.Boggs

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saysanyoneonthefirsttenlevelswouldlikelyhavebeenkilled.

Weskirtthepitandcontinueon.

“Canyourebuildit?”Galeasks.

“Notanytimesoon.Thatonedidn’tgetmuch.Afewbackup

generatorsandapoultryfarm,”saysBoggs.“We’lljustsealit

off.”

Thetreesdisappearasweentertheareainsidethefence.The

cratersareringedwithamixtureofoldandnewrubble.Before

thebombing,verylittleofthecurrent13wasaboveground.A

fewguardstations.Thetrainingarea.Aboutafootofthetop

floorofourbuilding—whereButtercup’swindowjuttedout—

withseveralfeetofsteelontopofit.Eventhatwasnevermeant

towithstandmorethanasuperficialattack.

“Howmuchofanedgedidtheboy’swarninggiveyou?”

asksHaymitch.

“Abouttenminutesbeforeourownsystemswould’ve

detectedthemissiles,”saysBoggs.

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“Butitdidhelp,right?”Iask.Ican’tbearitifhesaysno.

“Absolutely,”Boggsreplies.“Civilianevacuationwas

completed.Secondscountwhenyou’reunderattack.Ten

minutesmeantlivessaved.”

Prim,Ithink.AndGale.Theywereinthebunkeronlya

coupleofminutesbeforethefirstmissilehit.Peetamighthave

savedthem.AddtheirnamestothelistofthingsIcanneverstop

owinghimfor.

Cressidahastheideatofilmmeinfrontoftheruinsofthe

oldJusticeBuilding,whichissomethingofajokesincethe

Capitol’sbeenusingitasabackdropforfakenewsbroadcasts

foryears,toshowthatthedistrictnolongerexisted.Now,with

therecentattack,theJusticeBuildingsitsabouttenyardsaway

fromtheedgeofanewcrater.

Asweapproachwhatusedtobethegrandentrance,Gale

pointsoutsomethingandthewholepartyslowsdown.Idon’t

knowwhattheproblemisatfirstandthenIseetheground

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strewnwithfreshpinkandredroses.“Don’ttouchthem!”Iyell.

“They’reforme!”

Thesickeninglysweetsmellhitsmynose,andmyheart

beginstohammeragainstmychest.SoIdidn’timagineit.The

roseonmydresser.BeforemeliesSnow’sseconddelivery.

Long-stemmedpinkandredbeauties,theveryflowersthat

decoratedthesetwherePeetaandIperformedourpost-victory

interview.Flowersnotmeantforone,butforapairoflovers.

IexplaintotheothersasbestIcan.Uponinspection,they

appeartobeharmless,ifgeneticallyenhanced,flowers.Two

dozenroses.Slightlywilted.Mostlikelydroppedafterthelast

bombing.Acrewinspecialsuitscollectsthemandcartsthem

away.Ifeelcertaintheywillfindnothingextraordinaryinthem,

though.Snowknowsexactlywhathe’sdoingtome.It’slike

havingCinnabeatentoapulpwhileIwatchfrommytribute

tube.Designedtounhingeme.

Likethen,Itrytorallyandfightback.ButasCressidagets

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CastorandPolluxinplace,Ifeelmyanxietybuilding.I’mso

tired,sowired,andsounabletokeepmymindonanythingbut

PeetasinceI’veseentheroses.Thecoffeewasahugemistake.

WhatIdidn’tneedwasastimulant.Mybodyvisiblyshakesand

Ican’tseemtocatchmybreath.Afterdaysinthebunker,I’m

squintingnomatterwhatdirectionIturn,andthelighthurts.

Eveninthecoolbreeze,sweattricklesdownmyface.

“So,whatexactlydoyouneedfrommeagain?”Iask.

“Justafewquicklinesthatshowyou’realiveandstill

fighting,”saysCressida.

“Okay.”ItakemypositionandthenI’mstaringintothered

light.Staring.Staring.“I’msorry,I’vegotnothing.”

Cressidawalksuptome.“Youfeelingokay?”Inod.She

pullsasmallclothfromherpocketandblotsmyface.“How

aboutwedotheoldQ-and-Athing?”

“Yeah.Thatwouldhelp,Ithink.”Icrossmyarmstohidethe

shaking.GlanceatFinnick,whogivesmeathumbs-up.Buthe’s

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lookingprettyshakyhimself.

Cressida’sbackinpositionnow.“So,Katniss.You’ve

survivedtheCapitolbombingofThirteen.Howdiditcompare

withwhatyouexperiencedonthegroundinEight?”

“Weweresofarundergroundthistime,therewasnoreal

danger.Thirteen’saliveandwellandsoam—”Myvoicecuts

offinadry,squeakingsound.

“Trythelineagain,”saysCressida.“‘Thirteen’saliveand

wellandsoamI.’”

Itakeabreath,tryingtoforceairdownintomydiaphragm.

“Thirteen’saliveandso—”No,that’swrong.

IswearIcanstillsmellthoseroses.

“Katniss,justthisonelineandyou’redonetoday.I

promise,”saysCressida.“‘Thirteen’saliveandwellandsoam

I.’”

Iswingmyarmstoloosenmyselfup.Placemyfistsonmy

hips.Thendropthemtomysides.Saliva’sfillingmymouthata

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ridiculousrateandIfeelvomitatthebackofmythroat.I

swallowhardandopenmylipssoIcangetthestupidlineout

andgohideinthewoodsand—that’swhenIstartcrying.

It’simpossibletobetheMockingjay.Impossibleto

completeeventhisonesentence.BecausenowIknowthat

everythingIsaywillbedirectlytakenoutonPeeta.Resultinhis

torture.Butnothisdeath,no,nothingsomercifulasthat.Snow

willensurethathislifeismuchworsethandeath.

“Cut,”IhearCressidasayquietly.

“What’swrongwithher?”Plutarchsaysunderhisbreath.

“She’sfiguredouthowSnow’susingPeeta,”saysFinnick.

There’ssomethinglikeacollectivesighofregretfromthe

semicircleofpeoplespreadoutbeforeme.BecauseIknowthis

now.Becausetherewillneverbeawayformetonotknowthis

again.Because,beyondthemilitarydisadvantagelosinga

Mockingjayentails,Iambroken.

Severalsetsofarmswouldembraceme.Butintheend,the

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onlypersonItrulywanttocomfortmeisHaymitch,becausehe

lovesPeeta,too.Ireachoutforhimandsaysomethinglikehis

nameandhe’sthere,holdingmeandpattingmyback.“It’sokay.

It’llbeokay,sweetheart.”Hesitsmeonalengthofbroken

marblepillarandkeepsanarmaroundmewhileIsob.

“Ican’tdothisanymore,”Isay.

“Iknow,”hesays.

“AllIcanthinkofis—whathe’sgoingtodotoPeeta—

becauseI’mtheMockingjay!”Igetout.

“Iknow.”Haymitch’sarmtightensaroundme.

“Didyousee?Howweirdheacted?Whatarethey—doing

tohim?”I’mgaspingforairbetweensobs,butImanageonelast

phrase.“It’smyfault!”AndthenIcrosssomelineintohysteria

andthere’saneedleinmyarmandtheworldslipsaway.

Itmustbestrong,whatevertheyshotintome,becauseit’sa

fulldaybeforeIcometo.Mysleepwasn’tpeaceful,though.I

havethesenseofemergingfromaworldofdark,hauntedplaces

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whereItraveledalone.Haymitchsitsinthechairbymybed,his

skinwaxen,hiseyesbloodshot.IrememberaboutPeetaandstart

totrembleagain.

Haymitchreachesoutandsqueezesmyshoulder.“It’sall

right.We’regoingtotrytogetPeetaout.”

“What?”Thatmakesnosense.

“Plutarch’ssendinginarescueteam.Hehaspeopleonthe

inside.HethinkswecangetPeetabackalive,”hesays.

“Whydidn’twebefore?”Isay.

“Becauseit’scostly.Buteveryoneagreesthisisthethingto

do.It’sthesamechoicewemadeinthearena.Todowhateverit

takestokeepyougoing.Wecan’tlosetheMockingjaynow.And

youcan’tperformunlessyouknowSnowcan’ttakeitouton

Peeta.”Haymitchoffersmeacup.“Here,drinksomething.”

Islowlysitupandtakeasipofwater.“Whatdoyoumean,

costly?”

Heshrugs.“Coverswillbeblown.Peoplemaydie.Butkeep

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inmindthatthey’redyingeveryday.Andit’snotjustPeeta;

we’regettingAnnieoutforFinnick,too.”

“Whereishe?”Iask.

“Behindthatscreen,sleepinghissedativeoff.Helostitright

afterweknockedyouout,”saysHaymitch.Ismilealittle,feela

bitlessweak.“Yeah,itwasareallyexcellentshoot.Youtwo

crackedupandBoggslefttoarrangethemissiontogetPeeta.

We’reofficiallyinreruns.”

“Well,ifBoggsisleadingit,that’saplus,”Isay.

“Oh,he’sontopofit.Itwasvolunteeronly,buthepretended

nottonoticemewavingmyhandintheair,”saysHaymitch.

“See?He’salreadydemonstratedgoodjudgment.”

Something’swrong.Haymitch’stryingalittletoohardto

cheermeup.It’snotreallyhisstyle.“Sowhoelsevolunteered?”

“Ithinkthereweresevenaltogether,”hesaysevasively.

Igetabadfeelinginthepitofmystomach.“Whoelse,

Haymitch?”Iinsist.

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Haymitchfinallydropsthegood-naturedact.“Youknow

whoelse,Katniss.Youknowwhosteppedupfirst.”

OfcourseIdo.

Gale.

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TodayImightlosebothofthem.

ItrytoimagineaworldwherebothGale’sandPeeta’s

voiceshaveceased.Handsstilled.Eyesunblinking.I’mstanding

overtheirbodies,havingalastlook,leavingtheroomwhere

theylie.ButwhenIopenthedoortostepoutintotheworld,

there’sonlyatremendousvoid.Apalegraynothingnessthatis

allmyfutureholds.

“Doyouwantmetohavethemsedateyouuntilit’sover?”

asksHaymitch.He’snotjoking.Thisisamanwhospenthis

adultlifeatthebottomofabottle,tryingtoanesthetizehimself

againsttheCapitol’scrimes.Thesixteen-year-oldboywhowon

thesecondQuarterQuellmusthavehadpeopleheloved—

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family,friends,asweetheartmaybe—thathefoughttogetback

to.Wherearetheynow?HowisitthatuntilPeetaandIwere

thrustuponhim,therewasnooneatallinhislife?Whatdid

Snowdotothem?

“No,”Isay.“IwanttogototheCapitol.Iwanttobepartof

therescuemission.”

“They’regone,”saysHaymitch.

“Howlongagodidtheyleave?Icouldcatchup.Icould—”

What?WhatcouldIdo?

Haymitchshakeshishead.“It’llneverhappen.You’retoo

valuableandtoovulnerable.Therewastalkofsendingyouto

anotherdistricttodiverttheCapitol’sattentionwhiletherescue

takesplace.Butnoonefeltyoucouldhandleit.”

“Please,Haymitch!”I’mbeggingnow.“Ihavetodo

something.Ican’tjustsitherewaitingtoheariftheydied.There

mustbesomethingIcando!”

“Allright.LetmetalktoPlutarch.Youstayput.”ButI

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can’t.Haymitch’sfootstepsarestillechoingintheouterhall

whenIfumblemywaythroughtheslitinthedividingcurtainto

findFinnicksprawledoutonhisstomach,hishandstwistedin

hispillowcase.Althoughit’scowardly—crueleven—torouse

himfromtheshadowy,muteddruglandtostarkreality,Igo

aheadanddoitbecauseIcan’tstandtofacethisbymyself.

AsIexplainoursituation,hisinitialagitationmysteriously

ebbs.“Don’tyousee,Katniss,thiswilldecidethings.Oneway

ortheother.Bytheendoftheday,they’lleitherbedeadorwith

us.It’s...it’smorethanwecouldhopefor!”

Well,that’sasunnyviewofoursituation.Andyetthere’s

somethingcalmingabouttheideathatthistormentcouldcome

toanend.

Thecurtainyanksbackandthere’sHaymitch.Hehasajob

forus,ifwecanpullittogether.Theystillneedpost-bombing

footageof13.“Ifwecangetitinthenextfewhours,Beeteecan

airitleadinguptotherescue,andmaybekeeptheCapitol’s

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attentionelsewhere.”

“Yes,adistraction,”saysFinnick.“Adecoyofsorts.”

“Whatwereallyneedissomethingsorivetingthateven

PresidentSnowwon’tbeabletotearhimselfaway.Gotanything

likethat?”asksHaymitch.

Havingajobthatmighthelpthemissionsnapsmeinto

focus.WhileIknockdownbreakfastandgetprepped,Itryto

thinkofwhatImightsay.PresidentSnowmustbewondering

howthatblood-splatteredfloorandhisrosesareaffectingme.If

hewantsmebroken,thenIwillhavetobewhole.ButIdon’t

thinkIwillconvincehimofanythingbyshoutingacoupleof

defiantlinesatthecamera.Besides,thatwon’tbuytherescue

teamanytime.Outburstsareshort.It’sstoriesthattaketime.

Idon’tknowifitwillwork,butwhenthetelevisioncrew’s

allassembledaboveground,IaskCressidaifshecouldstartout

byaskingmeaboutPeeta.Itakeaseatonthefallenmarblepillar

whereIhadmybreakdown,waitfortheredlightandCressida’s

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question.

“HowdidyoumeetPeeta?”sheasks.

AndthenIdothethingthatHaymitchhaswantedsincemy

firstinterview.Iopenup.“WhenImetPeeta,Iwaselevenyears

old,andIwasalmostdead.”ItalkaboutthatawfuldaywhenI

triedtosellthebabyclothesintherain,howPeeta’smother

chasedmefromthebakerydoor,andhowhetookabeatingto

bringmetheloavesofbreadthatsavedourlives.“Wehadnever

evenspoken.ThefirsttimeIevertalkedtoPeetawasonthe

traintotheGames.”

“Buthewasalreadyinlovewithyou,”saysCressida.

“Iguessso.”Iallowmyselfasmallsmile.

“Howareyoudoingwiththeseparation?”sheasks.

“Notwell.IknowatanymomentSnowcouldkillhim.

EspeciallysincehewarnedThirteenaboutthebombing.It’sa

terriblethingtolivewith,”Isay.“Butbecauseofwhatthey’re

puttinghimthrough,Idon’thaveanyreservationsanymore.

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AboutdoingwhateverittakestodestroytheCapitol.I’mfinally

free.”Iturnmygazeskywardandwatchtheflightofahawk

acrossthesky.“PresidentSnowonceadmittedtomethatthe

Capitolwasfragile.Atthetime,Ididn’tknowwhathemeant.It

washardtoseeclearlybecauseIwassoafraid.NowI’mnot.

TheCapitol’sfragilebecauseitdependsonthedistrictsfor

everything.Food,energy,eventhePeacekeepersthatpoliceus.

Ifwedeclareourfreedom,theCapitolcollapses.PresidentSnow,

thankstoyou,I’mofficiallydeclaringminetoday.”

I’vebeensufficient,ifnotdazzling.Everyonelovesthe

breadstory.Butit’smymessagetoPresidentSnowthatgetsthe

wheelsspinninginPlutarch’sbrain.HehastilycallsFinnickand

Haymitchoverandtheyhaveabriefbutintenseconversation

thatIcanseeHaymitchisn’thappywith.Plutarchseemstowin

—Finnick’spalebutnoddinghisheadbytheendofit.

AsFinnickmovestotakemyseatbeforethecamera,

Haymitchtellshim,“Youdon’thavetodothis.”

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“Yes,Ido.Ifitwillhelpher.”Finnickballsuphisropein

hishand.“I’mready.”

Idon’tknowwhattoexpect.AlovestoryaboutAnnie?An

accountoftheabusesinDistrict4?ButFinnickOdairtakesa

completelydifferenttack.

“PresidentSnowusedto...sellme...mybody,thatis,”

Finnickbeginsinaflat,removedtone.“Iwasn’ttheonlyone.If

avictorisconsidereddesirable,thepresidentgivesthemasa

rewardorallowspeopletobuythemforanexorbitantamountof

money.Ifyourefuse,hekillssomeoneyoulove.Soyoudoit.”

Thatexplainsit,then.Finnick’sparadeofloversinthe

Capitol.Theywereneverreallovers.Justpeoplelikeourold

HeadPeacekeeper,Cray,whoboughtdesperategirlstodevour

anddiscardbecausehecould.Iwanttointerruptthetapingand

begFinnick’sforgivenessforeveryfalsethoughtI’veeverhad

abouthim.Butwehaveajobtodo,andIsenseFinnick’srole

willbefarmoreeffectivethanmine.

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“Iwasn’ttheonlyone,butIwasthemostpopular,”hesays.

“Andperhapsthemostdefenseless,becausethepeopleIloved

weresodefenseless.Tomakethemselvesfeelbetter,mypatrons

wouldmakepresentsofmoneyorjewelry,butIfoundamuch

morevaluableformofpayment.”

Secrets,Ithink.That’swhatFinnicktoldmehisloverspaid

himin,onlyIthoughtthewholearrangementwasbyhischoice.

“Secrets,”hesays,echoingmythoughts.“Andthisiswhere

you’regoingtowanttostaytuned,PresidentSnow,becauseso

verymanyofthemwereaboutyou.Butlet’sbeginwithsomeof

theothers.”

Finnickbeginstoweaveatapestrysorichindetailthatyou

can’tdoubtitsauthenticity.Talesofstrangesexualappetites,

betrayalsoftheheart,bottomlessgreed,andbloodypowerplays.

Drunkensecretswhisperedoverdamppillowcasesinthedeadof

night.Finnickwassomeoneboughtandsold.Adistrictslave.A

handsomeone,certainly,butinreality,harmless.Whowouldhe

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tell?Andwhowouldbelievehimifhedid?Butsomesecretsare

toodeliciousnottoshare.Idon’tknowthepeopleFinnicknames

—allseemtobeprominentCapitolcitizens—butIknow,from

listeningtothechatterofmyprepteam,theattentionthemost

mildslipinjudgmentcandraw.Ifabadhaircutcanleadtohours

ofgossip,whatwillchargesofincest,back-stabbing,blackmail,

andarsonproduce?Evenasthewavesofshockand

recriminationrollovertheCapitol,thepeopletherewillbe

waiting,asIamnow,tohearaboutthepresident.

“Andnow,ontoourgoodPresidentCoriolanusSnow,”says

Finnick.“Suchayoungmanwhenherosetopower.Sucha

cleveronetokeepit.How,youmustaskyourself,didhedoit?

Oneword.That’sallyoureallyneedtoknow.Poison.”Finnick

goesbacktoSnow’spoliticalascension,whichIknownothing

of,andworkshiswayuptothepresent,pointingoutcaseafter

caseofthemysteriousdeathsofSnow’sadversariesor,even

worse,hisallieswhohadthepotentialtobecomethreats.People

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droppingdeadatafeastorslowly,inexplicablydeclininginto

shadowsoveraperiodofmonths.Blamedonbadshellfish,

elusiveviruses,oranoverlookedweaknessintheaorta.Snow

drinkingfromthepoisonedcuphimselftodeflectsuspicion.But

antidotesdon’talwayswork.Theysaythat’swhyhewearsthe

rosesthatreekofperfume.Theysayit’stocoverthescentof

bloodfromthemouthsoresthatwillneverheal.Theysay,they

say,theysay...Snowhasalistandnooneknowswhowillbe

next.

Poison.Theperfectweaponforasnake.

SincemyopinionoftheCapitolanditsnoblepresidentare

alreadysolow,Ican’tsayFinnick’sallegationsshockme.They

seemtohavefarmoreeffectonthedisplacedCapitolrebelslike

mycrewandFulvia—evenPlutarchoccasionallyreactsin

surprise,maybewonderinghowaspecifictidbitpassedhimby.

WhenFinnickfinishes,theyjustkeepthecamerasrollinguntil

finallyhehastobetheonetosay“Cut.”

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Thecrewhurriesinsidetoeditthematerial,andPlutarch

leadsFinnickoffforachat,probablytoseeifhehasanymore

stories.I’mleftwithHaymitchintherubble,wonderingif

Finnick’sfatewouldhaveonedaybeenmine.Whynot?Snow

couldhavegottenareallygoodpriceforthegirlonfire.

“Isthatwhathappenedtoyou?”IaskHaymitch.

“No.Mymotherandyoungerbrother.Mygirl.Theywereall

deadtwoweeksafterIwascrownedvictor.Becauseofthatstunt

Ipulledwiththeforcefield,”heanswers.“Snowhadnooneto

useagainstme.”

“I’msurprisedhedidn’tjustkillyou,”Isay.

“Oh,no.Iwastheexample.Thepersontoholduptothe

youngFinnicksandJohannasandCashmeres.Ofwhatcould

happentoavictorwhocausedproblems,”saysHaymitch.“But

heknewhehadnoleverageagainstme.”

“UntilPeetaandIcamealong,”Isaysoftly.Idon’tevenget

ashruginreturn.

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Withourjobdone,there’snothingleftforFinnickandmeto

dobutwait.WetrytofillthedraggingminutesinSpecial

Defense.Tieknots.Pushourluncharoundourbowls.Blow

thingsupontheshootingrange.Becauseofthedangerof

detection,nocommunicationcomesfromtherescueteam.At

15:00,thedesignatedhour,westandtenseandsilentintheback

ofaroomfullofscreensandcomputersandwatchBeeteeand

histeamtrytodominatetheairwaves.Hisusualfidgety

distractionisreplacedwithadeterminationIhaveneverseen.

Mostofmyinterviewdoesn’tmakethecut,justenoughtoshow

Iamaliveandstilldefiant.ItisFinnick’ssalaciousandgory

accountoftheCapitolthattakestheday.IsBeetee’sskill

improving?Orarehiscounter-partsintheCapitolalittletoo

fascinatedtowanttotuneFinnickout?Forthenextsixty

minutes,theCapitolfeedalternatesbetweenthestandard

afternoonnewscast,Finnick,andattemptstoblackitallout.But

therebeltechnoteammanagestooverrideeventhelatterand,in

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arealcoup,keepscontrolforalmosttheentireattackonSnow.

“Letitgo!”saysBeetee,throwinguphishands,

relinquishingthebroadcastbacktotheCapitol.Hemopshisface

withacloth.“Ifthey’renotoutoftherebynow,they’reall

dead.”HespinsinhischairtoseeFinnickandmereactingtohis

words.“Itwasagoodplan,though.DidPlutarchshowitto

you?”

Ofcoursenot.Beeteetakesustoanotherroomandshowsus

howtheteam,withthehelpofrebelinsiders,willattempt—has

attempted—tofreethevictorsfromanundergroundprison.It

seemstohaveinvolvedknockoutgasdistributedbythe

ventilationsystem,apowerfailure,thedetonationofabombina

governmentbuildingseveralmilesfromtheprison,andnowthe

disruptionofthebroadcast.Beetee’sgladwefindtheplanhard

tofollow,becausethenourenemieswill,too.

“Likeyourelectricitytrapinthearena?”Iask.

“Exactly.Andseehowwellthatworkedout?”saysBeetee.

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Well...notreally,Ithink.

FinnickandItrytostationourselvesinCommand,where

surelyfirstwordoftherescuewillcome,butwearebarred

becauseseriouswarbusinessisbeingcarriedout.Werefuseto

leaveSpecialDefenseandendupwaitinginthehummingbird

roomfornews.

Makingknots.Makingknots.Noword.Makingknots.Tick-

tock.Thisisaclock.DonotthinkofGale.DonotthinkofPeeta.

Makingknots.Wedonotwantdinner.Fingersrawandbleeding.

Finnickfinallygivesupandassumesthehunchedpositionhe

tookinthearenawhenthejabberjaysattacked.Iperfectmy

miniaturenoose.Thewordsof“TheHangingTree”replayinmy

head.GaleandPeeta.PeetaandGale.

“DidyouloveAnnierightaway,Finnick?”Iask.

“No.”Alongtimepassesbeforeheadds,“Shecreptupon

me.”

Isearchmyheart,butatthemomenttheonlypersonIcan

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feelcreepinguponmeisSnow.

Itmustbemidnight,itmustbetomorrowwhenHaymitch

pushesopenthedoor.“They’reback.We’rewantedinthe

hospital.”Mymouthopenswithafloodofquestionsthathecuts

offwith“That’sallIknow.”

Iwanttorun,butFinnick’sactingsostrange,asifhe’slost

theabilitytomove,soItakehishandandleadhimlikeasmall

child.ThroughSpecialDefense,intotheelevatorthatgoesthis

wayandthat,andontothehospitalwing.Theplaceisinan

uproar,withdoctorsshoutingordersandthewoundedbeing

wheeledthroughthehallsintheirbeds.

We’resideswipedbyagurneybearinganunconscious,

emaciatedyoungwomanwithashavedhead.Herfleshshows

bruisesandoozingscabs.JohannaMason.Whoactuallyknew

rebelsecrets.Atleasttheoneaboutme.Andthisishowshehas

paidforit.

Throughadoorway,IcatchaglimpseofGale,strippedtothe

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waist,perspirationstreamingdownhisfaceasadoctorremoves

somethingfromunderhisshoulderbladewithalongpairof

tweezers.Wounded,butalive.Icallhisname,starttowardhim

untilanursepushesmebackandshutsmeout.

“Finnick!”Somethingbetweenashriekandacryofjoy.A

lovelyifsomewhatbedraggledyoungwoman—darktangled

hair,seagreeneyes—runstowardusinnothingbutasheet.

“Finnick!”Andsuddenly,it’sasifthere’snooneintheworld

butthesetwo,crashingthroughspacetoreacheachother.They

collide,enfold,losetheirbalance,andslamagainstawall,where

theystay.Clingingintoonebeing.Indivisible.

Apangofjealousyhitsme.NotforeitherFinnickorAnnie

butfortheircertainty.Nooneseeingthemcoulddoubttheir

love.

Boggs,lookingalittleworseforwearbutuninjured,finds

Haymitchandme.“Wegotthemallout.ExceptEnobaria.But

sinceshe’sfromTwo,wedoubtshe’sbeingheldanyway.Peeta’s

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attheendofthehall.Theeffectsofthegasarejustwearingoff.

Youshouldbetherewhenhewakes.”

Peeta.

Aliveandwell—maybenotwellbutaliveandhere.Away

fromSnow.Safe.Here.Withme.InaminuteIcantouchhim.

Seehissmile.Hearhislaugh.

Haymitch’sgrinningatme.“Comeon,then,”hesays.

I’mlight-headedwithgiddiness.WhatwillIsay?Oh,who

careswhatIsay?PeetawillbeecstaticnomatterwhatIdo.He’ll

probablybekissingmeanyway.Iwonderifitwillfeellikethose

lastkissesonthebeachinthearena,theonesIhaven’tdaredlet

myselfconsideruntilthismoment.

Peeta’sawakealready,sittingonthesideofthebed,looking

bewilderedasatrioofdoctorsreassurehim,flashlightsinhis

eyes,checkhispulse.I’mdisappointedthatminewasnotthe

firstfacehesawwhenhewoke,butheseesitnow.Hisfeatures

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place.Desire?Desperation?Surelyboth,forhesweepsthe

doctorsaside,leapstohisfeet,andmovestowardme.Irunto

meethim,myarmsextendedtoembracehim.Hishandsare

reachingforme,too,tocaressmyface,Ithink.

Mylipsarejustforminghisnamewhenhisfingerslock

aroundmythroat.

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Thecoldcollarchafesmyneckandmakestheshiveringeven

hardertocontrol.AtleastIamnolongerintheclaustrophobic

tube,whilethemachinesclickandwhiraroundme,listeningtoa

disembodiedvoicetellingmetoholdstillwhileItrytoconvince

myselfIcanstillbreathe.Evennow,whenI’vebeenassured

therewillbenopermanentdamage,Ihungerforair.

Themedicalteam’smainconcerns—damagetomyspinal

cord,airway,veins,andarteries—havebeenallayed.Bruising,

hoarseness,thesorelarynx,thisstrangelittlecough—nottobe

worriedabout.Itwillallbefine.TheMockingjaywillnotlose

hervoice.Where,Iwanttoask,isthedoctorwhodeterminesifI

amlosingmymind?OnlyI’mnotsupposedtotalkrightnow.I

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can’teventhankBoggswhenhecomestocheckonme.Tolook

meoverandtellmehe’sseenalotworseinjuriesamongthe

soldierswhentheyteachchokeholdsintraining.

ItwasBoggswhoknockedoutPeetawithoneblowbefore

anypermanentdamagecouldbedone.IknowHaymitchwould

havecometomydefenseifhehadn’tbeenutterlyunprepared.

TocatchbothHaymitchandmyselfoffguardisararething.But

wehavebeensoconsumedwithsavingPeeta,sotorturedby

havinghimintheCapitol’shands,thattheelationathavinghim

backblindedus.IfI’dhadaprivatereunionwithPeeta,hewould

havekilledme.Nowthathe’sderanged.

No,notderanged,Iremindmyself.Hijacked.That’sthe

wordIheardpassbetweenPlutarchandHaymitchasIwas

wheeledpasttheminthehallway.Hijacked.Idon’tknowwhatit

means.

Prim,whoappearedmomentsaftertheattackandhasstayed

asclosetomeaspossibleeversince,spreadsanotherblanket

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overme.“Ithinkthey’lltakethecollaroffsoon,Katniss.You

won’tbesocoldthen.”Mymother,who’sbeenassistingina

complicatedsurgery,hasstillnotbeeninformedofPeeta’s

assault.Primtakesoneofmyhands,whichisclutchedinafist,

andmassagesituntilitopensandbloodbeginstoflowthrough

myfingersagain.She’sstartingonthesecondfistwhenthe

doctorsshowup,removethecollar,andgivemeashotof

somethingforpainandswelling.Ilie,asinstructed,withmy

headstill,notaggravatingtheinjuriestomyneck.

Plutarch,Haymitch,andBeeteehavebeenwaitinginthehall

forthedoctorstogivethemclearancetoseeme.Idon’tknowif

they’vetoldGale,butsincehe’snothere,Iassumetheyhaven’t.

PlutarchushersthedoctorsoutandtriestoorderPrimtogoas

well,butshesays,“No.Ifyouforcemetoleave,I’llgodirectly

tosurgeryandtellmymothereverythingthat’shappened.AndI

warnyou,shedoesn’tthinkmuchofaGamemakercallingthe

shotsonKatniss’slife.Especiallywhenyou’vetakensuchpoor

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careofher.”

Plutarchlooksoffended,butHaymitchchuckles.“I’dletit

go,Plutarch,”hesays.Primstays.

“So,Katniss,Peeta’sconditionhascomeasashocktoallof

us,”saysPlutarch.“Wecouldn’thelpbutnoticehisdeterioration

inthelasttwointerviews.Obviously,he’dbeenabused,andwe

puthispsychologicalstatedowntothat.Nowwebelieve

somethingmorewasgoingon.ThattheCapitolhasbeen

subjectinghimtoaratheruncommontechniqueknownas

hijacking.Beetee?”

“I’msorry,”Beeteesays,“butIcan’ttellyouallthe

specificsofit,Katniss.TheCapitol’sverysecretiveaboutthis

formoftorture,andIbelievetheresultsareinconsistent.This

wedoknow.It’satypeoffearconditioning.Thetermhijack

comesfromanoldEnglishwordthatmeans‘tocapture,’oreven

better,‘seize.’Webelieveitwaschosenbecausethetechnique

involvestheuseoftrackerjackervenom,andthejacksuggested

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hijack.YouwerestunginyourfirstHungerGames,sounlike

mostofus,youhavefirsthandknowledgeoftheeffectsofthe

venom.”

Terror.Hallucinations.NightmarishvisionsoflosingthoseI

love.Becausethevenomtargetsthepartofthebrainthathouses

fear.

“I’msureyourememberhowfrighteningitwas.Didyou

alsosuffermentalconfusionintheaftermath?”asksBeetee.“A

senseofbeingunabletojudgewhatwastrueandwhatwasfalse?

Mostpeoplewhohavebeenstungandlivedtotellaboutitreport

somethingofthekind.”

Yes.ThatencounterwithPeeta.EvenafterIwas

clearheaded,Iwasn’tsureifhehadsavedmylifebytakingon

CatoorifI’dimaginedit.

“Recallismademoredifficultbecausememoriescanbe

changed.”Beeteetapshisforehead.“Broughttotheforefrontof

yourmind,altered,andsavedagainintherevisedform.Now

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imaginethatIaskyoutoremembersomething—eitherwitha

verbalsuggestionorbymakingyouwatchatapeoftheevent—

andwhilethatexperienceisrefreshed,Igiveyouadoseof

trackerjackervenom.Notenoughtoinduceathree-dayblackout.

Justenoughtoinfusethememorywithfearanddoubt.And

that’swhatyourbrainputsinlong-termstorage.”

Istarttofeelsick.Primasksthequestionthat’sinmymind.

“Isthatwhatthey’vedonetoPeeta?Takenhismemoriesof

Katnissanddistortedthemsothey’rescary?”

Beeteenods.“Soscarythathe’dseeheraslife-threatening.

Thathemighttrytokillher.Yes,that’sourcurrenttheory.”

Icovermyfacewithmyarmsbecausethisisn’thappening.

Itisn’tpossible.ForsomeonetomakePeetaforgethelovesme.

..noonecoulddothat.

“Butyoucanreverseit,right?”asksPrim.

“Um...verylittledataonthat,”saysPlutarch.“None,

really.Ifhijackingrehabilitationhasbeenattemptedbefore,we

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havenoaccesstothoserecords.”

“Well,you’regoingtotry,aren’tyou?”Primpersists.

“You’renotjustgoingtolockhimupinsomepaddedroomand

leavehimtosuffer?”

“Ofcourse,we’lltry,Prim,”saysBeetee.“It’sjust,wedon’t

knowtowhatdegreewe’llsucceed.Ifany.Myguessisthat

fearfuleventsarethehardesttorootout.They’retheoneswe

naturallyrememberthebest,afterall.”

“AndapartfromhismemoriesofKatniss,wedon’tyetknow

whatelsehasbeentamperedwith,”saysPlutarch.“We’re

puttingtogetherateamofmentalhealthandmilitary

professionalstocomeupwithacounterattack.I,personally,feel

optimisticthathe’llmakeafullrecovery.”

“Doyou?”asksPrimcaustically.“Andwhatdoyouthink,

Haymitch?”

IshiftmyarmsslightlysoIcanseehisexpressionthrough

thecrack.He’sexhaustedanddiscouragedasheadmits,“Ithink

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Peetamightgetsomewhatbetter.But...Idon’tthinkhe’llever

bethesame.”Isnapmyarmsbacktogether,closingthecrack,

shuttingthemallout.

“Atleasthe’salive,”saysPlutarch,asifhe’slosingpatience

withthelotofus.“SnowexecutedPeeta’sstylistandhisprep

teamonlivetelevisiontonight.We’venoideawhathappenedto

EffieTrinket.Peeta’sdamaged,buthe’shere.Withus.And

that’sadefiniteimprovementoverhissituationtwelvehours

ago.Let’skeepthatinmind,allright?”

Plutarch’sattempttocheermeup—lacedwiththenewsof

anotherfour,possiblyfive,murders—somehowbackfires.

Portia.Peeta’sprepteam.Effie.Theefforttofightbacktears

makesmythroatthrobuntilI’mgaspingagain.Eventually,they

havenochoicebuttosedateme.

WhenIwake,IwonderifthiswillbetheonlywayIsleep

now,withdrugsshotintomyarm.I’mgladI’mnotsupposedto

talkforthenextfewdays,becausethere’snothingIwanttosay.

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Ordo.Infact,I’mamodelpatient,mylethargytakenfor

restraint,obediencetothedoctors’orders.Inolongerfeellike

crying.Infact,Icanonlymanagetoholdontoonesimple

thought:animageofSnow’sfaceaccompaniedbythewhisperin

myhead.Iwillkillyou.

MymotherandPrimtaketurnsnursingme,coaxingmeto

swallowbitesofsoftfood.Peoplecomeinperiodicallytogive

meupdatesonPeeta’scondition.Thehighlevelsoftracker

jackervenomareworkingtheirwayoutofhisbody.He’sbeing

treatedonlybystrangers,nativesof13—noonefromhomeor

theCapitolhasbeenallowedtoseehim—tokeepany

dangerousmemoriesfromtriggering.Ateamofspecialists

workslonghoursdesigningastrategyforhisrecovery.

Gale’snotsupposedtovisitme,ashe’sconfinedtobedwith

somekindofshoulderwound.Butonthethirdnight,afterI’ve

beenmedicatedandthelightsturneddownlowforbedtime,he

slipssilentlyintomyroom.Hedoesn’tspeak,justrunshis

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fingersoverthebruisesonmyneckwithatouchaslightasmoth

wings,plantsakissbetweenmyeyes,anddisappears.

Thenextmorning,I’mdischargedfromthehospitalwith

instructionstomovequietlyandspeakonlywhennecessary.I’m

notimprintedwithaschedule,soIwanderaroundaimlessly

untilPrim’sexcusedfromherhospitaldutiestotakemetoour

family’slatestcompartment.2212.Identicaltothelastone,but

withnowindow.

Buttercuphasnowbeenissuedadailyfoodallowanceanda

panofsandthat’skeptunderthebathroomsink.AsPrimtucks

meintobed,hehopsuponmypillow,vyingforherattention.

Shecradleshimbutstaysfocusedonme.“Katniss,Iknowthis

wholethingwithPeetaisterribleforyou.Butremember,Snow

workedonhimforweeks,andwe’veonlyhadhimforafew

days.There’sachancethattheoldPeeta,theonewholovesyou,

isstillinside.Tryingtogetbacktoyou.Don’tgiveuponhim.”

Ilookatmylittlesisterandthinkhowshehasinheritedthe

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bestqualitiesourfamilyhastooffer:mymother’shealing

hands,myfather’slevelhead,andmyfight.There’ssomething

elsethereaswell,somethingentirelyherown.Anabilitytolook

intotheconfusingmessoflifeandseethingsforwhattheyare.

Isitpossibleshecouldberight?ThatPeetacouldreturntome?

“Ihavetogetbacktothehospital,”Primsays,placing

Buttercuponthebedbesideme.“Youtwokeepeachother

company,okay?”

Buttercupspringsoffthebedandfollowshertothedoor,

complainingloudlywhenhe’sleftbehind.We’reaboutasmuch

companyforeachotherasdirt.Aftermaybethirtyseconds,I

knowIcan’tstandbeingconfinedinthesubterraneancell,and

leaveButtercuptohisowndevices.Igetlostseveraltimes,but

eventuallyImakemywaydowntoSpecialDefense.EveryoneI

passstaresatthebruises,andIcan’thelpfeelingself-conscious

tothepointthatItugmycollaruptomyears.

Galemusthavebeenreleasedfromthehospitalthismorning

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aswell,becauseIfindhiminoneoftheresearchroomswith

Beetee.They’reimmersed,headsbentoveradrawing,takinga

measurement.Versionsofthepicturelitterthetableandfloor.

Tackedonthecorkboardwallsandoccupyingseveralcomputer

screensareotherdesignsofsomesort.Intheroughlinesofone,

IrecognizeGale’stwitch-upsnare.“Whatarethese?”Iask

hoarsely,pullingtheirattentionfromthesheet.

“Ah,Katniss,you’vefoundusout,”saysBeeteecheerfully.

“What?Isthisasecret?”IknowGale’sbeendownhere

workingwithBeeteealot,butIassumedtheyweremessing

aroundwithbowsandguns.

“Notreally.ButI’vefeltalittleguiltyaboutit.StealingGale

awayfromyousomuch,”Beeteeadmits.

SinceI’vespentmostofmytimein13disoriented,worried,

angry,beingremade,orhospitalized,Ican’tsayGale’sabsences

haveinconveniencedme.Thingshaven’tbeenexactly

harmoniousbetweenus,either.ButIletBeeteethinkheowes

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me.“Ihopeyou’vebeenputtinghistimetogooduse.”

“Comeandsee,”hesays,wavingmeovertoacomputer

screen.

Thisiswhatthey’vebeendoing.Takingthefundamental

ideasbehindGale’strapsandadaptingthemintoweapons

againsthumans.Bombsmostly.It’slessaboutthemechanicsof

thetrapsthanthepsychologybehindthem.Booby-trappingan

areathatprovidessomethingessentialtosurvival.Awateror

foodsupply.Frighteningpreysothatalargenumberfleeintoa

greaterdestruction.Endangeringoffspringinordertodrawinthe

actualdesiredtarget,theparent.Luringthevictimintowhat

appearstobeasafehaven—wheredeathawaitsit.Atsome

point,GaleandBeeteeleftthewildernessbehindandfocusedon

morehumanimpulses.Likecompassion.Abombexplodes.

Timeisallowedforpeopletorushtotheaidofthewounded.

Thenasecond,morepowerfulbombkillsthemaswell.

“Thatseemstobecrossingsomekindofline,”Isay.“So

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anythinggoes?”Theybothstareatme—Beeteewithdoubt,

Galewithhostility.“Iguessthereisn’tarulebookforwhat

mightbeunacceptabletodotoanotherhumanbeing.”

“Surethereis.BeeteeandIhavebeenfollowingthesame

rulebookPresidentSnowusedwhenhehijackedPeeta,”says

Gale.

Cruel,buttothepoint.Ileavewithoutfurthercomment.I

feelifIdon’tgetoutsideimmediately,I’lljustgoballistic,but

I’mstillinSpecialDefensewhenI’mwaylaidbyHaymitch.

“Comeon,”hesays.“Weneedyoubackupatthehospital.”

“Whatfor?”Iask.

“They’regoingtotrysomethingonPeeta,”heanswers.

“SendinthemostinnocuouspersonfromTwelvetheycancome

upwith.FindsomeonePeetamightsharechildhoodmemories

with,butnothingtooclosetoyou.They’rescreeningpeople

now.”

Iknowthiswillbeadifficulttask,sinceanyonePeetashares

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childhoodmemorieswithwouldmostlikelybefromtown,and

almostnoneofthosepeopleescapedtheflames.Butwhenwe

reachthehospitalroomthathasbeenturnedintoaworkspace

forPeeta’srecoveryteam,thereshesitschattingwithPlutarch.

DellyCartwright.Asalways,shegivesmeasmilethatsuggests

I’mherbestfriendintheworld.Shegivesthissmileto

everyone.“Katniss!”shecallsout.

“Hey,Delly,”Isay.I’dheardsheandheryoungerbrother

hadsurvived.Herparents,whorantheshoeshopintown,

weren’taslucky.Shelooksolder,wearingthedrab13clothes

thatflatternoone,withherlongyellowhairinapracticalbraid

insteadofcurls.Delly’sabitthinnerthanIremember,butshe

wasoneofthefewkidsinDistrict12withacoupleofpoundsto

spare.Thediethere,thestress,thegriefoflosingherparents

haveall,nodoubt,contributed.“Howareyoudoing?”Iask.

“Oh,it’sbeenalotofchangesallatonce.”Hereyesfillwith

tears.“Buteveryone’sreallynicehereinThirteen,don’tyou

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think?”

Dellymeansit.Shegenuinelylikespeople.Allpeople,not

justaselectfewshe’sspentyearsmakinguphermindabout.

“They’vemadeanefforttomakeusfeelwelcome,”Isay.I

thinkthat’safairstatementwithoutgoingoverboard.“Areyou

theonethey’vepickedtoseePeeta?”

“Iguessso.PoorPeeta.Pooryou.I’llneverunderstandthe

Capitol,”shesays.

“Betternotto,maybe,”Itellher.

“Delly’sknownPeetaforalongtime,”saysPlutarch.

“Oh,yes!”Delly’sfacebrightens.“Weplayedtogetherfrom

whenwewerelittle.Iusedtotellpeoplehewasmybrother.”

“Whatdoyouthink?”Haymitchasksme.“Anythingthat

mighttriggermemoriesofyou?”

“Wewereallinthesameclass.Butweneveroverlapped

much,”Isay.

“Katnisswasalwayssoamazing,Ineverdreamedshewould

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

noticeme,”saysDelly.“Thewayshecouldhuntandgointhe

Hobandeverything.Everyoneadmiredherso.”

HaymitchandIbothhavetotakeahardlookatherfaceto

double-checkifshe’sjoking.TohearDellydescribeit,Ihad

nexttonofriendsbecauseIintimidatedpeoplebybeingso

exceptional.Nottrue.IhadnexttonofriendsbecauseIwasn’t

friendly.LeaveittoDellytospinmeintosomethingwonderful.

“Dellyalwaysthinksthebestofeveryone,”Iexplain.“I

don’tthinkPeetacouldhavebadmemoriesassociatedwithher.”

ThenIremember.“Wait.IntheCapitol.WhenIliedabout

recognizingtheAvoxgirl.Peetacoveredformeandsaidshe

lookedlikeDelly.”

“Iremember,”saysHaymitch.“ButIdon’tknow.Itwasn’t

true.Dellywasn’tactuallythere.Idon’tthinkitcancompete

withyearsofchildhoodmemories.”

“EspeciallywithsuchapleasantcompanionasDelly,”says

Plutarch.“Let’sgiveitashot.”

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Plutarch,Haymitch,andIgototheobservationroomnextto

wherePeeta’sconfined.It’scrowdedwithtenmembersofhis

recoveryteamarmedwithpensandclipboards.Theone-way

glassandaudiosetupallowustowatchPeetasecretly.Helieson

thebed,hisarmsstrappeddown.Hedoesn’tfighttherestraints,

buthishandsfidgetcontinuously.Hisexpressionseemsmore

lucidthanwhenhetriedtostrangleme,butit’sstillnotonethat

belongstohim.

Whenthedoorquietlyopens,hiseyeswideninalarm,then

becomeconfused.Dellycrossestheroomtentatively,butasshe

nearshimshenaturallybreaksintoasmile.“Peeta?It’sDelly.

Fromhome.”

“Delly?”Someofthecloudsseemtoclear.“Delly.It’syou.”

“Yes!”shesayswithobviousrelief.“Howdoyoufeel?”

“Awful.Wherearewe?What’shappened?”asksPeeta.

“Herewego,”saysHaymitch.

“ItoldhertosteerclearofanymentionofKatnissorthe

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Capitol,”saysPlutarch.“Justseehowmuchofhomeshecould

conjureup.”

“Well...we’reinDistrictThirteen.Weliveherenow,”says

Delly.

“That’swhatthosepeoplehavebeensaying.Butitmakesno

sense.Whyaren’twehome?”asksPeeta.

Dellybitesherlip.“Therewas...anaccident.Imisshome

badly,too.Iwasonlyjustthinkingaboutthosechalkdrawings

weusedtodoonthepavingstones.Yoursweresowonderful.

Rememberwhenyoumadeeachoneadifferentanimal?”

“Yeah.Pigsandcatsandthings,”saysPeeta.“Yousaid...

aboutanaccident?”

IcanseethesheenofsweatonDelly’sforeheadasshetries

toworkaroundthequestion.“Itwasbad.Noone...couldstay,”

shesayshaltingly.

“Hanginthere,girl,”saysHaymitch.

“ButIknowyou’regoingtolikeithere,Peeta.Thepeople

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havebeenreallynicetous.There’salwaysfoodandclean

clothes,andschool’smuchmoreinteresting,”saysDelly.

“Whyhasn’tmyfamilycometoseeme?”Peetaasks.

“Theycan’t.”Delly’stearingupagain.“Alotofpeople

didn’tgetoutofTwelve.Sowe’llneedtomakeanewlifehere.

I’msuretheycoulduseagoodbaker.Doyourememberwhen

yourfatherusedtoletusmakedoughgirlsandboys?”

“Therewasafire,”Peetasayssuddenly.

“Yes,”shewhispers.

“Twelveburneddown,didn’tit?Becauseofher,”saysPeeta

angrily.“BecauseofKatniss!”Hebeginstopullonthe

restraints.

“Oh,no,Peeta.Itwasn’therfault,”saysDelly.

“Didshetellyouthat?”hehissesather.

“Getheroutofthere,”saysPlutarch.Thedooropens

immediatelyandDellybeginstobacktowarditslowly.

“Shedidn’thaveto.Iwas—”Dellybegins.

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“Becauseshe’slying!She’saliar!Youcan’tbelieve

anythingshesays!She’ssomekindofmutttheCapitolcreated

touseagainsttherestofus!”Peetashouts.

“No,Peeta.She’snota—”Dellytriesagain.

“Don’ttrusther,Delly,”saysPeetainafranticvoice.“Idid,

andshetriedtokillme.Shekilledmyfriends.Myfamily.Don’t

evengonearher!She’samutt!”

Ahandreachesthroughthedoorway,pullsDellyout,andthe

doorswingsshut.ButPeetakeepsyelling.“Amutt!She’sa

stinkingmutt!”

Notonlydoeshehatemeandwanttokillme,henolonger

believesI’mhuman.Itwaslesspainfulbeingstrangled.

Aroundmetherecoveryteammembersscribblelikecrazy,

takingdowneveryword.HaymitchandPlutarchgrabmyarms

andpropelmeoutoftheroom.Theyleanmeupagainstawallin

thesilenthallway.ButIknowPeetacontinuestoscreambehind

thedoorandtheglass.

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Primwaswrong.Peetaisirretrievable.“Ican’tstayhere

anymore,”Isaynumbly.“IfyouwantmetobetheMockingjay,

you’llhavetosendmeaway.”

“Wheredoyouwanttogo?”asksHaymitch.

“TheCapitol.”It’stheonlyplaceIcanthinkofwhereIhave

ajobtodo.

“Can’tdoit,”Plutarchsays.“Notuntilallthedistrictsare

secure.Goodnewsis,thefighting’salmostoverinallofthem

butTwo.It’satoughnuttocrack,though.”

That’sright.Firstthedistricts.NexttheCapitol.AndthenI

huntdownSnow.

“Fine,”Isay.“SendmetoTwo.”

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District2isalargedistrict,asonemightexpect,composed

ofaseriesofvillagesspreadacrossthemountains.Eachwas

originallyassociatedwithamineorquarry,althoughnow,many

aredevotedtothehousingandtrainingofPeacekeepers.Noneof

thiswouldpresentmuchofachallenge,sincetherebelshave

13’sairpowerontheirside,exceptforonething:Atthecenterof

thedistrictisavirtuallyimpenetrablemountainthathousesthe

heartoftheCapitol’smilitary.

We’venicknamedthemountaintheNutsinceIrelayed

Plutarch’s“toughnuttocrack”commenttothewearyand

discouragedrebelleadershere.TheNutwasestablisheddirectly

aftertheDarkDays,whentheCapitolhadlost13andwas

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desperateforanewundergroundstronghold.Theyhadsomeof

theirmilitaryresourcessituatedontheoutskirtsoftheCapitol

itself—nuclearmissiles,aircraft,troops—butasignificant

chunkoftheirpowerwasnowunderanenemy’scontrol.Of

course,therewasnowaytheycouldhopetoreplicate13,which

wastheworkofcenturies.However,intheoldminesofnearby

District2,theysawopportunity.Fromtheair,theNutappeared

tobejustanothermountainwithafewentrancesonitsfaces.But

insidewerevastcavernousspaceswhereslabsofstoneshadbeen

cut,hauledtothesurface,andtransporteddownslipperynarrow

roadstomakedistantbuildings.Therewasevenatrainsystemto

facilitatetransportingtheminersfromtheNuttotheverycenter

ofthemaintowninDistrict2.Itranrighttothesquarethat

PeetaandIvisitedduringtheVictoryTour,standingonthewide

marblestepsoftheJusticeBuilding,tryingnottolooktoo

closelyatCato’sandClove’sgrievingfamiliesassembledbelow

us.

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Itwasnotthemostidealterrain,plaguedasitwasby

mudslides,floods,andavalanches.Buttheadvantages

outweighedtheconcerns.Asthey’dcutdeepintothemountain,

theminershadleftlargepillarsandwallsofstonetosupportthe

infrastructure.TheCapitolreinforcedtheseandsetaboutmaking

themountaintheirnewmilitarybase.Fillingitwithcomputer

banksandmeetingrooms,barracksandarsenals.Widening

entrancestoallowtheexitofhovercraftfromthehangar,

installingmissilelaunchers.Butonthewhole,leavingthe

exteriorofthemountainlargelyunchanged.Arough,rocky

tangleoftreesandwildlife.Anaturalfortresstoprotectthem

fromtheirenemies.

Bytheotherdistricts’standards,theCapitolbabiedthe

inhabitantshere.JustbylookingattheDistrict2rebels,youcan

telltheyweredecentlyfedandcaredforinchildhood.Somedid

endupasquarryandmineworkers.Otherswereeducatedfor

jobsintheNutorfunneledintotheranksofPeacekeepers.

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Trainedyoungandhardforcombat.TheHungerGameswerean

opportunityforwealthandakindofglorynotseenelsewhere.Of

course,thepeopleof2swallowedtheCapitol’spropagandamore

easilythantherestofus.Embracedtheirways.Butforallthat,

attheendoftheday,theywerestillslaves.Andifthatwaslost

onthecitizenswhobecamePeacekeepersorworkedintheNut,

itwasnotlostonthestonecutterswhoformedthebackboneof

theresistancehere.

ThingsstandastheydidwhenIarrivedtwoweeksago.The

outervillagesareinrebelhands,thetowndivided,andtheNutis

asuntouchableasever.Itsfewentrancesheavilyfortified,its

heartsafelyenfoldedinthemountain.Whileeveryotherdistrict

hasnowwrestedcontrolfromtheCapitol,2remainsinits

pocket.

Eachday,IdowhateverIcantohelp.Visitthewounded.

Tapeshortproposwithmycameracrew.I’mnotallowedin

actualcombat,buttheyinvitemetothemeetingsonthestatusof

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thewar,whichisalotmorethantheydidin13.It’smuchbetter

here.Freer,noschedulesonmyarm,fewerdemandsonmytime.

Iliveabovegroundintherebelvillagesorsurroundingcaves.For

safety’ssake,I’mrelocatedoften.Duringtheday,I’vebeen

givenclearancetohuntaslongasItakeaguardalonganddon’t

straytoofar.Inthethin,coldmountainair,Ifeelsomephysical

strengthreturning,mymindclearingawaytherestofthe

fogginess.Butwiththismentalclaritycomesanevensharper

awarenessofwhathasbeendonetoPeeta.

Snowhasstolenhimfromme,twistedhimbeyond

recognition,andmademeapresentofhim.Boggs,whocameto

2whenIdid,toldmethatevenwithalltheplotting,itwasa

littletooeasytorescuePeeta.Hebelievesif13hadn’tmadethe

effort,Peetawould’vebeendeliveredtomeanyway.Droppedoff

inanactivelywarringdistrictorperhaps13itself.Tiedupwith

ribbonsandtaggedwithmyname.Programmedtomurderme.

It’sonlynowthathe’sbeencorruptedthatIcanfully

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appreciatetherealPeeta.EvenmorethanIwould’veifhe’d

died.Thekindness,thesteadiness,thewarmththathadan

unexpectedheatbehindit.OutsideofPrim,mymother,and

Gale,howmanypeopleintheworldlovemeunconditionally?I

thinkinmycase,theanswermaynowbenone.Sometimeswhen

I’malone,Itakethepearlfromwhereitlivesinmypocketand

trytoremembertheboywiththebread,thestrongarmsthat

wardedoffnightmaresonthetrain,thekissesinthearena.To

makemyselfputanametothethingI’velost.Butwhat’sthe

use?It’sgone.He’sgone.Whateverexistedbetweenusisgone.

Allthat’sleftismypromisetokillSnow.Itellmyselfthisten

timesaday.

Backin13,Peeta’srehabilitationcontinues.EventhoughI

don’task,Plutarchgivesmecheerfulupdatesonthephonelike

“Goodnews,Katniss!Ithinkwe’vealmostgothimconvinced

you’renotamutt!”Or“Todayhewasallowedtofeedhimself

pudding!”

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WhenHaymitchgetsonafter,headmitsPeeta’snobetter.

Theonlydubiousrayofhopehascomefrommysister.“Prim

cameupwiththeideaoftryingtohijackhimback,”Haymitch

tellsme.“Bringupthedistortedmemoriesofyouandthengive

himabigdoseofacalmingdrug,likemorphling.We’veonly

trieditononememory.Thetapeofthetwoofyouinthecave,

whenyoutoldhimthatstoryaboutgettingPrimthegoat.”

“Anyimprovement?”Iask.

“Well,ifextremeconfusionisanimprovementoverextreme

terror,thenyes,”saysHaymitch.“ButI’mnotsureitis.Helost

theabilitytospeakforseveralhours.Wentintosomesortof

stupor.Whenhecameout,theonlythingheaskedaboutwasthe

goat.”

“Right,”Isay.

“How’sitoutthere?”heasks.

“Noforwardmotion,”Itellhim.

“We’resendingoutateamtohelpwiththemountain.Beetee

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andsomeoftheothers,”hesays.“Youknow,thebrains.”

Whenthebrainsareselected,I’mnotsurprisedtoseeGale’s

nameonthelist.IthoughtBeeteewouldbringhim,notforhis

technologicalexpertise,butinthehopesthathecouldsomehow

thinkofawaytoensnareamountain.Originally,Galeofferedto

comewithmeto2,butIcouldseeIwastearinghimawayfrom

hisworkwithBeetee.Itoldhimtosittightandstaywherehe

wasmostneeded.Ididn’ttellhimhispresencewouldmakeit

evenmoredifficultformetomournPeeta.

Galefindsmewhentheyarrivelateoneafternoon.I’m

sittingonalogattheedgeofmycurrentvillage,pluckinga

goose.Adozenorsoofthebirdsarepiledatmyfeet.Great

flocksofthemhavebeenmigratingthroughheresinceI’ve

arrived,andthepickingsareeasy.Withoutaword,Galesettles

besidemeandbeginstorelieveabirdofitsfeathers.We’re

throughabouthalfwhenhesays,“Anychancewe’llgettoeat

these?”

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“Yeah.Mostgotothecampkitchen,buttheyexpectmeto

giveacoupletowhoeverI’mstayingwithtonight,”Isay.“For

keepingme.”

“Isn’tthehonorofthethingenough?”hesays.

“You’dthink,”Ireply.“Butword’sgottenoutthat

mockingjaysarehazardoustoyourhealth.”

Wepluckinsilenceforawhilelonger.Thenhesays,“Isaw

Peetayesterday.Throughtheglass.”

“What’dyouthink?”Iask.

“Somethingselfish,”saysGale.

“Thatyoudon’thavetobejealousofhimanymore?”My

fingersgiveayank,andacloudoffeathersfloatsdownaround

us.

“No.Justtheopposite.”Galepullsafeatheroutofmyhair.

“Ithought...I’llnevercompetewiththat.Nomatterhowmuch

painI’min.”Hespinsthefeatherbetweenhisthumband

forefinger.“Idon’tstandachanceifhedoesn’tgetbetter.You’ll

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neverbeabletolethimgo.You’llalwaysfeelwrongabout

beingwithme.”

“ThewayIalwaysfeltwrongkissinghimbecauseofyou,”I

say.

Galeholdsmygaze.“IfIthoughtthatwastrue,Icould

almostlivewiththerestofit.”

“Itistrue,”Iadmit.“ButsoiswhatyousaidaboutPeeta.”

Galemakesasoundofexasperation.Nonetheless,after

we’vedroppedoffthebirdsandvolunteeredtogobacktothe

woodstogatherkindlingfortheeveningfire,Ifindmyself

wrappedinhisarms.Hislipsbrushingthefadedbruisesonmy

neck,workingtheirwaytomymouth.DespitewhatIfeelfor

Peeta,thisiswhenIacceptdeepdownthathe’llnevercome

backtome.OrI’llnevergobacktohim.I’llstayin2untilit

falls,gototheCapitolandkillSnow,andthendieformy

trouble.Andhe’lldieinsaneandhatingme.Sointhefading

lightIshutmyeyesandkissGaletomakeupforallthekisses

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I’vewithheld,andbecauseitdoesn’tmatteranymore,and

becauseI’msodesperatelylonelyIcan’tstandit.

Gale’stouchandtasteandheatremindmethatatleastmy

body’sstillalive,andforthemomentit’sawelcomefeeling.I

emptymymindandletthesensationsrunthroughmyflesh,

happytolosemyself.WhenGalepullsawayslightly,Imove

forwardtoclosethegap,butIfeelhishandundermychin.

“Katniss,”hesays.TheinstantIopenmyeyes,theworldseems

disjointed.Thisisnotourwoodsorourmountainsorourway.

Myhandautomaticallygoestothescaronmylefttemple,which

Iassociatewithconfusion.“Nowkissme.”Bewildered,

unblinking,Istandtherewhileheleansinandpresseshislipsto

minebriefly.Heexaminesmyfaceclosely.“What’sgoingonin

yourhead?”

“Idon’tknow,”Iwhisperback.

“Thenit’slikekissingsomeonewho’sdrunk.Itdoesn’t

count,”hesayswithaweakattemptatalaugh.Hescoopsupa

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pileofkindlinganddropsitinmyemptyarms,returningmeto

myself.

“Howdoyouknow?”Isay,mostlytocovermy

embarrassment.“Haveyoukissedsomeonewho’sdrunk?”I

guessGalecould’vebeenkissinggirlsrightandleftbackin12.

Hecertainlyhadenoughtakers.Ineverthoughtaboutitmuch

before.

Hejustshakeshishead.“No.Butit’snothardtoimagine.”

“So,youneverkissedanyothergirls?”Iask.

“Ididn’tsaythat.Youknow,youwereonlytwelvewhenwe

met.Andarealpainbesides.Ididhavealifeoutsideofhunting

withyou,”hesays,loadingupwithfirewood.

Suddenly,I’mgenuinelycurious.“Whodidyoukiss?And

where?”

“Toomanytoremember.Behindtheschool,ontheslag

heap,younameit,”hesays.

Irollmyeyes.“SowhendidIbecomesospecial?Whenthey

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cartedmeofftotheCapitol?”

“No.Aboutsixmonthsbeforethat.RightafterNewYear’s.

WewereintheHob,eatingsomeslopofGreasySae’s.And

Dariuswasteasingyouabouttradingarabbitforoneofhis

kisses.AndIrealized...Iminded,”hetellsme.

Irememberthatday.Bittercoldanddarkbyfourinthe

afternoon.We’dbeenhunting,butaheavysnowhaddrivenus

backintotown.TheHobwascrowdedwithpeoplelookingfor

refugefromtheweather.GreasySae’ssoup,madewithstock

fromthebonesofawilddogwe’dshotaweekearlier,wasbelow

herusualstandards.Still,itwashot,andIwasstarvingasI

scoopeditup,sittingcross-leggedonhercounter.Dariuswas

leaningonthepostofthestall,ticklingmycheekwiththeendof

mybraid,whileIsmackedhishandaway.Hewasexplaining

whyoneofhiskissesmeritedarabbit,orpossiblytwo,since

everyoneknowsredheadedmenarethemostvirile.AndGreasy

SaeandIwerelaughingbecausehewassoridiculousand

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persistentandkeptpointingoutwomenaroundtheHobwhohe

saidhadpaidfarmorethanarabbittoenjoyhislips.“See?The

oneinthegreenmuffler?Goaheadandaskher.Ifyouneeda

reference.”

Amillionmilesfromhere,abilliondaysago,thishappened.

“Dariuswasjustjokingaround,”Isay.

“Probably.Althoughyou’dbethelasttofigureoutifhe

wasn’t,”Galetellsme.“TakePeeta.Takeme.OrevenFinnick.I

wasstartingtoworryhehadhiseyeonyou,butheseemsback

ontracknow.”

“Youdon’tknowFinnickifyouthinkhe’dloveme,”Isay.

Galeshrugs.“Iknowhewasdesperate.Thatmakespeople

doallkindsofcrazythings.”

Ican’thelpthinkingthat’sdirectedatme.

Brightandearlythenextmorning,thebrainsassembleto

takeontheproblemoftheNut.I’maskedtothemeeting,

althoughIdon’thavemuchtocontribute.Iavoidtheconference

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tableandperchinthewidewindowsillthathasaviewofthe

mountaininquestion.Thecommanderfrom2,amiddle-aged

womannamedLyme,takesusonavirtualtouroftheNut,its

interiorandfortifications,andrecountsthefailedattemptsto

seizeit.I’vecrossedpathswithherbrieflyacoupleoftimes

sincemyarrival,andwasdoggedbythefeelingI’dmether

before.She’smemorableenough,standingoversixfeettalland

heavilymuscled.Butit’sonlywhenIseeaclipofherinthe

field,leadingaraidonthemainentranceoftheNut,that

somethingclicksandIrealizeI’minthepresenceofanother

victor.Lyme,thetributefromDistrict2,whowonherHunger

Gamesoveragenerationago.Effiesentushertape,among

others,topreparefortheQuarterQuell.I’veprobablycaught

glimpsesofherduringtheGamesovertheyears,butshe’skepta

lowprofile.WithmynewfoundknowledgeofHaymitch’sand

Finnick’streatment,allIcanthinkis:WhatdidtheCapitoldoto

heraftershewon?

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WhenLymefinishesthepresentation,thequestionsfromthe

brainsbegin.Hourspass,andlunchcomesandgoes,astheytry

tocomeupwitharealisticplanfortakingtheNut.Butwhile

Beeteethinkshemightbeabletooverridecertaincomputer

systems,andthere’ssomediscussionofputtingthehandfulof

internalspiestouse,noonehasanyreallyinnovativethoughts.

Astheafternoonwearson,talkkeepsreturningtoastrategythat

hasbeentriedrepeatedly—thestormingoftheentrances.Ican

seeLyme’sfrustrationbuildingbecausesomanyvariationsof

thisplanhavealreadyfailed,somanyofhersoldiershavebeen

lost.Finally,sheburstsout,“Thenextpersonwhosuggestswe

taketheentrancesbetterhaveabrilliantwaytodoit,because

you’regoingtobetheoneleadingthatmission!”

Gale,whoistoorestlesstositatthetableformorethana

fewhours,hasbeenalternatingbetweenpacingandsharingmy

windowsill.Earlyon,heseemedtoacceptLyme’sassertionthat

theentrancescouldn’tbetaken,anddroppedoutofthe

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conversationentirely.Forthelasthourorso,he’ssatquietly,his

browknittedinconcentration,staringattheNutthroughthe

windowglass.InthesilencethatfollowsLyme’sultimatum,he

speaksup.“IsitreallysonecessarythatwetaketheNut?Or

woulditbeenoughtodisableit?”

“Thatwouldbeastepintherightdirection,”saysBeetee.

“Whatdoyouhaveinmind?”

“Thinkofitasawilddogden,”Galecontinues.“You’renot

goingtofightyourwayin.Soyouhavetwochoices.Trapthe

dogsinsideorflushthemout.”

“We’vetriedbombingtheentrances,”saysLyme.“They’re

settoofarinsidethestoneforanyrealdamagetobedone.”

“Iwasn’tthinkingofthat,”saysGale.“Iwasthinkingof

usingthemountain.”BeeteerisesandjoinsGaleatthewindow,

peeringthroughhisill-fittingglasses.“See?Runningdownthe

sides?”

“Avalanchepaths,”saysBeeteeunderhisbreath.“It’dbe

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tricky.We’dhavetodesignthedetonationsequencewithgreat

care,andonceit’sinmotion,wecouldn’thopetocontrolit.”

“Wedon’tneedtocontrolitifwegiveuptheideathatwe

havetopossesstheNut,”saysGale.“Onlyshutitdown.”

“Soyou’resuggestingwestartavalanchesandblockthe

entrances?”asksLyme.

“That’sit,”saysGale.“Traptheenemyinside,cutofffrom

supplies.Makeitimpossibleforthemtosendouttheir

hovercraft.”

Whileeveryoneconsiderstheplan,Boggsflipsthrougha

stackofblueprintsoftheNutandfrowns.“Youriskkilling

everyoneinside.Lookattheventilationsystem.It’srudimentary

atbest.NothinglikewhatwehaveinThirteen.Itdepends

entirelyonpumpinginairfromthemountainsides.Blockthose

ventsandyou’llsuffocatewhoeveristrapped.”

“Theycouldstillescapethroughthetraintunneltothe

square,”saysBeetee.

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“Notifweblowitup,”saysGalebrusquely.Hisintent,his

fullintent,becomesclear.Galehasnointerestinpreservingthe

livesofthoseintheNut.Nointerestincagingthepreyforlater

use.

Thisisoneofhisdeathtraps.

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TheimplicationsofwhatGaleissuggestingsettlequietly

aroundtheroom.Youcanseethereactionplayingouton

people’sfaces.Theexpressionsrangefrompleasuretodistress,

fromsorrowtosatisfaction.

“ThemajorityoftheworkersarecitizensfromTwo,”says

Beeteeneutrally.

“Sowhat?”saysGale.“We’llneverbeabletotrustthem

again.”

“Theyshouldatleasthaveachancetosurrender,”says

Lyme.

“Well,that’saluxuryweweren’tgivenwhenthey

firebombedTwelve,butyou’reallsomuchcozierwiththe

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Capitolhere,”saysGale.BythelookonLyme’sface,Ithinkshe

mightshoothim,oratleasttakeaswing.She’dprobablyhave

theupperhand,too,withallhertraining.Butherangeronly

seemstoinfuriatehimandheyells,“Wewatchedchildrenburn

todeathandtherewasnothingwecoulddo!”

Ihavetoclosemyeyesaminute,astheimageripsthrough

me.Ithasthedesiredeffect.Iwanteveryoneinthatmountain

dead.Amabouttosayso.Butthen...I’malsoagirlfrom

District12.NotPresidentSnow.Ican’thelpit.Ican’tcondemn

someonetothedeathhe’ssuggesting.“Gale,”Isay,takinghis

armandtryingtospeakinareasonabletone.“TheNut’sanold

mine.It’dbelikecausingamassivecoalminingaccident.”

Surelythewordsareenoughtomakeanyonefrom12thinktwice

abouttheplan.

“Butnotsoquickastheonethatkilledourfathers,”he

retorts.“Isthateveryone’sproblem?Thatourenemiesmight

haveafewhourstoreflectonthefactthatthey’redying,instead

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ofjustbeingblowntobits?”

Backintheolddays,whenwewerenothingmorethana

coupleofkidshuntingoutsideof12,Galesaidthingslikethis

andworse.Butthentheywerejustwords.Here,putintopractice,

theybecomedeedsthatcanneverbereversed.

“Youdon’tknowhowthoseDistrictTwopeopleendedupin

theNut,”Isay.“Theymayhavebeencoerced.Theymaybeheld

againsttheirwill.Someareourownspies.Willyoukillthem,

too?”

“Iwouldsacrificeafew,yes,totakeouttherestofthem,”he

replies.“AndifIwereaspyinthere,I’dsay,‘Bringonthe

avalanches!’”

Iknowhe’stellingthetruth.ThatGalewouldsacrificehis

lifeinthiswayforthecause—noonedoubtsit.Perhapswe’d

alldothesameifwewerethespiesandgiventhechoice.Iguess

Iwould.Butit’sacoldhearteddecisiontomakeforotherpeople

andthosewholovethem.

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“Yousaidwehadtwochoices,”Boggstellshim.“Totrap

themortoflushthemout.Isaywetrytoavalanchethemountain

butleavethetraintunnelalone.Peoplecanescapeintothe

square,wherewe’llbewaitingforthem.”

“Heavilyarmed,Ihope,”saysGale.“Youcanbesurethey’ll

be.”

“Heavilyarmed.We’lltakethemprisoner,”agreesBoggs.

“Let’sbringThirteenintotheloopnow,”Beeteesuggests.

“LetPresidentCoinweighin.”

“She’llwanttoblockthetunnel,”saysGalewithconviction.

“Yes,mostlikely.Butyouknow,Peetadidhaveapointin

hispropos.Aboutthedangersofkillingourselvesoff.I’vebeen

playingwithsomenumbers.Factoringinthecasualtiesandthe

woundedand...Ithinkit’satleastworthaconversation,”says

Beetee.

Onlyahandfulofpeopleareinvitedtobepartofthat

conversation.GaleandIarereleasedwiththerest.Itakehim

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huntingsohecanblowoffsomesteam,buthe’snottalking

aboutit.Probablytooangrywithmeforcounteringhim.

Thecalldoeshappen,adecisionismade,andbyeveningI’m

suitedupinmyMockingjayoutfit,withmybowslungovermy

shoulderandanearpiecethatconnectsmetoHaymitchin13—

justincaseagoodopportunityforapropoarises.Wewaitonthe

roofoftheJusticeBuildingwithaclearviewofourtarget.

Ourhoverplanesareinitiallyignoredbythecommandersin

theNut,becauseinthepastthey’vebeenlittlemoretroublethan

fliesbuzzingaroundahoneypot.Butaftertworoundsof

bombingsinthehigherelevationsofthemountain,theplanes

havetheirattention.BythetimetheCapitol’santiaircraft

weaponsbegintofire,it’salreadytoolate.

Gale’splanexceedsanyone’sexpectations.Beeteewasright

aboutbeingunabletocontroltheavalanchesoncethey’dbeen

setinmotion.Themountainsidesarenaturallyunstable,but

weakenedbytheexplosions,theyseemalmostfluid.Whole

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sectionsoftheNutcollapsebeforeoureyes,obliteratingany

signthathumanbeingshaveeversetfootontheplace.Westand

speechless,tinyandinsignificant,aswavesofstonethunder

downthemountain.Buryingtheentrancesundertonsofrock.

Raisingacloudofdirtanddebristhatblackensthesky.Turning

theNutintoatomb.

Iimaginethehellinsidethemountain.Sirenswailing.Lights

flickeringintodarkness.Stonedustchokingtheair.Theshrieks

ofpanicked,trappedbeingsstumblingmadlyforawayout,only

tofindtheentrances,thelaunchpad,theventilationshafts

themselvescloggedwithearthandrocktryingtoforceitsway

in.Livewiresflungfree,firesbreakingout,rubblemakinga

familiarpathamaze.Peopleslamming,shoving,scramblinglike

antsasthehillpressesin,threateningtocrushtheirfragile

shells.

“Katniss?”Haymitch’svoiceisinmyearpiece.Itryto

answerbackandfindbothofmyhandsareclampedtightlyover

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mymouth.“Katniss!”

Onthedaymyfatherdied,thesirenswentoffduringmy

schoollunch.Noonewaitedfordismissal,orwasexpectedto.

Theresponsetoamineaccidentwassomethingoutsidethe

controlofeventheCapitol.IrantoPrim’sclass.Istill

rememberher,tinyatseven,verypale,butsittingstraightup

withherhandsfoldedonherdesk.Waitingformetocollecther

asI’dpromisedIwouldifthesirenseversounded.Shesprang

outofherseat,grabbedmycoatsleeve,andwewovethroughthe

streamsofpeoplepouringoutontothestreetstopoolatthemain

entranceofthemine.Wefoundourmotherclenchingtherope

thathadbeenhastilystrungtokeepthecrowdback.In

retrospect,IguessIshouldhaveknowntherewasaproblem

rightthen.Becausewhywerewelookingforher,whenthe

reverseshouldhavebeentrue?

Theelevatorswerescreeching,burningupanddowntheir

cablesastheyvomitedsmoke-blackenedminersintothelightof

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day.Witheachgroupcamecriesofrelief,relativesdivingunder

theropetoleadofftheirhusbands,wives,children,parents,

siblings.Westoodinthefreezingairastheafternoonturned

overcast,alightsnowdustedtheearth.Theelevatorsmoved

moreslowlynowanddisgorgedfewerbeings.Ikneltonthe

groundandpressedmyhandsintothecinders,wantingsobadly

topullmyfatherfree.Ifthere’samorehelplessfeelingthan

tryingtoreachsomeoneyoulovewho’strappedunderground,I

don’tknowit.Thewounded.Thebodies.Thewaitingthroughthe

night.Blanketsputaroundyourshouldersbystrangers.Amugof

somethinghotthatyoudon’tdrink.Andthenfinally,atdawn,

thegrievedexpressiononthefaceoftheminecaptainthatcould

onlymeanonething.

Whatdidwejustdo?

“Katniss!Areyouthere?”Haymitchisprobablymaking

planstohavemefittedforaheadshackleatthisverymoment.

Idropmyhands.“Yes.”

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“Getinside.JustincasetheCapitoltriestoretaliatewith

what’sleftofitsairforce,”heinstructs.

“Yes,”Irepeat.Everyoneontheroof,exceptforthesoldiers

manningthemachineguns,begintomaketheirwayinside.AsI

descendthestairs,Ican’thelpbrushingmyfingersalongthe

unblemishedwhitemarblewalls.Socoldandbeautiful.Evenin

theCapitol,there’snothingtomatchthemagnificenceofthisold

building.Butthereisnogivetothesurface—onlymyflesh

yields,mywarmthtaken.Stoneconquerspeopleeverytime.

Isitatthebaseofoneofthegiganticpillarsinthegreat

entrancehall.ThroughthedoorsIcanseethewhiteexpanseof

marblethatleadstothestepsonthesquare.Irememberhowsick

IwasthedayPeetaandIacceptedcongratulationstherefor

winningtheGames.WorndownbytheVictoryTour,failingin

myattempttocalmthedistricts,facingthememoriesofClove

andCato,particularlyCato’sgruesome,slowdeathbymutts.

Boggscrouchesdownbesideme,hisskinpaleinthe

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shadows.“Wedidn’tbombthetraintunnel,youknow.Someof

themwillprobablygetout.”

“Andthenwe’llshootthemwhentheyshowtheirfaces?”I

ask.

“Onlyifwehaveto,”heanswers.

“Wecouldsendintrainsourselves.Helpevacuatethe

wounded,”Isay.

“No.Itwasdecidedtoleavethetunnelintheirhands.That

waytheycanuseallthetrackstobringpeopleout,”saysBoggs.

“Besides,itwillgiveustimetogettherestofoursoldierstothe

square.”

Afewhoursago,thesquarewasano-man’s-land,thefront

lineofthefightbetweentherebelsandthePeacekeepers.When

CoingaveapprovalforGale’splan,therebelslaunchedaheated

attackanddrovetheCapitolforcesbackseveralblockssothat

wewouldcontrolthetrainstationintheeventthattheNutfell.

Well,it’sfallen.Therealityhassunkin.Anysurvivorswill

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escapetothesquare.Icanhearthegunfirestartingagain,asthe

Peacekeepersarenodoubttryingtofighttheirwayintorescue

theircomrades.Ourownsoldiersarebeingbroughtintocounter

this.

“You’recold,”saysBoggs.“I’llseeifIcanfindablanket.”

HegoesbeforeIcanprotest.Idon’twantablanket,evenifthe

marblecontinuestoleechmybodyheat.

“Katniss,”saysHaymitchinmyear.

“Stillhere,”Ianswer.

“InterestingturnofeventswithPeetathisafternoon.

Thoughtyou’dwanttoknow,”hesays.Interestingisn’tgood.It

isn’tbetter.ButIdon’treallyhaveanychoicebuttolisten.“We

showedhimthatclipofyousinging‘TheHangingTree.’Itwas

neveraired,sotheCapitolcouldn’tuseitwhenhewasbeing

hijacked.Hesaysherecognizedthesong.”

Foramoment,myheartskipsabeat.ThenIrealizeit’sjust

moretrackerjackerserumconfusion.“Hecouldn’t,Haymitch.

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Heneverheardmesingthatsong.”

“Notyou.Yourfather.Heheardhimsingingitonedaywhen

hecametotradeatthebakery.Peetawassmall,probablysixor

seven,butheremembereditbecausehewasspeciallylistening

toseeifthebirdsstoppedsinging,”saysHaymitch.“Guessthey

did.”

Sixorseven.Thatwouldhavebeenbeforemymother

bannedthesong.MaybeevenrightaroundthetimeIwas

learningit.“WasIthere,too?”

“Don’tthinkso.Nomentionofyouanyway.Butit’sthefirst

connectiontoyouthathasn’ttriggeredsomementalmeltdown,”

saysHaymitch.“It’ssomething,atleast,Katniss.”

Myfather.Heseemstobeeverywheretoday.Dyinginthe

mine.SinginghiswayintoPeeta’smuddledconsciousness.

FlickeringinthelookBoggsgivesmeasheprotectivelywraps

theblanketaroundmyshoulders.Imisshimsobadlyithurts.

Thegunfire’sreallypickingupoutside.Galehurriesbywith

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agroupofrebels,eagerlyheadedforthebattle.Idon’tpetition

tojointhefighters,notthattheywouldletme.Ihavenostomach

foritanyway,noheatinmyblood.IwishPeetawashere—the

oldPeeta—becausehewouldbeabletoarticulatewhyitisso

wrongtobeexchangingfirewhenpeople,anypeople,aretrying

toclawtheirwayoutofthemountain.Orismyownhistory

makingmetoosensitive?Aren’tweatwar?Isn’tthisjust

anotherwaytokillourenemies?

Nightfallsquickly.Huge,brightspotlightsareturnedon,

illuminatingthesquare.Everybulbmustbeburningatfull

wattageinsidethetrainstationaswell.Evenfrommyposition

acrossthesquare,Icanseeclearlythroughtheplate-glassfront

ofthelong,narrowbuilding.Itwouldbeimpossibletomissthe

arrivalofatrain,orevenasingleperson.Buthourspassandno

onecomes.Witheachminute,itbecomeshardertoimaginethat

anyonesurvivedtheassaultontheNut.

It’swellaftermidnightwhenCressidacomestoattacha

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specialmicrophonetomycostume.“What’sthisfor?”Iask.

Haymitch’svoicecomesontoexplain.“Iknowyou’renot

goingtolikethis,butweneedyoutomakeaspeech.”

“Aspeech?”Isay,immediatelyfeelingqueasy.

“I’llfeedittoyou,linebyline,”heassuresme.“You’lljust

havetorepeatwhatIsay.Look,there’snosignoflifefromthat

mountain.We’vewon,butthefighting’scontinuing.Sowe

thoughtifyouwentoutonthestepsoftheJusticeBuildingand

laiditout—toldeverybodythattheNut’sdefeated,thatthe

Capitol’spresenceinDistrictTwoisfinished—youmightbe

abletogettherestoftheirforcestosurrender.”

Ipeeratthedarknessbeyondthesquare.“Ican’tevensee

theirforces.”

“That’swhatthemike’sfor,”hesays.“You’llbebroadcast,

bothyourvoicethroughtheiremergencyaudiosystem,andyour

imagewhereverpeoplehaveaccesstoascreen.”

Iknowthereareacoupleofhugescreenshereonthesquare.

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IsawthemontheVictoryTour.Itmightwork,ifIweregoodat

thissortofthing.WhichI’mnot.Theytriedtofeedmelinesin

thoseearlyexperimentswiththepropos,too,anditwasaflop.

“Youcouldsavealotoflives,Katniss,”Haymitchsays

finally.

“Allright.I’llgiveitatry,”Itellhim.

It’sstrangestandingoutsideatthetopofthestairs,fully

costumed,brightlylit,butwithnovisibleaudiencetodelivermy

speechto.LikeI’mdoingashowforthemoon.

“Let’smakethisquick,”saysHaymitch.“You’retoo

exposed.”

Mytelevisioncrew,positionedoutinthesquarewithspecial

cameras,indicatesthatthey’reready.ItellHaymitchtogo

ahead,thenclickonmymikeandlistencarefullytohimdictate

thefirstlineofthespeech.Ahugeimageofmelightsuponeof

thescreensoverthesquareasIbegin.“PeopleofDistrictTwo,

thisisKatnissEverdeenspeakingtoyoufromthestepsofyour

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

JusticeBuilding,where—”

Thepairoftrainscomesscreechingintothetrainstationside

byside.Asthedoorsslideopen,peopletumbleoutinacloudof

smokethey’vebroughtfromtheNut.Theymusthavehadat

leastaninklingofwhatwouldawaitthematthesquare,because

youcanseethemtryingtoactevasively.Mostofthemflattenon

thefloor,andasprayofbulletsinsidethestationtakesoutthe

lights.They’vecomearmed,asGalepredicted,butthey’vecome

woundedaswell.Themoanscanbeheardintheotherwisesilent

nightair.

Someonekillsthelightsonthestairs,leavingmeinthe

protectionofshadow.Aflamebloomsinsidethestation—one

ofthetrainsmustactuallybeonfire—andathick,blacksmoke

billowsagainstthewindows.Leftwithnochoice,thepeople

begintopushoutintothesquare,chokingbutdefiantlywaving

theirguns.Myeyesdartaroundtherooftopsthatringthesquare.

Everyoneofthemhasbeenfortifiedwithrebel-mannedmachine

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gunnests.Moonlightglintsoffoiledbarrels.

Ayoungmanstaggersoutfromthestation,onehandpressed

againstabloodyclothathischeek,theotherdraggingagun.

Whenhetripsandfallstohisface,Iseethescorchmarksdown

thebackofhisshirt,theredfleshbeneath.Andsuddenly,he’s

justanotherburnvictimfromamineaccident.

MyfeetflydownthestepsandItakeoffrunningforhim.

“Stop!”Iyellattherebels.“Holdyourfire!”Thewordsecho

aroundthesquareandbeyondasthemikeamplifiesmyvoice.

“Stop!”I’mnearingtheyoungman,reachingdowntohelphim,

whenhedragshimselfuptohiskneesandtrainshisgunonmy

head.

Iinstinctivelybackupafewsteps,raisemybowovermy

headtoshowmyintentionwasharmless.Nowthathehasboth

handsonhisgun,Inoticetheraggedholeinhischeekwhere

something—fallingstonemaybe—puncturedtheflesh.He

smellsofburningthings,hairandmeatandfuel.Hiseyesare

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crazedwithpainandfear.

“Freeze,”Haymitch’svoicewhispersinmyear.Ifollowhis

order,realizingthatthisiswhatallofDistrict2,allofPanem

maybe,mustbeseeingatthemoment.TheMockingjayatthe

mercyofamanwithnothingtolose.

Hisgarbledspeechisbarelycomprehensible.“Givemeone

reasonIshouldn’tshootyou.”

Therestoftheworldrecedes.There’sonlymelookinginto

thewretchedeyesofthemanfromtheNutwhoasksforone

reason.SurelyIshouldbeabletocomeupwiththousands.But

thewordsthatmakeittomylipsare“Ican’t.”

Logically,thenextthingthatshouldhappenistheman

pullingthetrigger.Buthe’sperplexed,tryingtomakesenseof

mywords.IexperiencemyownconfusionasIrealizewhatI’ve

saidisentirelytrue,andthenobleimpulsethatcarriedmeacross

thesquareisreplacedbydespair.“Ican’t.That’stheproblem,

isn’tit?”Ilowermybow.“Weblewupyourmine.Youburned

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mydistricttotheground.We’vegoteveryreasontokilleach

other.Sodoit.MaketheCapitolhappy.I’mdonekillingtheir

slavesforthem.”Idropmybowonthegroundandgiveita

nudgewithmyboot.Itslidesacrossthestoneandcomestorest

athisknees.

“I’mnottheirslave,”themanmutters.

“Iam,”Isay.“That’swhyIkilledCato...andhekilled

Thresh...andhekilledClove...andshetriedtokillme.Itjust

goesaroundandaround,andwhowins?Notus.Notthedistricts.

AlwaystheCapitol.ButI’mtiredofbeingapieceintheir

Games.”

Peeta.OntherooftopthenightbeforeourfirstHunger

Games.Heunderstooditallbeforewe’devensetfootinthe

arena.Ihopehe’swatchingnow,thatheremembersthatnightas

ithappened,andmaybeforgivesmewhenIdie.

“Keeptalking.Tellthemaboutwatchingthemountaingo

down,”Haymitchinsists.

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“WhenIsawthatmountainfalltonight,Ithought...they’ve

doneitagain.Gotmetokillyou—thepeopleinthedistricts.

ButwhydidIdoit?DistrictTwelveandDistrictTwohaveno

fightexcepttheonetheCapitolgaveus.”Theyoungmanblinks

atmeuncomprehendingly.Isinkonmykneesbeforehim,my

voicelowandurgent.“Andwhyareyoufightingwiththerebels

ontherooftops?WithLyme,whowasyourvictor?Withpeople

whowereyourneighbors,maybeevenyourfamily?”

“Idon’tknow,”saystheman.Buthedoesn’ttakehisgunoff

me.

Iriseandturnslowlyinacircle,addressingthemachine

guns.“Andyouupthere?Icomefromaminingtown.Since

whendominerscondemnotherminerstothatkindofdeath,and

thenstandbytokillwhoevermanagestocrawlfromthe

rubble?”

“Whoistheenemy?”whispersHaymitch.

“Thesepeople”—Iindicatethewoundedbodiesonthe

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square—“arenotyourenemy!”Iwhipbackaroundtothetrain

station.“Therebelsarenotyourenemy!Weallhaveoneenemy,

andit’stheCapitol!Thisisourchancetoputanendtotheir

power,butweneedeverydistrictpersontodoit!”

ThecamerasaretightonmeasIreachoutmyhandstothe

man,tothewounded,tothereluctantrebelsacrossPanem.

“Please!Joinus!”

Mywordshangintheair.Ilooktothescreen,hopingtosee

themrecordingsomewaveofreconciliationgoingthroughthe

crowd.

InsteadIwatchmyselfgetshotontelevision.

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“Always.”

Inthetwilightofmorphling,PeetawhispersthewordandI

gosearchingforhim.It’sagauzy,violet-tintedworld,withno

hardedges,andmanyplacestohide.Ipushthroughcloudbanks,

followfainttracks,catchthescentofcinnamon,ofdill.OnceI

feelhishandonmycheekandtrytotrapit,butitdissolveslike

mistthroughmyfingers.

WhenIfinallybegintosurfaceintothesterilehospitalroom

in13,Iremember.Iwasundertheinfluenceofsleepsyrup.My

heelhadbeeninjuredafterI’dclimbedoutonabranchoverthe

electricfenceanddroppedbackinto12.Peetahadputmetobed

andIhadaskedhimtostaywithmeasIwasdriftingoff.Hehad

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whisperedsomethingIcouldn’tquitecatch.Butsomepartofmy

brainhadtrappedhissinglewordofreplyandletitswimup

throughmydreamstotauntmenow.“Always.”

Morphlingdullstheextremesofallemotions,soinsteadofa

stabofsorrow,Imerelyfeelemptiness.Ahollowofdeadbrush

whereflowersusedtobloom.Unfortunately,there’snotenough

ofthedrugleftinmyveinsformetoignorethepainintheleft

sideofmybody.That’swherethebullethit.Myhandsfumble

overthethickbandagesencasingmyribsandIwonderwhatI’m

stilldoinghere.

Itwasn’thim,themankneelingbeforemeonthesquare,the

burnedonefromtheNut.Hedidn’tpullthetrigger.Itwas

someonefartherbackinthecrowd.Therewaslessasenseof

penetrationthanthefeelingthatI’dbeenstruckwitha

sledgehammer.Everythingafterthemomentofimpactis

confusionriddledwithgunfire.Itrytositup,buttheonlythingI

manageisamoan.

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Thewhitecurtainthatdividesmybedfromthenextpatient’s

whipsback,andJohannaMasonstaresdownatme.AtfirstIfeel

threatened,becausesheattackedmeinthearena.Ihaveto

remindmyselfthatshedidittosavemylife.Itwaspartofthe

rebelplot.Butstill,thatdoesn’tmeanshedoesn’tdespiseme.

MaybehertreatmentofmewasallanactfortheCapitol?

“I’malive,”Isayrustily.

“Nokidding,brainless.”Johannawalksoverandplunks

downonmybed,sendingspikesofpainshootingacrossmy

chest.Whenshegrinsatmydiscomfort,Iknowwe’renotinfor

somewarmreunionscene.“Stillalittlesore?”Withanexpert

hand,shequicklydetachesthemorphlingdripfrommyarmand

plugsitintoasockettapedintothecrookofherown.“They

startedcuttingbackmysupplyafewdaysago.AfraidI’mgoing

toturnintooneofthosefreaksfromSix.I’vehadtoborrow

fromyouwhenthecoastwasclear.Didn’tthinkyou’dmind.”

Mind?HowcanImindwhenshewasalmosttorturedto

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deathbySnowaftertheQuarterQuell?Ihavenorighttomind,

andsheknowsit.

Johannasighsasthemorphlingentersherbloodstream.

“MaybetheywereontosomethinginSix.Drugyourselfoutand

paintflowersonyourbody.Notsuchabadlife.Seemedhappier

thantherestofus,anyway.”

IntheweekssinceIleft13,she’sgainedsomeweightback.

Asoftdownofhairhassproutedonhershavedhead,helpingto

hidesomeofthescars.Butifshe’ssiphoningoffmymorphling,

she’sstruggling.

“They’vegotthisheaddoctorwhocomesaroundeveryday.

Supposedtobehelpingmerecover.Likesomeguywho’sspent

hislifeinthisrabbitwarren’sgoingtofixmeup.Complete

idiot.AtleasttwentytimesasessionheremindsmethatI’m

totallysafe.”Imanageasmile.It’satrulystupidthingtosay,

especiallytoavictor.Asifsuchastateofbeingeverexisted,

anywhere,foranyone.“Howaboutyou,Mockingjay?Youfeel

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totallysafe?”

“Oh,yeah.RightupuntilIgotshot,”Isay.

“Please.Thatbulletnevereventouchedyou.Cinnasawto

that,”shesays.

IthinkofthelayersofprotectivearmorinmyMockingjay

outfit.Butthepaincamefromsomewhere.“Brokenribs?”

“Noteven.Bruisedprettygood.Theimpactrupturedyour

spleen.Theycouldn’trepairit.”Shegivesadismissivewaveof

herhand.“Don’tworry,youdon’tneedone.Andifyoudid,

they’dfindyouone,wouldn’tthey?It’severybody’sjobtokeep

youalive.”

“Isthatwhyyouhateme?”Iask.

“Partly,”sheadmits.“Jealousyiscertainlyinvolved.Ialso

thinkyou’realittlehardtoswallow.Withyourtackyromantic

dramaandyourdefender-of-the-helplessact.Onlyitisn’tanact,

whichmakesyoumoreunbearable.Pleasefeelfreetotakethis

personally.”

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“YoushouldhavebeentheMockingjay.Noonewould’ve

hadtofeedyoulines,”Isay.

“True.Butnoonelikesme,”shetellsme.

“Theytrustedyou,though.Togetmeout,”Iremindher.

“Andthey’reafraidofyou.”

“Here,maybe.IntheCapitol,you’retheonethey’rescared

ofnow.”Galeappearsinthedoorway,andJohannaneatly

unhooksherselfandreattachesmetothemorphlingdrip.“Your

cousin’snotafraidofme,”shesaysconfidentially.Shescoots

offmybedandcrossestothedoor,nudgingGale’slegwithher

hipasshepasseshim.“Areyou,gorgeous?”Wecanhearher

laughterasshedisappearsdownthehall.

Iraisemyeyebrowsathimashetakesmyhand.“Terrified,”

hemouths.Ilaugh,butitturnsintoawince.“Easy.”Hestrokes

myfaceasthepainebbs.“You’vegottostoprunningstraight

intotrouble.”

“Iknow.Butsomeoneblewupamountain,”Ianswer.

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Insteadofpullingback,heleansincloser,searchingmy

face.“YouthinkI’mheartless.”

“Iknowyou’renot.ButIwon’ttellyouit’sokay,”Isay.

Nowhedrawsback,almostimpatiently.“Katniss,what

differenceisthere,really,betweencrushingourenemyinamine

orblowingthemoutoftheskywithoneofBeetee’sarrows?The

resultisthesame.”

“Idon’tknow.WewereunderattackinEight,foronething.

Thehospitalwasunderattack,”Isay.

“Yes,andthosehoverplanescamefromDistrictTwo,”he

says.“So,bytakingthemout,wepreventedfurtherattacks.”

“Butthatkindofthinking...youcouldturnitintoan

argumentforkillinganyoneatanytime.Youcouldjustify

sendingkidsintotheHungerGamestopreventthedistrictsfrom

gettingoutofline,”Isay.

“Idon’tbuythat,”hetellsme.

“Ido,”Ireply.“Itmustbethosetripstothearena.”

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“Fine.Weknowhowtodisagree,”hesays.“Wealwayshave.

Maybeit’sgood.Betweenyouandme,we’vegotDistrictTwo

now.”

“Really?”Foramomentafeelingoftriumphflaresupinside

me.ThenIthinkaboutthepeopleonthesquare.“Wasthere

fightingafterIwasshot?”

“Notmuch.TheworkersfromtheNutturnedontheCapitol

soldiers.Therebelsjustsatbyandwatched,”hesays.“Actually,

thewholecountryjustsatbyandwatched.”

“Well,that’swhattheydobest,”Isay.

You’dthinkthatlosingamajororganwouldentitleyouto

liearoundafewweeks,butforsomereason,mydoctorswantme

upandmovingalmostimmediately.Evenwiththemorphling,

theinternalpain’sseverethefirstfewdays,butthenitslacksoff

considerably.Thesorenessfromthebruisedribs,however,

promisestohangonforawhile.IbegintoresentJohanna

dippingintomymorphlingsupply,butIstilllethertake

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whatevershelikes.

Rumorsofmydeathhavebeenrunningrampant,sothey

sendintheteamtofilmmeinmyhospitalbed.Ishowoffmy

stitchesandimpressivebruisingandcongratulatethedistrictson

theirsuccessfulbattleforunity.ThenIwarntheCapitolto

expectussoon.

Aspartofmyrehabilitation,Itakeshortwalksaboveground

eachday.Oneafternoon,Plutarchjoinsmeandgivesmean

updateonourcurrentsituation.NowthatDistrict2hasallied

withus,therebelsaretakingabreatherfromthewartoregroup.

Fortifyingsupplylines,seeingtothewounded,reorganizing

theirtroops.TheCapitol,like13duringtheDarkDays,finds

itselfcompletelycutofffromoutsidehelpasitholdsthethreat

ofnuclearattackoveritsenemies.Unlike13,theCapitolisnot

inapositiontoreinventitselfandbecomeself-sufficient.

“Oh,thecitymightbeabletoscrapealongforawhile,”says

Plutarch.“Certainly,thereareemergencysuppliesstockpiled.

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ButthesignificantdifferencebetweenThirteenandtheCapitol

aretheexpectationsofthepopulace.Thirteenwasusedto

hardship,whereasintheCapitol,allthey’veknownisPanemet

Circenses.”

“What’sthat?”IrecognizePanem,ofcourse,buttherestis

nonsense.

“It’sasayingfromthousandsofyearsago,writtenina

languagecalledLatinaboutaplacecalledRome,”heexplains.

“PanemetCircensestranslatesinto‘BreadandCircuses.’The

writerwassayingthatinreturnforfullbelliesand

entertainment,hispeoplehadgivenuptheirpolitical

responsibilitiesandthereforetheirpower.”

IthinkabouttheCapitol.Theexcessoffood.Andthe

ultimateentertainment.TheHungerGames.“Sothat’swhatthe

districtsarefor.Toprovidethebreadandcircuses.”

“Yes.Andaslongasthatkeptrollingin,theCapitolcould

controlitslittleempire.Rightnow,itcanprovideneither,at

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leastatthestandardthepeopleareaccustomedto,”says

Plutarch.“WehavethefoodandI’mabouttoorchestratean

entertainmentpropothat’ssuretobepopular.Afterall,

everybodylovesawedding.”

Ifreezeinmytracks,sickattheideaofwhathe’s

suggesting.Somehowstagingsomeperverseweddingbetween

Peetaandme.Ihaven’tbeenabletofacethatone-wayglass

sinceI’vebeenbackand,atmyownrequest,onlygetupdates

aboutPeeta’sconditionfromHaymitch.Hespeaksverylittle

aboutit.Differenttechniquesarebeingtried.Therewillnever

trulybeawaytocurehim.Andnowtheywantmetomarry

Peetaforapropo?

Plutarchrushestoreassureme.“Oh,no,Katniss.Notyour

wedding.FinnickandAnnie’s.Allyouneedtodoisshowupand

pretendtobehappyforthem.”

“That’soneofthefewthingsIwon’thavetopretend,

Plutarch,”Itellhim.

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Thenextfewdaysbringaflurryofactivityastheeventis

planned.ThedifferencesbetweentheCapitoland13arethrown

intosharpreliefbytheevent.WhenCoinsays“wedding,”she

meanstwopeoplesigningapieceofpaperandbeingassigneda

newcompartment.Plutarchmeanshundredsofpeopledressedin

fineryatathree-daycelebration.It’samusingtowatchthem

haggleoverthedetails.Plutarchhastofightforeveryguest,

everymusicalnote.AfterCoinvetoesadinner,entertainment,

andalcohol,Plutarchyells,“What’sthepointofthepropoifno

one’shavinganyfun!”

It’shardtoputaGamemakeronabudget.Butevenaquiet

celebrationcausesastirin13,wheretheyseemtohaveno

holidaysatall.Whenit’sannouncedthatchildrenarewantedto

singDistrict4’sweddingsong,practicallyeverykidshowsup.

There’snoshortageofvolunteerstohelpmakedecorations.In

thedininghall,peoplechatexcitedlyabouttheevent.

Maybeit’smorethanthefestivities.Maybeit’sthatweare

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allsostarvedforsomethinggoodtohappenthatwewanttobe

partofit.Itwouldexplainwhy—whenPlutarchhasafitover

whatthebridewillwear—IvolunteertotakeAnniebacktomy

housein12,whereCinnaleftavarietyofeveningclothesina

bigstorageclosetdownstairs.Alloftheweddinggownshe

designedformewentbacktotheCapitol,buttherearesome

dressesIworeontheVictoryTour.I’malittleleeryaboutbeing

withAnniesinceallIreallyknowaboutheristhatFinnickloves

herandeverybodythinksshe’smad.Onthehovercraftride,I

decideshe’slessmadthanunstable.Shelaughsatoddplacesin

theconversationordropsoutofitdistractedly.Thosegreeneyes

fixateonapointwithsuchintensitythatyoufindyourselftrying

tomakeoutwhatsheseesintheemptyair.Sometimes,forno

reason,shepressesbothherhandsoverherearsasiftoblockout

apainfulsound.Allright,she’sstrange,butifFinnicklovesher,

that’sgoodenoughforme.

Igotpermissionformyprepteamtocomealong,soI’m

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relievedofhavingtomakeanyfashiondecisions.WhenIopen

thecloset,weallfallsilentbecauseCinna’spresenceissostrong

intheflowofthefabrics.ThenOctaviadropstoherknees,rubs

thehemofaskirtagainsthercheek,andburstsintotears.“It’s

beensolong,”shegasps,“sinceI’veseenanythingpretty.”

DespitereservationsonCoin’ssidethatit’stooextravagant,

andonPlutarch’ssidethatit’stoodrab,theweddingisasmash

hit.Thethreehundredluckyguestsculledfrom13andthemany

refugeesweartheireverydayclothes,thedecorationsaremade

fromautumnfoliage,themusicisprovidedbyachoirof

childrenaccompaniedbythelonefiddlerwhomadeitoutof12

withhisinstrument.Soit’ssimple,frugalbytheCapitol’s

standards.Itdoesn’tmatterbecausenothingcancompetewith

thebeautyofthecouple.Itisn’tabouttheirborrowedfinery—

AnniewearsagreensilkdressIworein5,FinnickoneofPeeta’s

suitsthattheyaltered—althoughtheclothesarestriking.Who

canlookpasttheradiantfacesoftwopeopleforwhomthisday

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wasonceavirtualimpossibility?Dalton,thecattleguyfrom10,

conductstheceremony,sinceit’ssimilartotheoneusedinhis

district.ButthereareuniquetouchesofDistrict4.Anetwoven

fromlonggrassthatcoversthecoupleduringtheirvows,the

touchingofeachother’slipswithsaltwater,andtheancient

weddingsong,whichlikensmarriagetoaseavoyage.

No,Idon’thavetopretendtobehappyforthem.

Afterthekissthatsealstheunion,thecheers,andatoast

withapplecider,thefiddlerstrikesupatunethatturnsevery

headfrom12.Wemayhavebeenthesmallest,poorestdistrictin

Panem,butweknowhowtodance.Nothinghasbeenofficially

scheduledatthispoint,butPlutarch,who’scallingthepropo

fromthecontrolroom,musthavehisfingerscrossed.Sure

enough,GreasySaegrabsGalebythehandandpullshiminto

thecenterofthefloorandfacesoffwithhim.Peoplepourinto

jointhem,formingtwolonglines.Andthedancingbegins.

I’mstandingofftotheside,clappingtotherhythm,whena

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bonyhandpinchesmeabovetheelbow.Johannascowlsatme.

“AreyougoingtomissthechancetoletSnowseeyoudancing?”

She’sright.Whatcouldspellvictorylouderthanahappy

Mockingjaytwirlingaroundtomusic?IfindPriminthecrowd.

Sincewintereveningsgaveusalotoftimetopractice,we’re

actuallyprettygoodpartners.Ibrushoffherconcernsaboutmy

ribs,andwetakeourplacesintheline.Ithurts,butthe

satisfactionofhavingSnowwatchmedancewithmylittlesister

reducesotherfeelingstodust.

Dancingtransformsus.WeteachthestepstotheDistrict13

guests.Insistonaspecialnumberforthebrideandgroom.Join

handsandmakeagiant,spinningcirclewherepeopleshowoff

theirfootwork.Nothingsilly,joyful,orfunhashappenedinso

long.Thiscouldgoonallnightifnotforthelasteventplanned

inPlutarch’spropo.OneIhadn’theardabout,butthenitwas

meanttobeasurprise.

Fourpeoplewheeloutahugeweddingcakefromaside

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room.Mostoftheguestsbackup,makingwayforthisrarity,

thisdazzlingcreationwithblue-green,white-tippedicingwaves

swimmingwithfishandsailboats,sealsandseaflowers.ButI

pushmywaythroughthecrowdtoconfirmwhatIknewatfirst

sight.AssurelyastheembroiderystitchesinAnnie’sgownwere

donebyCinna’shand,thefrostedflowersonthecakeweredone

byPeeta’s.

Thismayseemlikeasmallthing,butitspeaksvolumes.

Haymitchhasbeenkeepingagreatdealfromme.TheboyIlast

saw,screaminghisheadoff,tryingtotearfreeofhisrestraints,

couldneverhavemadethis.Neverhavehadthefocus,kepthis

handssteady,designedsomethingsoperfectforFinnickand

Annie.Asifanticipatingmyreaction,Haymitchisatmyside.

“Let’syouandmehaveatalk,”hesays.

Outinthehall,awayfromthecameras,Iask,“What’s

happeningtohim?”

Haymitchshakeshishead.“Idon’tknow.Noneofusknows.

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Sometimeshe’salmostrational,andthen,fornoreason,hegoes

offagain.Doingthecakewasakindoftherapy.He’sbeen

workingonitfordays.Watchinghim...heseemedalmostlike

before.”

“So,he’sgottherunoftheplace?”Iask.Theideamakesme

nervousonaboutfivedifferentlevels.

“Oh,no.Hefrostedunderheavyguard.He’sstillunderlock

andkey.ButI’vetalkedtohim,”Haymitchsays.

“Face-to-face?”Iask.“Andhedidn’tgonuts?”

“No.Prettyangrywithme,butforalltherightreasons.Not

tellinghimabouttherebelplotandwhatnot.”Haymitchpausesa

moment,asifdecidingsomething.“Hesayshe’dliketosee

you.”

I’monafrostingsailboat,tossedaroundbyblue-green

waves,thedeckshiftingbeneathmyfeet.Mypalmspressinto

thewalltosteadymyself.Thiswasn’tpartoftheplan.Iwrote

Peetaoffin2.ThenIwastogototheCapitol,killSnow,andget

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takenoutmyself.Thegunshotwasonlyatemporarysetback.

NeverwasIsupposedtohearthewordsHesayshe’dliketosee

you.ButnowthatIhave,there’snowaytorefuse.

Atmidnight,I’mstandingoutsidethedoortohiscell.

Hospitalroom.WehadtowaitforPlutarchtofinishgettinghis

weddingfootage,which,despitethelackofwhathecallsrazzle-

dazzle,he’spleasedwith.“ThebestthingabouttheCapitol

basicallyignoringTwelvealltheseyearsisthatyoupeoplestill

havealittlespontaneity.Theaudienceeatsthatup.Likewhen

Peetaannouncedhewasinlovewithyouoryoudidthetrick

withtheberries.Makesforgoodtelevision.”

IwishIcouldmeetwithPeetaprivately.Buttheaudienceof

doctorshasassembledbehindtheone-wayglass,clipboards

ready,penspoised.WhenHaymitchgivesmetheokayinmy

earpiece,Islowlyopenthedoor.

Thoseblueeyeslockonmeinstantly.He’sgotthree

restraintsoneacharm,andatubethatcandispenseaknockout

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drugjustincasehelosescontrol.Hedoesn’tfighttofree

himself,though,onlyobservesmewiththewarylookof

someonewhostillhasn’truledoutthathe’sinthepresenceofa

mutt.IwalkoveruntilI’mstandingaboutayardfromthebed.

There’snothingtodowithmyhands,soIcrossmyarms

protectivelyovermyribsbeforeIspeak.“Hey.”

“Hey,”heresponds.It’slikehisvoice,almosthisvoice,

exceptthere’ssomethingnewinit.Anedgeofsuspicionand

reproach.

“Haymitchsaidyouwantedtotalktome,”Isay.

“Lookatyou,forstarters.”It’slikehe’swaitingformeto

transformintoahybriddroolingwolfrightbeforehiseyes.He

staressolongIfindmyselfcastingfurtiveglancesattheone-

wayglass,hopingforsomedirectionfromHaymitch,butmy

earpiecestayssilent.“You’renotverybig,areyou?Or

particularlypretty?”

Iknowhe’sbeenthroughhellandback,andyetsomehow

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theobservationrubsmethewrongway.“Well,you’velooked

better.”

Haymitch’sadvicetobackoffgetsmuffledbyPeeta’s

laughter.“Andnotevenremotelynice.Tosaythattomeafterall

I’vebeenthrough.”

“Yeah.We’veallbeenthroughalot.Andyou’retheonewho

wasknownforbeingnice.Notme.”I’mdoingeverythingwrong.

Idon’tknowwhyIfeelsodefensive.He’sbeentortured!He’s

beenhijacked!What’swrongwithme?Suddenly,IthinkImight

startscreamingathim—I’mnotevensureaboutwhat—soI

decidetogetoutofthere.“Look,Idon’tfeelsowell.MaybeI’ll

dropbytomorrow.”

I’vejustreachedthedoorwhenhisvoicestopsme.“Katniss.

Irememberaboutthebread.”

Thebread.Ouronemomentofrealconnectionbeforethe

HungerGames.

“Theyshowedyouthetapeofmetalkingaboutit,”Isay.

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“No.Isthereatapeofyoutalkingaboutit?Whydidn’tthe

Capitoluseitagainstme?”heasks.

“Imadeitthedayyouwererescued,”Ianswer.Thepainin

mychestwrapsaroundmyribslikeavise.Thedancingwasa

mistake.“Sowhatdoyouremember?”

“You.Intherain,”hesayssoftly.“Digginginourtrashbins.

Burningthebread.Mymotherhittingme.Takingthebreadout

forthepigbutthengivingittoyouinstead.”

“That’sit.That’swhathappened,”Isay.“Thenextday,after

school,Iwantedtothankyou.ButIdidn’tknowhow.”

“Wewereoutsideattheendoftheday.Itriedtocatchyour

eye.Youlookedaway.Andthen...forsomereason,Ithinkyou

pickedadandelion.”Inod.Hedoesremember.Ihavenever

spokenaboutthatmomentaloud.“Imusthavelovedyoualot.”

“Youdid.”MyvoicecatchesandIpretendtocough.

“Anddidyouloveme?”heasks.

Ikeepmyeyesonthetiledfloor.“EveryonesaysIdid.

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Everyonesaysthat’swhySnowhadyoutortured.Tobreakme.”

“That’snotananswer,”hetellsme.“Idon’tknowwhatto

thinkwhentheyshowmesomeofthetapes.Inthatfirstarena,it

lookedlikeyoutriedtokillmewiththosetrackerjackers.”

“Iwastryingtokillallofyou,”Isay.“Youhadmetreed.”

“Later,there’salotofkissing.Didn’tseemverygenuineon

yourpart.Didyoulikekissingme?”heasks.

“Sometimes,”Iadmit.“Youknowpeoplearewatchingus

now?”

“Iknow.WhataboutGale?”hecontinues.

Myanger’sreturning.Idon’tcareabouthisrecovery—this

isn’tthebusinessofthepeoplebehindtheglass.“He’snotabad

kissereither,”Isayshortly.

“Anditwasokaywithbothofus?Youkissingtheother?”he

asks.

“No.Itwasn’tokaywitheitherofyou.ButIwasn’tasking

yourpermission,”Itellhim.

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Peetalaughsagain,coldly,dismissively.“Well,you’rea

pieceofwork,aren’tyou?”

Haymitchdoesn’tprotestwhenIwalkout.Downthehall.

Throughthebeehiveofcompartments.Findawarmpipetohide

behindinalaundryroom.IttakesalongtimebeforeIgettothe

bottomofwhyI’msoupset.WhenIdo,it’salmosttoo

mortifyingtoadmit.Allthosemonthsoftakingitforgranted

thatPeetathoughtIwaswonderfulareover.Finally,hecansee

meforwhoIreallyam.Violent.Distrustful.Manipulative.

Deadly.

AndIhatehimforit.

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Blindsided.That’showIfeelwhenHaymitchtellsmeinthe

hospital.IflydownthestepstoCommand,mindracingamilea

minute,andburstrightintoawarmeeting.

“Whatdoyoumean,I’mnotgoingtotheCapitol?Ihaveto

go!I’mtheMockingjay!”Isay.

Coinbarelylooksupfromherscreen.“Andasthe

Mockingjay,yourprimarygoalofunifyingthedistrictsagainst

theCapitolhasbeenachieved.Don’tworry—ifitgoeswell,

we’llflyyouinforthesurrender.”

Thesurrender?

“That’llbetoolate!I’llmissallthefighting.Youneedme

—I’mthebestshotyou’vegot!”Ishout.Idon’tusuallybrag

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aboutthis,butit’sgottobeatleastclosetotrue.“Gale’sgoing.”

“Galehasshownupfortrainingeverydayunlessoccupied

withotherapprovedduties.Wefeelconfidenthecanmanage

himselfinthefield,”saysCoin.“Howmanytrainingsessionsdo

youestimateyou’veattended?”

None.That’showmany.“Well,sometimesIwashunting.

And...ItrainedwithBeeteedowninSpecialWeaponry.”

“It’snotthesame,Katniss,”saysBoggs.“Weallknow

you’resmartandbraveandagoodshot.Butweneedsoldiersin

thefield.Youdon’tknowthefirstthingaboutexecutingorders,

andyou’renotexactlyatyourphysicalpeak.”

“Thatdidn’tbotheryouwhenIwasinEight.OrTwo,for

thatmatter,”Icounter.

“Youweren’toriginallyauthorizedforcombatineither

case,”saysPlutarch,shootingmealookthatsignalsI’maboutto

revealtoomuch.

No,thebomberbattlein8andmyinterventionin2were

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spontaneous,rash,anddefinitelyunauthorized.

“Andbothresultedinyourinjury,”Boggsremindsme.

Suddenly,Iseemyselfthroughhiseyes.Asmallishseventeen-

year-oldgirlwhocan’tquitecatchherbreathsinceherribs

haven’tfullyhealed.Disheveled.Undisciplined.Recuperating.

Notasoldier,butsomeonewhoneedstobelookedafter.

“ButIhavetogo,”Isay.

“Why?”asksCoin.

Ican’tverywellsayit’ssoIcancarryoutmyownpersonal

vendettaagainstSnow.Orthattheideaofremainingherein13

withthelatestversionofPeetawhileGalegoesofftofightis

unbearable.ButIhavenoshortageofreasonstowanttofightin

theCapitol.“BecauseofTwelve.Becausetheydestroyedmy

district.”

Thepresidentthinksaboutthisamoment.Considersme.

“Well,youhavethreeweeks.It’snotlong,butyoucanbegin

training.IftheAssignmentBoarddeemsyoufit,possiblyyour

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

casewillbereviewed.”

That’sit.That’sthemostIcanhopefor.Iguessit’smyown

fault.Ididblowoffmyscheduleeverysingledayunless

somethingsuitedme.Itdidn’tseemlikemuchofapriority,

joggingaroundafieldwithagunwithsomanyotherthings

goingon.AndnowI’mpayingformynegligence.

Backinthehospital,IfindJohannainthesamecircumstance

andspittingmad.ItellheraboutwhatCoinsaid.“Maybeyou

cantrain,too.”

“Fine.I’lltrain.ButI’mgoingtothestinkingCapitolifI

havetokillacrewandflytheremyself,”saysJohanna.

“Probablybestnottobringthatupintraining,”Isay.“But

it’snicetoknowI’llhavearide.”

Johannagrins,andIfeelaslightbutsignificantshiftinour

relationship.Idon’tknowthatwe’reactuallyfriends,but

possiblythewordallieswouldbeaccurate.That’sgood.I’m

goingtoneedanally.

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Thenextmorning,whenwereportfortrainingat7:30,

realityslapsmeintheface.We’vebeenfunneledintoaclassof

relativebeginners,fourteen-orfifteen-year-olds,whichseemsa

littleinsultinguntilit’sobviousthatthey’reinfarbetter

conditionthanweare.Galeandtheotherpeoplealreadychosen

togototheCapitolareinadifferent,acceleratedphaseof

training.Afterwestretch—whichhurts—there’sacoupleof

hoursofstrengtheningexercises—whichhurt—andafive-

milerun—whichkills.EvenwithJohanna’smotivational

insultsdrivingmeon,Ihavetodropoutafteramile.

“It’smyribs,”Iexplaintothetrainer,ano-nonsensemiddle-

agedwomanwe’resupposedtoaddressasSoldierYork.

“They’restillbruised.”

“Well,I’lltellyou,SoldierEverdeen,thosearegoingtotake

atleastanothermonthtohealupontheirown,”shesays.

Ishakemyhead.“Idon’thaveamonth.”

Shelooksmeupanddown.“Thedoctorshaven’tofferedyou

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

anytreatment?”

“Isthereatreatment?”Iask.“Theysaidtheyhadtomend

naturally.”

“That’swhattheysay.Buttheycouldspeeduptheprocessif

Irecommendit.Iwarnyou,though,itisn’tanyfun,”shetells

me.

“Please.I’vegottogettotheCapitol,”Isay.

SoldierYorkdoesn’tquestionthis.Shescribblessomething

onapadandsendsmedirectlybacktothehospital.Ihesitate.I

don’twanttomissanymoretraining.“I’llbebackforthe

afternoonsession,”Ipromise.Shejustpursesherlips.

Twenty-fourneedlejabstomyribcagelater,I’mflattened

outonmyhospitalbed,grittingmyteethtokeepfrombegging

themtobringbackmymorphlingdrip.It’sbeenbymybedsoI

cantakeahitasneeded.Ihaven’tuseditlately,butIkeptitfor

Johanna’ssake.Todaytheytestedmybloodtomakesureitwas

cleanofthepainkiller,asthemixtureofthetwodrugs—the

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morphlingandwhatever’ssetmyribsonfire—hasdangerous

sideeffects.TheymadeitclearIwouldhaveadifficultcoupleof

days.ButItoldthemtogoahead.

It’sabadnightinourroom.Sleep’soutofthequestion.I

thinkIcanactuallysmelltheringofflesharoundmychest

burning,andJohanna’sfightingoffwithdrawalsymptoms.Early

on,whenIapologizeaboutcuttingoffhermorphlingsupply,she

wavesitoff,sayingithadtohappenanyway.Butbythreeinthe

morning,I’mthetargetofeverycolorfulbitofprofanityDistrict

7hastooffer.Atdawn,shedragsmeoutofbed,determinedto

gettotraining.

“Idon’tthinkIcandoit,”Iconfess.

“Youcandoit.Webothcan.We’revictors,remember?

We’retheoneswhocansurviveanythingtheythrowatus,”she

snarlsatme.She’sasickgreenishcolor,shakinglikealeaf.Iget

dressed.

Wemustbevictorstomakeitthroughthemorning.Ithink

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I’mgoingtoloseJohannawhenwerealizeit’spouringoutside.

Herfaceturnsashenandsheseemstohaveceasedbreathing.

“It’sjustwater.Itwon’tkillus,”Isay.Sheclenchesherjaw

andstompsoutintothemud.Raindrenchesusasweworkour

bodiesandthenslogaroundtherunningcourse.Ibailaftera

mileagain,andIhavetoresistthetemptationtotakeoffmy

shirtsothecoldwatercansizzleoffmyribs.Iforcedownmy

fieldlunchofsoggyfishandbeetstew.Johannagetshalfway

throughherbowlbeforeitcomesbackup.Intheafternoon,we

learntoassembleourguns.Imanageit,butJohannacan’thold

herhandssteadyenoughtofitthepartstogether.WhenYork’s

backisturned,Ihelpherout.Eventhoughtheraincontinues,the

afternoon’sanimprovementbecausewe’reontheshooting

range.Atlast,somethingI’mgoodat.Ittakessomeadjusting

fromabowtoagun,butbytheendoftheday,I’vegotthebest

scoreinmyclass.

We’rejustinsidethehospitaldoorswhenJohannadeclares,

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“Thishastostop.Uslivinginthehospital.Everyoneviewsusas

patients.”

It’snotaproblemforme.Icanmoveintoourfamily

compartment,butJohanna’sneverbeenassignedone.Whenshe

triestogetdischargedfromthehospital,theywon’tagreetolet

herlivealone,evenifshecomesinfordailytalkswiththehead

doctor.Ithinktheymayhaveputtwoandtwotogetheraboutthe

morphlingandthisonlyaddstotheirviewthatshe’sunstable.

“Shewon’tbealone.I’mgoingtoroomwithher,”Iannounce.

There’ssomedissent,butHaymitchtakesourpart,andby

bedtime,wehaveacompartmentacrossfromPrimandmy

mother,whoagreestokeepaneyeonus.

AfterItakeashower,andJohannasortofwipesherself

downwithadampcloth,shemakesacursoryinspectionofthe

place.Whensheopensthedrawerthatholdsmyfewpossessions,

sheshutsitquickly.“Sorry.”

Ithinkhowthere’snothinginJohanna’sdrawerbuther

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government-issuedclothes.Thatshedoesn’thaveonethingin

theworldtocallherown.“It’sokay.Youcanlookatmystuffif

youwant.”

Johannaunlatchesmylocket,studyingthepicturesofGale,

Prim,andmymother.Sheopensthesilverparachuteandpulls

outthespileandslipsitontoherpinkie.“Makesmethirstyjust

lookingatit.”ThenshefindsthepearlPeetagaveme.“Isthis—

?”

“Yeah,”Isay.“Madeitthroughsomehow.”Idon’twantto

talkaboutPeeta.Oneofthebestthingsabouttrainingis,itkeeps

mefromthinkingofhim.

“Haymitchsayshe’sgettingbetter,”shesays.

“Maybe.Buthe’schanged,”Isay.

“Sohaveyou.SohaveI.AndFinnickandHaymitchand

Beetee.Don’tgetmestartedonAnnieCresta.Thearenamessed

usallupprettygood,don’tyouthink?Ordoyoustillfeellike

thegirlwhovolunteeredforyoursister?”sheasksme.

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“No,”Ianswer.

“That’stheonethingIthinkmyheaddoctormightberight

about.There’snogoingback.Sowemightaswellgetonwith

things.”Sheneatlyreturnsmykeepsakestothedrawerand

climbsintothebedacrossfrommejustasthelightsgoout.

“You’renotafraidI’llkillyoutonight?”

“LikeIcouldn’ttakeyou,”Ianswer.Thenwelaugh,since

bothourbodiesaresowrecked,itwillbeamiracleifwecanget

upthenextday.Butwedo.Eachmorning,wedo.Andbytheend

oftheweek,myribsfeelalmostlikenew,andJohannacan

assembleherriflewithouthelp.

SoldierYorkgivesthepairofusanapprovingnodaswe

knockofffortheday.“Finejob,Soldiers.”

Whenwemoveoutofhearing,Johannamutters,“Ithink

winningtheGameswaseasier.”Butthelookonherfacesays

she’spleased.

Infact,we’realmostingoodspiritswhenwegotothe

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dininghall,whereGale’swaitingtoeatwithme.Receivinga

giantservingofbeefstewdoesn’thurtmymoodeither.“First

shipmentsoffoodarrivedthismorning,”GreasySaetellsme.

“That’srealbeef,fromDistrictTen.Notanyofyourwilddog.”

“Don’trememberyouturningitdown,”Galetossesback.

WejoinagroupthatincludesDelly,Annie,andFinnick.It’s

somethingtoseeFinnick’stransformationsincehismarriage.

Hisearlierincarnations—thedecadentCapitolheartthrobImet

beforetheQuell,theenigmaticallyinthearena,thebroken

youngmanwhotriedtohelpmeholdittogether—thesehave

beenreplacedbysomeonewhoradiateslife.Finnick’sreal

charmsofself-effacinghumorandaneasygoingnatureareon

displayforthefirsttime.HeneverletsgoofAnnie’shand.Not

whentheywalk,notwhentheyeat.Idoubtheeverplansto.

She’slostinsomedazeofhappiness.Therearestillmoments

whenyoucantellsomethingslipsinherbrainandanotherworld

blindshertous.ButafewwordsfromFinnickcallherback.

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Delly,whoI’veknownsinceIwaslittlebutnevergavemuch

thoughtto,hasgrowninmyestimation.ShewastoldwhatPeeta

saidtomethatnightafterthewedding,butshe’snotagossip.

Haymitchsaysshe’sthebestdefenderIhavewhenPeetagoes

offonsomekindoftearaboutme.Alwaystakingmyside,

blaminghisnegativeperceptionsontheCapitol’storture.She

hasmoreinfluenceonhimthananyoftheothersdo,becausehe

reallydoesknowher.Anyway,evenifshe’ssugarcoatingmy

goodpoints,Iappreciateit.Frankly,Icouldusealittle

sugarcoating.

I’mstarvingandthestewissodelicious—beef,potatoes,

turnips,andonionsinathickgravy—thatIhavetoforcemyself

toslowdown.Allaroundthedininghall,youcanfeelthe

rejuvenatingeffectthatagoodmealcanbringon.Thewayitcan

makepeoplekinder,funnier,moreoptimistic,andremindthem

it’snotamistaketogoonliving.It’sbetterthananymedicine.

SoItrytomakeitlastandjoinintheconversation.Sopupthe

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gravyonmybreadandnibbleonitasIlistentoFinnicktelling

someridiculousstoryaboutaseaturtleswimmingoffwithhis

hat.LaughbeforeIrealizehe’sstandingthere.Directlyacross

thetable,behindtheemptyseatnexttoJohanna.Watchingme.I

chokemomentarilyasthegravybreadsticksinmythroat.

“Peeta!”saysDelly.“It’ssonicetoseeyouout...and

about.”

Twolargeguardsstandbehindhim.Heholdshistray

awkwardly,balancedonhisfingertipssincehiswristsare

shackledwithashortchainbetweenthem.

“What’swiththefancybracelets?”asksJohanna.

“I’mnotquitetrustworthyyet,”saysPeeta.“Ican’tevensit

herewithoutyourpermission.”Heindicatestheguardswithhis

head.

“Surehecansithere.We’reoldfriends,”saysJohanna,

pattingthespacebesideher.TheguardsnodandPeetatakesa

seat.“PeetaandIhadadjoiningcellsintheCapitol.We’revery

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familiarwitheachother’sscreams.”

Annie,who’sonJohanna’sotherside,doesthatthingwhere

shecoversherearsandexitsreality.FinnickshootsJohannaan

angrylookashisarmencirclesAnnie.

“What?MyheaddoctorsaysI’mnotsupposedtocensormy

thoughts.It’spartofmytherapy,”repliesJohanna.

Thelifehasgoneoutofourlittleparty.Finnickmurmurs

thingstoAnnieuntilsheslowlyremovesherhands.Thenthere’s

alongsilencewhilepeoplepretendtoeat.

“Annie,”saysDellybrightly,“didyouknowitwasPeeta

whodecoratedyourweddingcake?Backhome,hisfamilyran

thebakeryandhedidalltheicing.”

AnniecautiouslylooksacrossJohanna.“Thankyou,Peeta.It

wasbeautiful.”

“Mypleasure,Annie,”saysPeeta,andIhearthatoldnoteof

gentlenessinhisvoicethatIthoughtwasgoneforever.Notthat

it’sdirectedatme.Butstill.

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“Ifwe’regoingtofitinthatwalk,webettergo,”Finnick

tellsher.Hearrangesbothoftheirtrayssohecancarrythemin

onehandwhileholdingtightlytoherwiththeother.“Good

seeingyou,Peeta.”

“Youbenicetoher,Finnick.OrImighttryandtakeher

awayfromyou.”Itcouldbeajoke,ifthetonewasn’tsocold.

Everythingitconveysiswrong.TheopendistrustofFinnick,the

implicationthatPeetahashiseyeonAnnie,thatAnniecould

desertFinnick,thatIdonotevenexist.

“Oh,Peeta,”saysFinnicklightly.“Don’tmakemesorryI

restartedyourheart.”HeleadsAnnieawayaftergivingmea

concernedglance.

Whenthey’regone,Dellysaysinareproachfulvoice,“He

didsaveyourlife,Peeta.Morethanonce.”

“Forher.”Hegivesmeabriefnod.“Fortherebellion.Not

forme.Idon’towehimanything.”

Ishouldn’trisetothebait,butIdo.“Maybenot.ButMagsis

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deadandyou’restillhere.Thatshouldcountforsomething.”

“Yeah,alotofthingsshouldcountforsomethingthatdon’t

seemto,Katniss.I’vegotsomememoriesIcan’tmakesenseof,

andIdon’tthinktheCapitoltouchedthem.Alotofnightsonthe

train,forinstance,”hesays.

Againtheimplications.Thatmorehappenedonthetrain

thandid.Thatwhatdidhappen—thosenightsIonlykeptmy

sanitybecausehisarmswerearoundme—nolongermatters.

Everythingalie,everythingawayofmisusinghim.

Peetamakesalittlegesturewithhisspoon,connectingGale

andme.“So,areyoutwoofficiallyacouplenow,oraretheystill

draggingoutthestar-crossedloverthing?”

“Stilldragging,”saysJohanna.

SpasmscausePeeta’shandstotightenintofists,thensplay

outinabizarrefashion.Isitallhecandotokeepthemfrommy

neck?IcanfeelthetensioninGale’smusclesnexttome,fearan

altercation.ButGalesimplysays,“Iwouldn’thavebelieveditif

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Ihadn’tseenitmyself.”

“What’sthat?”asksPeeta.

“You,”Galeanswers.

“You’llhavetobealittlemorespecific,”saysPeeta.“What

aboutme?”

“Thatthey’vereplacedyouwiththeevil-muttversionof

yourself,”saysJohanna.

Galefinisheshismilk.“Youdone?”heasksme.Iriseand

wecrosstodropoffourtrays.Atthedoor,anoldmanstopsme

becauseI’mstillclutchingtherestofmygravybreadinmy

hand.Somethinginmyexpression,ormaybethefactthatI’ve

madenoattempttoconcealit,makeshimgoeasyonme.Helets

mestuffthebreadinmymouthandmoveon.GaleandIare

almosttomycompartmentwhenhespeaksagain.“Ididn’t

expectthat.”

“Itoldyouhehatedme,”Isay.

“It’sthewayhehatesyou.It’sso...familiar.Iusedtofeel

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likethat,”headmits.“WhenI’dwatchyoukissinghimonthe

screen.OnlyIknewIwasn’tbeingentirelyfair.Hecan’tsee

that.”

Wereachmydoor.“MaybehejustseesmeasIreallyam.I

havetogetsomesleep.”

GalecatchesmyarmbeforeIcandisappear.“Sothat’swhat

you’rethinkingnow?”Ishrug.“Katniss,asyouroldestfriend,

believemewhenIsayhe’snotseeingyouasyoureallyare.”He

kissesmycheekandgoes.

Isitonmybed,tryingtostuffinformationfrommyMilitary

Tacticsbooksintomyheadwhilememoriesofmynightswith

Peetaonthetraindistractme.Afterabouttwentyminutes,

Johannacomesinandthrowsherselfacrossthefootofmybed.

“Youmissedthebestpart.DellylosthertemperatPeetaover

howhetreatedyou.Shegotverysqueaky.Itwaslikesomeone

stabbingamousewithaforkrepeatedly.Thewholedininghall

wasriveted.”

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“What’dPeetado?”Iask.

“Hestartedarguingwithhimselflikehewastwopeople.The

guardshadtotakehimaway.Onthegoodside,nooneseemedto

noticeIfinishedhisstew.”Johannarubsherhandoverher

protrudingbelly.Ilookatthelayerofgrimeunderher

fingernails.Wonderifthepeoplein7everbathe.

Wespendacoupleofhoursquizzingeachotheronmilitary

terms.IvisitmymotherandPrimforawhile.WhenI’mbackin

mycompartment,showered,staringintothedarkness,Ifinally

ask,“Johanna,couldyoureallyhearhimscreaming?”

“Thatwaspartofit,”shesays.“Likethejabberjaysinthe

arena.Onlyitwasreal.Anditdidn’tstopafteranhour.Tick,

tock.”

“Tick,tock,”Iwhisperback.

Roses.Wolfmutts.Tributes.Frosteddolphins.Friends.

Mockingjays.Stylists.Me.

Everythingscreamsinmydreamstonight.

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Ithrowmyselfintotrainingwithavengeance.Eat,live,and

breathetheworkouts,drills,weaponspractice,lectureson

tactics.Ahandfulofusaremovedintoanadditionalclassthat

givesmehopeImaybeacontenderfortheactualwar.The

soldierssimplycallittheBlock,butthetattooonmyarmlistsit

asS.S.C.,shortforSimulatedStreetCombat.Deepin13,they’ve

builtanartificialCapitolcityblock.Theinstructorbreaksusinto

squadsofeightandweattempttocarryoutmissions—gaining

aposition,destroyingatarget,searchingahome—asifwewere

reallyfightingourwaythroughtheCapitol.Thething’srigged

sothateverythingthatcangowrongforyoudoes.Afalsestep

triggersalandmine,asniperappearsonarooftop,yourgun

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jams,acryingchildleadsyouintoanambush,yoursquadron

leader—who’sjustavoiceontheprogram—getshitbya

mortarandyouhavetofigureoutwhattodowithoutorders.Part

ofyouknowsit’sfakeandthatthey’renotgoingtokillyou.If

yousetoffalandmine,youheartheexplosionandhaveto

pretendtofalloverdead.Butinotherways,itfeelsprettyrealin

there—theenemysoldiersdressedinPeacekeepers’uniforms,

theconfusionofasmokebomb.Theyevengasus.JohannaandI

aretheonlyoneswhogetourmasksonintime.Therestofour

squadgetsknockedoutfortenminutes.Andthesupposedly

harmlessgasItookafewlungfulsofgivesmeawicked

headachefortherestoftheday.

CressidaandhercrewtapeJohannaandmeonthefiring

range.IknowGaleandFinnickarebeingfilmedaswell.It’spart

ofanewproposseriestoshowtherebelspreparingforthe

Capitolinvasion.Onthewhole,thingsaregoingprettywell.

ThenPeetastartsshowingupforourmorningworkouts.The

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manaclesareoff,buthe’sstillconstantlyaccompaniedbyapair

ofguards.Afterlunch,Iseehimacrossthefield,drillingwitha

groupofbeginners.Idon’tknowwhatthey’rethinking.Ifaspat

withDellycanreducehimtoarguingwithhimself,he’sgotno

businesslearninghowtoassembleagun.

WhenIconfrontPlutarch,heassuresmethatit’sallforthe

camera.They’vegotfootageofAnniegettingmarriedand

Johannahittingtargets,butallofPanemiswonderingabout

Peeta.Theyneedtoseehe’sfightingfortherebels,notforSnow.

Andmaybeiftheycouldjustgetacoupleofshotsofthetwoof

us,notkissingnecessarily,justlookinghappytobeback

together—

Iwalkawayfromtheconversationrightthen.Thatisnot

goingtohappen.

Inmyraremomentsofdowntime,Ianxiouslywatchthe

preparationsfortheinvasions.Seeequipmentandprovisions

readied,divisionsassembled.Youcantellwhensomeone’s

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receivedordersbecausethey’regivenaveryshorthaircut,the

markofapersongoingintobattle.Thereismuchtalkofthe

openingoffensive,whichwillbetosecurethetraintunnelsthat

feedupintotheCapitol.

Justafewdaysbeforethefirsttroopsaretomoveout,York

unexpectedlytellsJohannaandmeshe’srecommendedusforthe

exam,andwe’retoreportimmediately.Therearefourparts:an

obstaclecoursethatassessesyourphysicalcondition,awritten

tacticsexam,atestofweaponsproficiency,andasimulated

combatsituationintheBlock.Idon’tevenhavetimetoget

nervousforthefirstthreeanddowell,butthere’sabacklogat

theBlock.Somekindoftechnicalbugthey’reworkingout.A

groupofusexchangesinformation.Thismuchseemstrue.You

gothroughalone.There’snopredictingwhatsituationyou’llbe

throwninto.Oneboysays,underhisbreath,thathe’sheardit’s

designedtotargeteachindividual’sweaknesses.

Myweaknesses?That’sadoorIdon’tevenwanttoopen.

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ButIfindaquietspotandtrytoassesswhattheymightbe.The

lengthofthelistdepressesme.Lackofphysicalbruteforce.A

bareminimumoftraining.Andsomehowmystandoutstatusas

theMockingjaydoesn’tseemtobeanadvantageinasituation

wherethey’retryingtogetustoblendintoapack.Theycould

nailmetothewallonanynumberofthings.

Johanna’scalledthreeaheadofme,andIgiveheranodof

encouragement.IwishIhadbeenatthetopofthelistbecause

nowI’mreallyoverthinkingthewholething.Bythetimemy

name’scalled,Idon’tknowwhatmystrategyshouldbe.

Fortunately,onceI’mintheBlock,acertainamountoftraining

doeskickin.It’sanambushsituation.Peacekeepersappear

almostinstantlyandIhavetomakemywaytoarendezvous

pointtomeetupwithmyscatteredsquad.Islowlynavigatethe

street,takingoutPeacekeepersasIgo.Twoontherooftoptomy

left,anotherinthedoorwayupahead.It’schallenging,butnotas

hardasIwasexpecting.There’sanaggingfeelingthatifit’stoo

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simple,Imustbemissingthepoint.I’mwithinacoupleof

buildingsfrommygoalwhenthingsbegintoheatup.Ahalf

dozenPeacekeeperscomechargingaroundthecorner.Theywill

outgunme,butInoticesomething.Adrumofgasolinelying

carelesslyinthegutter.Thisisit.Mytest.Toperceivethat

blowingupthedrumwillbetheonlywaytoachievemymission.

JustasIstepouttodoit,mysquadronleader,who’sbeenfairly

uselessuptothispoint,quietlyordersmetohittheground.

EveryinstinctIhavescreamsformetoignorethevoice,topull

thetrigger,toblowthePeacekeeperssky-high.Andsuddenly,I

realizewhatthemilitarywillthinkmybiggestweaknessis.

FrommyfirstmomentintheGames,whenIranforthatorange

backpack,tothefirefightin8,tomyimpulsiveraceacrossthe

squarein2.Icannottakeorders.

Ismackintothegroundsohardandfast,I’llbepicking

graveloutofmychinforaweek.Someoneelseblowsthegas

tank.ThePeacekeepersdie.Imakemyrendezvouspoint.WhenI

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exittheBlockonthefarside,asoldiercongratulatesme,stamps

myhandwithsquadnumber451,andtellsmetoreportto

Command.Almostgiddywithsuccess,Irunthroughthehalls,

skiddingaroundcorners,boundingdownthestepsbecausethe

elevator’stooslow.Ibangintotheroombeforetheoddityofthe

situationdawnsonme.Ishouldn’tbeinCommand;Ishouldbe

gettingmyhairbuzzed.Thepeoplearoundthetablearen’t

freshlymintedsoldiersbuttheonescallingtheshots.

Boggssmilesandshakeshisheadwhenheseesme.“Let’s

seeit.”Unsurenow,Iholdoutmystampedhand.“You’rewith

me.It’saspecialunitofsharpshooters.Joinyoursquad.”He

nodsoveratagroupliningthewall.Gale.Finnick.FiveothersI

don’tknow.Mysquad.I’mnotonlyin,Igettoworkunder

Boggs.Withmyfriends.Iforcemyselftotakecalm,soldierly

stepstojointhem,insteadofjumpingupanddown.

Wemustbeimportant,too,becausewe’reinCommand,and

ithasnothingtodowithacertainMockingjay.Plutarchstands

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overawide,flatpanelinthecenterofthetable.He’sexplaining

somethingaboutthenatureofwhatwewillencounterinthe

Capitol.I’mthinkingthisisaterriblepresentation—because

evenontiptoeIcan’tseewhat’sonthepanel—untilhehitsa

button.AholographicimageofablockoftheCapitolprojects

intotheair.

“This,forexample,istheareasurroundingoneofthe

Peacekeepers’barracks.Notunimportant,butnotthemost

crucialoftargets,andyetlook.”Plutarchenterssomesortof

codeonakeyboard,andlightsbegintoflash.They’reinan

assortmentofcolorsandblinkatdifferentspeeds.“Eachlightis

calledapod.Itrepresentsadifferentobstacle,thenatureof

whichcouldbeanythingfromabombtoabandofmutts.Make

nomistake,whateveritcontainsisdesignedtoeithertraporkill

you.SomehavebeeninplacesincetheDarkDays,others

developedovertheyears.Tobehonest,Icreatedafairnumber

myself.Thisprogram,whichoneofourpeopleabscondedwith

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whenwelefttheCapitol,isourmostrecentinformation.They

don’tknowwehaveit.Butevenso,it’slikelythatnewpods

havebeenactivatedinthelastfewmonths.Thisiswhatyouwill

face.”

I’munawarethatmyfeetaremovingtothetableuntilI’m

inchesfromtheholograph.Myhandreachesinandcupsa

rapidlyblinkinggreenlight.

Someonejoinsme,hisbodytense.Finnick,ofcourse.

BecauseonlyavictorwouldseewhatIseesoimmediately.The

arena.LacedwithpodscontrolledbyGamemakers.Finnick’s

fingerscaressasteadyredglowoveradoorway.“Ladiesand

gentlemen...”

Hisvoiceisquiet,butmineringsthroughtheroom.“Letthe

Seventy-sixthHungerGamesbegin!”

Ilaugh.Quickly.Beforeanyonehastimetoregisterwhat

liesbeneaththewordsIhavejustuttered.Beforeeyebrowsare

raised,objectionsareuttered,twoandtwoareputtogether,and

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thesolutionisthatIshouldbekeptasfarawayfromtheCapitol

aspossible.Becauseanangry,independentlythinkingvictor

withalayerofpsychologicalscartissuetoothicktopenetrateis

maybethelastpersonyouwantonyoursquad.

“Idon’tevenknowwhyyoubotheredtoputFinnickandme

throughtraining,Plutarch,”Isay.

“Yeah,we’realreadythetwobest-equippedsoldiersyou

have,”Finnickaddscockily.

“Donotthinkthatfactescapesme,”hesayswithan

impatientwave.“Nowbackinline,SoldiersOdairandEverdeen.

Ihaveapresentationtofinish.”

Weretreattoourplaces,ignoringthequestioninglooks

thrownourway.Iadoptanattitudeofextremeconcentrationas

Plutarchcontinues,noddingmyheadhereandthere,shiftingmy

positiontogetabetterview,allthewhiletellingmyselftohang

onuntilIcangettothewoodsandscream.Orcurse.Orcry.Or

maybeallthreeatonce.

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Ifthiswasatest,FinnickandIbothpassit.WhenPlutarch

finishesandthemeeting’sadjourned,Ihaveabadmomentwhen

Ilearnthere’saspecialorderforme.Butit’smerelythatIskip

themilitaryhaircutbecausetheywouldliketheMockingjayto

lookasmuchlikethegirlinthearenaaspossibleatthe

anticipatedsurrender.Forthecameras,youknow.Ishrugto

communicatethatmyhairlength’samatterofcomplete

indifferencetome.Theydismissmewithoutfurthercomment.

FinnickandIgravitatetowardeachotherinthehallway.

“WhatwillItellAnnie?”hesaysunderhisbreath.

“Nothing,”Ianswer.“That’swhatmymotherandsisterwill

behearingfromme.”Badenoughthatweknowwe’reheading

backintoafullyequippedarena.Nousedroppingitonourloved

ones.

“Ifsheseesthatholograph—”hebegins.

“Shewon’t.It’sclassifiedinformation.Itmustbe,”Isay.

“Anyway,it’snotlikeanactualGames.Anynumberofpeople

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willsurvive.We’rejustoverreactingbecause—well,youknow

why.Youstillwanttogo,don’tyou?”

“Ofcourse.IwanttodestroySnowasmuchasyoudo,”he

says.

“Itwon’tbeliketheothers,”Isayfirmly,tryingtoconvince

myselfaswell.Thentherealbeautyofthesituationdawnson

me.“ThistimeSnowwillbeaplayer,too.”

Beforewecancontinue,Haymitchappears.Hewasn’tatthe

meeting,isn’tthinkingofarenasbutsomethingelse.“Johanna’s

backinthehospital.”

IassumedJohannawasfine,hadpassedherexam,but

simplywasn’tassignedtoasharpshooters’unit.She’swicked

throwinganaxbutaboutaveragewithagun.“Isshehurt?What

happened?”

“ItwaswhileshewasontheBlock.Theytrytoferretouta

soldier’spotentialweaknesses.Sotheyfloodedthestreet,”says

Haymitch.

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Thisdoesn’thelp.Johannacanswim.Atleast,Iseemto

rememberherswimmingaroundsomeintheQuarterQuell.Not

likeFinnick,ofcourse,butnoneofusarelikeFinnick.“So?”

“That’showtheytorturedherintheCapitol.Soakedherand

thenusedelectricshocks,”saysHaymitch.“IntheBlockshehad

somekindofflashback.Panicked,didn’tknowwhereshewas.

She’sbackundersedation.”FinnickandIjuststandthere,asif

we’velosttheabilitytorespond.IthinkofthewayJohanna

nevershowers.Howsheforcedherselfintotherainlikeitwas

acidthatday.Ihadattributedhermiserytothemorphling

withdrawal.

“Youtwoshouldgoseeher.You’reasclosetofriendsas

she’sgot,”saysHaymitch.

Thatmakesthewholethingworse.Idon’treallyknow

what’sbetweenJohannaandFinnick.ButIhardlyknowher.No

family.Nofriends.Notsomuchasatokenfrom7tosetbeside

herregulationclothesinheranonymousdrawer.Nothing.

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“IbettergotellPlutarch.Hewon’tbehappy,”Haymitch

continues.“Hewantsasmanyvictorsaspossibleforthecameras

tofollowintheCapitol.Thinksitmakesforbettertelevision.”

“AreyouandBeeteegoing?”Iask.

“Asmanyyoungandattractivevictorsaspossible,”

Haymitchcorrectshimself.“So,no.We’llbehere.”

FinnickgoesdirectlydowntoseeJohanna,butIlinger

outsideafewminutesuntilBoggscomesout.He’smy

commandernow,soIguesshe’stheonetoaskforanyspecial

favors.WhenItellhimwhatIwanttodo,hewritesmeapassso

thatIcangotothewoodsduringReflection,providedIstay

withinsightoftheguards.Iruntomycompartment,thinkingto

usetheparachute,butit’ssofullofuglymemories.Instead,Igo

acrossthehallandtakeoneofthewhitecottonbandagesI

broughtfrom12.Square.Sturdy.Justthething.

Inthewoods,Ifindapinetreeandstriphandfulsoffragrant

needlesfromtheboughs.Aftermakinganeatpileinthemiddle

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ofthebandage,Igatherupthesides,givethematwist,andtie

themtightlywithalengthofvine,makinganapple-sizedbundle.

Atthehospitalroomdoor,IwatchJohannaforamoment,

realizethatmostofherferocityisinherabrasiveattitude.

Strippedofthat,assheisnow,there’sonlyaslightyoung

woman,herwide-seteyesfightingtostayawakeagainstthe

powerofthedrugs.Terrifiedofwhatsleepwillbring.Icrossto

herandholdoutthebundle.

“What’sthat?”shesayshoarsely.Dampedgesofherhair

formlittlespikesoverherforehead.

“Imadeitforyou.Somethingtoputinyourdrawer.”Iplace

itinherhands.“Smellit.”

Sheliftsthebundletohernoseandtakesatentativesniff.

“Smellslikehome.”Tearsfloodhereyes.

“That’swhatIwashoping.YoubeingfromSevenandall,”I

say.“Rememberwhenwemet?Youwereatree.Well,briefly.”

Suddenly,shehasmywristinanirongrip.“Youhavetokill

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him,Katniss.”

“Don’tworry.”Iresistthetemptationtowrenchmyarm

free.

“Swearit.Onsomethingyoucareabout,”shehisses.

“Iswearit.Onmylife.”Butshedoesn’tletgoofmyarm.

“Onyourfamily’slife,”sheinsists.

“Onmyfamily’slife,”Irepeat.Iguessmyconcernformy

ownsurvivalisn’tcompellingenough.SheletsgoandIrubmy

wrist.“WhydoyouthinkI’mgoing,anyway,brainless?”

Thatmakeshersmilealittle.“Ijustneededtohearit.”She

pressesthebundleofpineneedlestohernoseandclosesher

eyes.

Theremainingdaysgobyinawhirl.Afterabriefworkout

eachmorning,mysquad’sontheshootingrangefull-timein

training.Ipracticemostlywithagun,buttheyreserveanhoura

dayforspecialtyweapons,whichmeansIgettousemy

Mockingjaybow,Galehisheavymilitarizedone.Thetrident

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BeeteedesignedforFinnickhasalotofspecialfeatures,butthe

mostremarkableisthathecanthrowit,pressabuttononametal

cuffonhiswrist,andreturnittohishandwithoutchasingit

down.

SometimesweshootatPeacekeeperdummiestobecome

familiarwiththeweaknessesintheirprotectivegear.Thechinks

inthearmor,sotospeak.Ifyouhitflesh,you’rerewardedwitha

burstoffakeblood.Ourdummiesaresoakedinred.

It’sreassuringtoseejusthowhightheoveralllevelof

accuracyisinourgroup.AlongwithFinnickandGale,thesquad

includesfivesoldiersfrom13.Jackson,amiddle-agedwoman

who’sBoggs’ssecondincommand,lookskindofsluggishbut

canhitthingstherestofuscan’tevenseewithoutascope.

Farsighted,shesays.There’sapairofsistersintheirtwenties

namedLeeg—wecallthemLeeg1andLeeg2forclarity—

whoaresosimilarinuniform,Ican’ttellthemapartuntilI

noticeLeeg1hasweirdyellowflecksinhereyes.Twoolder

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guys,MitchellandHomes,neversaymuchbutcanshootthe

dustoffyourbootsatfiftyyards.Iseeothersquadsthatarealso

quitegood,butIdon’tfullyunderstandourstatusuntilthe

morningPlutarchjoinsus.

“SquadFour-Five-One,youhavebeenselectedforaspecial

mission,”hebegins.Ibitetheinsideofmylip,hopingagainst

hopethatit’stoassassinateSnow.“Wehavenumerous

sharpshooters,butratheradearthofcameracrews.Therefore,

we’vehandpickedtheeightofyoutobewhatwecallour‘Star

Squad.’Youwillbetheon-screenfacesoftheinvasion.”

Disappointment,shock,thenangerrunthroughthegroup.

“Whatyou’resayingis,wewon’tbeinactualcombat,”snaps

Gale.

“Youwillbeincombat,butperhapsnotalwaysonthefront

line.Ifonecanevenisolateafrontlineinthistypeofwar,”says

Plutarch.

“Noneofuswantsthat.”Finnick’sremarkisfollowedbya

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generalrumbleofassent,butIstaysilent.“We’regoingto

fight.”

“You’regoingtobeasusefultothewareffortaspossible,”

Plutarchsays.“Andit’sbeendecidedthatyouareofmostvalue

ontelevision.JustlookattheeffectKatnisshadrunningaround

inthatMockingjaysuit.Turnedthewholerebellionaround.Do

younoticehowshe’stheonlyonenotcomplaining?It’sbecause

sheunderstandsthepowerofthatscreen.”

Actually,Katnissisn’tcomplainingbecauseshehasno

intentionofstayingwiththe“StarSquad,”butsherecognizesthe

necessityofgettingtotheCapitolbeforecarryingoutanyplan.

Still,tobetoocompliantmayarousesuspicionaswell.

“Butit’snotallpretend,isit?”Iask.“That’dbeawasteof

talent.”

“Don’tworry,”Plutarchtellsme.“You’llhaveplentyofreal

targetstohit.Butdon’tgetblownup.I’vegotenoughonmy

platewithouthavingtoreplaceyou.NowgettotheCapitoland

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putonagoodshow.”

Themorningweshipout,Isaygood-byetomyfamily.I

haven’ttoldthemhowmuchtheCapitol’sdefensesmirrorthe

weaponsinthearena,butmygoingofftowarisawfulenoughon

itsown.Mymotherholdsmetightlyforalongtime.Ifeeltears

onhercheek,somethingshesuppressedwhenIwasslatedforthe

Games.“Don’tworry.I’llbeperfectlysafe.I’mnotevenareal

soldier.JustoneofPlutarch’stelevisedpuppets,”Ireassureher.

Primwalksmeasfarasthehospitaldoors.“Howdoyou

feel?”

“Better,knowingyou’resomewhereSnowcan’treachyou,”

Isay.

“Nexttimeweseeeachother,we’llbefreeofhim,”says

Primfirmly.Thenshethrowsherarmsaroundmyneck.“Be

careful.”

Iconsidersayingafinalgood-byetoPeeta,decideitwould

onlybebadforbothofus.ButIdoslipthepearlintothepocket

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ofmyuniform.Atokenoftheboywiththebread.

Ahovercrafttakesusto,ofallplaces,12,whereamakeshift

transportationareahasbeensetupoutsidethefirezone.No

luxurytrainsthistime,butacargocarpackedtothelimitwith

soldiersintheirdarkgrayuniforms,sleepingwiththeirheadson

theirpacks.Afteracoupleofdays’travel,wedisembarkinside

oneofthemountaintunnelsleadingtotheCapitol,andmakethe

restofthesix-hourtrekonfoot,takingcaretosteponlyona

glowinggreenpaintlinethatmarkssafepassagetotheairabove.

Wecomeoutintherebelencampment,aten-blockstretch

outsidethetrainstationwherePeetaandImadeourprevious

arrivals.It’salreadycrawlingwithsoldiers.Squad451is

assignedaspottopitchitstents.Thisareahasbeensecuredfor

overaweek.RebelspushedoutthePeacekeepers,losing

hundredsoflivesintheprocess.TheCapitolforcesfellbackand

haveregroupedfartherintothecity.Betweenusliethebooby-

trappedstreets,emptyandinviting.Eachonewillneedtobe

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sweptofpodsbeforewecanadvance.

Mitchellasksabouthoverplanebombings—wedofeelvery

nakedpitchedoutintheopen—butBoggssaysit’snotanissue.

MostoftheCapitol’sairfleetwasdestroyedin2orduringthe

invasion.Ifithasanycraftleft,it’sholdingontothem.Probably

soSnowandhisinnercirclecanmakealast-minuteescapeto

somepresidentialbunkersomewhereifneeded.Ourown

hoverplanesweregroundedaftertheCapitol’santiaircraft

missilesdecimatedthefirstfewwaves.Thiswarwillbebattled

outonthestreetswith,hopefully,onlysuperficialdamagetothe

infrastructureandaminimumofhumancasualties.Therebels

wanttheCapitol,justastheCapitolwanted13.

Afterthreedays,muchofSquad451risksdesertingoutof

boredom.Cressidaandherteamtakeshotsofusfiring.Theytell

uswe’repartofthedisinformationteam.Iftherebelsonlyshoot

Plutarch’spods,itwilltaketheCapitolabouttwominutesto

realizewehavetheholograph.Sothere’salotoftimespent

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shatteringthingsthatdon’tmatter,tothrowthemoffthescent.

Mostlywejustaddtothepilesofrainbowglassthat’sbeen

blownofftheexteriorsofthecandy-coloredbuildings.Isuspect

theyareintercuttingthisfootagewiththedestructionof

significantCapitoltargets.Onceinawhileitseemsareal

sharpshooter’sservicesareneeded.Eighthandsgoup,butGale,

Finnick,andIareneverchosen.

“It’syourownfaultforbeingsocamera-ready,”ItellGale.

Iflookscouldkill.

Idon’tthinktheyquiteknowwhattodowiththethreeofus,

particularlyme.IhavemyMockingjayoutfitwithme,butI’ve

onlybeentapedinmyuniform.SometimesIuseagun,

sometimestheyaskmetoshootwithmybowandarrows.It’sas

iftheydon’twanttoentirelylosetheMockingjay,buttheywant

todowngrademyroletofootsoldier.SinceIdon’tcare,it’s

amusingratherthanupsettingtoimaginetheargumentsgoingon

backin13.

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WhileIoutwardlyexpressdiscontentaboutourlackofany

realparticipation,I’mbusywithmyownagenda.Eachofushas

apapermapoftheCapitol.Thecityformsanalmostperfect

square.Linesdividethemapintosmallersquares,withletters

alongthetopandnumbersdownthesidetoformagrid.I

consumethis,notingeveryintersectionandsidestreet,butit’s

remedialstuff.ThecommandershereareworkingoffPlutarch’s

holograph.EachhasahandheldcontraptioncalledaHolothat

producesimageslikeIsawinCommand.Theycanzoominto

anyareaofthegridandseewhatpodsawaitthem.TheHolo’san

independentunit,aglorifiedmapreally,sinceitcanneithersend

norreceivesignals.Butit’sfarsuperiortomypaperversion.

AHoloisactivatedbyaspecificcommander’svoicegiving

hisorhername.Onceit’sworking,itrespondstotheother

voicesinthesquadronsoif,say,Boggswerekilledorseverely

disabled,someonecouldtakeover.Ifanyoneinthesquad

repeats“nightlock”threetimesinarow,theHolowillexplode,

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blowingeverythinginafive-yardradiussky-high.Thisisfor

securityreasonsintheeventofcapture.It’sunderstoodthatwe

wouldalldothiswithouthesitation.

SowhatIneedtodoisstealBoggs’sactivatedHoloand

clearoutbeforehenotices.Ithinkitwouldbeeasiertostealhis

teeth.

Onthefourthmorning,SoldierLeeg2hitsamis-labeled

pod.Itdoesn’tunleashaswarmofmuttationgnats,whichthe

rebelsarepreparedfor,butshootsoutasunburstofmetaldarts.

Onefindsherbrain.She’sgonebeforethemedicscanreachher.

Plutarchpromisesaspeedyreplacement.

Thefollowingevening,thenewestmemberofoursquad

arrives.Withnomanacles.Noguards.Strollingoutofthetrain

stationwithhisgunswingingfromthestrapoverhisshoulder.

There’sshock,confusion,resistance,but451isstampedonthe

backofPeeta’shandinfreshink.Boggsrelieveshimofhis

weaponandgoestomakeacall.

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“Itwon’tmatter,”Peetatellstherestofus.“Thepresident

assignedmeherself.Shedecidedtheproposneededsome

heatingup.”

Maybetheydo.ButifCoinsentPeetahere,she’sdecided

somethingelseaswell.ThatI’mofmoreusetoherdeadthan

alive.

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I’veneverreallyseenBoggsangrybefore.NotwhenI’ve

disobeyedhisordersorpukedonhim,notevenwhenGalebroke

hisnose.Buthe’sangrywhenhereturnsfromhisphonecall

withthepresident.ThefirstthinghedoesisinstructSoldier

Jackson,hissecondincommand,tosetupatwo-person,round-

the-clockguardonPeeta.Thenhetakesmeonawalk,weaving

throughthesprawlingtentencampmentuntiloursquadisfar

behindus.

“He’lltryandkillmeanyway,”Isay.“Especiallyhere.

Wheretherearesomanybadmemoriestosethimoff.”

“I’llkeephimcontained,Katniss,”saysBoggs.

“WhydoesCoinwantmedeadnow?”Iask.

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“Shedeniesshedoes,”heanswers.

“Butweknowit’strue,”Isay.“Andyoumustatleasthavea

theory.”

Boggsgivesmealong,hardlookbeforeheanswers.“Here’s

asmuchasIknow.Thepresidentdoesn’tlikeyou.Shenever

did.ItwasPeetashewantedrescuedfromthearena,butnoone

elseagreed.Itmademattersworsewhenyouforcedhertogive

theothervictorsimmunity.Buteventhatcouldbeoverlookedin

viewofhowwellyou’veperformed.”

“Thenwhatisit?”Iinsist.

“Sometimeinthenearfuture,thiswarwillberesolved.A

newleaderwillbechosen,”saysBoggs.

Irollmyeyes.“Boggs,noonethinksI’mgoingtobethe

leader.”

“No.Theydon’t,”heagrees.“Butyou’llthrowsupportto

someone.WoulditbePresidentCoin?Orsomeoneelse?”

“Idon’tknow.I’veneverthoughtaboutit,”Isay.

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“Ifyourimmediateanswerisn’tCoin,thenyou’reathreat.

You’rethefaceoftherebellion.Youmayhavemoreinfluence

thananyothersingleperson,”saysBoggs.“Outwardly,themost

you’veeverdoneistoleratedher.”

“Soshe’llkillmetoshutmeup.”TheminuteIsaythe

words,Iknowthey’retrue.

“Shedoesn’tneedyouasarallyingpointnow.Asshesaid,

yourprimaryobjective,tounitethedistricts,hassucceeded,”

Boggsremindsme.“Thesecurrentproposcouldbedonewithout

you.There’sonlyonelastthingyoucoulddotoaddfiretothe

rebellion.”

“Die,”Isayquietly.

“Yes.Giveusamartyrtofightfor,”saysBoggs.“Butthat’s

notgoingtohappenundermywatch,SoldierEverdeen.I’m

planningforyoutohavealonglife.”

“Why?”Thiskindofthinkingwillonlybringhimtrouble.

“Youdon’towemeanything.”

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“Becauseyou’veearnedit,”hesays.“Nowgetbacktoyour

squad.”

IknowIshouldfeelappreciativeofBoggsstickinghisneck

outforme,butreallyI’mjustfrustrated.Imean,howcanIsteal

hisHoloanddesertnow?Betrayinghimwascomplicatedenough

withoutthiswholenewlayerofdebt.Ialreadyowehimfor

savingmylife.

Seeingthecauseofmycurrentdilemmacalmlypitchinghis

tentbackatoursitemakesmefurious.“Whattimeismy

watch?”IaskJackson.

Shesquintsatmeindoubt,ormaybeshe’sjusttryingtoget

myfaceinfocus.“Ididn’tputyouintherotation.”

“Whynot?”Iask.

“I’mnotsureyoucouldreallyshootPeeta,ifitcametoit,”

shesays.

Ispeakupsothewholesquadcanhearmeclearly.“I

wouldn’tbeshootingPeeta.He’sgone.Johanna’sright.It’dbe

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justlikeshootinganotheroftheCapitol’smutts.”Itfeelsgoodto

saysomethinghorribleabouthim,outloud,inpublic,afterall

thehumiliationI’vefeltsincehisreturn.

“Well,thatsortofcommentisn’trecommendingyoueither,”

saysJackson.

“Putherintherotation,”IhearBoggssaybehindme.

Jacksonshakesherheadandmakesanote.“Midnightto

four.You’reonwithme.”

Thedinnerwhistlesounds,andGaleandIlineupatthe

canteen.“Doyouwantmetokillhim?”heasksbluntly.

“That’llgetusbothsentbackforsure,”Isay.Buteven

thoughI’mfurious,thebrutalityoftheofferrattlesme.“Ican

dealwithhim.”

“Youmeanuntilyoutakeoff?Youandyourpapermapand

possiblyaHoloifyoucangetyourhandsonit?”SoGalehasnot

missedmypreparations.Ihopetheyhaven’tbeensoobviousto

theothers.Noneofthemknowmymindlikehedoes,though.

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“You’renotplanningonleavingmebehind,areyou?”heasks.

Upuntilthispoint,Iwas.Buthavingmyhuntingpartnerto

watchmybackdoesn’tsoundlikeabadidea.“Asyourfellow

soldier,Ihavetostronglyrecommendyoustaywithyoursquad.

ButIcan’tstopyoufromcoming,canI?”

Hegrins.“No.Notunlessyouwantmetoalerttherestofthe

army.”

Squad451andthetelevisioncrewcollectdinnerfromthe

canteenandgatherinatensecircletoeat.AtfirstIthinkthat

Peetaisthecauseoftheunease,butbytheendofthemeal,I

realizemorethanafewunfriendlylookshavebeendirectedmy

way.Thisisaquickturnaround,sinceI’mprettysurewhenPeeta

appearedthewholeteamwasconcernedabouthowdangeroushe

mightbe,especiallytome.Butit’snotuntilIgetaphonecall

throughtoHaymitchthatIunderstand.

“Whatareyoutryingtodo?Provokehimintoanattack?”he

asksme.

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“Ofcoursenot.Ijustwanthimtoleavemealone,”Isay.

“Well,hecan’t.NotafterwhattheCapitolputhimthrough,”

saysHaymitch.“Look,Coinmayhavesenthimtherehoping

he’dkillyou,butPeetadoesn’tknowthat.Hedoesn’tunderstand

what’shappenedtohim.Soyoucan’tblamehim—”

“Idon’t!”Isay.

“Youdo!You’repunishinghimoverandoverforthingsthat

areoutofhiscontrol.Now,I’mnotsayingyoushouldn’thavea

fullyloadedweaponnexttoyouroundtheclock.ButIthinkit’s

timeyouflippedthislittlescenarioaroundinyourhead.Ifyou’d

beentakenbytheCapitol,andhijacked,andthentriedtokill

Peeta,isthisthewayhewouldbetreatingyou?”demands

Haymitch.

Ifallsilent.Itisn’t.Itisn’thowhewouldbetreatingmeat

all.Hewouldbetryingtogetmebackatanycost.Notshutting

meout,abandoningme,greetingmewithhostilityateveryturn.

“Youandme,wemadeadealtotryandsavehim.

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Remember?”Haymitchsays.WhenIdon’trespond,he

disconnectsafteracurt“Tryandremember.”

Theautumndayturnsfrombrisktocold.Mostofthesquad

hunkerdownintheirsleepingbags.Somesleepundertheopen

sky,closetotheheaterinthecenterofourcamp,whileothers

retreattotheirtents.Leeg1hasfinallybrokendownoverher

sister’sdeath,andhermuffledsobsreachusthroughthecanvas.

Ihuddleinmytent,thinkingoverHaymitch’swords.Realizing

withshamethatmyfixationwithassassinatingSnowhas

allowedmetoignoreamuchmoredifficultproblem.Tryingto

rescuePeetafromtheshadowyworldthehijackinghasstranded

himin.Idon’tknowhowtofindhim,letaloneleadhimout.I

can’tevenconceiveofaplan.Itmakesthetaskofcrossinga

loadedarena,locatingSnow,andputtingabulletthroughhis

headlooklikechild’splay.

Atmidnight,Icrawloutofmytentandpositionmyselfona

campstoolneartheheatertotakemywatchwithJackson.Boggs

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toldPeetatosleepoutinfullviewwheretherestofuscould

keepaneyeonhim.Heisn’tsleeping,though.Instead,hesits

withhisbagpulleduptohischest,clumsilytryingtomakeknots

inashortlengthofrope.Iknowitwell.It’stheoneFinnicklent

methatnightinthebunker.Seeingitinhishands,it’slike

Finnick’sechoingwhatHaymitchjustsaid,thatI’vecastoff

Peeta.Nowmightbeagoodtimetobegintoremedythat.IfI

couldthinkofsomethingtosay.ButIcan’t.SoIdon’t.Ijustlet

thesoundsofsoldiers’breathingfillthenight.

Afteraboutanhour,Peetaspeaksup.“Theselastcoupleof

yearsmusthavebeenexhaustingforyou.Tryingtodecide

whethertokillmeornot.Backandforth.Backandforth.”

Thatseemsgrosslyunfair,andmyfirstimpulseistosay

somethingcutting.ButIrevisitmyconversationwithHaymitch

andtrytotakethefirsttentativestepinPeeta’sdirection.“I

neverwantedtokillyou.ExceptwhenIthoughtyouwere

helpingtheCareerskillme.Afterthat,Ialwaysthoughtofyou

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as...anally.”That’sagoodsafeword.Emptyofanyemotional

obligation,butnonthreatening.

“Ally.”Peetasaysthewordslowly,tastingit.“Friend.

Lover.Victor.Enemy.Fiancée.Target.Mutt.Neighbor.Hunter.

Tribute.Ally.I’lladdittothelistofwordsIusetotrytofigure

youout.”Heweavestheropeinandoutofhisfingers.“The

problemis,Ican’ttellwhat’srealanymore,andwhat’smade

up.”

Thecessationofrhythmicbreathingsuggeststhateither

peoplehavewokenorhaveneverreallybeenasleepatall.I

suspectthelatter.

Finnick’svoicerisesfromabundleintheshadows.“Then

youshouldask,Peeta.That’swhatAnniedoes.”

“Askwho?”Peetasays.“WhocanItrust?”

“Well,usforstarters.We’reyoursquad,”saysJackson.

“You’remyguards,”hepointsout.

“That,too,”shesays.“Butyousavedalotoflivesin

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Thirteen.It’snotthekindofthingweforget.”

Inthequietthatfollows,Itrytoimaginenotbeingableto

tellillusionfromreality.NotknowingifPrimormymother

lovedme.IfSnowwasmyenemy.Ifthepersonacrosstheheater

savedorsacrificedme.Withverylittleeffort,myliferapidly

morphsintoanightmare.IsuddenlywanttotellPeeta

everythingaboutwhoheis,andwhoIam,andhowweendedup

here.ButIdon’tknowhowtostart.Worthless.I’mworthless.

Atafewminutesbeforefour,Peetaturnstomeagain.“Your

favoritecolor...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.”

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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.”

ThenIdiveintomytentbeforeIdosomethingstupidlike

cry.

Inthemorning,Gale,Finnick,andIgoouttoshootsome

glassoffthebuildingsforthecameracrew.Whenwegetbackto

camp,Peeta’ssittinginacirclewiththesoldiersfrom13,who

arearmedbuttalkingopenlywithhim.Jacksonhasdeviseda

gamecalled“RealorNotReal”tohelpPeeta.Hementions

somethinghethinkshappened,andtheytellhimifit’strueor

imagined,usuallyfollowedbyabriefexplanation.

“MostofthepeoplefromTwelvewerekilledinthefire.”

“Real.LessthanninehundredofyoumadeittoThirteen

alive.”

“Thefirewasmyfault.”

“Notreal.PresidentSnowdestroyedTwelvethewayhedid

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Thirteen,tosendamessagetotherebels.”

ThisseemslikeagoodideauntilIrealizethatI’llbethe

onlyonewhocanconfirmordenymostofwhatweighsonhim.

Jacksonbreaksusupintowatches.ShematchesupFinnick,

Gale,andmeeachwithasoldierfrom13.ThiswayPeetawill

alwayshaveaccesstosomeonewhoknowshimmorepersonally.

It’snotasteadyconversation.Peetaspendsalongtime

consideringevensmallpiecesofinformation,likewherepeople

boughttheirsoapbackhome.Galefillshiminonalotofstuff

about12;FinnickistheexpertonbothofPeeta’sGames,ashe

wasamentorinthefirstandatributeinthesecond.Butsince

Peeta’sgreatestconfusioncentersaroundme—andnot

everythingcanbeexplainedsimply—ourexchangesarepainful

andloaded,eventhoughwetouchononlythemostsuperficialof

details.Thecolorofmydressin7.Mypreferenceforcheese

buns.Thenameofourmathteacherwhenwewerelittle.

Reconstructinghismemoryofmeisexcruciating.Perhapsit

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isn’tevenpossibleafterwhatSnowdidtohim.Butitdoesfeel

righttohelphimtry.

Thenextafternoon,we’renotifiedthatthewholesquadis

neededtostageafairlycomplicatedpropo.Peeta’sbeenright

aboutonething:CoinandPlutarchareunhappywiththequality

offootagethey’regettingfromtheStarSquad.Verydull.Very

uninspiring.Theobviousresponseisthattheyneverletusdo

anythingbutplayactwithourguns.However,thisisnotabout

defendingourselves,it’saboutcomingupwithausableproduct.

Sotoday,aspecialblockhasbeensetasideforfilming.Iteven

hasacoupleofactivepodsonit.Oneunleashesasprayof

gunfire.Theothernetstheinvaderandtrapsthemforeither

interrogationorexecution,dependingonthecaptors’preference.

Butit’sstillanunimportantresidentialblockwithnothingof

strategicconsequence.

Thetelevisioncrewmeanstoprovideasenseofheightened

jeopardybyreleasingsmokebombsandaddinggunfiresound

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effects.Wesuitupinheavyprotectivegear,eventhecrew,asif

we’reheadingintotheheartofbattle.Thoseofuswithspecialty

weaponsareallowedtotakethemalongwithourguns.Boggs

givesPeetabackhisgun,too,althoughhemakessuretotellhim

inaloudvoicethatit’sonlyloadedwithblanks.

Peetajustshrugs.“I’mnotmuchofashotanyway.”He

seemspreoccupiedwithwatchingPollux,tothepointwhereit’s

gettingalittleworrisome,whenhefinallypuzzlesitoutand

beginstospeakwithagitation.“You’reanAvox,aren’tyou?I

cantellbythewayyouswallow.ThereweretwoAvoxeswith

meinprison.DariusandLavinia,buttheguardsmostlycalled

themtheredheads.They’dbeenourservantsintheTraining

Center,sotheyarrestedthem,too.Iwatchedthembeingtortured

todeath.Shewaslucky.Theyusedtoomuchvoltageandher

heartstoppedrightoff.Ittookdaystofinishhimoff.Beating,

cuttingoffparts.Theykeptaskinghimquestions,buthecouldn’t

speak,hejustmadethesehorribleanimalsounds.Theydidn’t

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wantinformation,youknow?Theywantedmetoseeit.”

Peetalooksaroundatourstunnedfaces,asifwaitingfora

reply.Whennoneisforthcoming,heasks,“Realornotreal?”

Thelackofresponseupsetshimmore.“Realornotreal?!”he

demands.

“Real,”saysBoggs.“Atleast,tothebestofmyknowledge..

.real.”

Peetasags.“Ithoughtso.Therewasnothing...shinyabout

it.”Hewandersawayfromthegroup,mutteringsomethingabout

fingersandtoes.

ImovetoGale,pressmyforeheadintothebodyarmor

wherehischestshouldbe,feelhisarmtightenaroundme.We

finallyknowthenameofthegirlwhowewatchedtheCapitol

abductfromthewoodsof12,thefateofthePeacekeeperfriend

whotriedtokeepGalealive.Thisisnotimetocalluphappy

momentsofremembrance.Theylosttheirlivesbecauseofme.I

addthemtomypersonallistofkillsthatbeganinthearenaand

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nowincludesthousands.WhenIlookup,IseeithastakenGale

differently.Hisexpressionsaysthattherearenotenough

mountainstocrush,enoughcitiestodestroy.Itpromisesdeath.

WithPeeta’sgrislyaccountfreshinourminds,wecrunch

throughthestreetsofbrokenglassuntilwereachourtarget,the

blockwearetotake.Itisareal,ifsmall,goaltoaccomplish.We

gatheraroundBoggstoexaminetheHoloprojectionofthe

street.Thegunfirepodispositionedaboutathirdoftheway

down,justaboveanapartmentawning.Weshouldbeableto

triggeritwithbullets.Thenetpodisatthefarend,almostthe

nextcorner.Thiswillrequiresomeonetosetoffthebodysensor

mechanism.EveryonevolunteersexceptPeeta,whodoesn’t

seemtoknowquitewhat’sgoingon.Idon’tgetpicked.Igetsent

toMessalla,whodabssomemakeuponmyfaceforthe

anticipatedclose-ups.

ThesquadpositionsitselfunderBoggs’sdirection,andthen

wehavetowaitforCressidatogetthecamerameninplaceas

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well.They’rebothtoourleft,withCastortowardthefrontand

Polluxbringinguptherearsothey’llbesurenottorecordeach

other.Messallasetsoffacoupleofsmokechargesfor

atmosphere.Sincethisisbothamissionandashoot,I’mabout

toaskwho’sincharge,mycommanderormydirector,when

Cressidacalls,“Action!”

Weslowlyproceeddownthehazystreet,justlikeoneofour

exercisesintheBlock.Everyonehasatleastonesectionof

windowstoblowout,butGale’sassignedtherealtarget.When

hehitsthepod,wetakecover—duckingintodoorwaysor

flatteningontothepretty,lightorangeandpinkpavingstones—

asahailofbulletssweepsbackandforthoverourheads.Aftera

while,Boggsordersusforward.

Cressidastopsusbeforewecanrise,sincesheneedssome

close-upshots.Wetaketurnsreenactingourresponses.Falling

totheground,grimacing,divingintoalcoves.Weknowit’s

supposedtobeseriousbusiness,butthewholethingfeelsalittle

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ridiculous.EspeciallywhenitturnsoutthatI’mnottheworst

actorinthesquad.Notbyalongshot.We’realllaughingsohard

atMitchell’sattempttoprojecthisideaofdesperation,which

involvesteethgrindingandnostrilsflaring,thatBoggshasto

reprimandus.

“Pullittogether,Four-Five-One,”hesaysfirmly.Butyou

canseehimsuppressingasmileashe’sdouble-checkingthenext

pod.PositioningtheHolotofindthebestlightinthesmokyair.

Stillfacingusashisleftfootstepsbackontotheorangepaving

stone.Triggeringthebombthatblowsoffhislegs.

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It’sasifinaninstant,apaintedwindowshatters,revealing

theuglyworldbehindit.Laughterchangestoscreams,blood

stainspastelstones,realsmokedarkensthespecialeffectstuff

madefortelevision.

Asecondexplosionseemstosplittheairandleavesmyears

ringing.ButIcan’tmakeoutwhereitcamefrom.

IreachBoggsfirst,trytomakesenseofthetornflesh,

missinglimbs,tofindsomethingtostemtheredflowfromhis

body.Homespushesmeaside,wrenchingopenafirst-aidkit.

Boggsclutchesmywrist.Hisface,graywithdyingandash,

seemstobereceding.Buthisnextwordsareanorder.“The

Holo.”

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TheHolo.Iscramblearound,diggingthroughchunksoftile

slickwithblood,shudderingwhenIencounterbitsofwarm

flesh.FinditrammedintoastairwellwithoneofBoggs’sboots.

Retrieveit,wipingitcleanwithbarehandsasIreturnittomy

commander.

HomeshasthestumpofBoggs’sleftthighcuppedbysome

sortofcompressionbandage,butit’salreadysoakedthrough.

He’stryingtotourniquettheotherabovetheexistingknee.The

restofthesquadhasgatheredinaprotectiveformationaround

thecrewandus.Finnick’sattemptingtoreviveMessalla,who

wasthrownintoawallbytheexplosion.Jackson’sbarkingintoa

fieldcommunicator,tryingunsuccessfullytoalertthecampto

sendmedics,butIknowit’stoolate.Asachild,watchingmy

motherwork,Ilearnedthatonceapoolofbloodhasreacheda

certainsize,there’snogoingback.

IkneelbesideBoggs,preparedtorepeattheroleIplayed

withRue,withthemorphlingfrom6,givinghimsomeoneto

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holdontoashe’sreleasedfromlife.ButBoggshasbothhands

workingtheHolo.He’stypinginacommand,pressinghisthumb

tothescreenforprintrecognition,speakingastringofletters

andnumbersinresponsetoaprompt.Agreenshaftoflight

burstsoutoftheHoloandilluminateshisface.Hesays,“Unfit

forcommand.TransferofprimesecurityclearancetoSquad

Four-Five-OneSoldierKatnissEverdeen.”It’sallhecandoto

turntheHolotowardmyface.“Sayyourname.”

“KatnissEverdeen,”Isayintothegreenshaft.Suddenly,it

hasmetrappedinitslight.Ican’tmoveorevenblinkasimages

flickerrapidlybeforeme.Scanningme?Recordingme?Blinding

me?Itvanishes,andIshakemyheadtoclearit.“Whatdidyou

do?”

“Preparetoretreat!”Jacksonhollers.

Finnick’syellingsomethingback,gesturingtotheendofthe

blockwhereweentered.Black,oilymatterspoutslikeageyser

fromthestreet,billowingbetweenthebuildings,creatingan

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impenetrablewallofdarkness.Itseemstobeneitherliquidnor

gas,mechanicalnornatural.Surelyit’slethal.There’sno

headingbackthewaywecame.

DeafeninggunfireasGaleandLeeg1begintoblastapath

acrossthestonestowardthefarendoftheblock.Idon’tknow

whatthey’redoinguntilanotherbomb,tenyardsaway,

detonates,openingaholeinthestreet.ThenIrealizethisisa

rudimentaryattemptatminesweeping.HomesandIlatchonto

BoggsandbegintodraghimafterGale.Agonytakesoverand

he’scryingoutinpainandIwanttostop,tofindabetterway,

buttheblacknessisrisingabovethebuildings,swelling,rolling

atuslikeawave.

I’myankedbackward,losemygriponBoggs,slamintothe

stones.Peetalooksdownatme,gone,mad,flashingbackinto

thelandofthehijacked,hisgunraisedoverme,descendingto

crushmyskull.Iroll,hearthebuttslamintothestreet,catchthe

tumbleofbodiesoutofthecornerofmyeyeasMitchelltackles

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Peetaandpinshimtotheground.ButPeeta,alwayssopowerful

andnowfueledbytrackerjackerinsanity,getshisfeetunder

Mitchell’sbellyandlauncheshimfartherdowntheblock.

There’saloudsnapofatrapasthepodtriggers.Fourcables,

attachedtotracksonthebuildings,breakthroughthestones,

draggingupthenetthatencasesMitchell.Itmakesnosense—

howinstantlybloodiedheis—untilweseethebarbssticking

fromthewirethatencaseshim.Iknowitimmediately.It

decoratedthetopofthefencearound12.AsIcalltohimnotto

move,Igagonthesmelloftheblackness,thick,tarlike.The

wavehascrestedandbeguntofall.

GaleandLeeg1shootthroughthefrontdoorlockofthe

cornerbuilding,thenbegintofireatthecablesholding

Mitchell’snet.OthersarerestrainingPeetanow.Ilungebackto

Boggs,andHomesandIdraghiminsidetheapartment,through

someone’spinkandwhitevelvetlivingroom,downahallway

hungwithfamilyphotos,ontothemarblefloorofakitchen,

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wherewecollapse.CastorandPolluxcarryinawrithingPeeta

betweenthem.SomehowJacksongetscuffsonhim,butitonly

makeshimwilderandthey’reforcedtolockhiminacloset.

Inthelivingroom,thefrontdoorslams,peopleshout.Then

footstepspounddownthehallastheblackwaveroarspastthe

building.Fromthekitchen,wecanhearthewindowsgroan,

shatter.Thenoxioustarsmellpermeatestheair.Finnickcarries

inMessalla.Leeg1andCressidastumbleintotheroomafter

them,coughing.

“Gale!”Ishriek.

He’sthere,slammingthekitchendoorshutbehindhim,

chokingoutoneword.“Fumes!”CastorandPolluxgrabtowels,

apronstostuffinthecracksasGaleretchesintoabrightyellow

sink.

“Mitchell?”asksHomes.Leeg1justshakesherhead.

BoggsforcestheHolointomyhand.Hislipsaremoving,but

Ican’tmakeoutwhathe’ssaying.Ileanmyeardowntohis

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mouthtocatchhisharshwhisper.“Don’ttrustthem.Don’tgo

back.KillPeeta.Dowhatyoucametodo.”

IdrawbacksoIcanseehisface.“What?Boggs?Boggs?”

Hiseyesarestillopen,butdead.Pressedinmyhand,gluedtoit

byhisblood,istheHolo.

Peeta’sfeetslammingintotheclosetdoorbreakupthe

raggedbreathingoftheothers.Butevenaswelisten,hisenergy

seemstoebb.Thekicksdiminishtoanirregulardrumming.

Thennothing.Iwonderifhe,too,isdead.

“He’sgone?”Finnickasks,lookingdownatBoggs.Inod.

“Weneedtogetoutofhere.Now.Wejustsetoffastreetfulof

pods.Youcanbetthey’vegotusonsurveillancetapes.”

“Countonit,”saysCastor.“Allthestreetsarecoveredby

surveillancecameras.Ibettheysetofftheblackwavemanually

whentheysawustapingthepropo.”

“Ourradiocommunicatorswentdeadalmostimmediately.

Probablyanelectromagneticpulsedevice.ButI’llgetusbackto

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camp.GivemetheHolo.”Jacksonreachesfortheunit,butI

clutchittomychest.

“No.Boggsgaveittome,”Isay.

“Don’tberidiculous,”shesnaps.Ofcourse,shethinksit’s

hers.She’ssecondincommand.

“It’strue,”saysHomes.“Hetransferredtheprimesecurity

clearancetoherwhilehewasdying.Isawit.”

“Whywouldhedothat?”demandsJackson.

Whyindeed?Myhead’sreelingfromtheghastlyeventsof

thelastfiveminutes—Boggsmutilated,dying,dead,Peeta’s

homicidalrage,Mitchellbloodyandnettedandswallowedby

thatfoulblackwave.IturntoBoggs,verybadlyneedinghim

alive.Suddenlysurethathe,andmaybehealone,iscompletely

onmyside.Ithinkofhislastorders....

“Don’ttrustthem.Don’tgoback.KillPeeta.Dowhatyou

cametodo.”

Whatdidhemean?Don’ttrustwho?Therebels?Coin?The

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peoplelookingatmerightnow?Iwon’tgoback,buthemust

knowIcan’tjustfireabulletthroughPeeta’shead.CanI?

ShouldI?DidBoggsguessthatwhatIreallycametodoisdesert

andkillSnowonmyown?

Ican’tworkallofthisoutnow,soIjustdecidetocarryout

thefirsttwoorders:tonottrustanyoneandtomovedeeperinto

theCapitol.ButhowcanIjustifythis?Makethemletmekeep

theHolo?

“BecauseI’monaspecialmissionforPresidentCoin.Ithink

Boggswastheonlyonewhoknewaboutit.”

ThisinnowayconvincesJackson.“Todowhat?”

Whynottellthemthetruth?It’sasplausibleasanythingI’ll

comeupwith.Butitmustseemlikearealmission,notrevenge.

“ToassassinatePresidentSnowbeforethelossoflifefromthis

warmakesourpopulationunsustainable.”

“Idon’tbelieveyou,”saysJackson.“Asyourcurrent

commander,Iorderyoutotransfertheprimesecurityclearance

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

overtome.”

“No,”Isay.“ThatwouldbeindirectviolationofPresident

Coin’sorders.”

Gunsarepointed.HalfthesquadatJackson,halfatme.

Someone’sabouttodie,whenCressidaspeaksup.“It’strue.

That’swhywe’rehere.Plutarchwantsittelevised.Hethinksif

wecanfilmtheMockingjayassassinatingSnow,itwillendthe

war.”

ThisgivesevenJacksonpause.Thenshegestureswithher

guntowardthecloset.“Andwhyishehere?”

Thereshehasme.IcanthinkofnosanereasonthatCoin

wouldsendanunstableboy,programmedtokillme,alongon

suchakeyassignment.Itreallyweakensmystory.Cressida

comestomyaidagain.“Becausethetwopost-Gamesinterviews

withCaesarFlickermanwereshotinPresidentSnow’spersonal

quarters.PlutarchthinksPeetamaybeofsomeuseasaguidein

alocationwehavelittleknowledgeof.”

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IwanttoaskCressidawhyshe’slyingforme,whyshe’s

fightingforustogoonwithmyself-appointedmission.Now’s

notthetime.

“Wehavetogo!”saysGale.“I’mfollowingKatniss.Ifyou

don’twantto,headbacktocamp.Butlet’smove!”

HomesunlockstheclosetandheavesanunconsciousPeeta

overhisshoulder.“Ready.”

“Boggs?”saysLeeg1.

“Wecan’ttakehim.He’dunderstand,”saysFinnick.He

freesBoggs’sgunfromhisshoulderandslingsthestrapoverhis

own.“Leadon,SoldierEverdeen.”

Idon’tknowhowtoleadon.IlookattheHolofordirection.

It’sstillactivated,butitmightaswellbedeadforallthegood

thatdoesme.There’snotimeforfiddlingaroundwiththe

buttons,tryingtofigureouthowtoworkit.“Idon’tknowhowto

usethis.Boggssaidyouwouldhelpme,”ItellJackson.“Hesaid

Icouldcountonyou.”

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Jacksonscowls,snatchestheHolofromme,andtapsina

command.Anintersectioncomesup.“Ifwegooutthekitchen

door,there’sasmallcourtyard,thenthebacksideofanother

cornerapartmentunit.We’relookingatanoverviewofthefour

streetsthatmeetattheintersection.”

ItrytogetmybearingsasIstareatthecrosssectionofthe

mapblinkingwithpodsineverydirection.Andthoseareonly

thepodsPlutarchknowsabout.TheHolodidn’tindicatethatthe

blockwejustleftwasmined,hadtheblackgeyser,orthatthenet

wasmadefrombarbedwire.Besidesthat,theremaybe

Peacekeeperstodealwith,nowthattheyknowourposition.I

bitetheinsideofmylip,feelingeveryone’seyesonme.“Puton

yourmasks.We’regoingoutthewaywecamein.”

Instantobjections.Iraisemyvoiceoverthem.“Ifthewave

wasthatpowerful,thenitmayhavetriggeredandabsorbedother

podsinourpath.”

Peoplestoptoconsiderthis.Polluxmakesafewquicksigns

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tohisbrother.“Itmayhavedisabledthecamerasaswell,”

Castortranslates.“Coatedthelenses.”

Galepropsoneofhisbootsonthecounterandexaminesthe

splatterofblackonthetoe.Scrapesitwithakitchenknifefrom

ablockonthecounter.“It’snotcorrosive.Ithinkitwasmeantto

eithersuffocateorpoisonus.”

“Probablyourbestshot,”saysLeeg1.

Masksgoon.FinnickadjustsPeeta’smaskoverhislifeless

face.CressidaandLeeg1propupawoozyMessallabetween

them.

I’mwaitingforsomeonetotakethepointpositionwhenI

rememberthat’smyjobnow.Ipushonthekitchendoorand

meetwithnoresistance.Ahalf-inchlayeroftheblackgoohas

spreadfromthelivingroomaboutthree-quartersoftheway

downthehall.WhenIgingerlytestitwiththetoeofmyboot,I

findithastheconsistencyofagel.Iliftmyfootandafter

stretchingslightly,itspringsbackintoplace.Itakethreesteps

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intothegelandlookback.Nofootprints.It’sthefirstgoodthing

that’shappenedtoday.ThegelbecomesslightlythickerasI

crossthelivingroom.Ieaseopenthefrontdoor,expecting

gallonsofthestufftopourin,butitholdsitsform.

Thepinkandorangeblockseemstohavebeendippedin

glossyblackpaintandsetouttodry.Pavingstones,buildings,

eventherooftopsarecoatedinthegel.Alargeteardrophangs

abovethestreet.Twoshapesprojectfromit.Agunbarrelanda

humanhand.Mitchell.Iwaitonthesidewalk,staringupathim

untiltheentiregrouphasjoinedme.

“Ifanyoneneedstogoback,forwhateverreason,nowisthe

time,”Isay.“Noquestionsasked,nohardfeelings.”Noone

seemsinclinedtoretreat.SoIstartmovingintotheCapitol,

knowingwedon’thavemuchtime.Thegel’sdeeperhere,fourto

sixinches,andmakesasuckingsoundeachtimeyoupickup

yourfoot,butitstillcoversourtracks.

Thewavemusthavebeenenormous,withtremendouspower

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behindit,asit’saffectedseveralblocksthatlieahead.And

thoughItreadwithcare,Ithinkmyinstinctwasrightaboutits

triggeringotherpods.Oneblockissprinkledwiththegolden

bodiesoftrackerjackers.Theymusthavebeensetfreeonlyto

succumbtothefumes.Alittlefartheralong,anentireapartment

buildinghascollapsedandliesinamoundunderthegel.Isprint

acrosstheintersections,holdingupahandfortheotherstowait

whileIlookfortrouble,butthewaveseemstohavedismantled

thepodsfarbetterthananysquadofrebelscould.

Onthefifthblock,Icantellthatwe’vereachedthepoint

wherethewavebegantopeterout.Thegel’sonlyaninchdeep,

andIcanseebabybluerooftopspeekingoutacrossthenext

intersection.Theafternoonlighthasfaded,andwebadlyneedto

getundercoverandformaplan.Ichooseanapartmenttwo-

thirdsofthewaydowntheblock.Homesjimmiesthelock,andI

ordertheothersinside.Istayonthestreetforjustaminute,

watchingthelastofourfootprintsfadeaway,thenclosethedoor

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behindme.

Flashlightsbuiltintoourgunsilluminatealargelivingroom

withmirroredwallsthatthrowourfacesbackatusateveryturn.

Galechecksthewindows,whichshownodamage,andremoves

hismask.“It’sallright.Youcansmellit,butit’snottoo

strong.”

Theapartmentseemstobelaidoutexactlylikethefirstone

wetookrefugein.Thegelblacksoutanynaturaldaylightinthe

front,butsomelightstillslipsthroughtheshuttersinthe

kitchen.Alongthehallwayaretwobedroomswithbaths.A

spiralstaircaseinthelivingroomleadsuptoanopenspacethat

composesmuchofthesecondfloor.Therearenowindows

upstairs,butthelightshavebeenlefton,probablybysomeone

hastilyevacuating.Ahugetelevisionscreen,blankbutglowing

softly,occupiesonewall.Plushchairsandsofasarestrewn

aroundtheroom.Thisiswherewecongregate,slumpinto

upholstery,trytocatchourbreath.

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JacksonhasherguntrainedonPeetaeventhoughhe’sstill

cuffedandunconscious,drapedacrossadeep-bluesofawhere

Homesdepositedhim.WhatonearthamIgoingtodowithhim?

Withthecrew?Witheverybody,frankly,besidesGaleand

Finnick?BecauseI’drathertrackdownSnowwiththosetwo

thanwithoutthem.ButIcan’tleadtenpeoplethroughthe

Capitolonapretendmission,evenifIcouldreadtheHolo.

ShouldI,couldIhavesentthembackwhenIhadachance?Or

wasittoodangerous?Bothtothempersonallyandtomy

mission?MaybeIshouldn’thavelistenedtoBoggs,becausehe

mighthavebeeninsomedelusionaldeathstate.MaybeIshould

justcomeclean,butthenJacksonwouldtakeoverandwe’dend

upbackatcamp.WhereI’dhaveCointoanswerto.

JustasthecomplexityofthemessI’vedraggedeverybody

intobeginstooverloadmybrain,adistantchainofexplosions

sendsatremorthroughtheroom.

“Itwasn’tclose,”Jacksonassuresus.“Agoodfourorfive

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blocksaway.”

“WhereweleftBoggs,”saysLeeg1.

Althoughnoonehasmadeamovetowardit,thetelevision

flarestolife,emittingahigh-pitchedbeepingsound,bringing

halfourpartytoitsfeet.

“It’sallright!”callsCressida.“It’sjustanemergency

broadcast.EveryCapitoltelevisionisautomaticallyactivatedfor

it.”

Thereweareon-screen,justafterthebombtookoutBoggs.

Avoice-overtellstheaudiencewhattheyareviewingaswetry

toregroup,reacttotheblackgelshootingfromthestreet,lose

controlofthesituation.Wewatchthechaosthatfollowsuntil

thewaveblotsoutthecameras.ThelastthingweseeisGale,

aloneonthestreet,tryingtoshootthroughthecablesthathold

Mitchellaloft.

ThereporteridentifiesGale,Finnick,Boggs,Peeta,Cressida,

andmebyname.

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“There’snoaerialfootage.Boggsmusthavebeenrightabout

theirhovercraftcapacity,”saysCastor.Ididn’tnoticethis,butI

guessit’sthekindofthingacameramanpicksupon.

Coveragecontinuesfromthecourtyardbehindtheapartment

wherewetookshelter.Peacekeeperslinetheroofacrossfrom

ourformerhideout.Shellsarelaunchedintotherowof

apartments,settingoffthechainofexplosionsweheard,andthe

buildingcollapsesintorubbleanddust.

Nowwecuttoalivefeed.Areporterstandsontheroofwith

thePeacekeepers.Behindher,theapartmentblockburns.

Firefighterstrytocontroltheblazewithwaterhoses.Weare

pronounceddead.

“Finally,abitofluck,”saysHomes.

Iguesshe’sright.Certainlyit’sbetterthanhavingthe

Capitolinpursuitofus.ButIjustkeepimagininghowthiswill

beplayingbackin13.WheremymotherandPrim,Hazelleand

thekids,Annie,Haymitch,andawholelotofpeoplefrom13

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thinkthattheyhavejustseenusdie.

“Myfather.Hejustlostmysisterandnow...”saysLeeg1.

Wewatchastheyplaythefootageoverandover.Revelin

theirvictory,especiallyoverme.Breakawaytodoamontageof

theMockingjay’srisetorebelpower—Ithinkthey’vehadthis

partpreparedforawhile,becauseitseemsprettypolished—

andthengolivesoacoupleofreporterscandiscussmywell-

deservedviolentend.Later,theypromise,Snowwillmakean

officialstatement.Thescreenfadesbacktoaglow.

Therebelsmadenoattempttobreakinduringthebroadcast,

whichleadsmetobelievetheythinkit’strue.Ifthat’sso,we

reallyareonourown.

“So,nowthatwe’redead,what’sournextmove?”asksGale.

“Isn’titobvious?”NooneevenknewPeetahadregained

consciousness.Idon’tknowhowlonghe’sbeenwatching,butby

thelookofmiseryonhisface,longenoughtoseewhathappened

onthestreet.Howhewentmad,triedtobashmyheadin,and

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hurledMitchellintothepod.Hepainfullypusheshimselfuptoa

sittingpositionanddirectshiswordstoGale.

“Ournextmove...istokillme.”

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ThatmakestworequestsforPeeta’sdeathinlessthanan

hour.

“Don’tberidiculous,”saysJackson.

“Ijustmurderedamemberofoursquad!”shoutsPeeta.

“Youpushedhimoffyou.Youcouldn’thaveknownhe

wouldtriggerthenetatthatexactspot,”saysFinnick,tryingto

calmhim.

“Whocares?He’sdead,isn’the?”Tearsbegintorundown

Peeta’sface.“Ididn’tknow.I’veneverseenmyselflikethat

before.Katnissisright.I’mthemonster.I’mthemutt.I’mthe

oneSnowhasturnedintoaweapon!”

“It’snotyourfault,Peeta,”saysFinnick.

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“Youcan’ttakemewithyou.It’sonlyamatteroftime

beforeIkillsomeoneelse.”Peetalooksaroundatourconflicted

faces.“Maybeyouthinkit’skindertojustdumpmesomewhere.

Letmetakemychances.Butthat’sthesamethingashandingme

overtotheCapitol.Doyouthinkyou’dbedoingmeafavorby

sendingmebacktoSnow?”

Peeta.BackinSnow’shands.Torturedandtormenteduntil

nobitsofhisformerselfwilleveremergeagain.

Forsomereason,thelaststanzato“TheHangingTree”starts

runningthroughmyhead.Theonewherethemanwantshislover

deadratherthanhaveherfacetheevilthatawaitsherinthe

world.



Areyou,areyou

Comingtothetree

Wearanecklaceofrope,sidebysidewithme.

Strangethingsdidhappenhere

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Nostrangerwoulditbe

Ifwemetupatmidnightinthehangingtree.



“I’llkillyoubeforethathappens,”saysGale.“Ipromise.”

Peetahesitates,asifconsideringthereliabilityofthisoffer,

andthenshakeshishead.“It’snogood.Whatifyou’renotthere

todoit?Iwantoneofthosepoisonpillsliketherestofyou

have.”

Nightlock.There’sonepillbackatcamp,initsspecialslot

onthesleeveofmyMockingjaysuit.Butthere’sanotherinthe

breastpocketofmyuniform.Interestingthattheydidn’tissue

onetoPeeta.PerhapsCointhoughthemighttakeitbeforehehad

theopportunitytokillme.It’sunclearifPeetameanshe’dfinish

himselfoffnow,tospareushavingtomurderhim,oronlyifthe

Capitoltookhimprisoneragain.Inthestatehe’sin,Iexpectit

wouldbesoonerratherthanlater.Itwouldcertainlymakethings

easierontherestofus.Nottohavetoshoothim.Itwould

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certainlysimplifytheproblemofdealingwithhishomicidal

episodes.

Idon’tknowifit’sthepods,orthefear,orwatchingBoggs

die,butIfeelthearenaallaroundme.It’sasifI’veneverleft,

really.OnceagainI’mbattlingnotonlyformyownsurvivalbut

forPeeta’saswell.Howsatisfying,howentertainingitwouldbe

forSnowtohavemekillhim.TohavePeeta’sdeathonmy

conscienceforwhateverisleftofmylife.

“It’snotaboutyou,”Isay.“We’reonamission.Andyou’re

necessarytoit.”Ilooktotherestofthegroup.“Thinkwemight

findsomefoodhere?”

Besidesthemedicalkitandcameras,wehavenothingbut

ouruniformsandourweapons.

HalfofusstaytoguardPeetaorkeepaneyeoutforSnow’s

broadcast,whiletheothershuntforsomethingtoeat.Messalla

provesmostvaluablebecausehelivedinanearreplicaofthis

apartmentandknowswherepeoplewouldbemostlikelytostash

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food.Likehowthere’sastoragespaceconcealedbyamirrored

panelinthebedroom,orhoweasyitistopopouttheventilation

screeninthehallway.Soeventhoughthekitchencupboardsare

bare,wefindoverthirtycannedgoodsandseveralboxesof

cookies.

Thehoardingdisguststhesoldiersraisedin13.“Isn’tthis

illegal?”saysLeeg1.

“Onthecontrary,intheCapitolyou’dbeconsideredstupid

nottodoit,”saysMessalla.“EvenbeforetheQuarterQuell,

peoplewerestartingtostockuponscarcesupplies.”

“Whileotherswentwithout,”saysLeeg1.

“Right,”saysMessalla.“That’showitworkshere.”

“Fortunately,orwewouldn’thavedinner,”saysGale.

“Everybodygrabacan.”

Someofourcompanyseemreluctanttodothis,butit’sas

goodamethodasany.I’mreallynotinthemoodtodivvyup

everythingintoelevenequalparts,factoringinage,bodyweight,

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andphysicaloutput.Ipokearoundinthepile,abouttosettleon

somecodchowder,whenPeetaholdsoutacantome.“Here.”

Itakeit,notknowingwhattoexpect.ThelabelreadsLAMB

STEW.

Ipressmylipstogetheratthememoriesofraindripping

throughstones,myineptattemptsatflirting,andthearomaof

myfavoriteCapitoldishinthechillyair.Sosomepartofitmust

stillbeinhishead,too.Howhappy,howhungry,howclosewe

werewhenthatpicnicbasketarrivedoutsideourcave.“Thanks.”

Ipopopenthetop.“Itevenhasdriedplums.”Ibendthelidand

useitasamakeshiftspoon,scoopingabitintomymouth.Now

thisplacetasteslikethearena,too.

We’repassingaroundaboxoffancycream-filledcookies

whenthebeepingstartsagain.ThesealofPanemlightsuponthe

screenandremainstherewhiletheanthemplays.Andthenthey

begintoshowimagesofthedead,justastheydidwiththe

tributesinthearena.TheystartwiththefourfacesofourTV

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crew,followedbyBoggs,Gale,Finnick,Peeta,andme.Except

forBoggs,theydon’tbotherwiththesoldiersfrom13,either

becausetheyhavenoideawhotheyareorbecausetheyknow

theywon’tmeananythingtotheaudience.Thenthemanhimself

appears,seatedathisdesk,aflagdrapedbehindhim,thefresh

whiterosegleaminginhislapel.Ithinkhemighthaverecently

hadmoreworkdone,becausehislipsarepuffierthanusual.And

hisprepteamreallyneedstousealighterhandwithhisblush.

SnowcongratulatesthePeacekeepersonamasterfuljob,

honorsthemforriddingthecountryofthemenacecalledthe

Mockingjay.Withmydeath,hepredictsaturningofthetidein

thewar,sincethedemoralizedrebelshavenoonelefttofollow.

AndwhatwasI,really?Apoor,unstablegirlwithasmalltalent

withabowandarrow.Notagreatthinker,notthemastermindof

therebellion,merelyafacepluckedfromtherabblebecauseI

hadcaughtthenation’sattentionwithmyanticsintheGames.

Butnecessary,soverynecessary,becausetherebelshavenoreal

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leaderamongthem.

SomewhereinDistrict13,Beeteehitsaswitch,becausenow

it’snotPresidentSnowbutPresidentCoinwho’slookingatus.

SheintroducesherselftoPanem,identifiesherselfastheheadof

therebellion,andthengivesmyeulogy.Praiseforthegirlwho

survivedtheSeamandtheHungerGames,thenturnedacountry

ofslavesintoanarmyoffreedomfighters.“Deadoralive,

KatnissEverdeenwillremainthefaceofthisrebellion.Ifever

youwaverinyourresolve,thinkoftheMockingjay,andinher

youwillfindthestrengthyouneedtoridPanemofits

oppressors.”

“IhadnoideahowmuchImeanttoher,”Isay,whichbrings

alaughfromGaleandquestioninglooksfromtheothers.

Upcomesaheavilydoctoredphotoofmelookingbeautiful

andfiercewithabunchofflamesflickeringbehindme.No

words.Noslogan.Myfaceisalltheyneednow.

BeeteegivesthereinsbacktoaverycontrolledSnow.Ihave

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thefeelingthepresidentthoughttheemergencychannelwas

impenetrable,andsomeonewillendupdeadtonightbecauseit

wasbreached.“Tomorrowmorning,whenwepullKatniss

Everdeen’sbodyfromtheashes,wewillseeexactlywhothe

Mockingjayis.Adeadgirlwhocouldsavenoone,noteven

herself.”Seal,anthem,andout.

“Exceptthatyouwon’tfindher,”saysFinnicktotheempty

screen,voicingwhatwe’reallprobablythinking.Thegrace

periodwillbebrief.Oncetheydigthroughthoseashesandcome

upmissingelevenbodies,they’llknowweescaped.

“Wecangetaheadstartonthematleast,”Isay.Suddenly,

I’msotired.AllIwantistoliedownonanearbygreenplush

sofaandgotosleep.Tococoonmyselfinacomfortermadeof

rabbitfurandgoosedown.Instead,IpullouttheHoloandinsist

thatJacksontalkmethroughthemostbasiccommands—which

arereallyaboutenteringthecoordinatesofthenearestmapgrid

intersection—sothatIcanatleastbegintooperatethething

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myself.AstheHoloprojectsoursurroundings,Ifeelmyheart

sinkevenfurther.Wemustbemovingclosertocrucialtargets,

becausethenumberofpodshasnoticeablyincreased.Howcan

wepossiblymoveforwardintothisbouquetofblinkinglights

withoutdetection?Wecan’t.Andifwecan’t,wearetrappedlike

birdsinanet.Idecideit’sbestnottoadoptsomesortofsuperior

attitudewhenI’mwiththesepeople.Especiallywhenmyeyes

keepdriftingtothatgreensofa.SoIsay,“Anyideas?”

“Whydon’twestartbyrulingoutpossibilities,”says

Finnick.“Thestreetisnotapossibility.”

“Therooftopsarejustasbadasthestreet,”saysLeeg1.

“Westillmighthaveachancetowithdraw,gobacktheway

wecame,”saysHomes.“Butthatwouldmeanafailedmission.”

ApangofguilthitsmesinceI’vefabricatedsaidmission.“It

wasneverintendedforallofustogoforward.Youjusthadthe

misfortunetobewithme.”

“Well,that’samootpoint.We’rewithyounow,”says

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

Jackson.“So,wecan’tstayput.Wecan’tmoveup.Wecan’t

movelaterally.Ithinkthatjustleavesoneoption.”

“Underground,”saysGale.

Underground.WhichIhate.Likeminesandtunnelsand13.

Underground,whereIdreaddying,whichisstupidbecauseeven

ifIdieaboveground,thenextthingthey’lldoisburyme

undergroundanyway.

TheHolocanshowsubterraneanaswellasstreet-levelpods.

Iseethatwhenwegoundergroundtheclean,dependablelinesof

thestreetplanareinterlacedwithatwisting,turningmessof

tunnels.Thepodslooklessnumerous,though.

Twodoorsdown,averticaltubeconnectsourrowof

apartmentstothetunnels.Toreachthetubeapartment,wewill

needtosqueezethroughamaintenanceshaftthatrunsthelength

ofthebuilding.Wecanentertheshaftthroughthebackofa

closetspaceontheupperfloor.

“Okay,then.Let’smakeitlooklikewe’veneverbeenhere,”

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Isay.Weeraseallsignsofourstay.Sendtheemptycansdowna

trashchute,pocketthefullonesforlater,flipsofacushions

smearedwithblood,wipetracesofgelfromthetiles.There’sno

fixingthelatchonthefrontdoor,butwelockasecondbolt,

whichwillatleastkeepthedoorfromswingingopenoncontact.

Finally,there’sonlyPeetatocontendwith.Heplantshimself

onthebluesofa,refusingtobudge.“I’mnotgoing.I’lleither

discloseyourpositionorhurtsomeoneelse.”

“Snow’speoplewillfindyou,”saysFinnick.

“Thenleavemeapill.I’llonlytakeitifIhaveto,”says

Peeta.

“That’snotanoption.Comealong,”saysJackson.

“Oryou’llwhat?Shootme?”asksPeeta.

“We’llknockyououtanddragyouwithus,”saysHomes.

“Whichwillbothslowusdownandendangerus.”

“Stopbeingnoble!Idon’tcareifIdie!”Heturnstome,

pleadingnow.“Katniss,please.Don’tyousee,Iwanttobeoutof

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this?”

Thetroubleis,Idosee.Whycan’tIjustlethimgo?Slip

himapill,pullthetrigger?IsitbecauseIcaretoomuchabout

PeetaortoomuchaboutlettingSnowwin?HaveIturnedhim

intoapieceinmyprivateGames?That’sdespicable,butI’mnot

sureit’sbeneathme.Ifit’strue,itwouldbekindesttokillPeeta

hereandnow.Butforbetterorworse,Iamnotmotivatedby

kindness.“We’rewastingtime.Areyoucomingvoluntarilyor

doweknockyouout?”

Peetaburieshisfaceinhishandsforafewmoments,then

risestojoinus.

“Shouldwefreehishands?”asksLeeg1.

“No!”Peetagrowlsather,drawinghiscuffsinclosetohis

body.

“No,”Iecho.“ButIwantthekey.”Jacksonpassesitover

withoutaword.Islipitintomypantspocket,whereitclicks

againstthepearl.

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WhenHomespriesopenthesmallmetaldoortothe

maintenanceshaft,weencounteranotherproblem.There’sno

waytheinsectshellswillbeabletofitthroughthenarrow

passage.CastorandPolluxremovethemanddetachemergency

backupcameras.Eachisthesizeofashoeboxandprobably

worksaboutaswell.Messallacan’tthinkofanywherebetterto

hidethebulkyshells,soweendupdumpingtheminthecloset.

Leavingsuchaneasytrailtofollowfrustratesme,butwhatelse

canwedo?

Evengoingsinglefile,holdingourpacksandgearouttothe

side,it’satightfit.Wesidestepourwaypastthefirstapartment,

andbreakintothesecond.Inthisapartment,oneofthebedrooms

hasadoormarkedUTILITYinsteadofabathroom.Behindthe

dooristheroomwiththeentrancetothetube.

Messallafrownsatthewidecircularcover,foramoment

returningtohisownfussyworld.“It’swhynooneeverwantsthe

centerunit.Workmencomingandgoingwheneverandnosecond

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bath.Buttherent’sconsiderablycheaper.”Thenhenotices

Finnick’samusedexpressionandadds,“Nevermind.”

Thetubecover’ssimpletounlatch.Awideladderwith

rubbertreadsonthestepsallowsforaswift,easydescentinto

thebowelsofthecity.Wegatheratthefootoftheladder,

waitingforoureyestoadjusttothedimstripsoflights,

breathinginthemixtureofchemicals,mildew,andsewage.

Pollux,paleandsweaty,reachesoutandlatchesonto

Castor’swrist.Likehemightfalloverifthereisn’tsomeoneto

steadyhim.

“MybrotherworkeddownhereafterhebecameanAvox,”

saysCastor.Ofcourse.Whoelsewouldtheygettomaintain

thesedank,evil-smellingpassagesminedwithpods?“Tookfive

yearsbeforewewereabletobuyhiswayuptogroundlevel.

Didn’tseethesunonce.”

Underbetterconditions,onadaywithfewerhorrorsand

morerest,someonewouldsurelyknowwhattosay.Insteadwe

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allstandthereforalongtimetryingtoformulatearesponse.

Finally,PeetaturnstoPollux.“Well,thenyoujustbecame

ourmostvaluableasset.”CastorlaughsandPolluxmanagesa

smile.

We’rehalfwaydownthefirsttunnelwhenIrealizewhatwas

soremarkableabouttheexchange.Peetasoundedlikehisold

self,theonewhocouldalwaysthinkoftherightthingtosay

whennobodyelsecould.Ironic,encouraging,alittlefunny,but

notatanyone’sexpense.Iglancebackathimashetrudgesalong

underhisguards,GaleandJackson,hiseyesfixedontheground,

hisshouldershunchedforward.Sodispirited.Butforamoment,

hewasreallyhere.

Peetacalleditright.PolluxturnsouttobeworthtenHolos.

Thereisasimplenetworkofwidetunnelsthatdirectly

correspondstothemainstreetplanabove,underlyingthemajor

avenuesandcrossstreets.It’scalledtheTransfer,sincesmall

trucksuseittodelivergoodsaroundthecity.Duringtheday,its

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manypodsaredeactivated,butatnightit’saminefield.

However,hundredsofadditionalpassages,utilityshafts,train

tracks,anddrainagetubesformamultilevelmaze.Polluxknows

detailsthatwouldleadtodisasterforanewcomer,likewhich

offshootsmightrequiregasmasksorhavelivewiresorratsthe

sizeofbeavers.Healertsustothegushofwaterthatsweeps

throughthesewersperiodically,anticipatesthetimetheAvoxes

willbechangingshifts,leadsusintodamp,obscurepipesto

dodgethenearlysilentpassageofcargotrains.Mostimportant,

hehasknowledgeofthecameras.Therearen’tmanydownin

thisgloomy,mistyplace,exceptintheTransfer.Butwekeep

welloutoftheirway.

UnderPollux’sguidancewemakegoodtime—remarkable

time,ifyoucompareittoourabovegroundtravel.Afterabout

sixhours,fatiguetakesover.It’sthreeinthemorning,soIfigure

westillhaveafewhoursbeforeourbodiesarediscovered

missing,theysearchthroughtherubbleofthewholeblockof

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apartmentsincasewetriedtoescapethroughtheshafts,andthe

huntbegins.

WhenIsuggestwerest,nooneobjects.Polluxfindsasmall,

warmroomhummingwithmachinesloadedwithleversand

dials.Heholdsuphisfingerstoindicatewemustbegoneinfour

hours.Jacksonworksoutaguardschedule,and,sinceI’mnoton

thefirstshift,IwedgemyselfinthetightspacebetweenGale

andLeeg1andgorighttosleep.

ItseemslikeonlyminuteslaterwhenJacksonshakesme

awake,tellsmeI’monwatch.It’ssixo’clock,andinonehour

wemustbeonourway.Jacksontellsmetoeatacanoffoodand

keepaneyeonPollux,who’sinsistedonbeingonguardthe

entirenight.“Hecan’tsleepdownhere.”Idragmyselfintoa

stateofrelativealertness,eatacanofpotatoandbeanstew,and

sitagainstthewallfacingthedoor.Polluxseemswideawake.

He’sprobablybeenrelivingthosefiveyearsofimprisonmentall

night.IgetouttheHoloandmanagetoinputourgrid

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coordinatesandscanthetunnels.Asexpected,morepodsare

registeringthecloserwemovetowardthecenteroftheCapitol.

Forawhile,PolluxandIclickaroundontheHolo,seeingwhat

trapsliewhere.Whenmyheadbeginstospin,Ihanditoverto

himandleanbackagainstthewall.Ilookdownatthesleeping

soldiers,crew,andfriends,andIwonderhowmanyofuswill

everseethesunagain.

WhenmyeyesfallonPeeta,whoseheadrestsrightbymy

feet,Iseehe’sawake.IwishIcouldreadwhat’sgoingoninhis

mind,thatIcouldgoinanduntanglethemessoflies.ThenI

settleforsomethingIcanaccomplish.

“Haveyoueaten?”Iask.Aslightshakeofhisheadindicates

hehasn’t.Iopenacanofchickenandricesoupandhanditto

him,keepingthelidincasehetriestoslithiswristswithitor

something.Hesitsupandtiltsthecan,chuggingbackthesoup

withoutreallybotheringtochewit.Thebottomofthecan

reflectsthelightsfromthemachines,andIremembersomething

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that’sbeenitchingatthebackofmymindsinceyesterday.

“Peeta,whenyouaskedaboutwhathappenedtoDariusand

Lavinia,andBoggstoldyouitwasreal,yousaidyouthoughtso.

Becausetherewasnothingshinyaboutit.Whatdidyoumean?”

“Oh.Idon’tknowexactlyhowtoexplainit,”hetellsme.“In

thebeginning,everythingwasjustcompleteconfusion.NowI

cansortcertainthingsout.Ithinkthere’sapatternemerging.

Thememoriestheyalteredwiththetrackerjackervenomhave

thisstrangequalityaboutthem.Likethey’retoointenseorthe

imagesaren’tstable.Yourememberwhatitwaslikewhenwe

werestung?”

“Treesshattered.Thereweregiantcoloredbutterflies.Ifell

inapitoforangebubbles.”Ithinkaboutit.“Shinyorange

bubbles.”

“Right.ButnothingaboutDariusorLaviniawaslikethat.I

don’tthinkthey’dgivenmeanyvenomyet,”hesays.

“Well,that’sgood,isn’tit?”Iask.“Ifyoucanseparatethe

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

two,thenyoucanfigureoutwhat’strue.”

“Yes.AndifIcouldgrowwings,Icouldfly.Onlypeople

can’tgrowwings,”hesays.“Realornotreal?”

“Real,”Isay.“Butpeopledon’tneedwingstosurvive.”

“Mockingjaysdo.”Hefinishesthesoupandreturnsthecan

tome.

Inthefluorescentlight,thecirclesunderhiseyeslooklike

bruises.“There’sstilltime.Youshouldsleep.”Unresisting,he

liesbackdown,butjuststaresattheneedleononeofthedialsas

ittwitchesfromsidetoside.Slowly,asIwouldwithawounded

animal,myhandstretchesoutandbrushesawaveofhairfrom

hisforehead.Hefreezesatmytouch,butdoesn’trecoil.SoI

continuetogentlysmoothbackhishair.It’sthefirsttimeIhave

voluntarilytouchedhimsincethelastarena.

“You’restilltryingtoprotectme.Realornotreal,”he

whispers.

“Real,”Ianswer.Itseemstorequiremoreexplanation.

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“Becausethat’swhatyouandIdo.Protecteachother.”Aftera

minuteorso,hedriftsofftosleep.

Shortlybeforeseven,PolluxandImoveamongtheothers,

rousingthem.Therearetheusualyawnsandsighsthat

accompanywaking.Butmyearsarepickingupsomethingelse,

too.Almostlikeahissing.Perhapsit’sonlysteamescapinga

pipeorthefar-offwhooshofoneofthetrains....

Ihushthegrouptogetabetterreadonit.There’sahissing,

yes,butit’snotoneextendedsound.Morelikemultiple

exhalationsthatformwords.Asingleword.Echoingthroughout

thetunnels.Oneword.Onename.Repeatedoverandoveragain.

“Katniss.”

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Thegraceperiodhasended.PerhapsSnowhadthemdigging

throughthenight.Assoonasthefiredieddown,anyway.They

foundBoggs’sremains,brieflyfeltreassured,andthen,asthe

hourswentbywithoutfurthertrophies,begantosuspect.At

somepoint,theyrealizedthattheyhadbeentricked.And

PresidentSnowcan’ttoleratebeingmadetolooklikeafool.It

doesn’tmatterwhethertheytrackedustothesecondapartment

orassumedwewentdirectlyunderground.Theyknowweare

downherenowandthey’veunleashedsomething,apackof

muttsprobably,bentonfindingme.

“Katniss.”Ijumpattheproximityofthesound.Look

franticallyforitssource,bowloaded,seekingatargettohit.

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“Katniss.”Peeta’slipsarebarelymoving,butthere’snodoubt,

thenamecameoutofhim.JustwhenIthoughtheseemedalittle

better,whenIthoughthemightbeinchinghiswaybacktome,

hereisproofofhowdeepSnow’spoisonwent.“Katniss.”

Peeta’sprogrammedtorespondtothehissingchorus,tojoinin

thehunt.He’sbeginningtostir.There’snochoice.Ipositionmy

arrowtopenetratehisbrain.He’llbarelyfeelathing.Suddenly,

he’ssittingup,eyeswideinalarm,shortofbreath.“Katniss!”He

whipshisheadtowardmebutdoesn’tseemtonoticemybow,

thewaitingarrow.“Katniss!Getoutofhere!”

Ihesitate.Hisvoiceisalarmed,butnotinsane.“Why?

What’smakingthatsound?”

“Idon’tknow.Onlythatithastokillyou,”saysPeeta.“Run!

Getout!Go!”

Aftermyownmomentofconfusion,IconcludeIdonothave

toshoothim.Relaxmybowstring.Takeintheanxiousfaces

aroundme.“Whateveritis,it’safterme.Itmightbeagoodtime

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tosplitup.”

“Butwe’reyourguard,”saysJackson.

“Andyourcrew,”addsCressida.

“I’mnotleavingyou,”Galesays.

Ilookatthecrew,armedwithnothingbutcamerasand

clipboards.Andthere’sFinnickwithtwogunsandatrident.I

suggestthathegiveoneofhisgunstoCastor.Ejecttheblank

cartridgefromPeeta’s,loaditwitharealone,andarmPollux.

SinceGaleandIhaveourbows,wehandourgunsoverto

MessallaandCressida.There’snotimetoshowthemanything

buthowtopointandpullthetrigger,butinclosequarters,that

mightbeenough.It’sbetterthanbeingdefenseless.Nowthe

onlyonewithoutaweaponisPeeta,butanyonewhisperingmy

namewithabunchofmuttsdoesn’tneedoneanyway.

Weleavetheroomfreeofeverythingbutourscent.There’s

nowaytoerasethatatthemoment.I’mguessingthat’showthe

hissingthingsaretrackingus,becausewehaven’tleftmuchofa

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physicaltrail.Themutts’noseswillbeabnormallykeen,but

possiblythetimewespentsloggingthroughwaterindrainpipes

willhelpthrowthem.

Outsidethehumoftheroom,thehissingbecomesmore

distinct.Butit’salsopossibletogetabettersenseofthemutts’

location.They’rebehindus,stillafairdistance.Snowprobably

hadthemreleasedundergroundneartheplacewherehefound

Boggs’sbody.Theoretically,weshouldhaveagoodleadon

them,althoughthey’recertaintobemuchfasterthanweare.My

mindwanderstothewolflikecreaturesinthefirstarena,the

monkeysintheQuarterQuell,themonstrositiesI’vewitnessed

ontelevisionovertheyears,andIwonderwhatformthesemutts

willtake.WhateverSnowthinkswillscaremethemost.

PolluxandIhaveworkedoutaplanforthenextlegofour

journey,andsinceitheadsawayfromthehissing,Iseenoreason

toalterit.Ifwemoveswiftly,maybewecanreachSnow’s

mansionbeforethemuttsreachus.Butthere’sasloppinessthat

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comeswithspeed:thepoorlyplacedbootthatresultsinasplash,

theaccidentalclangofagunagainstapipe,evenmyown

commands,issuedtooloudlyfordiscretion.

We’vecoveredaboutthreemoreblocksviaanoverflowpipe

andasectionofneglectedtraintrackwhenthescreamsbegin.

Thick,guttural.Bouncingoffthetunnelwalls.

“Avoxes,”saysPeetaimmediately.“That’swhatDarius

soundedlikewhentheytorturedhim.”

“Themuttsmusthavefoundthem,”saysCressida.

“Sothey’renotjustafterKatniss,”saysLeeg1.

“They’llprobablykillanyone.It’sjustthattheywon’tstop

untiltheygettoher,”saysGale.Afterhishoursstudyingwith

Beetee,heismostlikelyright.

AndhereIamagain.Withpeopledyingbecauseofme.

Friends,allies,completestrangers,losingtheirlivesforthe

Mockingjay.“Letmegoonalone.Leadthemoff.I’lltransferthe

HolotoJackson.Therestofyoucanfinishthemission.”

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“Noone’sgoingtoagreetothat!”saysJacksonin

exasperation.

“We’rewastingtime!”saysFinnick.

“Listen,”Peetawhispers.

Thescreamshavestopped,andintheirabsencemynamehas

rebounded,startlinginitsproximity.It’sbelowaswellasbehind

usnow.“Katniss.”

InudgePolluxontheshoulderandwestarttorun.Trouble

is,wehadplannedtodescendtoalowerlevel,butthat’sout

now.Whenwecometothestepsleadingdown,PolluxandIare

scanningforapossiblealternativeontheHolowhenIstart

gagging.

“Maskson!”ordersJackson.

There’snoneedformasks.Everyoneisbreathingthesame

air.I’mtheonlyonelosingmystewbecauseI’mtheonlyone

reactingtotheodor.Driftingupfromthestairwell.Cutting

throughthesewage.Roses.Ibegintotremble.

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Iswerveawayfromthesmellandstumblerightoutontothe

Transfer.Smooth,pastel-coloredtiledstreets,justliketheones

above,butborderedbywhitebrickwallsinsteadofhomes.A

roadwaywheredeliveryvehiclescandrivewithease,withoutthe

congestionoftheCapitol.Emptynow,ofeverythingbutus.I

swingupmybowandblowupthefirstpodwithanexplosive

arrow,whichkillsthenestofflesh-eatingratsinside.ThenI

sprintforthenextintersection,whereIknowonefalsestepwill

causethegroundbeneathourfeettodisintegrate,feedingusinto

somethinglabeledMEATGRINDER.Ishoutawarningtothe

otherstostaywithme.Iplanforustoskirtaroundthecorner

andthendetonatetheMeatGrinder,butanotherunmarkedpod

liesinwait.

Ithappenssilently.IwouldmissitentirelyifFinnickdidn’t

pullmetoastop.“Katniss!”

Iwhipbackaround,arrowpoisedforflight,butwhatcanbe

done?TwoofGale’sarrowsalreadylieuselessbesidethewide

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shaftofgoldenlightthatradiatesfromceilingtofloor.Inside,

Messallaisasstillasastatue,poisedupontheballofonefoot,

headtiltedback,heldcaptivebythebeam.Ican’ttellifhe’s

yelling,althoughhismouthisstretchedwide.Wewatch,utterly

helpless,asthefleshmeltsoffhisbodylikecandlewax.

“Can’thelphim!”Peetastartsshovingpeopleforward.

“Can’t!”Amazingly,he’stheonlyonestillfunctionalenoughto

getusmoving.Idon’tknowwhyhe’sincontrol,whenheshould

beflippingoutandbashingmybrainsin,butthatcouldhappen

anysecond.Atthepressureofhishandagainstmyshoulder,I

turnawayfromthegrislythingthatwasMessalla;Imakemy

feetgoforward,fast,sofastthatIcanbarelyskidtoastop

beforethenextintersection.

Asprayofgunfirebringsdownashowerofplaster.Ijerkmy

headfromsidetoside,lookingforthepod,beforeIturnandsee

thesquadofPeacekeeperspoundingdowntheTransfertoward

us.WiththeMeatGrinderpodblockingourway,there’snothing

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todobutfireback.Theyout-numberustwotoone,butwe’ve

stillgotsixoriginalmembersoftheStarSquad,whoaren’t

tryingtorunandshootatthesametime.

Fishinabarrel,Ithink,asblossomsofredstaintheirwhite

uniforms.Three-quartersofthemaredownanddeadwhenmore

begintopourinfromthesideofthetunnel,thesameoneIflung

myselfthroughtogetawayfromthesmell,fromthe—

Thosearen’tPeacekeepers.

Theyarewhite,four-limbed,aboutthesizeofafull-grown

human,butthat’swherethecomparisonsstop.Naked,withlong

reptiliantails,archedbacks,andheadsthatjutforward.They

swarmoverthePeacekeepers,livinganddead,clampontotheir

neckswiththeirmouthsandripoffthehelmetedheads.

Apparently,havingaCapitolpedigreeisasuselesshereasitwas

in13.ItseemstotakeonlysecondsbeforethePeacekeepersare

decapitated.Themuttsfalltotheirbelliesandskittertowardus

onallfours.

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“Thisway!”Ishout,huggingthewallandmakingasharp

rightturntoavoidthepod.Wheneveryone’sjoinedme,Ifire

intotheintersection,andtheMeatGrinderactivates.Huge

mechanicalteethburstthroughthestreetandchewthetileto

dust.Thatshouldmakeitimpossibleforthemuttstofollowus,

butIdon’tknow.ThewolfandmonkeymuttsI’veencountered

couldleapunbelievablyfar.

Thehissingburnsmyears,andthereekofrosesmakesthe

wallsspin.

IgrabPollux’sarm.“Forgetthemission.What’sthe

quickestwayaboveground?”

There’snotimeforcheckingtheHolo.WefollowPolluxfor

abouttenyardsalongtheTransferandgothroughadoorway.

I’mawareoftilechangingtoconcrete,ofcrawlingthrougha

tight,stinkingpipeontoaledgeaboutafootwide.We’reinthe

mainsewer.Ayardbelow,apoisonousbrewofhumanwaste,

garbage,andchemicalrunoffbubblesbyus.Partsofthesurface

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areonfire,othersemitevil-lookingcloudsofvapor.Onelook

tellsyouthatifyoufallin,you’renevercomingout.Movingas

quicklyaswedareontheslipperyledge,wemakeourwaytoa

narrowbridgeandcrossit.Inanalcoveatthefarside,Pollux

smacksaladderwithhishandandpointsuptheshaft.Thisisit.

Ourwayout.

Aquickglanceatourpartytellsmesomething’soff.“Wait!

WhereareJacksonandLeegOne?”

“TheystayedattheGrindertoholdthemuttsback,”says

Homes.

“What?”I’mlungingbackforthebridge,willingtoleaveno

onetothosemonsters,whenheyanksmeback.

“Don’twastetheirlives,Katniss.It’stoolateforthem.

Look!”Homesnodstothepipe,wherethemuttsareslithering

ontotheledge.

“Standback!”Galeshouts.Withhisexplosive-tipped

arrows,heripsthefarsideofthebridgefromitsfoundation.The

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restsinksintothebubbles,justasthemuttsreachit.

Forthefirsttime,Igetagoodlookatthem.Amixofhuman

andlizardandwhoknowswhatelse.White,tightreptilianskin

smearedwithgore,clawedhandsandfeet,theirfacesamessof

conflictingfeatures.Hissing,shriekingmynamenow,astheir

bodiescontortinrage.Lashingoutwithtailsandclaws,taking

hugechunksofoneanotherortheirownbodieswithwide,

latheredmouths,drivenmadbytheirneedtodestroyme.My

scentmustbeasevocativetothemastheirsistome.Moreso,

becausedespiteitstoxicity,themuttsbegintothrowthemselves

intothefoulsewer.

Alongourbank,everyoneopensfire.Ichoosemyarrows

withoutdiscretion,sendingarrowheads,fire,explosivesintothe

mutts’bodies.They’remortal,butonlyjust.Nonaturalthing

couldkeepcomingwithtwodozenbulletsinit.Yes,wecan

eventuallykillthem,onlytherearesomany,anendlesssupply

pouringfromthepipe,notevenhesitatingtotaketothesewage.

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Butit’snottheirnumbersthatmakemyhandsshakeso.

Nomuttisgood.Allaremeanttodamageyou.Sometake

yourlife,likethemonkeys.Othersyourreason,likethetracker

jackers.However,thetrueatrocities,themostfrightening,

incorporateaperversepsychologicaltwistdesignedtoterrifythe

victim.Thesightofthewolfmuttswiththedeadtributes’eyes.

ThesoundofthejabberjaysreplicatingPrim’storturedscreams.

ThesmellofSnow’srosesmixedwiththevictims’blood.

Carriedacrossthesewer.Cuttingthrougheventhisfoulness.

Makingmyheartrunwild,myskinturntoice,mylungsunable

tosuckair.It’sasifSnow’sbreathingrightinmyface,telling

meit’stimetodie.

Theothersareshoutingatme,butIcan’tseemtorespond.

StrongarmsliftmeasIblasttheheadoffamuttwhoseclaws

havejustgrazedmyankle.I’mslammedintotheladder.Hands

shovedagainsttherungs.Orderedtoclimb.Mywooden,puppet

limbsobey.Movementslowlybringsmebacktomysenses.I

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detectonepersonaboveme.Pollux.PeetaandCressidaare

below.Wereachaplatform.Switchtoasecondladder.Rungs

slickwithsweatandmildew.Atthenextplatform,myheadhas

clearedandtherealityofwhat’shappenedhitsme.Ibegin

franticallypullingpeopleupofftheladder.Peeta.Cressida.

That’sit.

WhathaveIdone?WhathaveIabandonedtheothersto?I’m

scramblingbackdowntheladderwhenoneofmybootskicks

someone.

“Climb!”Galebarksatme.I’mbackup,haulinghimin,

peeringintothegloomformore.“No.”Galeturnsmyfaceto

himandshakeshishead.Uniformshredded.Gapingwoundin

thesideofhisneck.

There’sahumancryfrombelow.“Someone’sstillalive,”I

plead.

“No,Katniss.They’renotcoming,”saysGale.“Onlythe

muttsare.”

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Unabletoacceptit,IshinethelightfromCressida’sgun

downtheshaft.Farbelow,IcanjustmakeoutFinnick,

strugglingtohangonasthreemuttstearathim.Asoneyanks

backhisheadtotakethedeathbite,somethingbizarrehappens.

It’sasifI’mFinnick,watchingimagesofmylifeflashby.The

mastofaboat,asilverparachute,Magslaughing,apinksky,

Beetee’strident,Annieinherweddingdress,wavesbreaking

overrocks.Thenit’sover.

IslidetheHolofrommybeltandchokeout“nightlock,

nightlock,nightlock.”Releaseit.Hunchagainstthewallwiththe

othersastheexplosionrockstheplatformandbitsofmuttand

humanfleshshootoutofthepipeandshowerus.

There’saclankasPolluxslamsacoveroverthepipeand

locksitinplace.Pollux,Gale,Cressida,Peeta,andme.We’reall

that’sleft.Later,thehumanfeelingswillcome.NowI’m

consciousonlyofananimalneedtokeeptheremnantsofour

bandalive.“Wecan’tstophere.”

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Someonecomesupwithabandage.WetieitaroundGale’s

neck.Gethimtohisfeet.Onlyonefigurestayshuddledagainst

thewall.“Peeta,”Isay.There’snoresponse.Hasheblackedout?

Icrouchinfrontofhim,pullinghiscuffedhandsfromhisface.

“Peeta?”Hiseyesarelikeblackpools,thepupilsdilatedsothat

theblueiriseshaveallbutvanished.Themusclesinhiswrists

arehardasmetal.

“Leaveme,”hewhispers.“Ican’thangon.”

“Yes.Youcan!”Itellhim.

Peetashakeshishead.“I’mlosingit.I’llgomad.Like

them.”

Likethemutts.Likearabidbeastbentonrippingmythroat

out.Andhere,finallyhereinthisplace,inthesecircumstances,I

willreallyhavetokillhim.AndSnowwillwin.Hot,bitter

hatredcoursesthroughme.Snowhaswontoomuchalready

today.

It’salongshot,it’ssuicidemaybe,butIdotheonlythingI

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canthinkof.IleaninandkissPeetafullonthemouth.Hiswhole

bodystartsshuddering,butIkeepmylipspressedtohisuntilI

havetocomeupforair.Myhandsslideuphiswriststoclasp

his.“Don’tlethimtakeyoufromme.”

Peeta’spantinghardashefightsthenightmaresraginginhis

head.“No.Idon’twantto...”

Iclenchhishandstothepointofpain.“Staywithme.”

Hispupilscontracttopinpoints,dilateagainrapidly,and

thenreturntosomethingresemblingnormalcy.“Always,”he

murmurs.

IhelpPeetaupandaddressPollux.“Howfartothestreet?”

Heindicatesit’sjustaboveus.Iclimbthelastladderandpush

openthelidtosomeone’sutilityroom.I’mrisingtomyfeet

whenawomanthrowsopenthedoor.Shewearsabright

turquoisesilkrobeembroideredwithexoticbirds.Hermagenta

hair’sfluffeduplikeacloudanddecoratedwithgilded

butterflies.Greasefromthehalf-eatensausageshe’sholding

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smearsherlipstick.Theexpressiononherfacesaysshe

recognizesme.Sheopenshermouthtocallforhelp.

Withouthesitation,Ishootherthroughtheheart.

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Whothewomanwascallingtoremainsamystery,because

aftersearchingtheapartment,wefindshewasalone.Perhapsher

crywasmeantforanearbyneighbor,orwassimplyan

expressionoffear.Atanyrate,there’snooneelsetohearher.

Thisapartmentwouldbeaclassyplacetoholeupinfora

while,butthat’saluxurywecan’tafford.“Howlongdoyou

thinkwehavebeforetheyfigureoutsomeofuscould’ve

survived?”Iask.

“Ithinktheycouldbehereanytime,”Galeanswers.“They

knewwewereheadingforthestreets.Probablytheexplosion

willthrowthemforafewminutes,thenthey’llstartlookingfor

ourexitpoint.”

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Igotoawindowthatoverlooksthestreet,andwhenIpeek

throughtheblinds,I’mnotfacedwithPeacekeepersbutwitha

bundledcrowdofpeoplegoingabouttheirbusiness.Duringour

undergroundjourney,wehavelefttheevacuatedzonesfar

behindandsurfacedinabusysectionoftheCapitol.Thiscrowd

offersouronlychanceofescape.Idon’thaveaHolo,butIhave

Cressida.Shejoinsmeatthewindow,confirmssheknowsour

location,andgivesmethegoodnewsthatwearen’tmanyblocks

fromthepresident’smansion.

Oneglanceatmycompanionstellsmethisisnotimefora

stealthattackonSnow.Gale’sstilllosingbloodfromtheneck

wound,whichwehaven’tevencleaned.Peeta’ssittingona

velvetsofawithhisteethclampeddownonapillow,either

fightingoffmadnessorcontainingascream.Polluxweeps

againstthemantelofanornatefireplace.Cressidastands

determinedlyatmyside,butshe’ssopaleherlipsarebloodless.

I’mrunningonhate.Whentheenergyforthatebbs,I’llbe

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worthless.

“Let’scheckherclosets,”Isay.

Inonebedroomwefindhundredsofthewoman’soutfits,

coats,pairsofshoes,arainbowofwigs,enoughmakeuptopaint

ahouse.Inabedroomacrossthehall,there’sasimilarselection

formen.Perhapstheybelongtoherhusband.Perhapstoalover

whohadthegoodlucktobeoutthismorning.

Icalltheotherstodress.AtthesightofPeeta’sbloody

wrists,Idiginmypocketforthehandcuffkey,buthejerksaway

fromme.

“No,”hesays.“Don’t.Theyhelpholdmetogether.”

“Youmightneedyourhands,”saysGale.

“WhenIfeelmyselfslipping,Idigmywristsintothem,and

thepainhelpsmefocus,”saysPeeta.Iletthembe.

Fortunately,it’scoldout,sowecanconcealmostofour

uniformsandweaponsunderflowingcoatsandcloaks.Wehang

ourbootsaroundournecksbytheirlacesandhidethem,pullon

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sillyshoestoreplacethem.Therealchallenge,ofcourse,isour

faces.CressidaandPolluxruntheriskofbeingrecognizedby

acquaintances,Galecouldbefamiliarfromtheproposandnews,

andPeetaandIareknownbyeverycitizenofPanem.Wehastily

helponeanotherapplythicklayersofmakeup,pullonwigsand

sunglasses.CressidawrapsscarvesoverPeeta’sandmymouths

andnoses.

Icanfeeltheclocktickingaway,butstopforjustafew

momentstostuffpocketswithfoodandfirst-aidsupplies.“Stay

together,”Isayatthefrontdoor.Thenwemarchrightintothe

street.Snowflurrieshavebeguntofall.Agitatedpeopleswirl

aroundus,speakingofrebelsandhungerandmeintheiraffected

Capitolaccents.Wecrossthestreet,passafewmoreapartments.

Justasweturnthecorner,threedozenPeacekeeperssweeppast

us.Wehopoutoftheirway,astherealcitizensdo,waituntilthe

crowdreturnstoitsnormalflow,andkeepmoving.“Cressida,”I

whisper.“Canyouthinkofanywhere?”

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“I’mtrying,”shesays.

Wecoveranotherblock,andthesirensbegin.Throughan

apartmentwindow,Iseeanemergencyreportandpicturesofour

facesflashing.Theyhaven’tidentifiedwhoinourpartydiedyet,

becauseIseeCastorandFinnickamongthephotos.Soonevery

passerbywillbeasdangerousasaPeacekeeper.“Cressida?”

“There’soneplace.It’snotideal.Butwecantryit,”she

says.Wefollowherafewmoreblocksandturnthroughagate

intowhatlookslikeaprivateresidence.It’ssomekindof

shortcut,though,becauseafterwalkingthroughamanicured

garden,wecomeoutofanothergateontoasmallbackstreetthat

connectstwomainavenues.Thereareafewpokystores—one

thatbuysusedgoods,anotherthatsellsfakejewelry.Onlya

coupleofpeoplearearound,andtheypaynoattentiontous.

Cressidabeginstobabbleinahigh-pitchedvoiceaboutfur

undergarments,howessentialtheyareduringthecoldmonths.

“Waituntilyouseetheprices!Believeme,it’shalfwhatyou

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payontheavenues!”

Westopbeforeagrimystorefrontfilledwithmannequinsin

furryunderwear.Theplacedoesn’tevenlookopen,butCressida

pushesthroughthefrontdoor,settingoffadissonantchiming.

Insidethedim,narrowshoplinedwithracksofmerchandise,the

smellofpeltsfillsmynose.Businessmustbeslow,sincewe’re

theonlycustomers.Cressidaheadsstraightforahunchedfigure

sittingintheback.Ifollow,trailingmyfingersthroughthesoft

garmentsaswego.

BehindacountersitsthestrangestpersonI’veeverseen.

She’sanextremeexampleofsurgicalenhancementgonewrong,

forsurelynotevenintheCapitolcouldtheyfindthisface

attractive.Theskinhasbeenpulledbacktightlyandtattooed

withblackandgoldstripes.Thenosehasbeenflatteneduntilit

barelyexists.I’veseencatwhiskersonpeopleintheCapitol

before,butnonesolong.Theresultisagrotesque,semi-feline

mask,whichnowsquintsatusdistrustfully.

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Cressidatakesoffherwig,revealinghervines.“Tigris,”she

says.“Weneedhelp.”

Tigris.Deepinmybrain,thenameringsabell.Shewasa

fixture—ayounger,lessdisturbingversionofherself—inthe

earliestHungerGamesIcanremember.Astylist,Ithink.Idon’t

rememberforwhichdistrict.Not12.Thenshemusthavehad

oneoperationtoomanyandcrossedthelineintorepellence.

Sothisiswherestylistsgowhenthey’veoutlivedtheiruse.

Tosadthemeunderwearshopswheretheywaitfordeath.Outof

thepubliceye.

Istareatherface,wonderingifherparentsactuallynamed

herTigris,inspiringhermutilation,orifshechosethestyleand

changedhernametomatchherstripes.

“Plutarchsaidyoucouldbetrusted,”addsCressida.

Great,she’soneofPlutarch’speople.Soifherfirstmove

isn’ttoturnusintotheCapitol,itwillbetonotifyPlutarch,and

byextensionCoin,ofourwhereabouts.No,Tigris’sshopisnot

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ideal,butit’sallwehaveatthemoment.Ifshe’llevenhelpus.

She’speeringbetweenanoldtelevisiononhercounterandus,as

iftryingtoplaceus.Tohelpher,Ipulldownmyscarf,remove

mywig,andstepclosersothatthelightofthescreenfallsonmy

face.

Tigrisgivesalowgrowl,notunlikeoneButtercupmight

greetmewith.Sheslinksdownoffherstoolanddisappears

behindarackoffur-linedleggings.There’sasoundofsliding,

andthenherhandemergesandwavesusforward.Cressidalooks

atme,asiftoaskAreyousure?Butwhatchoicedowehave?

Returningtothestreetsundertheseconditionsguaranteesour

captureordeath.IpusharoundthefursandfindTigrishasslid

backapanelatthebaseofthewall.Behinditseemstobethetop

ofasteepstonestairway.Shegesturesformetoenter.

Everythingaboutthesituationscreamstrap.Ihavea

momentofpanicandfindmyselfturningtoTigris,searching

thosetawnyeyes.Whyisshedoingthis?She’snoCinna,

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someonewillingtosacrificeherselfforothers.Thiswomanwas

theembodimentofCapitolshallowness.Shewasoneofthestars

oftheHungerGamesuntil...untilshewasn’t.Soisthatit,

then?Bitterness?Hatred?Revenge?Actually,I’mcomfortedby

theidea.Aneedforrevengecanburnlongandhot.Especiallyif

everyglanceinamirrorreinforcesit.

“DidSnowbanyoufromtheGames?”Iask.Shejuststares

backatme.Somewherehertigertailflickswithdispleasure.

“BecauseI’mgoingtokillhim,youknow.”Hermouthspreads

intowhatItakeforasmile.Reassuredthatthisisn’tcomplete

madness,Icrawlthroughthespace.

Abouthalfwaydownthesteps,myfacerunsintoahanging

chainandIpullit,illuminatingthehideoutwithaflickering

fluorescentbulb.It’sasmallcellarwithnodoorsorwindows.

Shallowandwide.Probablyjustastripbetweentworeal

basements.Aplacewhoseexistencecouldgounnoticedunless

youhadaverykeeneyefordimensions.It’scoldanddank,with

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pilesofpeltsthatI’mguessinghaven’tseenthelightofdayin

years.UnlessTigrisgivesusup,Idon’tbelieveanyonewillfind

ushere.BythetimeIreachtheconcretefloor,mycompanions

areonthesteps.Thepanelslidesbackinplace.Ihearthe

underwearrackbeingadjustedonsqueakywheels.Tigris

paddingbacktoherstool.Wehavebeenswallowedupbyher

store.

Justintime,too,becauseGalelooksonthevergeof

collapse.Wemakeabedofpelts,stripoffhislayersofweapons,

andhelphimontohisback.Attheendofthecellar,there’sa

faucetaboutafootfromthefloorwithadrainunderit.Iturnthe

tapand,aftermuchsputteringandalotofrust,clearwater

beginstoflow.WecleanGale’sneckwoundandIrealize

bandageswon’tbeenough.He’sgoingtoneedafewstitches.

There’saneedleandsterilethreadinthefirst-aidsupplies,but

whatwelackisahealer.ItcrossesmymindtoenlistTigris.Asa

stylist,shemustknowhowtoworkaneedle.Butthatwould

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leavenoonemanningtheshop,andshe’sdoingenoughalready.

IacceptthatI’mprobablythemostqualifiedforthejob,gritmy

teeth,andputinarowofjaggedsutures.It’snotprettybutit’s

functional.Ismearitwithmedicineandwrapitup.Givehim

somepainkillers.“Youcanrestnow.It’ssafehere,”Itellhim.

Hegoesoutlikealight.

WhileCressidaandPolluxmakefurnestsforeachofus,I

attendtoPeeta’swrists.Gentlyrinsingawaytheblood,putting

onanantiseptic,andbandagingthembeneaththecuffs.“You’ve

gottokeepthemclean,otherwisetheinfectioncouldspreadand

—”

“Iknowwhatbloodpoisoningis,Katniss,”saysPeeta.“Even

ifmymotherisn’tahealer.”

I’mjoltedbackintime,toanotherwound,anothersetof

bandages.“YousaidthatsamethingtomeinthefirstHunger

Games.Realornotreal?”

“Real,”hesays.“Andyouriskedyourlifegettingthe

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

medicinethatsavedme?”

“Real.”Ishrug.“YouwerethereasonIwasalivetodoit.”

“WasI?”Thecommentthrowshimintoconfusion.Some

shinymemorymustbefightingforhisattention,becausehis

bodytensesandhisnewlybandagedwristsstrainagainstthe

metalcuffs.Thenalltheenergysapsfromhisbody.“I’mso

tired,Katniss.”

“Gotosleep,”Isay.Hewon’tuntilI’verearrangedhis

handcuffsandshackledhimtooneofthestairsupports.Itcan’t

becomfortable,lyingtherewithhisarmsabovehishead.Butin

afewminutes,hedriftsoff,too.

CressidaandPolluxhavemadebedsforus,arrangedour

foodandmedicalsupplies,andnowaskwhatIwanttodoabout

settingupaguard.IlookatGale’spallor,Peeta’srestraints.

Polluxhasn’tsleptfordays,andCressidaandIonlynappedfora

fewhours.IfatroopofPeacekeepersweretocomethroughthat

door,we’dbetrappedlikerats.Wearecompletelyatthemercy

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ofadecrepittiger-womanwithwhatIcanonlyhopeisanall-

consumingpassionforSnow’sdeath.

“Idon’thonestlythinkthere’sanypointinsettingupa

guard.Let’sjusttrytogetsomesleep,”Isay.Theynodnumbly,

andweallburrowintoourpelts.Thefireinsidemehasflickered

out,andwithitmystrength.Isurrendertothesoft,mustyfur

andoblivion.

IhaveonlyonedreamIremember.Alongandwearying

thinginwhichI’mtryingtogettoDistrict12.ThehomeI’m

seekingisintact,thepeoplealive.EffieTrinket,conspicuousina

brightpinkwigandtailoredoutfit,travelswithme.Ikeeptrying

toditchherinplaces,butsheinexplicablyreappearsatmyside,

insistingthatasmyescortshe’sresponsibleformystayingon

schedule.Onlythescheduleisconstantlyshifting,derailedby

ourlackofastampfromanofficialordelayedwhenEffiebreaks

oneofherhighheels.Wecampfordaysonabenchinagray

stationinDistrict7,awaitingatrainthatnevercomes.WhenI

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wake,somehowIfeelevenmoredrainedbythisthanmyusual

nighttimeforaysintobloodandterror.

Cressida,theonlypersonawake,tellsmeit’slateafternoon.

Ieatacanofbeefstewandwashitdownwithalotofwater.

ThenIleanagainstthecellarwall,retracingtheeventsofthelast

day.Movingdeathbydeath.Countingthemuponmyfingers.

One,two—MitchellandBoggslostontheblock.Three—

Messallameltedbythepod.Four,five—Leeg1andJackson

sacrificingthemselvesattheMeatGrinder.Six,seven,eight—

Castor,Homes,andFinnickbeingdecapitatedbytherose-

scentedlizardmutts.Eightdeadintwenty-fourhours.Iknowit

happened,andyetitdoesn’tseemreal.Surely,Castorisasleep

underthatpileoffurs,Finnickwillcomeboundingdownthe

stepsinaminute,Boggswilltellmehisplanforourescape.

TobelievethemdeadistoacceptIkilledthem.Okay,maybe

notMitchellandBoggs—theydiedonanactualassignment.

ButtheotherslosttheirlivesdefendingmeonamissionI

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fabricated.MyplottoassassinateSnowseemssostupidnow.So

stupidasIsitshiveringhereinthiscellar,tallyingupourlosses,

fingeringthetasselsonthesilverknee-highbootsIstolefrom

thewoman’shome.Oh,yeah—Iforgotaboutthat.Ikilledher,

too.I’mtakingoutunarmedcitizensnow.

Ithinkit’stimeIgivemyselfup.

Wheneveryonefinallyawakens,Iconfess.HowIliedabout

themission,howIjeopardizedeveryoneinpursuitofrevenge.

There’salongsilenceafterIfinish.ThenGalesays,“Katniss,

weallknewyouwerelyingaboutCoinsendingyouto

assassinateSnow.”

“Youknew,maybe.ThesoldiersfromThirteendidn’t,”I

reply.

“DoyoureallythinkJacksonbelievedyouhadordersfrom

Coin?”Cressidaasks.“Ofcourseshedidn’t.Butshetrusted

Boggs,andhe’dclearlywantedyoutogoon.”

“InevereventoldBoggswhatIplannedtodo,”Isay.

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“YoutoldeveryoneinCommand!”Galesays.“Itwasoneof

yourconditionsforbeingtheMockingjay.‘IkillSnow.’”

Thoseseemliketwodisconnectedthings.Negotiatingwith

CoinfortheprivilegeofexecutingSnowafterthewarandthis

unauthorizedflightthroughtheCapitol.“Butnotlikethis,”Isay.

“It’sbeenacompletedisaster.”

“Ithinkitwouldbeconsideredahighlysuccessfulmission,”

saysGale.“We’veinfiltratedtheenemycamp,showingthatthe

Capitol’sdefensescanbebreached.We’vemanagedtoget

footageofourselvesallovertheCapitol’snews.We’vethrown

thewholecityintochaostryingtofindus.”

“Trustme,Plutarch’sthrilled,”Cressidaadds.

“That’sbecausePlutarchdoesn’tcarewhodies,”Isay.“Not

aslongashisGamesareasuccess.”

CressidaandGalegoroundandroundtryingtoconvinceme.

Polluxnodsattheirwordstobackthemup.OnlyPeetadoesn’t

offeranopinion.

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“Whatdoyouthink,Peeta?”Ifinallyaskhim.

“Ithink...youstillhavenoidea.Theeffectyoucanhave.”

Heslideshiscuffsupthesupportandpusheshimselftoasitting

position.“Noneofthepeoplewelostwereidiots.Theyknew

whattheyweredoing.Theyfollowedyoubecausetheybelieved

youreallycouldkillSnow.”

Idon’tknowwhyhisvoicereachesmewhennooneelse’s

can.Butifhe’sright,andIthinkheis,Iowetheothersadebt

thatcanonlyberepaidinoneway.Ipullmypapermapfroma

pocketinmyuniformandspreaditoutonthefloorwithnew

resolve.“Wherearewe,Cressida?”

Tigris’sshopsitsaboutfiveblocksfromtheCityCircleand

Snow’smansion.We’reineasywalkingdistancethroughazone

inwhichthepodsaredeactivatedfortheresidents’safety.We

havedisguisesthat,perhapswithsomeembellishmentsfrom

Tigris’sfurrystock,couldgetussafelythere.Butthenwhat?

Themansion’ssuretobeheavilyguarded,underround-the-clock

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camerasurveillance,andlacedwithpodsthatcouldbecomelive

attheflickofaswitch.

“Whatweneedistogethimoutintheopen,”Galesaysto

me.“Thenoneofuscouldpickhimoff.”

“Doesheeverappearinpublicanymore?”asksPeeta.

“Idon’tthinkso,”saysCressida.“Atleastinalltherecent

speechesI’veseen,he’sbeeninthemansion.Evenbeforethe

rebelsgothere.IimaginehebecamemorevigilantafterFinnick

airedhiscrimes.”

That’sright.It’snotjusttheTigrisesoftheCapitolwhohate

Snownow,butawebofpeoplewhoknowwhathedidtotheir

friendsandfamilies.Itwouldhavetobesomethingborderingon

miraculoustolurehimout.Somethinglike...

“Ibethe’dcomeoutforme,”Isay.“IfIwerecaptured.He’d

wantthataspublicaspossible.He’dwantmyexecutiononhis

frontsteps.”Iletthissinkin.“ThenGalecouldshoothimfrom

theaudience.”

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“No.”Peetashakeshishead.“Therearetoomanyalternative

endingstothatplan.Snowmightdecidetokeepyouandtorture

informationoutofyou.Orhaveyouexecutedpubliclywithout

beingpresent.Orkillyouinsidethemansionanddisplayyour

bodyoutfront.”

“Gale?”Isay.

“Itseemslikeanextremesolutiontojumptoimmediately,”

hesays.“Maybeifallelsefails.Let’skeepthinking.”

Inthequietthatfollows,wehearTigris’ssoftfootfall

overhead.Itmustbeclosingtime.She’slockingup,fastening

theshuttersmaybe.Afewminuteslater,thepanelatthetopof

thestairsslidesopen.

“Comeup,”saysagravellyvoice.“Ihavesomefoodfor

you.”It’sthefirsttimeshe’stalkedsincewearrived.Whether

it’snaturalorfromyearsofpractice,Idon’tknow,butthere’s

somethinginhermannerofspeakingthatsuggestsacat’spurr.

Asweclimbthestairs,Cressidaasks,“Didyoucontact

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Plutarch,Tigris?”

“Nowayto.”Tigrisshrugs.“He’llfigureoutyou’reinasafe

house.Don’tworry.”

Worry?IfeelimmenselyrelievedbythenewsthatIwon’t

begiven—andhavetoignore—directordersfrom13.Ormake

upsomeviabledefenseforthedecisionsI’vemadeoverthelast

coupleofdays.

Intheshop,thecounterholdssomestalehunksofbread,a

wedgeofmoldycheese,andhalfabottleofmustard.Itreminds

methatnoteveryoneintheCapitolhasfullstomachsthesedays.

IfeelobligedtotellTigrisaboutourremainingfoodsupplies,

butshewavesmyobjectionsaway.“Ieatnexttonothing,”she

says.“Andthen,onlyrawmeat.”Thisseemsalittletooin

character,butIdon’tquestionit.Ijustscrapethemoldoffthe

cheeseanddivideupthefoodamongtherestofus.

Whileweeat,wewatchthelatestCapitolnewscoverage.

Thegovernmenthastherebelsurvivorsnarroweddowntothe

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fiveofus.Hugebountiesareofferedforinformationleadingto

ourcapture.Theyemphasizehowdangerousweare.Showus

exchanginggunfirewiththePeacekeepers,althoughnotthe

muttsrippingofftheirheads.Doatragictributetothewoman

lyingwherewelefther,withmyarrowstillinherheart.

Someonehasredonehermakeupforthecameras.

TherebelslettheCapitolbroadcastrunonuninterrupted.

“Havetherebelsmadeastatementtoday?”IaskTigris.She

shakesherhead.“IdoubtCoinknowswhattodowithmenow

thatI’mstillalive.”

Tigrisgivesathroatycackle.“Nooneknowswhattodowith

you,girlie.”Thenshemakesmetakeapairofthefurleggings

eventhoughIcan’tpayherforthem.It’sthekindofgiftyou

havetoaccept.Andanyway,it’scoldinthatcellar.

Downstairsaftersupper,wecontinuetorackourbrainsfora

plan.Nothinggoodcomesup,butwedoagreethatwecanno

longergooutasagroupoffiveandthatweshouldtryto

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infiltratethepresident’smansionbeforeIturnmyselfintobait.I

consenttothatsecondpointtoavoidfurtherargument.IfIdo

decidetogivemyselfup,itwon’trequireanyoneelse’s

permissionorparticipation.

Wechangebandages,handcuffPeetabacktohissupport,and

settledowntosleep.Afewhourslater,Islipbackinto

consciousnessandbecomeawareofaquietconversation.Peeta

andGale.Ican’tstopmyselffromeavesdropping.

“Thanksforthewater,”Peetasays.

“Noproblem,”Galereplies.“Iwakeuptentimesanight

anyway.”

“TomakesureKatnississtillhere?”asksPeeta.

“Somethinglikethat,”Galeadmits.

There’salongpausebeforePeetaspeaksagain.“Thatwas

funny,whatTigrissaid.Aboutnooneknowingwhattodowith

her.”

“Well,weneverhave,”Galesays.

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Theybothlaugh.It’ssostrangetohearthemtalkinglike

this.Almostlikefriends.Whichthey’renot.Neverhavebeen.

Althoughthey’renotexactlyenemies.

“Shelovesyou,youknow,”saysPeeta.“Sheasgoodastold

meaftertheywhippedyou.”

“Don’tbelieveit,”Galeanswers.“Thewayshekissedyouin

theQuarterQuell...well,sheneverkissedmelikethat.”

“Itwasjustpartoftheshow,”Peetatellshim,although

there’sanedgeofdoubtinhisvoice.

“No,youwonherover.Gaveupeverythingforher.Maybe

that’stheonlywaytoconvinceheryouloveher.”There’salong

pause.“Ishouldhavevolunteeredtotakeyourplaceinthefirst

Games.Protectedherthen.”

“Youcouldn’t,”saysPeeta.“She’dneverhaveforgivenyou.

Youhadtotakecareofherfamily.Theymattermoretoherthan

herlife.”

“Well,itwon’tbeanissuemuchlonger.Ithinkit’sunlikely

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allthreeofuswillbealiveattheendofthewar.Andifweare,I

guessit’sKatniss’sproblem.Whotochoose.”Galeyawns.“We

shouldgetsomesleep.”

“Yeah.”IhearPeeta’shandcuffsslidedownthesupportas

hesettlesin.“Iwonderhowshe’llmakeuphermind.”

“Oh,thatIdoknow.”IcanjustcatchGale’slastwords

throughthelayeroffur.“Katnisswillpickwhoevershethinks

shecan’tsurvivewithout.”

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Achillrunsthroughme.AmIreallythatcoldand

calculating?Galedidn’tsay,“Katnisswillpickwhoeveritwill

breakherhearttogiveup,”oreven“whoevershecan’tlive

without.”ThosewouldhaveimpliedIwasmotivatedbyakind

ofpassion.ButmybestfriendpredictsIwillchoosetheperson

whoIthinkI“can’tsurvivewithout.”There’snottheleast

indicationthatlove,ordesire,orevencompatibilitywillsway

me.I’lljustconductanunfeelingassessmentofwhatmy

potentialmatescanofferme.Asifintheend,itwillbethe

questionofwhetherabakerorahunterwillextendmylongevity

themost.It’sahorriblethingforGaletosay,forPeetanotto

refute.EspeciallywheneveryemotionIhavehasbeentakenand

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exploitedbytheCapitolortherebels.Atthemoment,thechoice

wouldbesimple.Icansurvivejustfinewithouteitherofthem.

Inthemorning,Ihavenotimeorenergytonursewounded

feelings.Duringapredawnbreakfastofliverpâtéandfig

cookies,wegatheraroundTigris’stelevisionforoneofBeetee’s

break-ins.There’sbeenanewdevelopmentinthewar.

Apparentlyinspiredbytheblackwave,someenterprisingrebel

commandercameupwiththeideaofconfiscatingpeople’s

abandonedautomobilesandsendingthemunmanneddownthe

streets.Thecarsdon’ttriggereverypod,buttheycertainlyget

themajority.Ataroundfourinthemorning,therebelsbegan

carvingthreeseparatepaths—simplyreferredtoastheA,B,

andClines—totheCapitol’sheart.Asaresult,they’vesecured

blockafterblockwithveryfewcasualties.

“Thiscan’tlast,”saysGale.“InfactI’msurprisedthey’ve

keptitgoingsolong.TheCapitolwilladjustbydeactivating

specificpodsandthenmanuallytriggeringthemwhentheir

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targetscomeinrange.”Almostwithinminutesofhisprediction,

weseethisverythinghappenon-screen.Asquadsendsacar

downablock,settingofffourpods.Allseemswell.Threescouts

followandmakeitsafelytotheendofthestreet.Butwhena

groupoftwentyrebelsoldiersfollowthem,they’reblowntobits

byarowofpottedrosebushesinfrontofaflowershop.

“Ibetit’skillingPlutarchnottobeinthecontrolroomon

thisone,”saysPeeta.

BeeteegivesthebroadcastbacktotheCapitol,whereagrim-

facedreporterannouncestheblocksthatciviliansareto

evacuate.Betweenherupdateandthepreviousstory,Iamable

tomarkmypapermaptoshowtherelativepositionsofthe

opposingarmies.

Ihearscufflingoutonthestreet,movetothewindows,and

peekoutacrackintheshutters.Intheearlymorninglight,Isee

abizarrespectacle.Refugeesfromthenowoccupiedblocksare

streamingtowardtheCapitol’scenter.Themostpanickedare

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wearingnothingbutnightgownsandslippers,whilethemore

preparedareheavilybundledinlayersofclothes.Theycarry

everythingfromlapdogstojewelryboxestopottedplants.One

maninafluffyrobeholdsonlyanoverripebanana.Confused,

sleepychildrenstumblealongaftertheirparents,mosteithertoo

stunnedortoobaffledtocry.Bitsofthemflashbymylineof

vision.Apairofwidebrowneyes.Anarmclutchingafavorite

doll.Apairofbarefeet,bluishinthecold,catchingonthe

unevenpavingstonesofthealley.Seeingthemremindsmeof

thechildrenof12whodiedfleeingthefirebombs.Ileavethe

window.

Tigrisofferstobeourspyforthedaysinceshe’stheonly

oneofuswithoutabountyonherhead.Aftersecuringus

downstairs,shegoesoutintotheCapitoltopickupanyhelpful

information.

DowninthecellarIpacebackandforth,drivingtheothers

crazy.Somethingtellsmethatnottakingadvantageoftheflood

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ofrefugeesisamistake.Whatbettercovercouldwehave?On

theotherhand,everydisplacedpersonmillingaboutonthe

streetsmeansanotherpairofeyeslookingforthefiverebelson

theloose.Thenagain,whatdowegainbystayinghere?All

we’rereallydoingisdepletingoursmallcacheoffoodand

waitingfor...what?TherebelstotaketheCapitol?Itcouldbe

weeksbeforethathappens,andI’mnotsosurewhatI’ddoif

theydid.Notrunoutandgreetthem.Coinwouldhaveme

whiskedbackto13beforeIcouldsay“nightlock,nightlock,

nightlock.”Ididnotcomeallthisway,andloseallthosepeople,

toturnmyselfovertothatwoman.IkillSnow.Besides,there

wouldbeanawfullotofthingsIcouldn’teasilyexplainabout

thelastfewdays.Severalofwhich,iftheycametolight,would

probablyblowmydealforthevictors’immunityrightoutofthe

water.Andforgetaboutme,I’vegotafeelingsomeoftheothers

aregoingtoneedit.LikePeeta.Who,nomatterhowyouspinit,

canbeseenontapetossingMitchellintothatnetpod.Ican

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imaginewhatCoin’swartribunalwilldowiththat.

Bylateafternoon,we’rebeginningtogetuneasyabout

Tigris’slongabsence.Talkturnstothepossibilitiesthatshehas

beenapprehendedandarrested,turnedusinvoluntarily,or

simplybeeninjuredinthewaveofrefugees.Butaroundsix

o’clockwehearherreturn.There’ssomeshufflingaround

upstairs,thensheopensthepanel.Thewonderfulsmelloffrying

meatfillstheair.Tigrishaspreparedusahashofchoppedham

andpotatoes.It’sthefirsthotfoodwe’vehadindays,andasI

waitforhertofillmyplate,I’mindangerofactuallydrooling.

AsIchew,ItrytopayattentiontoTigristellingushowshe

acquiredit,butthemainthingIabsorbisthatfurunderwearisa

valuabletradingitematthemoment.Especiallyforpeoplewho

lefttheirhomesunderdressed.Manyarestilloutonthestreet,

tryingtofindshelterforthenight.Thosewholiveinthechoice

apartmentsoftheinnercityhavenotflungopentheirdoorsto

housethedisplaced.Onthecontrary,mostofthemboltedtheir

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locks,drewtheirshutters,andpretendedtobeout.NowtheCity

Circle’spackedwithrefugees,andthePeacekeepersaregoing

doortodoor,breakingintoplacesiftheyhaveto,toassign

houseguests.

Onthetelevision,wewatchaterseHeadPeacekeeperlayout

specificrulesregardinghowmanypeoplepersquarefooteach

residentwillbeexpectedtotakein.Heremindsthecitizensof

theCapitolthattemperatureswilldropwellbelowfreezing

tonightandwarnsthemthattheirpresidentexpectsthemtobe

notonlywillingbutenthusiastichostsinthistimeofcrisis.Then

theyshowsomeverystaged-lookingshotsofconcernedcitizens

welcominggratefulrefugeesintotheirhomes.TheHead

Peacekeepersaysthepresidenthimselfhasorderedpartofhis

mansionreadiedtoreceivecitizenstomorrow.Headdsthat

shopkeepersshouldalsobepreparedtolendtheirfloorspaceif

requested.

“Tigris,thatcouldbeyou,”saysPeeta.Irealizehe’sright.

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Thateventhisnarrowhallwayofashopcouldbeappropriatedas

thenumbersswell.Thenwe’llbetrulytrappedinthecellar,in

constantdangerofdiscovery.Howmanydaysdowehave?One?

Maybetwo?

TheHeadPeacekeepercomesbackwithmoreinstructions

forthepopulation.Itseemsthatthiseveningtherewasan

unfortunateincidentwhereacrowdbeattodeathayoungman

whoresembledPeeta.Henceforth,allrebelsightingsaretobe

reportedimmediatelytoauthorities,whowilldealwiththe

identificationandarrestofthesuspect.Theyshowaphotoofthe

victim.Apartfromsomeobviouslybleachedcurls,helooks

aboutasmuchlikePeetaasIdo.

“Peoplehavegonewild,”Cressidamurmurs.

Wewatchabriefrebelupdateinwhichwelearnthatseveral

moreblockshavebeentakentoday.Imakenoteofthe

intersectionsonmymapandstudyit.“LineCisonlyfourblocks

fromhere,”Iannounce.Somehowthatfillsmewithmore

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anxietythantheideaofPeacekeeperslookingforhousing.I

becomeveryhelpful.“Letmewashthedishes.”

“I’llgiveyouahand.”Galecollectstheplates.

IfeelPeeta’seyesfollowusoutoftheroom.Inthecramped

kitchenatthebackofTigris’sshop,Ifillthesinkwithhotwater

andsuds.“Doyouthinkit’strue?”Iask.“ThatSnowwilllet

refugeesintothemansion?”

“Ithinkhehastonow,atleastforthecameras,”saysGale.

“I’mleavinginthemorning,”Isay.

“I’mgoingwithyou,”Galesays.“Whatshouldwedowith

theothers?”

“PolluxandCressidacouldbeuseful.They’regoodguides,”

Isay.PolluxandCressidaaren’tactuallytheproblem.“But

Peeta’stoo...”

“Unpredictable,”finishesGale.“Doyouthinkhe’dstilllet

usleavehimbehind?”

“Wecanmaketheargumentthathe’llendangerus,”Isay.

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“Hemightstayhere,ifwe’reconvincing.”

Peeta’sfairlyrationalaboutoursuggestion.Hereadily

agreesthathiscompanycouldputtheotherfourofusatrisk.

I’mthinkingthismayallworkout,thathecanjustsitoutthe

warinTigris’scellar,whenheannounceshe’sgoingoutonhis

own.

“Todowhat?”asksCressida.

“I’mnotsureexactly.TheonethingthatImightstillbe

usefulatiscausingadiversion.Yousawwhathappenedtothat

manwholookedlikeme,”hesays.

“Whatifyou...losecontrol?”Isay.

“Youmean...gomutt?Well,ifIfeelthatcomingon,I’ll

trytogetbackhere,”heassuresme.

“AndifSnowgetsyouagain?”asksGale.“Youdon’teven

haveagun.”

“I’lljusthavetotakemychances,”saysPeeta.“Liketherest

ofyou.”Thetwoexchangealonglook,andthenGalereaches

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intohisbreastpocket.HeplaceshisnightlocktabletinPeeta’s

hand.Peetaletsitlieonhisopenpalm,neitherrejectingnor

acceptingit.“Whataboutyou?”

“Don’tworry.Beeteeshowedmehowtodetonatemy

explosivearrowsbyhand.Ifthatfails,I’vegotmyknife.And

I’llhaveKatniss,”saysGalewithasmile.“Shewon’tgivethem

thesatisfactionoftakingmealive.”

ThethoughtofPeacekeepersdraggingGaleawaystartsthe

tuneplayinginmyheadagain....



Areyou,areyou

Comingtothetree



“Takeit,Peeta,”Isayinastrainedvoice.Ireachoutand

closehisfingersoverthepill.“Noonewillbetheretohelpyou.”

Wespendafitfulnight,wokenbyoneanother’snightmares,

mindsbuzzingwiththenextday’splans.I’mrelievedwhenfive

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o’clockrollsaroundandwecanbeginwhateverthisdayholds

forus.Weeatamishmashofourremainingfood—canned

peaches,crackers,andsnails—leavingonecanofsalmonfor

Tigrisasmeagerthanksforallshe’sdone.Thegestureseemsto

touchherinsomeway.Herfacecontortsinanoddexpression

andshefliesintoaction.Shespendsthenexthourremakingthe

fiveofus.Sheredressesussoregularclotheshideouruniforms

beforeweevendonourcoatsandcloaks.Coversourmilitary

bootswithsomesortoffurryslippers.Securesourwigswith

pins.Cleansoffthegarishremainsofthepaintwesohastily

appliedtoourfacesandmakesusupagain.Drapesour

outerweartoconcealourweapons.Thengivesushandbagsand

bundlesofknickknackstocarry.Intheend,welookexactlylike

therefugeesfleeingtherebels.

“Neverunderestimatethepowerofabrilliantstylist,”says

Peeta.It’shardtotell,butIthinkTigrismightactuallyblush

underherstripes.

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Therearenohelpfulupdatesonthetelevision,butthealley

seemsasthickwithrefugeesasthepreviousmorning.Ourplan

istoslipintothecrowdinthreegroups.FirstCressidaand

Pollux,whowillactasguideswhilekeepingasafeleadonus.

ThenGaleandmyself,whointendtopositionourselvesamong

therefugeesassignedtothemansiontoday.ThenPeeta,whowill

trailbehindus,readytocreateadisturbanceasneeded.

Tigriswatchesthroughtheshuttersfortherightmoment,

unboltsthedoor,andnodstoCressidaandPollux.“Takecare,”

Cressidasays,andtheyaregone.

We’llbefollowinginaminute.Igetoutthekey,unlock

Peeta’scuffs,andstufftheminmypocket.Herubshiswrists.

Flexesthem.Ifeelakindofdesperationrisingupinme.It’slike

I’mbackintheQuarterQuell,withBeeteegivingJohannaand

methatcoilofwire.

“Listen,”Isay.“Don’tdoanythingfoolish.”

“No.It’slast-resortstuff.Completely,”hesays.

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Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneck,feelhisarmshesitate

beforetheyembraceme.Notassteadyastheyoncewere,but

stillwarmandstrong.Athousandmomentssurgethroughme.

Allthetimesthesearmsweremyonlyrefugefromtheworld.

Perhapsnotfullyappreciatedthen,butsosweetinmymemory,

andnowgoneforever.“Allright,then.”Ireleasehim.

“It’stime,”saysTigris.Ikisshercheek,fastenmyred

hoodedcloak,pullmyscarfupovermynose,andfollowGale

outintothefrigidair.

Sharp,icysnowflakesbitemyexposedskin.Therisingsun’s

tryingtobreakthroughthegloomwithoutmuchsuccess.There’s

enoughlighttoseethebundledformsclosesttoyouandlittle

more.Perfectconditions,really,exceptthatIcan’tlocate

CressidaandPollux.GaleandIdropourheadsandshufflealong

withtherefugees.IcanhearwhatImissedpeekingthroughthe

shuttersyesterday.Crying,moaning,laboredbreathing.And,not

toofaraway,gunfire.

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“Wherearewegoing,Uncle?”ashiveringlittleboyasksa

manweigheddownwithasmallsafe.

“Tothepresident’smansion.They’llassignusanewplace

tolive,”puffstheman.

Weturnoffthealleyandspilloutontooneofthemain

avenues.“Staytotheright!”avoiceorders,andIseethe

Peacekeepersinterspersedthroughoutthecrowd,directingthe

flowofhumantraffic.Scaredfacespeeroutoftheplate-glass

windowsoftheshops,whicharealreadybecomingoverrunwith

refugees.Atthisrate,Tigrismayhavenewhouseguestsby

lunch.Itwasgoodforeverybodythatwegotoutwhenwedid.

It’sbrighternow,evenwiththesnowpickingup.Icatch

sightofCressidaandPolluxaboutthirtyyardsaheadofus,

ploddingalongwiththecrowd.IcranemyheadaroundtoseeifI

canlocatePeeta.Ican’t,butI’vecaughttheeyeofan

inquisitive-lookinglittlegirlinalemonyellowcoat.Inudge

Galeandslowmypaceeversoslightly,toallowawallofpeople

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toformbetweenus.

“Wemightneedtosplitup,”Isayundermybreath.“There’s

agirl—”

Gunfireripsthroughthecrowd,andseveralpeoplenearme

slumptotheground.Screamspiercetheairasasecondround

mowsdownanothergroupbehindus.GaleandIdroptothe

street,scuttlethetenyardstotheshops,andtakecoverbehinda

displayofspike-heeledbootsoutsideashoeseller’s.

ArowoffeatheryfootwearblocksGale’sview.“Whoisit?

Canyousee?”heasksme.WhatIcansee,betweenalternating

pairsoflavenderandmintgreenleatherboots,isastreetfullof

bodies.Thelittlegirlwhowaswatchingmekneelsbesidea

motionlesswoman,screechingandtryingtorouseher.Another

waveofbulletsslicesacrossthechestofheryellowcoat,

stainingitwithred,knockingthegirlontoherback.Fora

moment,lookingathertinycrumpledform,Ilosemyabilityto

formwords.Galeprodsmewithhiselbow.“Katniss?”

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“They’reshootingfromtheroofaboveus,”ItellGale.I

watchafewmorerounds,seethewhiteuniformsdroppinginto

thesnowystreets.“TryingtotakeoutthePeacekeepers,but

they’renotexactlycrackshots.Itmustbetherebels.”Idon’t

feelarushofjoy,althoughtheoreticallymyallieshavebroken

through.Iamtransfixedbythatlemonyellowcoat.

“Ifwestartshooting,that’sit,”Galesays.“Thewholeworld

willknowit’sus.”

It’strue.We’rearmedonlywithourfabulousbows.To

releaseanarrowwouldbelikeannouncingtobothsidesthat

we’rehere.

“No,”Isayforcefully.“We’vegottogettoSnow.”

“Thenwebetterstartmovingbeforethewholeblockgoes

up,”saysGale.Huggingthewall,wecontinuealongthestreet.

Onlythewallismostlyshopwindows.Apatternofsweatypalms

andgapingfacespressesagainsttheglass.Iyankmyscarfup

higherovermycheekbonesaswedartbetweenoutdoordisplays.

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BehindarackofframedphotosofSnow,weencountera

woundedPeacekeeperproppedagainstastripofbrickwall.He

asksusforhelp.Galekneeshiminthesideoftheheadandtakes

hisgun.Attheintersection,heshootsasecondPeacekeeperand

webothhavefirearms.

“Sowhoarewesupposedtobenow?”Iask.

“DesperatecitizensoftheCapitol,”saysGale.“The

Peacekeeperswillthinkwe’reontheirside,andhopefullythe

rebelshavemoreinterestingtargets.”

I’mmullingoverthewisdomofthislatestroleaswesprint

acrosstheintersection,butbythetimewereachthenextblock,

itnolongermatterswhoweare.Whoanyoneis.Becausenoone

islookingatfaces.Therebelsarehere,allright.Pouringonto

theavenue,takingcoverindoorways,behindvehicles,guns

blazing,hoarsevoicesshoutingcommandsastheyprepareto

meetanarmyofPeacekeepersmarchingtowardus.Caughtinthe

crossfirearetherefugees,unarmed,disoriented,manywounded.

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Apod’sactivatedaheadofus,releasingagushofsteamthat

parboilseveryoneinitspath,leavingthevictimsintestine-pink

andverydead.Afterthat,whatlittlesenseofordertherewas

unravels.Astheremainingcurlicuesofsteamintertwinewiththe

snow,visibilityextendsjusttotheendofmybarrel.

Peacekeeper,rebel,citizen,whoknows?Everythingthatmoves

isatarget.Peopleshootreflexively,andI’mnoexception.Heart

pounding,adrenalineburningthroughme,everyoneismy

enemy.ExceptGale.Myhuntingpartner,theonepersonwhohas

myback.There’snothingtodobutmoveforward,killing

whoevercomesintoourpath.Screamingpeople,bleeding

people,deadpeopleeverywhere.Aswereachthenextcorner,the

entireblockaheadofuslightsupwitharichpurpleglow.We

backpedal,hunkerdowninastairwell,andsquintintothelight.

Something’shappeningtothoseilluminatedbyit.They’re

assaultedby...what?Asound?Awave?Alaser?Weaponsfall

fromtheirhands,fingersclutchtheirfaces,asbloodspraysfrom

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allvisibleorifices—eyes,noses,mouths,ears.Inlessthana

minute,everyone’sdeadandtheglowvanishes.Igritmyteeth

andrun,leapingoverthebodies,feetslippinginthegore.The

windwhipsthesnowintoblindingswirlsbutdoesn’tblockout

thesoundofanotherwaveofbootsheadedourway.

“Getdown!”IhissatGale.Wedropwhereweare.Myface

landsinastill-warmpoolofsomeone’sblood,butIplaydead,

remainmotionlessasthebootsmarchoverus.Someavoidthe

bodies.Othersgrindintomyhand,myback,kickmyheadin

passing.Asthebootsrecede,IopenmyeyesandnodtoGale.

Onthenextblock,weencountermoreterrifiedrefugees,but

fewsoldiers.Justwhenitseemswemighthavecaughtabreak,

there’sacrackingsound,likeanegghittingthesideofabowl

butmagnifiedathousandtimes.Westop,lookaroundforthe

pod.There’snothing.ThenIfeelthetipsofmybootsbeginning

totilteversoslightly.“Run!”IcrytoGale.There’snotimeto

explain,butinafewsecondsthenatureofthepodbecomesclear

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toeveryone.Aseamhasopenedupdownthecenteroftheblock.

Thetwosidesofthetiledstreetarefoldingdownlikeflaps,

slowlyemptyingthepeopleintowhateverliesbeneath.

I’mtornbetweenmakingabeelineforthenextintersection

andtryingtogettothedoorsthatlinethestreetandbreakmy

wayintoabuilding.Asaresult,Iendupmovingataslight

diagonal.Astheflapcontinuestodrop,Ifindmyfeet

scrambling,harderandharder,tofindpurchaseontheslippery

tiles.It’slikerunningalongthesideofanicyhillthatgets

steeperateverystep.Bothofmydestinations—theintersection

andthebuildings—areafewfeetawaywhenIfeeltheflap

going.There’snothingtodobutusemylastsecondsof

connectiontothetilestopushofffortheintersection.Asmy

handslatchontotheside,Irealizetheflapshaveswungstraight

down.Myfeetdangleintheair,nofootholdanywhere.From

fiftyfeetbelow,avilestenchhitsmynose,likerottedcorpsesin

thesummerheat.Blackformscrawlaroundintheshadows,

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silencingwhoeversurvivesthefall.

Astrangledcrycomesfrommythroat.Nooneiscomingto

helpme.I’mlosingmygripontheicyledge,whenIseeI’m

onlyaboutsixfeetfromthecornerofthepod.Iinchmyhands

alongtheledge,tryingtoblockouttheterrifyingsoundsfrom

below.Whenmyhandsstraddlethecorner,Iswingmyright

bootupovertheside.ItcatchesonsomethingandI

painstakinglydragmyselfuptostreetlevel.Panting,trembling,I

crawloutandwrapmyarmaroundalamppostforananchor,

althoughtheground’sperfectlyflat.

“Gale?”Icallintotheabyss,heedlessofbeingrecognized.

“Gale?”

“Overhere!”Ilookinbewildermenttomyleft.Theflapheld

upeverythingtotheverybaseofthebuildings.Adozenorso

peoplemadeitthatfarandnowhangfromwhateverprovidesa

handhold.Doorknobs,knockers,mailslots.Threedoorsdown

fromme,Galeclingstothedecorativeirongratingaroundan

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apartmentdoor.Hecouldeasilygetinsideifitwasopen.But

despiterepeatedkickstothedoor,noonecomestohisaid.

“Coveryourself!”Iliftmygun.HeturnsawayandIdrillthe

lockuntilthedoorfliesinward.Galeswingsintothedoorway,

landinginaheaponthefloor.Foramoment,Iexperiencethe

elationofhisrescue.Thenthewhite-glovedhandsclampdown

onhim.

Galemeetsmyeyes,mouthssomethingatmeIcan’tmake

out.Idon’tknowwhattodo.Ican’tleavehim,butIcan’treach

himeither.Hislipsmoveagain.Ishakemyheadtoindicatemy

confusion.Atanyminute,they’llrealizewhothey’vecaptured.

ThePeacekeepersarehaulinghiminsidenow.“Go!”Ihearhim

yell.

Iturnandrunawayfromthepod.Allalonenow.Galea

prisoner.CressidaandPolluxcouldbedeadtentimesover.And

Peeta?Ihaven’tlaideyesonhimsinceweleftTigris’s.Iholdon

totheideathathemayhavegoneback.Feltanattackcoming

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andretreatedtothecellarwhilehestillhadcontrol.Realized

therewasnoneedforadiversionwhentheCapitolhasprovided

somany.Noneedtobebaitandhavetotakethenightlock—the

nightlock!Galedoesn’thaveany.Andasforallthattalkof

detonatinghisarrowsbyhand,he’llnevergetthechance.The

firstthingthePeacekeeperswilldoistostriphimofhis

weapons.

Ifallintoadoorway,tearsstingingmyeyes.Shootme.

That’swhathewasmouthing.Iwassupposedtoshoothim!That

wasmyjob.Thatwasourunspokenpromise,allofus,toone

another.AndIdidn’tdoitandnowtheCapitolwillkillhimor

torturehimorhijackhimor—thecracksbeginopeninginside

me,threateningtobreakmeintopieces.Ihaveonlyonehope.

ThattheCapitolfalls,laysdownitsarms,andgivesupits

prisonersbeforetheyhurtGale.ButIcan’tseethathappening

whileSnow’salive.

ApairofPeacekeepersrunsby,barelyglancingatthe

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whimperingCapitolgirlhuddledinadoorway.Ichokedownmy

tears,wipetheexistingonesoffmyfacebeforetheycanfreeze,

andpullmyselfbacktogether.Okay,I’mstillananonymous

refugee.OrdidthePeacekeeperswhocaughtGalegetaglimpse

ofmeasIfled?Iremovemycloakandturnitinsideout,letting

theblackliningshowinsteadoftheredexterior.Arrangethe

hoodsoitconcealsmyface.Graspingmygunclosetomychest,

Isurveytheblock.There’sonlyahandfulofdazed-looking

stragglers.Itrailclosebehindapairofoldmenwhotakeno

noticeofme.Noonewillexpectmetobewitholdmen.When

wereachtheendofthenextintersection,theystopandIalmost

bumpintothem.It’stheCityCircle.Acrossthewideexpanse

ringedbygrandbuildingssitsthepresident’smansion.

TheCircle’sfullofpeoplemillingaround,wailing,orjust

sittingandlettingthesnowpileuparoundthem.Ifitrightin.I

begintoweavemywayacrosstothemansion,trippingover

abandonedtreasuresandsnow-frostedlimbs.Abouthalfway

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there,Ibecomeawareoftheconcretebarricade.It’saboutfour

feethighandextendsinalargerectangleinfrontofthemansion.

Youwouldthinkitwouldbeempty,butit’spackedwith

refugees.Maybethisisthegroupthat’sbeenchosentobe

shelteredatthemansion?ButasIdrawcloser,Inotice

somethingelse.Everyoneinsidethebarricadeisachild.

Toddlerstoteenagers.Scaredandfrostbitten.Huddledingroups

orrockingnumblyontheground.Theyaren’tbeingledintothe

mansion.They’repennedin,guardedonallsidesby

Peacekeepers.Iknowimmediatelyit’snotfortheirprotection.If

theCapitolwantedtosafeguardthem,they’dbedownina

bunkersomewhere.ThisisforSnow’sprotection.Thechildren

formhishumanshield.

There’sacommotionandthecrowdsurgestotheleft.I’m

caughtupbylargerbodies,bornesideways,carriedoffcourse.I

hearshoutsof“Therebels!Therebels!”andknowtheymust’ve

brokenthrough.ThemomentumslamsmeintoaflagpoleandI

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clingtoit.Usingtheropethathangsfromthetop,Ipullmyself

upoutofthecrushofbodies.Yes,Icanseetherebelarmy

pouringintotheCircle,drivingtherefugeesbackontothe

avenues.Iscantheareaforthepodsthatwillsurelybe

detonating.Butthatdoesn’thappen.Thisiswhathappens:

AhovercraftmarkedwiththeCapitol’ssealmaterializes

directlyoverthebarricadedchildren.Scoresofsilverparachutes

raindownonthem.Eveninthischaos,thechildrenknowwhat

silverparachutescontain.Food.Medicine.Gifts.Theyeagerly

scoopthemup,frozenfingersstrugglingwiththestrings.The

hovercraftvanishes,fivesecondspass,andthenabouttwenty

parachutessimultaneouslyexplode.

Awailrisesfromthecrowd.Thesnow’sredandlittered

withundersizedbodyparts.Manyofthechildrendie

immediately,butotherslieinagonyontheground.Somestagger

aroundmutely,staringattheremainingsilverparachutesintheir

hands,asiftheystillmighthavesomethingpreciousinside.I

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cantellthePeacekeepersdidn’tknowthiswascomingbythe

waytheyareyankingawaythebarricades,makingapathtothe

children.Anotherflockofwhiteuniformssweepsintothe

opening.Butthesearen’tPeacekeepers.They’remedics.Rebel

medics.I’dknowtheuniformsanywhere.Theyswarminamong

thechildren,wieldingmedicalkits.

FirstIgetaglimpseoftheblondbraiddownherback.Then,

assheyanksoffhercoattocoverawailingchild,Inoticethe

ducktailformedbyheruntuckedshirt.IhavethesamereactionI

didthedayEffieTrinketcalledhernameatthereaping.Atleast,

Imustgolimp,becauseIfindmyselfatthebaseoftheflagpole,

unabletoaccountforthelastfewseconds.ThenIampushing

throughthecrowd,justasIdidbefore.Tryingtoshouthername

abovetheroar.I’malmostthere,almosttothebarricade,whenI

thinkshehearsme.Becauseforjustamoment,shecatchessight

ofme,herlipsformmyname.

Andthat’swhentherestoftheparachutesgooff.

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Realornotreal?Iamonfire.Theballsofflamethaterupted

fromtheparachutesshotoverthebarricades,throughthesnowy

air,andlandedinthecrowd.Iwasjustturningawaywhenone

caughtme,ranitstongueupthebackofmybody,and

transformedmeintosomethingnew.Acreatureasunquenchable

asthesun.

Afiremuttknowsonlyasinglesensation:agony.Nosight,

nosound,nofeelingexcepttheunrelentingburningofflesh.

Perhapsthereareperiodsofunconsciousness,butwhatcanit

matterifIcan’tfindrefugeinthem?IamCinna’sbird,ignited,

flyingfranticallytoescapesomethinginescapable.Thefeathers

offlamethatgrowfrommybody.Beatingmywingsonlyfans

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theblaze.Iconsumemyself,buttonoend.

Finally,mywingsbegintofalter,Iloseheight,andgravity

pullsmeintoafoamyseathecolorofFinnick’seyes.Ifloaton

myback,whichcontinuestoburnbeneaththewater,butthe

agonyquietstopain.WhenIamadriftandunabletonavigate,

that’swhentheycome.Thedead.

TheonesIlovedflyasbirdsintheopenskyaboveme.

Soaring,weaving,callingtometojointhem.Iwantsobadlyto

followthem,buttheseawatersaturatesmywings,makingit

impossibletoliftthem.TheonesIhatedhavetakentothewater,

horriblescaledthingsthattearmysaltyfleshwithneedleteeth.

Bitingagainandagain.Draggingmebeneaththesurface.

Thesmallwhitebirdtingedinpinkdivesdown,buriesher

clawsinmychest,andtriestokeepmeafloat.“No,Katniss!No!

Youcan’tgo!”

ButtheonesIhatedarewinning,andifsheclingstome,

she’llbelostaswell.“Prim,letgo!”Andfinallyshedoes.

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Deepinthewater,I’mdesertedbyall.There’sonlythe

soundofmybreathing,theenormouseffortittakestodrawthe

waterin,pushitoutofmylungs.Iwanttostop,Itrytoholdmy

breath,buttheseaforcesitswayinandoutagainstmywill.“Let

medie.Letmefollowtheothers,”Ibegwhateverholdsmehere.

There’snoresponse.

Trappedfordays,years,centuriesmaybe.Dead,butnot

allowedtodie.Alive,butasgoodasdead.Soalonethatanyone,

anythingnomatterhowloathsomewouldbewelcome.Butwhen

Ifinallyhaveavisitor,it’ssweet.Morphling.Coursingthrough

myveins,easingthepain,lighteningmybodysothatitrises

backtowardtheairandrestsagainonthefoam.

Foam.Ireallyamfloatingonfoam.Icanfeelitbeneaththe

tipsofmyfingers,cradlingpartsofmynakedbody.There’s

muchpainbutthere’salsosomethinglikereality.Thesandpaper

ofmythroat.Thesmellofburnmedicinefromthefirstarena.

Thesoundofmymother’svoice.Thesethingsfrightenme,andI

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trytoreturntothedeeptomakesenseofthem.Butthere’sno

goingback.Gradually,I’mforcedtoacceptwhoIam.Abadly

burnedgirlwithnowings.Withnofire.Andnosister.

InthedazzlingwhiteCapitolhospital,thedoctorsworktheir

magiconme.Drapingmyrawnessinnewsheetsofskin.

Coaxingthecellsintothinkingtheyaremyown.Manipulating

mybodyparts,bendingandstretchingthelimbstoassureagood

fit.IhearoverandoveragainhowluckyIam.Myeyeswere

spared.Mostofmyfacewasspared.Mylungsarerespondingto

treatment.Iwillbeasgoodasnew.

Whenmytenderskinhastoughenedenoughtowithstandthe

pressureofsheets,morevisitorsarrive.Themorphlingopensthe

doortothedeadandalivealike.Haymitch,yellowand

unsmiling.Cinna,stitchinganewweddingdress.Delly,prattling

onaboutthenicenessofpeople.Myfathersingsallfourstanzas

of“TheHangingTree”andremindsmethatmymother—who

sleepsinachairbetweenshifts—isn’ttoknowaboutit.

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OnedayIawaketoexpectationsandknowIwillnotbe

allowedtoliveinmydreamland.Imusttakefoodbymouth.

Movemyownmuscles.Makemywaytothebathroom.Abrief

appearancebyPresidentCoinclinchesit.

“Don’tworry,”shesays.“I’vesavedhimforyou.”

Thedoctors’puzzlementgrowsoverwhyI’munableto

speak.Manytestsaredone,andwhilethere’sdamagetomy

vocalcords,itdoesn’taccountforit.Finally,Dr.Aurelius,a

headdoctor,comesupwiththetheorythatI’vebecomeamental,

ratherthanphysical,Avox.Thatmysilencehasbeenbroughton

byemotionaltrauma.Althoughhe’spresentedwithahundred

proposedremedies,hetellsthemtoleavemealone.SoIdon’t

askaboutanyoneoranything,butpeoplebringmeasteady

streamofinformation.Onthewar:TheCapitolfellthedaythe

parachuteswentoff,PresidentCoinleadsPanemnow,andtroops

havebeensentouttoputdownthesmallremainingpocketsof

Capitolresistance.OnPresidentSnow:He’sbeingheldprisoner,

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awaitingtrialandmostcertainexecution.Onmyassassination

team:CressidaandPolluxhavebeensentoutintothedistrictsto

coverthewreckageofthewar.Gale,whotooktwobulletsinan

escapeattempt,ismoppingupPeacekeepersin2.Peeta’sstillin

theburnunit.HemadeittotheCityCircleafterall.Onmy

family:Mymotherburieshergriefinherwork.

Havingnowork,griefburiesme.Allthatkeepsmegoingis

Coin’spromise.ThatIcankillSnow.Andwhenthat’sdone,

nothingwillbeleft.

Eventually,I’mreleasedfromthehospitalandgivenaroom

inthepresident’smansiontosharewithmymother.She’s

almostneverthere,takinghermealsandsleepingatwork.It

fallstoHaymitchtocheckonme,makesureI’meatingand

usingmymedicines.It’snotaneasyjob.Itaketomyoldhabits

fromDistrict13.Wanderingunauthorizedthroughthemansion.

Intobedroomsandoffices,ballroomsandbaths.Seekingstrange

littlehidingspaces.Aclosetoffurs.Acabinetinthelibrary.A

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long-forgottenbathtubinaroomofdiscardedfurniture.My

placesaredimandquietandimpossibletofind.Icurlup,make

myselfsmaller,trytodisappearentirely.Wrappedinsilence,I

slidemybraceletthatreadsMENTALLYDISORIENTEDaroundand

aroundmywrist.

MynameisKatnissEverdeen.Iamseventeenyearsold.My

homeisDistrict12.ThereisnoDistrict12.IamtheMockingjay.

IbroughtdowntheCapitol.PresidentSnowhatesme.Hekilled

mysister.NowIwillkillhim.AndthentheHungerGameswillbe

over....

Periodically,Ifindmyselfbackinmyroom,unsurewhether

IwasdrivenbyaneedformorphlingorifHaymitchferretedme

out.Ieatthefood,takethemedicine,andamrequiredtobathe.

It’snotthewaterImind,butthemirrorthatreflectsmynaked

fire-muttbody.Theskingraftsstillretainanewborn-baby

pinkness.Theskindeemeddamagedbutsalvageablelooksred,

hot,andmeltedinplaces.Patchesofmyformerselfgleamwhite

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andpale.I’mlikeabizarrepatchworkquiltofskin.Partsofmy

hairweresingedoffcompletely;theresthasbeenchoppedoffat

oddlengths.KatnissEverdeen,thegirlwhowasonfire.I

wouldn’tmuchcareexceptthesightofmybodybringsbackthe

memoryofthepain.AndwhyIwasinpain.Andwhathappened

justbeforethepainstarted.AndhowIwatchedmylittlesister

becomeahumantorch.

Closingmyeyesdoesn’thelp.Fireburnsbrighterinthe

darkness.

Dr.Aureliusshowsupsometimes.Ilikehimbecausehe

doesn’tsaystupidthingslikehowI’mtotallysafe,orthathe

knowsIcan’tseeitbutI’llbehappyagainoneday,oreventhat

thingswillbebetterinPanemnow.HejustasksifIfeellike

talking,andwhenIdon’tanswer,hefallsasleepinhischair.In

fact,Ithinkhisvisitsarelargelymotivatedbyhisneedforanap.

Thearrangementworksforbothofus.

Thetimedrawsnear,althoughIcouldnotgiveyouexact

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hoursandminutes.PresidentSnowhasbeentriedandfound

guilty,sentencedtoexecution.Haymitchtellsme,Iheartalkof

itasIdriftpasttheguardsinthehallways.MyMockingjaysuit

arrivesinmyroom.Alsomybow,lookingnoworseforwear,

butnosheathofarrows.Eitherbecausetheyweredamagedor

morelikelybecauseIshouldn’thaveweapons.Ivaguelywonder

ifIshouldbepreparingfortheeventinsomeway,butnothing

comestomind.

Lateoneafternoon,afteralongperiodinacushioned

windowseatbehindapaintedscreen,Iemergeandturnleft

insteadofright.Ifindmyselfinastrangepartofthemansion,

andimmediatelylosemybearings.UnliketheareawhereI’m

quartered,thereseemstobenoonearoundtoask.Ilikeit,

though.WishI’dfounditsooner.It’ssoquiet,withthethick

carpetsandheavytapestriessoakingupthesound.Softlylit.

Mutedcolors.Peaceful.UntilIsmelltheroses.Idivebehind

somecurtains,shakingtoohardtorun,whileIawaitthemutts.

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Finally,Irealizetherearenomuttscoming.So,whatdoIsmell?

Realroses?CoulditbethatIamnearthegardenwheretheevil

thingsgrow?

AsIcreepdownthehall,theodorbecomesoverpowering.

Perhapsnotasstrongastheactualmutts,butpurer,becauseit’s

notcompetingwithsewageandexplosives.Iturnacornerand

findmyselfstaringattwosurprisedguards.NotPeacekeepers,of

course.TherearenomorePeacekeepers.Butnotthetrim,gray-

uniformedsoldiersfrom13either.Thesetwo,amananda

woman,wearthetattered,thrown-togetherclothesofactual

rebels.Stillbandagedandgaunt,theyarenowkeepingwatch

overthedoorwaytotheroses.WhenImovetoenter,theirguns

formanXinfrontofme.

“Youcan’tgoin,miss,”saystheman.

“Soldier,”thewomancorrectshim.“Youcan’tgoin,Soldier

Everdeen.President’sorders.”

Ijuststandtherepatientlywaitingforthemtolowertheir

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guns,forthemtounderstand,withoutmytellingthem,that

behindthosedoorsissomethingIneed.Justarose.Asingle

bloom.ToplaceinSnow’slapelbeforeIshoothim.Mypresence

seemstoworrytheguards.They’rediscussingcallingHaymitch,

whenawomanspeaksupbehindme.“Lethergoin.”

Iknowthevoicebutcan’timmediatelyplaceit.NotSeam,

not13,definitelynotCapitol.Iturnmyheadandfindmyself

face-to-facewithPaylor,thecommanderfrom8.Shelookseven

morebeatupthanshedidatthehospital,butwhodoesn’t?

“Onmyauthority,”saysPaylor.“Shehasarighttoanything

behindthatdoor.”Thesearehersoldiers,notCoin’s.Theydrop

theirweaponswithoutquestionandletmepass.

Attheendofashorthallway,Ipushaparttheglassdoors

andstepinside.Bynowthesmell’ssostrongthatitbeginsto

flattenout,asifthere’snomoremynosecanabsorb.Thedamp,

mildairfeelsgoodonmyhotskin.Andtherosesareglorious.

Rowafterrowofsumptuousblooms,inlushpink,sunsetorange,

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andevenpaleblue.Iwanderthroughtheaislesofcarefully

prunedplants,lookingbutnottouching,becauseIhavelearned

thehardwayhowdeadlythesebeautiescanbe.IknowwhenI

findit,crowningthetopofaslenderbush.Amagnificentwhite

budjustbeginningtoopen.Ipullmyleftsleeveovermyhandso

thatmyskinwon’tactuallyhavetotouchit,takeupapairof

pruningshears,andhavejustpositionedthemonthestemwhen

hespeaks.

“That’saniceone.”

Myhandjerks,theshearssnapshut,severingthestem.

“Thecolorsarelovely,ofcourse,butnothingsaysperfection

likewhite.”

Istillcan’tseehim,buthisvoiceseemstoriseupfroman

adjacentbedofredroses.Delicatelypinchingthestemofthe

budthroughthefabricofmysleeve,Imoveslowlyaroundthe

cornerandfindhimsittingonastoolagainstthewall.He’sas

wellgroomedandfinelydressedasever,butweighteddownwith

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manacles,ankleshackles,trackingdevices.Inthebrightlight,

hisskin’sapale,sicklygreen.Heholdsawhitehandkerchief

spottedwithfreshblood.Eveninhisdeterioratedstate,hissnake

eyesshinebrightandcold.“Iwashopingyou’dfindyourwayto

myquarters.”

Hisquarters.Ihavetrespassedintohishome,thewayhe

slitheredintominelastyear,hissingthreatswithhisbloody,rosy

breath.Thisgreenhouseisoneofhisrooms,perhapshisfavorite;

perhapsinbettertimeshetendedtheplantshimself.Butnowit’s

partofhisprison.That’swhytheguardshaltedme.Andthat’s

whyPaylorletmein.

I’dsupposedhewouldbesecuredinthedeepestdungeon

thattheCapitolhadtooffer,notcradledinthelapofluxury.Yet

Coinlefthimhere.Tosetaprecedent,Iguess.Sothatifinthe

futuresheeverfellfromgrace,itwouldbeunderstoodthat

presidents—eventhemostdespicable—getspecialtreatment.

Whoknows,afterall,whenherownpowermightfade?

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“Therearesomanythingsweshoulddiscuss,butIhavea

feelingyourvisitwillbebrief.So,firstthingsfirst.”Hebegins

tocough,andwhenheremovesthehandkerchieffromhismouth,

it’sredder.“IwantedtotellyouhowverysorryIamaboutyour

sister.”

Eveninmydeadened,druggedcondition,thissendsastabof

painthroughme.Remindingmethattherearenolimitstohis

cruelty.Andhowhewillgotohisgravetryingtodestroyme.

“Sowasteful,sounnecessary.Anyonecouldseethegame

wasoverbythatpoint.Infact,Iwasjustabouttoissuean

officialsurrenderwhentheyreleasedthoseparachutes.”Hiseyes

aregluedonme,unblinking,soasnottomissasecondofmy

reaction.Butwhathe’ssaidmakesnosense.Whentheyreleased

theparachutes?“Well,youreallydidn’tthinkIgavetheorder,

didyou?ForgettheobviousfactthatifI’dhadaworking

hovercraftatmydisposal,I’dhavebeenusingittomakean

escape.Butthataside,whatpurposecouldithaveserved?We

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bothknowI’mnotabovekillingchildren,butI’mnotwasteful.I

takelifeforveryspecificreasons.Andtherewasnoreasonfor

metodestroyapenfullofCapitolchildren.Noneatall.”

IwonderifthenextfitofcoughingisstagedsothatIcan

havetimetoabsorbhiswords.He’slying.Ofcourse,he’slying.

Butthere’ssomethingstrugglingtofreeitselffromthelieas

well.

“However,ImustconcedeitwasamasterfulmoveonCoin’s

part.TheideathatIwasbombingourownhelplesschildren

instantlysnappedwhateverfrailallegiancemypeoplestillfeltto

me.Therewasnorealresistanceafterthat.Didyouknowitaired

live?YoucanseePlutarch’shandthere.Andintheparachutes.

Well,it’sthatsortofthinkingthatyoulookforinaHead

Gamemaker,isn’tit?”Snowdabsthecornersofhismouth.“I’m

surehewasn’tgunningforyoursister,butthesethingshappen.”

I’mnotwithSnownow.I’minSpecialWeaponrybackin13

withGaleandBeetee.LookingatthedesignsbasedonGale’s

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traps.Thatplayedonhumansympathies.Thefirstbombkilled

thevictims.Thesecond,therescuers.RememberingGale’s

words.

“BeeteeandIhavebeenfollowingthesamerulebook

PresidentSnowusedwhenhehijackedPeeta.”

“Myfailure,”saysSnow,“wasbeingsoslowtograspCoin’s

plan.TolettheCapitolanddistrictsdestroyoneanother,and

thenstepintotakepowerwithThirteenbarelyscratched.Make

nomistake,shewasintendingtotakemyplacerightfromthe

beginning.Ishouldn’tbesurprised.Afterall,itwasThirteenthat

startedtherebellionthatledtotheDarkDays,andthen

abandonedtherestofthedistrictswhenthetideturnedagainstit.

ButIwasn’twatchingCoin.Iwaswatchingyou,Mockingjay.

Andyouwerewatchingme.I’mafraidwehavebothbeenplayed

forfools.”

Irefuseforthistobetrue.SomethingsevenIcan’tsurvive.

Iuttermyfirstwordssincemysister’sdeath.“Idon’tbelieve

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you.”

Snowshakeshisheadinmockdisappointment.“Oh,mydear

MissEverdeen.Ithoughtwehadagreednottolietoeachother.”

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Outinthehall,IfindPaylorstandinginexactlythesame

spot.“Didyoufindwhatyouwerelookingfor?”sheasks.

Iholdupthewhitebudinanswerandthenstumblepasther.

Imusthavemadeitbacktomyroom,becausethenextthingI

know,I’mfillingaglasswithwaterfromthebathroomfaucet

andstickingtheroseinit.Isinktomykneesonthecoldtileand

squintattheflower,asthewhitenessseemshardtofocusonin

thestarkfluorescentlight.Myfingercatchestheinsideofmy

bracelet,twistingitlikeatourniquet,hurtingmywrist.I’m

hopingthepainwillhelpmehangontorealitythewayitdidfor

Peeta.Imusthangon.Imustknowthetruthaboutwhathas

happened.

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Therearetwopossibilities,althoughthedetailsassociated

withthemmayvary.First,asI’vebelieved,thattheCapitolsent

inthathovercraft,droppedtheparachutes,andsacrificedits

children’slives,knowingtherecentlyarrivedrebelswouldgoto

theiraid.There’sevidencetosupportthis.TheCapitol’ssealon

thehovercraft,thelackofanyattempttoblowtheenemyoutof

thesky,andtheirlonghistoryofusingchildrenaspawnsintheir

battleagainstthedistricts.Thenthere’sSnow’saccount.Thata

Capitolhovercraftmannedbyrebelsbombedthechildrento

bringaspeedyendtothewar.Butifthiswasthecase,why

didn’ttheCapitolfireontheenemy?Didtheelementofsurprise

throwthem?Hadtheynodefensesleft?Childrenarepreciousto

13,orsoithasalwaysseemed.Well,notme,maybe.OnceIhad

outlivedmyusefulness,Iwasexpendable.AlthoughIthinkit’s

beenalongtimesinceI’vebeenconsideredachildinthiswar.

Andwhywouldtheydoitknowingtheirownmedicswould

likelyrespondandbetakenoutbythesecondblast?They

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wouldn’t.Theycouldn’t.Snow’slying.Manipulatingmeashe

alwayshas.Hopingtoturnmeagainsttherebelsandpossibly

destroythem.Yes.Ofcourse.

Thenwhat’snaggingatme?Thosedouble-explodingbombs,

forone.It’snotthattheCapitolcouldn’thavethesameweapon,

it’sjustthatI’msuretherebelsdid.GaleandBeetee’s

brainchild.Thenthere’sthefactthatSnowmadenoescape

attempt,whenIknowhimtobetheconsummatesurvivor.It

seemshardtobelievehedidn’thavearetreatsomewhere,some

bunkerstockedwithprovisionswherehecouldliveouttherest

ofhissnakylittlelife.Andfinally,there’shisassessmentof

Coin.What’sirrefutableisthatshe’sdoneexactlywhathesaid.

LettheCapitolandthedistrictsrunoneanotherintotheground

andthensaunteredintotakepower.Evenifthatwasherplan,it

doesn’tmeanshedroppedthoseparachutes.Victorywasalready

inhergrasp.Everythingwasinhergrasp.

Exceptme.

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IrecallBoggs’sresponsewhenIadmittedIhadn’tputmuch

thoughtintoSnow’ssuccessor.“Ifyourimmediateanswerisn’t

Coin,thenyou’reathreat.You’rethefaceoftherebellion.You

mayhavemoreinfluencethananyothersingleperson.

Outwardly,themostyou’veeverdoneistoleratedher.”

Suddenly,I’mthinkingofPrim,whowasnotyetfourteen,

notyetoldenoughtobegrantedthetitleofsoldier,butsomehow

workingonthefrontlines.Howdidsuchathinghappen?That

mysisterwouldhavewantedtobethere,Ihavenodoubt.That

shewouldbemorecapablethanmanyolderthansheisagiven.

Butforallthat,someoneveryhighupwouldhavehadtoapprove

puttingathirteen-year-oldincombat.DidCoindoit,hopingthat

losingPrimwouldpushmecompletelyovertheedge?Or,at

least,firmlyonherside?Iwouldn’tevenhavehadtowitnessit

inperson.NumerouscameraswouldbecoveringtheCityCircle.

Capturingthemomentforever.

No,nowIamgoingcrazy,slippingintosomestateof

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paranoia.Toomanypeoplewouldknowofthemission.Word

wouldgetout.Orwouldit?Whowouldhavetoknowbesides

Coin,Plutarch,andasmall,loyaloreasilydisposablecrew?

Ibadlyneedhelpworkingthisout,onlyeveryoneItrustis

dead.Cinna.Boggs.Finnick.Prim.There’sPeeta,buthe

couldn’tdoanymorethanspeculate,andwhoknowswhatstate

hismind’sin,anyway.AndthatleavesonlyGale.He’sfaraway,

butevenifhewerebesideme,couldIconfideinhim?What

couldIsay,howcouldIphraseit,withoutimplyingthatitwas

hisbombthatkilledPrim?Theimpossibilityofthatidea,more

thanany,iswhySnowmustbelying.

Ultimately,there’sonlyonepersontoturntowhomight

knowwhathappenedandmightstillbeonmyside.Tobroach

thesubjectatallwillbearisk.ButwhileIthinkHaymitchmight

gamblewithmylifeinthearena,Idon’tthinkhe’dratmeoutto

Coin.Whateverproblemswemayhavewitheachother,we

preferresolvingourdifferencesone-on-one.

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Iscrambleoffthetiles,outthedoor,andacrossthehallto

hisroom.Whenthere’snoresponsetomyknock,Ipushinside.

Ugh.It’samazinghowquicklyhecandefileaspace.Half-eaten

platesoffood,shatteredliquorbottles,andpiecesofbroken

furniturefromadrunkenrampagescatterhisquarters.Helies,

unkemptandunwashed,inatangleofsheetsonthebed,passed

out.

“Haymitch,”Isay,shakinghisleg.Ofcourse,that’s

insufficient.ButIgiveitafewmoretriesbeforeIdumpthe

pitcherofwaterinhisface.Hecomestowithagasp,slashing

blindlywithhisknife.Apparently,theendofSnow’sreign

didn’tequaltheendofhisterror.

“Oh.You,”hesays.Icantellbyhisvoicethathe’sstill

loaded.

“Haymitch,”Ibegin.

“Listentothat.TheMockingjayfoundhervoice.”Helaughs.

“Well,Plutarch’sgoingtobehappy.”Hetakesaswigfroma

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bottle.“WhyamIsoakingwet?”Ilamelydropthepitcher

behindmeintoapileofdirtyclothes.

“Ineedyourhelp,”Isay.

Haymitchbelches,fillingtheairwithwhiteliquorfumes.

“Whatisit,sweetheart?Moreboytrouble?”Idon’tknowwhy,

butthishurtsmeinawayHaymitchrarelycan.Itmustshowon

myface,becauseeveninhisdrunkenstate,hetriestotakeit

back.“Okay,notfunny.”I’malreadyatthedoor.“Notfunny!

Comeback!”Bythethudofhisbodyhittingthefloor,Iassume

hetriedtofollowme,butthere’snopoint.

Izigzagthroughthemansionanddisappearintoawardrobe

fullofsilkenthings.IyankthemfromhangersuntilIhaveapile

andthenburrowintoit.Intheliningofmypocket,Ifindastray

morphlingtabletandswallowitdry,headingoffmyrising

hysteria.It’snotenoughtorightthings,though.IhearHaymitch

callingmeinthedistance,buthewon’tfindmeinhiscondition.

Especiallynotinthisnewspot.Swathedinsilk,Ifeellikea

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caterpillarinacocoonawaitingmetamorphosis.Ialways

supposedthattobeapeacefulcondition.Atfirstitis.ButasI

journeyintonight,Ifeelmoreandmoretrapped,suffocatedby

theslipperybindings,unabletoemergeuntilIhavetransformed

intosomethingofbeauty.Isquirm,tryingtoshedmyruined

bodyandunlockthesecrettogrowingflawlesswings.Despite

enormouseffort,Iremainahideouscreature,firedintomy

currentformbytheblastfromthebombs.

TheencounterwithSnowopensthedoortomyoldrepertoire

ofnightmares.It’slikebeingstungbytrackerjackersagain.A

waveofhorrifyingimageswithabriefrespiteIconfusewith

waking—onlytofindanotherwaveknockingmeback.When

theguardsfinallylocateme,I’msittingonthefloorofthe

wardrobe,tangledinsilk,screamingmyheadoff.Ifightthemat

first,untiltheyconvincemethey’retryingtohelp,peelawaythe

chokinggarments,andescortmebacktomyroom.Ontheway,

wepassawindowandIseeagray,snowydawnspreadingacross

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theCapitol.

AveryhungoverHaymitchwaitswithahandfulofpillsand

atrayoffoodthatneitherofushasthestomachfor.Hemakesa

feebleattempttogetmetotalkagainbut,seeingit’spointless,

sendsmetoabathsomeonehasdrawn.Thetub’sdeep,with

threestepstothebottom.Ieasedownintothewarmwaterand

sit,uptomyneckinsuds,hopingthemedicineskickinsoon.

Myeyesfocusontherosethathasspreaditspetalsovernight,

fillingthesteamyairwithitsstrongperfume.Iriseandreachfor

atoweltosmotherit,whenthere’satentativeknockandthe

bathroomdooropens,revealingthreefamiliarfaces.Theytryto

smileatme,butevenVeniacan’tconcealhershockatmy

ravagedmuttbody.“Surprise!”Octaviasqueaks,andthenbursts

intotears.I’mpuzzlingovertheirreappearancewhenIrealize

thatthismustbeit,thedayoftheexecution.They’vecometo

prepmeforthecameras.RemakemetoBeautyBaseZero.No

wonderOctavia’scrying.It’sanimpossibletask.

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Theycanbarelytouchmypatchworkofskinforfearof

hurtingme,soIrinseanddryoffmyself.ItellthemIhardly

noticethepainanymore,butFlaviusstillwincesashedrapesa

robearoundme.Inthebedroom,Ifindanothersurprise.Sitting

uprightinachair.Polishedfromhermetallicgoldwigtoher

patentleatherhighheels,grippingaclipboard.Remarkably

unchangedexceptforthevacantlookinhereyes.

“Effie,”Isay.

“Hello,Katniss.”Shestandsandkissesmeonthecheekasif

nothinghasoccurredsinceourlastmeeting,thenightbeforethe

QuarterQuell.“Well,itlookslikewe’vegotanotherbig,big,big

dayaheadofus.Sowhydon’tyoustartyourprepandI’lljust

popoverandcheckonthearrangements.”

“Okay,”Isaytoherback.

“TheysayPlutarchandHaymitchhadahardtimekeeping

heralive,”commentsVeniaunderherbreath.“Shewas

imprisonedafteryourescape,sothathelps.”

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It’squiteastretch.EffieTrinket,rebel.ButIdon’twant

Coinkillingher,soImakeamentalnotetopresentherthatway

ifasked.“Iguessit’sgoodPlutarchkidnappedyouthreeafter

all.”

“We’retheonlyprepteamstillalive.Andallthestylists

fromtheQuarterQuellaredead,”saysVenia.Shedoesn’tsay

whospecificallykilledthem.I’mbeginningtowonderifit

matters.Shegingerlytakesoneofmyscarredhandsandholdsit

outforinspection.“Now,whatdoyouthinkforthenails?Redor

maybeajetblack?”

Flaviusperformssomebeautymiracleonmyhair,managing

toevenoutthefrontwhilegettingsomeofthelongerlocksto

hidethebaldspotsintheback.Myface,sinceitwassparedfrom

theflames,presentsnomorethantheusualchallenges.OnceI’m

inCinna’sMockingjaysuit,theonlyscarsvisibleareonmy

neck,forearms,andhands.OctaviasecuresmyMockingjaypin

overmyheartandwestepbacktolookinthemirror.Ican’t

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believehownormalthey’vemademelookontheoutsidewhen

inwardlyI’msuchawasteland.

There’satapatthedoorandGalestepsin.“CanIhavea

minute?”heasks.Inthemirror,Iwatchmyprepteam.Unsureof

wheretogo,theybumpintooneanotherafewtimesandthen

closetthemselvesinthebathroom.Galecomesupbehindmeand

weexamineeachother’sreflection.I’msearchingforsomething

tohangonto,somesignofthegirlandboywhometbychance

inthewoodsfiveyearsagoandbecameinseparable.I’m

wonderingwhatwouldhavehappenedtothemiftheHunger

Gameshadnotreapedthegirl.Ifshewouldhavefalleninlove

withtheboy,marriedhimeven.Andsometimeinthefuture,

whenthebrothersandsistershadbeenraisedup,escapedwith

himintothewoodsandleft12behindforever.Wouldtheyhave

beenhappy,outinthewild,orwouldthedark,twistedsadness

betweenthemhavegrownupevenwithouttheCapitol’shelp?

“Ibroughtyouthis.”Galeholdsupasheath.WhenItakeit,I

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noticeitholdsasingle,ordinaryarrow.“It’ssupposedtobe

symbolic.Youfiringthelastshotofthewar.”

“WhatifImiss?”Isay.“DoesCoinretrieveitandbringit

backtome?OrjustshootSnowthroughtheheadherself?”

“Youwon’tmiss.”Galeadjuststhesheathonmyshoulder.

Westandthere,face-to-face,notmeetingeachother’seyes.

“Youdidn’tcomeseemeinthehospital.”Hedoesn’tanswer,so

finallyIjustsayit.“Wasityourbomb?”

“Idon’tknow.NeitherdoesBeetee,”hesays.“Doesit

matter?You’llalwaysbethinkingaboutit.”

Hewaitsformetodenyit;Iwanttodenyit,butit’strue.

EvennowIcanseetheflashthatignitesher,feeltheheatofthe

flames.AndIwillneverbeabletoseparatethatmomentfrom

Gale.Mysilenceismyanswer.

“ThatwastheonethingIhadgoingforme.Takingcareof

yourfamily,”hesays.“Shootstraight,okay?”Hetouchesmy

cheekandleaves.IwanttocallhimbackandtellhimthatIwas

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wrong.ThatI’llfigureoutawaytomakepeacewiththis.To

rememberthecircumstancesunderwhichhecreatedthebomb.

Takeintoaccountmyowninexcusablecrimes.Digupthetruth

aboutwhodroppedtheparachutes.Proveitwasn’ttherebels.

Forgivehim.ButsinceIcan’t,I’lljusthavetodealwiththe

pain.

Effiecomesintoushermetosomekindofmeeting.Icollect

mybowandatthelastminuteremembertherose,glisteningin

itsglassofwater.WhenIopenthedoortothebathroom,Ifind

myprepteamsittinginarowontheedgeofthetub,hunched

anddefeated.IrememberI’mnottheonlyonewhoseworldhas

beenstrippedaway.“Comeon,”Itellthem.“We’vegotan

audiencewaiting.”

I’mexpectingaproductionmeetinginwhichPlutarch

instructsmewheretostandandgivesmemycueforshooting

Snow.Instead,Ifindmyselfsentintoaroomwheresixpeople

sitaroundatable.Peeta,Johanna,Beetee,Haymitch,Annie,and

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Enobaria.Theyallwearthegrayrebeluniformsfrom13.Noone

looksparticularlywell.“What’sthis?”Isay.

“We’renotsure,”Haymitchanswers.“Itappearstobea

gatheringoftheremainingvictors.”

“We’reallthat’sleft?”Iask.

“Thepriceofcelebrity,”saysBeetee.“Weweretargeted

frombothsides.TheCapitolkilledthevictorstheysuspectedof

beingrebels.Therebelskilledthosethoughttobealliedwiththe

Capitol.”

JohannascowlsatEnobaria.“Sowhat’sshedoinghere?”

“SheisprotectedunderwhatwecalltheMockingjayDeal,”

saysCoinassheentersbehindme.“WhereinKatnissEverdeen

agreedtosupporttherebelsinexchangeforcapturedvictors’

immunity.Katnisshasupheldhersideofthebargain,andso

shallwe.”

EnobariasmilesatJohanna.“Don’tlooksosmug,”says

Johanna.“We’llkillyouanyway.”

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“Sitdown,please,Katniss,”saysCoin,closingthedoor.I

takeaseatbetweenAnnieandBeetee,carefullyplacingSnow’s

roseonthetable.Asusual,Coingetsrighttothepoint.“I’ve

askedyouheretosettleadebate.TodaywewillexecuteSnow.

Inthepreviousweeks,hundredsofhisaccomplicesinthe

oppressionofPanemhavebeentriedandnowawaittheirown

deaths.However,thesufferinginthedistrictshasbeenso

extremethatthesemeasuresappearinsufficienttothevictims.In

fact,manyarecallingforacompleteannihilationofthosewho

heldCapitolcitizenship.However,intheinterestofmaintaining

asustainablepopulation,wecannotaffordthis.”

Throughthewaterintheglass,Iseeadistortedimageofone

ofPeeta’shands.Theburnmarks.Wearebothfiremuttsnow.

Myeyestraveluptowheretheflameslickedacrosshisforehead,

singeingawayhisbrowsbutjustmissinghiseyes.Thosesame

blueeyesthatusedtomeetmineandthenflitawayatschool.

Justastheydonow.

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“So,analternativehasbeenplacedonthetable.Sincemy

colleaguesandIcancometonoconsensus,ithasbeenagreed

thatwewillletthevictorsdecide.Amajorityoffourwill

approvetheplan.Noonemayabstainfromthevote,”saysCoin.

“Whathasbeenproposedisthatinlieuofeliminatingtheentire

Capitolpopulation,wehaveafinal,symbolicHungerGames,

usingthechildrendirectlyrelatedtothosewhoheldthemost

power.”

Allsevenofusturntoher.“What?”saysJohanna.

“WeholdanotherHungerGamesusingCapitolchildren,”

saysCoin.

“Areyoujoking?”asksPeeta.

“No.IshouldalsotellyouthatifwedoholdtheGames,it

willbeknownitwasdonewithyourapproval,althoughthe

individualbreakdownofyourvoteswillbekeptsecretforyour

ownsecurity,”Cointellsus.

“WasthisPlutarch’sidea?”asksHaymitch.

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“Itwasmine,”saysCoin.“Itseemedtobalancetheneedfor

vengeancewiththeleastlossoflife.Youmaycastyourvotes.”

“No!”burstsoutPeeta.“Ivoteno,ofcourse!Wecan’thave

anotherHungerGames!”

“Whynot?”Johannaretorts.“Itseemsveryfairtome.Snow

evenhasagranddaughter.Ivoteyes.”

“SodoI,”saysEnobaria,almostindifferently.“Letthem

haveatasteoftheirownmedicine.”

“Thisiswhywerebelled!Remember?”Peetalooksatthe

restofus.“Annie?”

“IvotenowithPeeta,”shesays.“SowouldFinnickifhe

werehere.”

“Butheisn’t,becauseSnow’smuttskilledhim,”Johanna

remindsher.

“No,”saysBeetee.“Itwouldsetabadprecedent.Wehaveto

stopviewingoneanotherasenemies.Atthispoint,unityis

essentialforoursurvival.No.”

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“We’redowntoKatnissandHaymitch,”saysCoin.

Wasitlikethisthen?Seventy-fiveyearsorsoago?Dida

groupofpeoplesitaroundandcasttheirvotesoninitiatingthe

HungerGames?Wastheredissent?Didsomeonemakeacasefor

mercythatwasbeatendownbythecallsforthedeathsofthe

districts’children?ThescentofSnow’srosecurlsupintomy

nose,downintomythroat,squeezingittightwithdespair.All

thosepeopleIloved,dead,andwearediscussingthenext

HungerGamesinanattempttoavoidwastinglife.Nothinghas

changed.Nothingwilleverchangenow.

Iweighmyoptionscarefully,thinkeverythingthrough.

Keepingmyeyesontherose,Isay,“Ivoteyes...forPrim.”

“Haymitch,it’suptoyou,”saysCoin.

AfuriousPeetahammersHaymitchwiththeatrocityhe

couldbecomepartyto,butIcanfeelHaymitchwatchingme.

Thisisthemoment,then.Whenwefindoutexactlyjusthow

alikeweare,andhowmuchhetrulyunderstandsme.

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“I’mwiththeMockingjay,”hesays.

“Excellent.Thatcarriesthevote,”saysCoin.“Nowwereally

musttakeourplacesfortheexecution.”

Asshepassesme,Iholduptheglasswiththerose.“Canyou

seethatSnow’swearingthis?Justoverhisheart?”

Coinsmiles.“Ofcourse.AndI’llmakesureheknowsabout

theGames.”

“Thankyou,”Isay.

Peoplesweepintotheroom,surroundme.Thelasttouchof

powder,theinstructionsfromPlutarchasI’mguidedtothefront

doorsofthemansion.TheCityCirclerunsover,spillspeople

downthesidestreets.Theotherstaketheirplacesoutside.

Guards.Officials.Rebelleaders.Victors.Ihearthecheersthat

indicateCoinhasappearedonthebalcony.ThenEffietapsmy

shoulder,andIstepoutintothecoldwintersunlight.Walktomy

position,accompaniedbythedeafeningroarofthecrowd.As

directed,Iturnsotheyseemeinprofile,andwait.Whenthey

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marchSnowoutthedoor,theaudiencegoesinsane.Theysecure

hishandsbehindapost,whichisunnecessary.He’snotgoing

anywhere.There’snowheretogo.Thisisnottheroomystage

beforetheTrainingCenterbutthenarrowterraceinfrontofthe

president’smansion.Nowondernoonebotheredtohaveme

practice.He’stenyardsaway.

Ifeelthebowpurringinmyhand.Reachbackandgraspthe

arrow.Positionit,aimattherose,butwatchhisface.Hecoughs

andabloodydribblerunsdownhischin.Histongueflicksover

hispuffylips.Isearchhiseyesfortheslightestsignofanything,

fear,remorse,anger.Butthere’sonlythesamelookof

amusementthatendedourlastconversation.It’sasifhe’s

speakingthewordsagain.“Oh,mydearMissEverdeen.I

thoughtwehadagreednottolietoeachother.”

He’sright.Wedid.

Thepointofmyarrowshiftsupward.Ireleasethestring.

AndPresidentCoincollapsesoverthesideofthebalconyand

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plungestotheground.Dead.

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Inthestunnedreactionthatfollows,I’mawareofonesound.

Snow’slaughter.Anawfulgurglingcackleaccompaniedbyan

eruptionoffoamybloodwhenthecoughingbegins.Iseehim

bendforward,spewingouthislife,untiltheguardsblockhim

frommysight.

Asthegrayuniformsbegintoconvergeonme,Ithinkof

whatmybrieffutureastheassassinofPanem’snewpresident

holds.Theinterrogation,probabletorture,certainpublic

execution.Having,yetagain,tosaymyfinalgood-byestothe

handfulofpeoplewhostillmaintainaholdonmyheart.The

prospectoffacingmymother,whowillnowbeentirelyalonein

theworld,decidesit.

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“Goodnight,”Iwhispertothebowinmyhandandfeelitgo

still.Iraisemyleftarmandtwistmyneckdowntoripoffthe

pillonmysleeve.Insteadmyteethsinkintoflesh.Iyankmy

headbackinconfusiontofindmyselflookingintoPeeta’seyes,

onlynowtheyholdmygaze.Bloodrunsfromtheteethmarkson

thehandheclampedovermynightlock.“Letmego!”Isnarlat

him,tryingtowrestmyarmfromhisgrasp.

“Ican’t,”hesays.Astheypullmeawayfromhim,Ifeelthe

pocketrippedfrommysleeve,seethedeepvioletpillfalltothe

ground,watchCinna’slastgiftgetcrunchedunderaguard’s

boot.Itransformintoawildanimal,kicking,clawing,biting,

doingwhateverIcantofreemyselffromthiswebofhandsas

thecrowdpushesin.Theguardsliftmeupabovethefray,where

IcontinuetothrashasI’mconveyedoverthecrushofpeople.I

startscreamingforGale.Ican’tfindhiminthethrong,buthe

willknowwhatIwant.Agoodcleanshottoenditall.Only

there’snoarrow,nobullet.Isitpossiblehecan’tseeme?No.

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Aboveus,onthegiantscreensplacedaroundtheCityCircle,

everyonecanwatchthewholethingbeingplayedout.Hesees,he

knows,buthedoesn’tfollowthrough.JustasIdidn’twhenhe

wascaptured.Sorryexcusesforhuntersandfriends.Bothofus.

I’monmyown.

Inthemansion,theyhandcuffandblindfoldme.I’mhalf

dragged,halfcarrieddownlongpassages,upanddownelevators,

anddepositedonacarpetedfloor.Thecuffsareremovedanda

doorslamsclosedbehindme.WhenIpushtheblindfoldup,I

findI’minmyoldroomattheTrainingCenter.TheonewhereI

livedduringthoselastpreciousdaysbeforemyfirstHunger

GamesandtheQuarterQuell.Thebed’sstrippedtothemattress,

theclosetgapesopen,showingtheemptinessinside,butI’d

knowthisroomanywhere.

It’sastruggletogettomyfeetandpeeloffmyMockingjay

suit.I’mbadlybruisedandmighthaveabrokenfingerortwo,

butit’smyskinthat’spaidmostdearlyformystrugglewiththe

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guards.Thenewpinkstuffhasshreddedliketissuepaperand

bloodseepsthroughthelaboratory-growncells.Nomedicsshow

up,though,andasI’mtoofargonetocare,Icrawlupontothe

mattress,expectingtobleedtodeath.

Nosuchluck.Byevening,thebloodclots,leavingmestiff

andsoreandstickybutalive.Ilimpintotheshowerandprogram

inthegentlestcycleIcanremember,freeofanysoapsandhair

products,andsquatunderthewarmspray,elbowsonmyknees,

headinmyhands.

MynameisKatnissEverdeen.WhyamInotdead?Ishould

bedead.ItwouldbebestforeveryoneifIweredead....

WhenIstepoutonthemat,thehotairbakesmydamaged

skindry.There’snothingcleantoputon.Notevenatowelto

wraparoundme.Backintheroom,IfindtheMockingjaysuit

hasdisappeared.Initsplaceisapaperrobe.Amealhasbeen

sentupfromthemysteriouskitchenwithacontainerofmy

medicationsfordessert.Igoaheadandeatthefood,takethe

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pills,rubthesalveonmyskin.Ineedtofocusnowonthe

mannerofmysuicide.

Icurlbackuponthebloodstainedmattress,notcoldbut

feelingsonakedwithjustthepapertocovermytenderflesh.

Jumpingtomydeath’snotanoption—thewindowglassmust

beafootthick.Icanmakeanexcellentnoose,butthere’s

nothingtohangmyselffrom.It’spossibleIcouldhoardmypills

andthenknockmyselfoffwithalethaldose,exceptthatI’m

sureI’mbeingwatchedroundtheclock.ForallIknow,I’mon

livetelevisionatthisverymomentwhilecommentatorstryto

analyzewhatcouldpossiblyhavemotivatedmetokillCoin.The

surveillancemakesalmostanysuicideattemptimpossible.

TakingmylifeistheCapitol’sprivilege.Again.

WhatIcandoisgiveup.Iresolvetolieonthebedwithout

eating,drinking,ortakingmymedications.Icoulddoit,too.

Justdie.Ifitweren’tforthemorphlingwithdrawal.Notbitby

bitlikeinthehospitalin13,butcoldturkey.Imusthavebeenon

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afairlylargedosebecausewhenthecravingforithits,

accompaniedbytremors,andshootingpains,andunbearable

cold,myresolve’scrushedlikeaneggshell.I’monmyknees,

rakingthecarpetwithmyfingernailstofindthosepreciouspills

Iflungawayinastrongermoment.Irevisemysuicideplanto

slowdeathbymorphling.Iwillbecomeayellow-skinnedbagof

bones,withenormouseyes.I’macoupleofdaysintotheplan,

makinggoodprogress,whensomethingunexpectedhappens.

Ibegintosing.Atthewindow,intheshower,inmysleep.

Hourafterhourofballads,lovesongs,mountainairs.Allthe

songsmyfathertaughtmebeforehedied,forcertainlytherehas

beenverylittlemusicinmylifesince.What’samazingishow

clearlyIrememberthem.Thetunes,thelyrics.Myvoice,atfirst

roughandbreakingonthehighnotes,warmsupintosomething

splendid.Avoicethatwouldmakethemockingjaysfallsilent

andthentumbleoverthemselvestojoinin.Dayspass,weeks.I

watchthesnowsfallontheledgeoutsidemywindow.Andinall

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thattime,mineistheonlyvoiceIhear.

Whataretheydoing,anyway?What’stheholdupoutthere?

Howdifficultcanitbetoarrangetheexecutionofone

murderousgirl?Icontinuewithmyownannihilation.Mybody’s

thinnerthanit’severbeenandmybattleagainsthungerisso

fiercethatsometimestheanimalpartofmegivesintothe

temptationofbutteredbreadorroastedmeat.Butstill,I’m

winning.ForafewdaysIfeelquiteunwellandthinkImay

finallybetravelingoutofthislife,whenIrealizemymorphling

tabletsareshrinking.Theyaretryingtoslowlyweanmeoffthe

stuff.Butwhy?SurelyadruggedMockingjaywillbeeasierto

disposeofinfrontofacrowd.Andthenaterriblethoughthits

me:Whatifthey’renotgoingtokillme?Whatiftheyhave

moreplansforme?Anewwaytoremake,train,anduseme?

Iwon’tdoit.IfIcan’tkillmyselfinthisroom,Iwilltake

thefirstopportunityoutsideofittofinishthejob.Theycan

fattenmeup.Theycangivemeafullbodypolish,dressmeup,

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andmakemebeautifulagain.Theycandesigndreamweapons

thatcometolifeinmyhands,buttheywillneveragain

brainwashmeintothenecessityofusingthem.Inolongerfeel

anyallegiancetothesemonsterscalledhumanbeings,despite

beingonemyself.IthinkthatPeetawasontosomethingaboutus

destroyingoneanotherandlettingsomedecentspeciestake

over.Becausesomethingissignificantlywrongwithacreature

thatsacrificesitschildren’slivestosettleitsdifferences.You

canspinitanywayyoulike.SnowthoughttheHungerGames

wereanefficientmeansofcontrol.Cointhoughttheparachutes

wouldexpeditethewar.Butintheend,whodoesitbenefit?No

one.Thetruthis,itbenefitsnoonetoliveinaworldwherethese

thingshappen.

Aftertwodaysofmylyingonmymattresswithnoattempt

toeat,drink,oreventakeamorphlingtablet,thedoortomy

roomopens.Someonecrossesaroundthebedintomyfieldof

vision.Haymitch.“Yourtrial’sover,”hesays.“Comeon.We’re

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goinghome.”

Home?What’shetalkingabout?Myhome’sgone.Andeven

ifitwerepossibletogotothisimaginaryplace,Iamtooweakto

move.Strangersappear.Rehydrateandfeedme.Batheand

clotheme.Oneliftsmelikearagdollandcarriesmeuptothe

roof,ontoahovercraft,andfastensmeintoaseat.Haymitchand

Plutarchsitacrossfromme.Inafewmoments,we’reairborne.

I’veneverseenPlutarchinsuchagoodmood.He’s

positivelyglowing.“Youmusthaveamillionquestions!”When

Idon’trespond,heanswersthemanyway.

AfterIshotCoin,therewaspandemonium.Whentheruckus

dieddown,theydiscoveredSnow’sbody,stilltetheredtothe

post.Opinionsdifferonwhetherhechokedtodeathwhile

laughingorwascrushedbythecrowd.Noonereallycares.An

emergencyelectionwasthrowntogetherandPaylorwasvotedin

aspresident.Plutarchwasappointedsecretaryof

communications,whichmeanshesetstheprogrammingforthe

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airwaves.Thefirstbigtelevisedeventwasmytrial,inwhichhe

wasalsoastarwitness.Inmydefense,ofcourse.Althoughmost

ofthecreditformyexonerationmustbegiventoDr.Aurelius,

whoapparentlyearnedhisnapsbypresentingmeasahopeless,

shell-shockedlunatic.OneconditionformyreleaseisthatI’ll

continueunderhiscare,althoughitwillhavetobebyphone

becausehe’dneverliveinaforsakenplacelike12,andI’m

confinedthereuntilfurthernotice.Thetruthis,noonequite

knowswhattodowithmenowthatthewar’sover,althoughif

anotheroneshouldspringup,Plutarch’ssuretheycouldfinda

roleforme.ThenPlutarchhasagoodlaugh.Itneverseemsto

botherhimwhennooneelseappreciateshisjokes.

“Areyoupreparingforanotherwar,Plutarch?”Iask.

“Oh,notnow.Nowwe’reinthatsweetperiodwhere

everyoneagreesthatourrecenthorrorsshouldneverbe

repeated,”hesays.“Butcollectivethinkingisusuallyshort-

lived.We’refickle,stupidbeingswithpoormemoriesanda

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greatgiftforself-destruction.Althoughwhoknows?Maybethis

willbeit,Katniss.”

“What?”Iask.

“Thetimeitsticks.Maybewearewitnessingtheevolution

ofthehumanrace.Thinkaboutthat.”AndthenheasksmeifI’d

liketoperformonanewsingingprogramhe’slaunchingina

fewweeks.Somethingupbeatwouldbegood.He’llsendthe

crewtomyhouse.

WelandbrieflyinDistrict3todropoffPlutarch.He’s

meetingwithBeeteetoupdatethetechnologyonthebroadcast

system.Hispartingwordstomeare“Don’tbeastranger.”

Whenwe’rebackamongtheclouds,IlookatHaymitch.“So

whyareyougoingbacktoTwelve?”

“Theycan’tseemtofindaplaceformeintheCapitol

either,”hesays.

Atfirst,Idon’tquestionthis.Butdoubtsbegintocreepin.

Haymitchhasn’tassassinatedanyone.Hecouldgoanywhere.If

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he’scomingbackto12,it’sbecausehe’sbeenorderedto.“You

havetolookafterme,don’tyou?Asmymentor?”Heshrugs.

ThenIrealizewhatitmeans.“Mymother’snotcomingback.”

“No,”hesays.Hepullsanenvelopefromhisjacketpocket

andhandsittome.Iexaminethedelicate,perfectlyformed

writing.“She’shelpingtostartupahospitalinDistrictFour.She

wantsyoutocallassoonaswegetin.”Myfingertracesthe

gracefulswoopoftheletters.“Youknowwhyshecan’tcome

back.”Yes,Iknowwhy.BecausebetweenmyfatherandPrim

andtheashes,theplaceistoopainfultobear.Butapparentlynot

forme.“Doyouwanttoknowwhoelsewon’tbethere?”

“No,”Isay.“Iwanttobesurprised.”

Likeagoodmentor,Haymitchmakesmeeatasandwichand

thenpretendshebelievesI’masleepfortherestofthetrip.He

busieshimselfgoingthrougheverycompartmentonthe

hovercraft,findingtheliquor,andstowingitinhisbag.It’snight

whenwelandonthegreenoftheVictor’sVillage.Halfofthe

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houseshavelightsinthewindows,includingHaymitch’sand

mine.NotPeeta’s.Someonehasbuiltafireinmykitchen.Isit

intherockerbeforeit,clutchingmymother’sletter.

“Well,seeyoutomorrow,”saysHaymitch.

Astheclinkingofhisbagofliquorbottlesfadesaway,I

whisper,“Idoubtit.”

Iamunabletomovefromthechair.Therestofthehouse

loomscoldandemptyanddark.Ipullanoldshawlovermy

bodyandwatchtheflames.IguessIsleep,becausethenext

thingIknow,it’smorningandGreasySae’sbangingaroundat

thestove.ShemakesmeeggsandtoastandsitsthereuntilI’ve

eatenitall.Wedon’ttalkmuch.Herlittlegranddaughter,the

onewholivesinherownworld,takesabrightblueballofyarn

frommymother’sknittingbasket.GreasySaetellshertoputit

back,butIsayshecanhaveit.Nooneinthishousecanknit

anymore.Afterbreakfast,GreasySaedoesthedishesandleaves,

butshecomesbackupatdinnertimetomakemeeatagain.I

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don’tknowifshe’sjustbeingneighborlyorifshe’sonthe

government’spayroll,butsheshowsuptwiceeveryday.She

cooks,Iconsume.Itrytofigureoutmynextmove.There’sno

obstaclenowtotakingmylife.ButIseemtobewaitingfor

something.

Sometimesthephoneringsandringsandrings,butIdon’t

pickitup.Haymitchnevervisits.Maybehechangedhismind

andleft,althoughIsuspecthe’sjustdrunk.Noonecomesbut

GreasySaeandhergranddaughter.Aftermonthsofsolitary

confinement,theyseemlikeacrowd.

“Spring’sintheairtoday.Yououghttogetout,”shesays.

“Gohunting.”

Ihaven’tleftthehouse.Ihaven’tevenleftthekitchen

excepttogotothesmallbathroomafewstepsoffofit.I’min

thesameclothesIlefttheCapitolin.WhatIdoissitbythefire.

Stareattheunopenedletterspilinguponthemantel.“Idon’t

haveabow.”

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“Checkdownthehall,”shesays.

Aftersheleaves,Iconsideratripdownthehall.Ruleitout.

Butafterseveralhours,Igoanyway,walkinginsilentsockfeet,

soasnottoawakentheghosts.Inthestudy,whereIhadmytea

withPresidentSnow,Ifindaboxwithmyfather’shunting

jacket,ourplantbook,myparents’weddingphoto,thespile

Haymitchsentin,andthelocketPeetagavemeintheclock

arena.ThetwobowsandasheathofarrowsGalerescuedonthe

nightofthefirebombinglieonthedesk.Iputonthehunting

jacketandleavetherestofthestuffuntouched.Ifallasleepon

thesofaintheformallivingroom.Aterriblenightmarefollows,

whereI’mlyingatthebottomofadeepgrave,andeverydead

personIknowbynamecomesbyandthrowsashovelfullof

ashesonme.It’squitealongdream,consideringthelistof

people,andthedeeperI’mburied,theharderitistobreathe.I

trytocallout,beggingthemtostop,buttheashesfillmymouth

andnoseandIcan’tmakeanysound.Stilltheshovelscrapeson

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andonandon....

Iwakewithastart.Palemorninglightcomesaroundthe

edgesoftheshutters.Thescrapingoftheshovelcontinues.Still

halfinthenightmare,Irundownthehall,outthefrontdoor,and

aroundthesideofthehouse,becausenowI’mprettysureIcan

screamatthedead.WhenIseehim,Ipullupshort.Hisfaceis

flushedfromdiggingupthegroundunderthewindows.Ina

wheelbarrowarefivescragglybushes.

“You’reback,”Isay.

“Dr.Aureliuswouldn’tletmeleavetheCapitoluntil

yesterday,”Peetasays.“Bytheway,hesaidtotellyouhecan’t

keeppretendinghe’streatingyouforever.Youhavetopickup

thephone.”

Helookswell.Thinandcoveredwithburnscarslikeme,but

hiseyeshavelostthatclouded,torturedlook.He’sfrowning

slightly,though,ashetakesmein.Imakeahalfheartedeffortto

pushmyhairoutofmyeyesandrealizeit’smattedintoclumps.

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Ifeeldefensive.“Whatareyoudoing?”

“Iwenttothewoodsthismorninganddugtheseup.For

her,”hesays.“Ithoughtwecouldplantthemalongthesideof

thehouse.”

Ilookatthebushes,theclodsofdirthangingfromtheir

roots,andcatchmybreathasthewordroseregisters.I’mabout

toyellviciousthingsatPeetawhenthefullnamecomestome.

Notplainrosebuteveningprimrose.Theflowermysisterwas

namedfor.IgivePeetaanodofassentandhurrybackintothe

house,lockingthedoorbehindme.Buttheevilthingisinside,

notout.Tremblingwithweaknessandanxiety,Irunupthe

stairs.MyfootcatchesonthelaststepandIcrashontothefloor.

Iforcemyselftoriseandentermyroom.Thesmell’sveryfaint

butstilllacestheair.It’sthere.Thewhiteroseamongthedried

flowersinthevase.Shriveledandfragile,butholdingontothat

unnaturalperfectioncultivatedinSnow’sgreenhouse.Igrabthe

vase,stumbledowntothekitchen,andthrowitscontentsintothe

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embers.Astheflowersflareup,aburstofblueflameenvelops

theroseanddevoursit.Firebeatsrosesagain.Ismashthevase

onthefloorforgoodmeasure.

Backupstairs,Ithrowopenthebedroomwindowstoclear

outtherestofSnow’sstench.Butitstilllingers,onmyclothes

andinmypores.Istrip,andflakesofskinthesizeofplaying

cardsclingtothegarments.Avoidingthemirror,Istepintothe

showerandscrubtherosesfrommyhair,mybody,mymouth.

Brightpinkandtingling,Ifindsomethingcleantowear.Ittakes

halfanhourtocomboutmyhair.GreasySaeunlocksthefront

door.Whileshemakesbreakfast,IfeedtheclothesIhadshedto

thefire.Athersuggestion,Ipareoffmynailswithaknife.

Overtheeggs,Iaskher,“WheredidGalego?”

“DistrictTwo.Gotsomefancyjobthere.Iseehimnowand

againonthetelevision,”shesays.

Idigaroundinsidemyself,tryingtoregisteranger,hatred,

longing.Ifindonlyrelief.

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“I’mgoinghuntingtoday,”Isay.

“Well,Iwouldn’tmindsomefreshgameatthat,”she

answers.

Iarmmyselfwithabowandarrowsandheadout,intending

toexit12throughtheMeadow.Nearthesquareareteamsof

maskedandglovedpeoplewithhorse-drawncarts.Sifting

throughwhatlayunderthesnowthiswinter.Gatheringremains.

Acart’sparkedinfrontofthemayor’shouse.IrecognizeThom,

Gale’soldcrewmate,pausingamomenttowipethesweatfrom

hisfacewitharag.Irememberseeinghimin13,buthemust

havecomeback.Hisgreetinggivesmethecouragetoask,“Did

theyfindanyoneinthere?”

“Wholefamily.Andthetwopeoplewhoworkedforthem,”

Thomtellsme.

Madge.Quietandkindandbrave.Thegirlwhogavemethe

pinthatgavemeaname.Iswallowhard.Wonderifshe’llbe

joiningthecastofmynightmarestonight.Shovelingtheashes

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intomymouth.“Ithoughtmaybe,sincehewasthemayor...”

“Idon’tthinkbeingthemayorofTwelveputtheoddsinhis

favor,”saysThom.

Inodandkeepmoving,carefulnottolookinthebackofthe

cart.AllthroughthetownandtheSeam,it’sthesame.The

reapingofthedead.AsIneartheruinsofmyoldhouse,theroad

becomesthickwithcarts.TheMeadow’sgone,oratleast

dramaticallyaltered.Adeeppithasbeendug,andthey’relining

itwithbones,amassgraveformypeople.Iskirtaroundthehole

andenterthewoodsatmyusualplace.Itdoesn’tmatter,though.

Thefenceisn’tchargedanymoreandhasbeenproppedupwith

longbranchestokeepoutthepredators.Butoldhabitsdiehard.I

thinkaboutgoingtothelake,butI’msoweakthatIbarelymake

ittomymeetingplacewithGale.Isitontherockwhere

Cressidafilmedus,butit’stoowidewithouthisbodybesideme.

SeveraltimesIclosemyeyesandcounttoten,thinkingthat

whenIopenthem,hewillhavematerializedwithoutasoundas

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hesooftendid.IhavetoremindmyselfthatGale’sin2witha

fancyjob,probablykissinganotherpairoflips.

ItistheoldKatniss’sfavoritekindofday.Earlyspring.The

woodsawakeningafterthelongwinter.Butthespurtofenergy

thatbeganwiththeprimrosesfadesaway.BythetimeImakeit

backtothefence,I’msosickanddizzy,Thomhastogivemea

ridehomeinthedeadpeople’scart.Helpmetothesofainthe

livingroom,whereIwatchthedustmotesspininthethinshafts

ofafternoonlight.

Myheadsnapsaroundatthehiss,butittakesawhileto

believehe’sreal.Howcouldhehavegottenhere?Itakeinthe

clawmarksfromsomewildanimal,thebackpawheholds

slightlyabovetheground,theprominentbonesinhisface.He’s

comeonfoot,then,allthewayfrom13.Maybetheykickedhim

outormaybehejustcouldn’tstandittherewithouther,sohe

camelooking.

“Itwasthewasteofatrip.She’snothere,”Itellhim.

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Buttercuphissesagain.“She’snothere.Youcanhissallyou

like.Youwon’tfindPrim.”Athername,heperksup.Raiseshis

flattenedears.Beginstomeowhopefully.“Getout!”Hedodges

thepillowIthrowathim.“Goaway!There’snothingleftforyou

here!”Istarttoshake,furiouswithhim.“She’snotcoming

back!She’sneverevercomingbackhereagain!”Igrabanother

pillowandgettomyfeettoimprovemyaim.Outofnowhere,

thetearsbegintopourdownmycheeks.“She’sdead.”Iclutch

mymiddletodullthepain.Sinkdownonmyheels,rockingthe

pillow,crying.“She’sdead,youstupidcat.She’sdead.”Anew

sound,partcrying,partsinging,comesoutofmybody,giving

voicetomydespair.Buttercupbeginstowailaswell.Nomatter

whatIdo,hewon’tgo.Hecirclesme,justoutofreach,aswave

afterwaveofsobsracksmybody,untileventuallyIfall

unconscious.Buthemustunderstand.Hemustknowthatthe

unthinkablehashappenedandtosurvivewillrequirepreviously

unthinkableacts.Becausehourslater,whenIcometoinmybed,

"******ebookconverterDEMO-www.ebook-

he’sthereinthemoonlight.Crouchedbesideme,yelloweyes

alert,guardingmefromthenight.

Inthemorning,hesitsstoicallyasIcleanthecuts,but

diggingthethornfromhispawbringsonaroundofthosekitten

mews.Webothendupcryingagain,onlythistimewecomfort

eachother.Onthestrengthofthis,IopentheletterHaymitch

gavemefrommymother,dialthephonenumber,andweepwith

heraswell.Peeta,bearingawarmloafofbread,showsupwith

GreasySae.ShemakesusbreakfastandIfeedallmybaconto

Buttercup.

Slowly,withmanylostdays,Icomebacktolife.Itryto

followDr.Aurelius’sadvice,justgoingthroughthemotions,

amazedwhenonefinallyhasmeaningagain.Itellhimmyidea

aboutthebook,andalargeboxofparchmentsheetsarriveson

thenexttrainfromtheCapitol.

Igottheideafromourfamily’splantbook.Theplacewhere

werecordedthosethingsyoucannottrusttomemory.Thepage

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beginswiththeperson’spicture.Aphotoifwecanfindit.Ifnot,

asketchorpaintingbyPeeta.Then,inmymostcareful

handwriting,comeallthedetailsitwouldbeacrimetoforget.

LadylickingPrim’scheek.Myfather’slaugh.Peeta’sfather

withthecookies.ThecolorofFinnick’seyes.WhatCinnacould

dowithalengthofsilk.BoggsreprogrammingtheHolo.Rue

poisedonhertoes,armsslightlyextended,likeabirdaboutto

takeflight.Onandon.Wesealthepageswithsaltwaterand

promisestolivewelltomaketheirdeathscount.Haymitch

finallyjoinsus,contributingtwenty-threeyearsoftributeshe

wasforcedtomentor.Additionsbecomesmaller.Anold

memorythatsurfaces.Alateprimrosepreservedbetweenthe

pages.Strangebitsofhappiness,likethephotoofFinnickand

Annie’snewbornson.

Welearntokeepbusyagain.Peetabakes.Ihunt.Haymitch

drinksuntiltheliquorrunsout,andthenraisesgeeseuntilthe

nexttrainarrives.Fortunately,thegeesecantakeprettygood

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careofthemselves.We’renotalone.Afewhundredothersreturn

because,whateverhashappened,thisisourhome.Withthe

minesclosed,theyplowtheashesintotheearthandplantfood.

MachinesfromtheCapitolbreakgroundforanewfactorywhere

wewillmakemedicines.Althoughnooneseedsit,theMeadow

turnsgreenagain.

PeetaandIgrowbacktogether.Therearestillmoments

whenheclutchesthebackofachairandhangsonuntilthe

flashbacksareover.Iwakescreamingfromnightmaresofmutts

andlostchildren.Buthisarmsaretheretocomfortme.And

eventuallyhislips.OnthenightIfeelthatthingagain,the

hungerthatovertookmeonthebeach,Iknowthiswouldhave

happenedanyway.ThatwhatIneedtosurviveisnotGale’sfire,

kindledwithrageandhatred.Ihaveplentyoffiremyself.WhatI

needisthedandelioninthespring.Thebrightyellowthatmeans

rebirthinsteadofdestruction.Thepromisethatlifecangoon,no

matterhowbadourlosses.Thatitcanbegoodagain.Andonly

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Peetacangivemethat.

Soafter,whenhewhispers,“Youloveme.Realornotreal?”

Itellhim,“Real.”

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TheyplayintheMeadow.Thedancinggirlwiththedark

hairandblueeyes.Theboywithblondcurlsandgrayeyes,

strugglingtokeepupwithheronhischubbytoddlerlegs.Ittook

five,ten,fifteenyearsformetoagree.ButPeetawantedthemso

badly.WhenIfirstfeltherstirringinsideofme,Iwasconsumed

withaterrorthatfeltasoldaslifeitself.Onlythejoyofholding

herinmyarmscouldtameit.Carryinghimwasalittleeasier,

butnotmuch.

Thequestionsarejustbeginning.Thearenashavebeen

completelydestroyed,thememorialsbuilt,therearenomore

HungerGames.Buttheyteachaboutthematschool,andthegirl

knowsweplayedaroleinthem.Theboywillknowinafew

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years.HowcanItellthemaboutthatworldwithoutfrightening

themtodeath?Mychildren,whotakethewordsofthesongfor

granted:



Deepinthemeadow,underthewillow

Abedofgrass,asoftgreenpillow

Laydownyourhead,andcloseyoursleepyeyes

Andwhenagaintheyopen,thesunwillrise.



Hereit’ssafe,hereit’swarm

Herethedaisiesguardyoufromeveryharm

Hereyourdreamsaresweetandtomorrowbringsthemtrue

HereistheplacewhereIloveyou.



Mychildren,whodon’tknowtheyplayonagraveyard.

Peetasaysitwillbeokay.Wehaveeachother.Andthe

book.Wecanmakethemunderstandinawaythatwillmake

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thembraver.ButonedayI’llhavetoexplainaboutmy

nightmares.Whytheycame.Whytheywon’teverreallygo

away.

I’lltellthemhowIsurviveit.I’lltellthemthatonbad

mornings,itfeelsimpossibletotakepleasureinanything

becauseI’mafraiditcouldbetakenaway.That’swhenImakea

listinmyheadofeveryactofgoodnessI’veseensomeonedo.

It’slikeagame.Repetitive.Evenalittletediousaftermorethan

twentyyears.

Buttherearemuchworsegamestoplay.

THEEND

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Acknowledgments

Iwouldliketopaytributetothefollowingpeoplewhogavetheir

time,talent,andsupporttoTheHungerGames.

Firstoff,Imustthankmyextraordinarytriumvirateof

editors.KateEgan,whoseinsight,humor,andintelligencehave

guidedmethrougheightnovels;JenRees,whoseclearvision

catchesthethingstherestofusmiss;andDavidLevithan,who

movessoeffortlesslythroughhismultiplerolesofNoteGiver,

TitleMaster,andEditorialDirector.

Throughroughdrafts,foodpoisoning,everyupanddown,

youaretherewithme,RosemaryStimola,equalpartsgifted

creativeadvisorandprofessionalguardian,myliteraryagentand

myfriend.AndJasonDravis,mylongtimeentertainmentagent,I

feelsoluckytohaveyouwatchingovermeasweheadforthe

screen.

ThankstodesignerElizabethB.ParisiandartistTim

O’Brienforthebeautifulbookjacketsthatsosuccessfully

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capturedboththemockingjaysandpeople’sattention.

AllhailtheincredibleteamatScholasticforgettingThe

HungerGamesoutintotheworld:SheilaMarieEverett,Tracy

vanStraaten,RachelCoun,LeslieGarych,AdrienneVrettos,

NickMartin,JackyHarper,LizetteSerrano,KathleenDonohoe,

JohnMason,StephanieNooney,KarynBrowne,JoySimpkins,

JessWhite,DickRobinson,EllieBerger,SuzanneMurphy,

AndreaDavisPinkney,theentireScholasticsalesforce,andthe

manyotherswhohavedevotedsomuchenergy,smarts,and

savvytothisseries.

Tothefivewriter-friendsIrelyonmostheavily,Richard

andJamesProimos,muchgratitudeforyouradvice,perspective,

andlaughter.

Speciallovetomylatefather,MichaelCollins,wholaidthe

groundworkforthisserieswithhisdeepcommitmentto

educatinghischildrenonwarandpeace,andmymother,Jane

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Collins,whointroducedmetotheGreeks,sci-fi,andfashion

(althoughthatlastonedidn’tstick);mysisters,Kathyand

Joanie;mybrother,Drew;myin-laws,DixieandCharlesPryor;

andthemanymembersofmyextendedfamilywhoseenthusiasm

andsupporthavekeptmegoing.

Andfinally,Iturntomyhusband,CapPryor,whoreadThe

HungerGamesinitsearliestdraft,insistedonanswersto

questionsIhadn’tevenimagined,andremainedmysounding

boardthroughtheentireseries.Thankstohimandmywonderful

kids,CharlieandIsabel,fortheirlove,theirpatience,andthejoy

theybringme.

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AbouttheAuthor

SuzanneCollinsistheauthorofthebestsellingUnderland

Chroniclesseries,whichstartedwithGregortheOverlander.Her

groundbreakingyoungadultnovels,TheHungerGamesand

CatchingFire,werebothNewYorkTimesbestsellers,received

widepraise,andgarnerednumerousstarredreviews.Suzanne

liveswithherfamilyinConnecticut.Youcanfindheronlineat

www.suzannecollinsbooks.com.

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Allrightsreserved.PublishedbyScholasticPress,anImprintofScholasticInc.

Publisherssince1920.SCHOLASTIC,SCHOLASTICPRESS,andassociatedlogosare

trademarksand/orregisteredtrademarksofScholasticInc.

e-ISBN:978-0-545-38720-0

AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.

Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,

decompiled,reverseengineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformation

storageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicor

mechanical,nowknownorhereafterinvented,withouttheexpresswritten

permissionofthepublisher.Forinformationregardingpermission,writeto

ScholasticInc.,Attention:PermissionsDepartment,557Broadway,NewYork,NY

10012.

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