I Flee What I Can't Fight. What

Her Name's Prim. She's Just Twelve. And I Love Her More Than Anything.

Katniss. I Remember About The Bread.

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.

Beetee Is Still Messing Round The Tree, Doing I Don't Know What. 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.

Thank You For You Consideration