It Starts At Midnight.

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.

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 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 Sound About A Thousand Years Old When She Speaks."whatever It Takes To Break You.

It's Ideal Really. They Will Come Up With A Plan. No One Will Like It. Everyone Will Feel They Have Been Treated Unfairly, But Will Be Happy That Their Neighbors Feel The Same. And That Is The Nature Of Compromise. Now Let's Go Eat An Awful Lot.

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.