Make Sure They Remember You.

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 Her Hands Are Tied Here.

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?

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.

He Hasn't Accepted His Death. He Is Already Fighting Hard To Stay Alive. Which Also Means That Kind Peeta Mellark, The Boy Who Gave Me Bread, Is Fighting Hard To Kill Me.

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.