We Fight, We Dare, We End Our

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.

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 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 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.

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.

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.