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It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love.
Still, there’s something comforting about the little bird. It’s like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me.
I think this is beautiful
“And what do we do with coal? We burn it,” says Cinna. “You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?”
No one will forget me. Not my look, not my name. Katniss. The girl who was on fire.
You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.
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?
“I think we have a shadow.”
“You … shoot straight.”
“Thank you for your consideration,”
“Because … because … she came here with me.”
“I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not.”
Little does he know
“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games 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.
“You here to finish me off, sweetheart?”
Wish he was more like this in the movie
“Please, he can’t stand being in the same room with me,” I say. “Because you’re just alike,”
But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately.”
“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.’”
So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck,” says Peeta.
“I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve.”
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.
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.
Muttations. No question about it.
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…
I launch into Haymitch’s arms first. When he whispers in my ear, “Nice job, sweetheart,”
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 could be punished if I can’t pull off the girl-driven-crazy-by-love scenario Haymitch has suggested.
He’s still smiling when he settles the second on my head, but his eyes, just centimetres from mine, are as unforgiving as a snake’s.
“Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.”
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.
Real
