Jess Berens

76%
Flag icon
A bird swoops down at a sharp angle, driving its beak through her throat. As it withdraws, I decapitate it, slicing through the skinny neck. I realize Maysilee’s beyond recovery when the flock clears out. Falling to my knees beside her, I reach for her sound hand, which grasps mine like a vise.
Sunrise on the Reaping (The Hunger Games)
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview