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“I’m Haymitch.” “I’m Lenore Dove.” “Dove like the bird?” “No. Dove like the color.” “What color’s that?” “Same as the bird.”
I love you like all-fire.
Never see her face brighten at a bag of gumdrops
“Itchy Itchy Haymitchy.”
Maysilee’s a mockingjay, birds being one of the Covey’s great loves.
For H. I love you like all-fire. L.D.
“Who’s ready for a big, big, big day!”
First avoid the slaughter, Get weapons, look for water.
Find food and where to sleep, Fire and friends can keep.
Carnivorous mutts. Tearing Ampert apart.
A small white skeleton, stripped clean to the bone. No flesh or clothing remains, only an ax at its right side, my knife at its left.
“Buddy?”
“Sure. I’ll be your sister.”
clump of katniss,
Good-bye, Maysilee Donner, who I loathed, then grudgingly respected, then loved. Not as a sweetheart or even a friend. A sister, I’d said.
They are coffins. Louella, Maysilee, and Wyatt will be riding home with me.
“Don’t you . . . let it . . . rise . . .” she gets out. Tears choke me. “I can’t stop it. You know I can’t stop it.” Her head jerks a bit to the side. “. . . on the reaping,” she whispers.
