If My Holding Out Those Berries Was

To Be Honest, I'm Not Much Of A Drinker. It Makes Me Sick, And I Hate That.

What Does This Mean? It Means I Get To Spend The Morning Having The Hair Ripped Off My Body While Peeta Sleeps In.

I Don't Want To Cry. Everyone Will Make Note Of My Tears And I'll Be Marked As An Easy Target. A Weakling. I Will Give No One That Satisfaction.

I Pull The Sleeping Bag Up To His Chin And Kiss His Forehead, Not For The Audience, But For Me. Because I'm So Grateful That He's Here, Not Dead By The Stream As I'd Thought. So Glad I Don't Have To Face Cato Alone.

I'm Filled With Awe, As I Always Am, As I Watch Her Transform From A Woman Who Calls Me To Kill A Spider To A Woman Immune To Fear.