Lay Down Your Head, And

The Idea Of Being Strong For Someone Else Having Never Entered Their Heads, I Find Myself In The Position Of Having To Console Them. Since I'm The Person Going In To Be Slaughtered, This Is Somewhat Annoying.

Tuck In Your Tail, Little Duck.

The Question Is, What Are You Going To Do?" It Turns Out The Question That's Been Eating Away At Me Has Only Ever Had One Possible Answer. But It Took Peeta's Ploy For Me To Recognize It. What Am I Going To Do? I Take A Deep Breath. My Arms Rise Slightly - As If Recalling The Black-and-white Wings Cinna Gave Me - Then Come To Rest At My Sides. "i'm Going To Be The Mockingjay.

How Do You Bear It?” Finnick Looks At Me In Disbelief. “i Don’t, Katniss! Obviously, I Don’t. I Drag Myself Out Of Nightmares Each Morning And Find There’s No Relief In Waking.” “the More You Can Distract Yourself The Better, ” He Says. “first Thing Tomorrow, We’ll Get You Your Own Rope. Until Then Take Mine.

Even Though I Don't Ask, Plutarch Gives Me Cheerful Updates On The Phone Like "good News, Katniss! I Think We've Almost Got Him Convinced You're Not A Mutt!" Or "today He Was Allowed To Feed Himself Pudding!