Lay Down Your Head, And

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.

But Collective Thinking Is Usually Short-lived. We're Fickle, Stupid Beings With Poor Memories And A Great Gift For Self-destruction.

There's No Point In Comforting Words, In Telling Her She'll Be All Right. She's No Fool. Her Hand Reaches Out And I Clutch It Like A Lifeline. As If It's Me Who's Dying Instead Of Rue.

So I Only Say, "so What Should We Do With Our Last Few Days?" "i Just Want To Spend Every Possible Minute Of The Rest Of My Life With You," Peeta Replies.

He Never Lets Go Of Annie's Hand. Not When They Walk, Not When They Eat. I Doubt He Ever Plans To.