Courage Only Counts When You

My Little Sister, Prim, Curled Up On Her Side, Cocooned In My Mother’s Body, Their Cheeks Pressed Together. In Sleep, My Mother Looks Younger, Still Worn But Not So Beaten-down. Prim’s Face Is As Fresh As A Raindrop, As Lovely As The Primrose For Which She Was Named. My Mother Was Very Beautiful Once, Too. Or So They Tell Me.

Look, If You Wanted To Be Babied You Should Have Asked Peeta.

This Is The First Kiss That We're Both Fully Aware Of. Neither Of Us Hobbled By Sickness Or Pain Or Simply Unconscious. Our Lips Neither Burning With Fever Or Icy Cold. This Is The First Kiss Where I Actually Feel Stirring Inside My Chest. Warm And Curious. This Is The First Kiss That Makes Me Want Another.

My Spirit. This Is A New Thought. I'm Not Sure Exactly What It Means, But It Suggests I'm A Fighter. In A Sort Of Brave Way. It's Not As If I'm Never Friendly. Okay, Maybe I Don't Go Around Loving Everybody I Meet, Maybe My Smiles Are Hard To Come By, But I Do Care For Some People.

Just One More Thing. I Kill Snow.