It Crosses My Mind That

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.

"i'm So Sorry," I Whisper. I Lean Forward And Kiss Him. His Eyelashes Flutter And He Looks At Me Through A Haze Of Opiates. "hey, Catnip." "hey, Gale," I Say. "thought You'd Be Gone By Now," He Says. My Choices Are Simple. I Can Die Like A Quarry In The Woods Or I Can Die Here Beside Gale. "i'm Not Going Anywhere. I'm Going To Stay Right Here And Cause All Kinds Of Trouble." "me, Too," Gale Says. He Just Manages A Smile Before The Drugs Pull Him Back Under.

Oh, The Fun We Two Have Together.

No One Really Needs Me," He Says, And There Is No Self-pity In His Voice. It's True His Family Doesn't Need Him. They Will Mourn Him, As Will A Handful Of Friends. But They Will Get On. Even Haymitch, With The Help Of A Lot Of White Liquor, Will Get On. I Realize Only One Person Will Be Damaged Beyond Repair If Peeta Dies. Me. "i Do," I Say. "i Need You.

As We Trudge Back Through The Woods, We Reach A Boulder, And Both Gale And I Turn Our Heads In The Same Direction, Like A Pair Of Dogs Catching A Scent On The Wind. Cressida Notices And Asks What Lies That Way. We Admit, Without Acknowledging Each Other, It's Our Old Hunting Rendez-vous Place. She Wants To See It, Even After We Tell Her It's Nothing Really. Nothing But A Place Where I Was Happy, I Think.