Just Give Him The Medicine!"

I'm Unaware That My Feet Are Moving To The Table Until I'm Inches From The Holograph. My Hand Reaches In And Cups A Rapidly Blinking Green Light. Someone Joins Me, His Body Tense. Finnick, Of Course. Because Only A Victor Would See What I See So Immediately. The Arena. Laced With Pods Controlled By Gamemakers. Finnick's Fingers Caress A Steady Red Glow Over A Doorway. "ladies And Gentlemen..." His Voice Is Quiet, But Mine Rings Through The Room. "let The Seventy-sixth Hunger Games Begin!

But After Several Hours, I Go Anyway, Walking In Silent Sock Feet, So As Not To Awaken The Ghosts.

Of Course You Are. The Tributes Were Necessary To The Games, Too. Until They Weren't," I Say. "and Then We Were Very Disposable - Right, Plutarch?

They'll Either Want To Kill You, Kiss You, Or Be You.

Haymitch Said You'd Take A Lot Of Convincing.