Tuck In Your Tail, Little

Remember, Heads High. Smiles. They're Going To Love You!

Plutarch Rushes To Reassure Me. "oh, No, Katniss. Not Your Wedding. Finnick And Annie's. All You Need To Do Is Show Up And Pretend To Be Happy For Them." "that's One Of The Few Things I Won't Have To Pretend, Plutarch," I Tell Him.

It’s The Final Word In Camouflage. Forget Chucking Weights Around. Peeta Should Have Gone Into His Private Session With The Gamemakers And Painted Himself Into A Tree. Or A Boulder. Or A Muddy Bank Full Of Weeds.

And There I Am, Blushing And Confused, Made Beautiful By Cinna’s Hands, Desirable By Peeta’s Confession, Tragic By Circumstance, And By All Accounts, Unforgettable.

How Could I Leave Prim, Who Is The Only Person In The World I’m Certain I Love?