Eyes On The Forest, Not On The

The Rules Of The Hunger Games Are Simple. In Punishment For The Uprising, Each Of The Twelve Districts Must Provide One Girl And One Boy, Called Tributes, To Participate. The Twenty-four Tributes Will Be Imprisoned In A Vast Outdoor Arena That Could Hold Anything From A Burning Desert To A Frozen Wasteland. Over A Period Of Several Weeks, The Competitors Must Fight To The Death. The Last Tribute Standing Wins.

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?

Ladies And Gentlemen....." His Voice Is Quiet, But Mine Rings Through The Room. "let The Seventy-sixth Hunger Games Begin!

A Furious Peeta Hammers Haymitch With The Atrocity He Could Become Party To, But I Can Feel Haymitch Watching Me. This Is The Moment, Then. When We Find Out Exactly Just How Alike We Are, And How Much He Truly Understands Me. "i'm With The Mockingjay," He Says.

It's Lovely. If Only You Could Frost Someone To Death." "don't Be So Superior. You Can Never Tell What You Will Find In The Arena. Say It's A Gigantic Cake-