Here's Some Advice. Stay Alive.

I Wish They Were All Dead And We Were, Too. It Would Be Best." Well, There's No Good Response To That. I Can Hardly Dispute It Since I Was Walking Around With A Syringe To Kill Peeta When I Found Them. Do I Really Want Him Dead? What I Want...what I Want Is To Have Him Back.

I Drink In His Wholeness, The Soudness Of His Body And Mind. It Runs Through Me Like The Morphling They Give Me In The Hospital, Dulling The Pain Of The Last Weeks.

Once I'm On My Feet I Realize Escape Might Not Be So Simple, Panic Begins To Set In. I Can't Stay Here. Flight Is Essential But I Can't Let My Fear Show. Winning Means Fame And Fortune, Losing Mean Certain Death, The Hunger Games Have Begun . . .

Katniss?" Peeta Says. I Meet His Eyes, Knowing My Face Must Be Some Shade Of Green. He Mouths The Words. "how About That Kiss?

In Stark Contrast To Two Nights Ago, When I Felt Peeta Was A Million Miles Away, I'm Struck By His Immediacy Now. As We Settle In, He Pulls My Head Down To Use His Arm As A Pillow; The Other Rests Protectively Over Me Even When He Goes To Sleep. No One Has Held Me Like This In Such A Long Time. Since My Father Died And I Stopped Trusting My Mother, No One Else's Arms Have Made Me Feel This Safe.