Peeta Bakes. I Hunt. Haymitch Drinks Until

I Have Zero Interest In These Capitol People. They Are Only Distractions From The Food.

I Reach Out To Touch His Cheek And He Catches My Hand And Presses It Against His Lips.

Not If We Blow It Up," Gale Says Brusquely. His Intent, His Full Intent, Becomes Clear. Gale Has No Interest In Preserving The Lives Of Those In The Nut. No Interest In Caging The Pray For Later Use. This Is One Of His Death Traps.

I Realize, For The First Time, How Very Lonely I've Been In The Arena. How Comforting The Presence Of Another Human Being Can Be.

Today I Might Lose Both Of Them. I Try To Imagine A World Where Both Gale's And Peeta's Voices Have Ceased. Hands Stilled. Eyes Unblinking. I'm Standing Over Their Bodies, Having A Last Look, Leaving The Room Where They Lie. But When I Open The Door To Step Out Into The World, There's Only A Tremendous Void. A Pale Grey Nothingness That Is All My Future Holds.