Sorry Excuses For Hunters And Friends. Both

Because I Have Learned The Hard Way How Deadly These Beauties Can Be.

In Really Bad Times, The Hungriest Would Gather At His Door At Nightfall, Vying For The Chance To Earn A Few Coins To Feed Their Families By Selling Their Bodies. Had I Been Older When My Father Died, I Might Have Been Among Them. Instead I Learned To Hunt.

So That's Who Finnick Loves, I Think. Not His String Of Fancy Lovers In The Capitol. But A Poor, Mad Girl Back Home.

Her Name's Prim. She's Just Twelve. And I Love Her More Than Anything.

How Much Energy They Put Into Harming Each Other. How Little Into Saving.