There's Plenty Of Blame To Go Around.

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 Curl Up, Make Myself Smaller, Try To Disappear Entirely. Wrapped In Silence, I Slide My Bracelet That Reads 'mentally Disoriented' Around And Around My Wrist.

When I Wake, I Have A Brief, Delicious Feeling Of Happiness That Is Somehow Connected With Peeta. Happiness, Of Course, Is A Complete Absurdity At This Point, Since At The Rate Things Are Going, I'll Be Dead In A Day. And That's The Best-case Scenario, If I'm Able To Eliminate The Rest Of The Field, Including Myself, And Get Peeta Crowned As The Winner Of The Quarter Quell. Still, The Sensation's So Unexpected And Sweet I Cling To It, If Only For A Few Moments. Before The Gritty Sand, The Hot Sun, And My Itching Skin Demand A Return To Reality.

Look How We Take Your Children And Sacrifice Them And There’s Nothing You Can Do. If You Lift A Finger, We Will Destroy Every Last One Of You. Just As We Did In District Thirteen.

You'd Have Thought We Planned It," Says Peeta, Giving Me Just The Hint Of A Smile. "didn't You?" Asks Portia. Her Fingers Press Her Eyelids Closed As If She's Warding Off A Very Bright Light. "no," I Say Looking At Peeta With A New Sense Of Apreciation. "neither Of Us Even Knew What We Were Going To Do Before We Went In." "and Haymitch?" Says Peeta. "we Decided We Don't Want Any Other Allies In The Arena." "good. Then I Won't Be Responsible For You Killing Off Any Of My Friends With Your Stupidity," He Says.