Gale And I Were Thrown Together By

It's More Complicated Than That. I Know Them. They're Not Evil Or Cruel. They're Not Even Smart. Hurting Them, It's Like Hurting Children.

Time And Tragedy Have Forced Her To Grow Too Quickly, At Least For My Taste, Into A Young Woman Who Stitches Bleeding Wounds And Knows Our Mother Can Hear Only So Much.

We're Supposed To Be Making Up This Stuff, Playing At Being In Love, Not Actually Being In Love.

And Random Bits Of Happiness, Like Finnick And Annie's Newborn Boy.

The Question Is, What Are You Going To Do?" It Turns Out The Question That's Been Eating Away At Me Has Only Ever Had One Possible Answer. But It Took Peeta's Ploy For Me To Recognize It. What Am I Going To Do? I Take A Deep Breath. My Arms Rise Slightly - As If Recalling The Black-and-white Wings Cinna Gave Me - Then Come To Rest At My Sides. "i'm Going To Be The Mockingjay.