Then I Know Prim Is Right, That

Sometimes, When I Clean A Kill, I Feed Buttercup The Entrails. He Has Stopped Hissing At Me. Entrails. No Hissing. This Is The Closest We Will Ever Come To Love.

The Raw Hunk Of Meat That Used To Be My Enemy Makes A Sound, And I Know Where The Mouth Is. And I Think The Word He's Trying To Say Is 'please'. Pity, Not Vengeance Sends My Arrow Flying Into His Skull.

He Tilts His Forehead Down To Rest Against Mine And Pulls Me Closer. His Skin, His Whole Being Radiates Heat From Being So Near The Fire, And I Close My Eyes, Soaking In His Warmth. I Breathe In The Smell Of Snow-dampened Leather And Smoke And Apples, The Smell Of All Those Wintry Days We Shared Before The Games. I Don't Try To Move Away. Why Should I Anyway? His Voice Drops To A Whisper. "i Love You." That's Why.

Katniss Everdeen, The Girl Who Was On Fire, You Have Provided A Spark That, Left Unattended, May Grow To An Inferno That Destroys Panem," He Says.

Peeta, You Were Supposed To Wake Me After A Couple Of Hours," I Say. "for What? Nothing's Going On Here," He Says. "besides, I Like Watching You Sleep. You Don't Scowl. Improves Your Looks A Lot." This, Of Course, Brings On A Scowl That Makes Him Grin.