All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents can’t give. More food. Now that we’re rich, she’ll send some home with them. But often in the old days, there was nothing to give and the child was past saving, anyway. And here in the Capital they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and and again. Not from illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. It’s what everyone does at a party. Expected. Part of the fun.
She has become a beacon of hope for them.
Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Haymitch + giving Katniss advice
Are you fighting, Katniss?
Are you fighting Katniss ?
Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods.
My name is Katniss Everdeen.
Why am I not dead?
I should be dead.
Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!