cf thg

3

There. He’s done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him.

Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna’s talents, whereas 

Peeta needs nothing more than his wits.

7

The Tally of the Victors’ Vote

Was it like this then? Seventy-five years or so ago? Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games? Was there dissent? Did someone make a case for mercy that was beaten down by the calls for the deaths of the districts’ children? The scent of Snow’s rose curls up into my nose, down into my throat, squeezing it tight with despair. All those people I loved, dead, and we are discussing the next Hunger Games in an attempt to avoid wasting life. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change now.

3

                       Now, Katniss, you have been our mission from the beginning.                                                        The plan was always to get you out. Half the tributes were in on it.                                                                     This is the revolution, and you are the mockingjay.