What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.
Cinna. He’s dead, isn’t he? Yes, dear. He made Plutarch promise not
to show you this until you’d decided to be The Mockingjay on your own.
He knew the risks. As we all do. He believed in this revolution. He
believed in you.