Staying quietly in bed is harder after that. I want to be doing something, finding out more about District 13 or helping in the cause to bring down the Capitol. Instead I sit around stuffing myself with cheese buns and watching Peeta sketch. There’s a reason the author is doing this, of course.  It’s because…

My feet back up automatically and I blend into the trees. I cover my mouth with my glove to disperse the white of my breath in the icy air. Adrenaline courses through me, wiping all the concerns of the day from my mind as I focus on the immediate threat before me. What is going…

It makes no sense. My bird baked into bread. Unlike the stylish renderings I saw in the Capitol, this is definitely not a fashion statement. “What is it? What does that mean?” I ask harshly, still prepared to kill. The woman is now unarmed and has failed to be a threat for several seconds and…

“Peeta. About what I said yesterday, about running —” I begin.  “I know,” he says. “There’s nothing to explain.” No, there’s plenty to explain!  Like, why did you all collectively decide to stop giving a fig about death threats?  I’m fine with Snow coming around to kill them after all, because that makes sense, but…

“No!” I cry, and spring forward. It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. What even is this?  The way things are broken up makes it seem like she jumped forward a…