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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.
Suzanne Collins
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Suzanne Collins
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: August 10
Executive Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Suzanne Marie Collins
Suzanne Collins
Enemy
Arrows
Word
Vengeance
Sound
Meat
Makes
Pity
Hunk
Used
Flying
Skull
Trying
Mouth
Arrow
Think
Mouths
Skulls
Thinking
Please
Sends
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Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.
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They erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and draw my features back out.
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What happens when we get back? I don't know. I guess we try and forget. I don't want to forget.
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At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.
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Thank you for you consideration
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I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.” I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.
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Well, I can't leave Mags behind, says Finnick. She's one of the few people who actually likes me.
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They hadn’t counted on the highly controlled jabberjay having the brains to adapt to the wild, to pass on its genetic code, to thrive in a new form. They hadn’t anticipated its will to live.
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Yes, I’m a mouse. Squeak, squeak. Now shoo-shoo back to your little bug friends,” said Rirped, picking up a hunk of dried beef. He tore a off a piece with his teeth and noticed Boots hadn’t moved. He pulled back his lips to reveal a row of jagged teeth and gave her a sharp hiss.
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I'm so tired, Katniss.
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The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest down through my body out along my arms and legs to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me the kisses have the opposite effect of making my need greater.
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I miss him so badly it hurts.
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I don't know how to say it exactly. Only... I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense? he asks. I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself. I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not.
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I flee what I can't fight. What can only do me harm.
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In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.
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Frankly, I could use a little sugarcoating.
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In other words, I step out of line and we're all dead.
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You’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug.
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And don't you let your guard down for a second because you think anything's inevitable.
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Katniss....he's still trying to keep you alive.
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