Extraits

You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know," Haymitch says.

Peeta's argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you,' says Haymitch.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta's not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking only of me.

I am going back into the arena."

I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don't notice much because they're so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they're a light golden color and so long I don't see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks."

I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes and ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him."

No, I'd have told you," I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today.

Don't go yet. Not until I fall asleep," I say.

Peeta sit on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his.

What if he decides to stay ?" he asks.

I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. "Then he stays."

"You'd leave him behind ?" Gale asks.

"To save Prim and my mother, yes," I answer. "I mean, no ! I'll get him to come."

Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed."

I'm in a dress of the exact design of my wedding dress, only it's the colour of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that's when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings.

Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.