"i'm Not Their Slave," The Man Mutters.

Well You Are A Piece Of Work Aren't You?

You Can’t Miss Your Schedule. Every Morning, You’re Supposed To Stick Your Right Arm In This Contraption In The Wall. It Tattoos The Smooth Inside Of Your Forearm With Your Schedule For The Day In A Sickly Purple Ink. 7:00—breakfast. 7:30—kitchen Duties. 8:30—education Center, Room 17. And So On. The Ink Is Indelible Until 22:00—bathing

And Random Bits Of Happiness, Like Finnick And Annie's Newborn Boy.

Finally, Peeta Turns To Pollux. "well, Then You Just Became Our Most Valuable Asset." Castor Laughs And Pollux Manages A Smile. We're Halfway Down The First Tunnel When I Realize What Was So Remarkable About That Exchange. Peeta Sounded Like His Old Self, The One Who Could Always Think Of The Right Thing To Say When Nobody Else Could... I Glance Back At Him As He Trudges Along Under His Guards, Gale And Jackson, His Eyes Fixed On The Ground, His Shoulders Hunched Forward. So Dispirited. But For A Moment, He Was Really Here.

Fine. I'll Train. But I'm Going To The Stinking Capitol If I Have To Kill A Crew And Fly There Myself." Says Johanna. "probably Best Not To Bring That Up In Training," I Say. "but It's Nice To Know I'll Have A Ride.