Roses. Wolf Mutts. Tributes. Frosted Dolphins. Friends.

I'm Going To Be The Mockingjay.

"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."

But Mockingjays Were Never A Weapon," Said Madge. "they’re Just Songbirds. Right?" "yeah, I Guess So,” I Said, But It’s Not True. A Mockingbird Is Just A Songbird. A Mockingjay Is A Creature The Capitol Never Intended To Exist. They Hadn’t Counted On The Highly Controlled Jabberjay Having The Brains To Adapt To The Wild, To Thrive In A New Form. They Hadn’t Anticipated Its Will To Live.

It's Meant To Be Pretty," Whispers Octavia, And I Can See The Tears Threatening To Spill Over Her Lashes. Posy Considers This And Says Matter-of-factly, "i Think You'd Be Pretty In Any Color." The Tiniest Of Smiles Forms On Octavia's Lips. "thank You.

But It's Not Safe And I Can Feel Him Slipping Away, So I Just Get Out One More Sentence. "stay With Me." As The Tendrils Of Sleep Syrup Pull Me Down, I Hear Him Whisper A Word Back But I Don't Catch It.