Sunrise on the Reaping

They will not use my tears for their entertainment.

I love you like all-fire.

The snow may fall, but the sun also rises.

The moment our hearts shattered? It belongs to us.

You were capable of imagining a different future. And maybe it won’t be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. Maybe it will take generations. We’re all part of a continuum. Does that make it pointless?

And that’s part of our trouble. Thinking things are inevitable. Not believing change is possible.

She’s not an easy person; she’s like me, Peeta always says. But she was smarter than me, or luckier.

I know that every year for my birthday, I will get a new pair of tributes, one girl and one boy, to mentor to their deaths. Another sunrise on the reaping.

And while Lenore Dove will forever be my true love, Louella is my one and only sweetheart.

I know one thing, though: The Capitol can never take Lenore Dove from me again. They never really did in the first place. Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping, and she is the most precious thing I’ve ever known. When I tell her that, she always says, “I love you like all-fire.” And I reply, “I love you like all-fire, too.

. Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

A cannon fires. Somewhere, Beetee’s heart breaks into fragments so small it can never be repaired.

But she was smarter than me, or luckier. She's the one who finally kept that sun from rising.

Fire is catching, she’d say, but if this one burns down the arena, I say good riddance.

I guess that’s my answer. A sister is someone you fight with and fight for. Tooth and nail.

Good-bye, Maysilee Donner, who I loathed, then grudgingly respected, then loved. Not as a sweetheart or even a friend. A sister, I’d said. But what is that exactly? I think about our journey — everything from sniping with her in those early days after the reaping to battling those pink birds. I guess that’s my answer. A sister is someone you fight with and fight for. Tooth and nail.

In fifty years, we’ve only had one victor, and that was a long time ago. A girl who no one seems to know anything about.

I run for Louella, but I run for Woodbine, too, because he’ll never run again.

Sometimes she cries because things are so beautiful and we keep messing them up. Because the world doesn’t have to be so terrifying. That’s on people, not the world.

All propaganda is lies, even when one is telling the truth. I don’t think this matters so long as one knows what one is doing, and why.” — George Orwell

So don’t feed the nightmares. Don’t let yourself panic. Don’t give the Capitol that. They’ve taken enough already.

With that, she condemns me to life.

I will pay for it with my death and with the broken hearts and lives of everyone who loves me.

I would welcome death, if it wasn’t for my promise to Lenore Dove that I would somehow keep the sun from rising on the reaping.

Don't let them paint their posters with your blood. Not if you can help it.

I don't want to beg. Or plead for my life. I want to go out with my head up.

Dove color: Warm gray with a slight purplish or pinkish tint. Her color. Her bird. Her name.

I love you like all-fire, too. You and no one else. Just like my geese, I mate for life. And then some. Forever.

I dismount the chariot and lay Louella down, taking a step back so Snow can’t pretend he doesn’t see her broken little bird body. Then I gesture to him and begin to applaud, giving credit where credit is due.

They will not use our tears for their entertainment.