“Below is a conversation between Jorg and his new bride."The Prince of Arrow has a much bigger army than you," Miana said. No "Your Highness" no "My Lord.""Yes, he does." I kept waving to the crowd, the big smile on my face."He's going to win, isn't he?" she said. She looked twelve but she didn't sound twelve."How old are you?" I asked, a quick glance down at her, still waving."Twelve."Damn.”

“The Prince of Arrow has a much bigger army than you," Miana said. No "Your Highness" no "My Lord.""Yes, he does." I kept waving to the crowd, the big smile on my face."He's going to win, isn't he?" she said. She looked twelve but she didn't sound twelve."How old are you?" I asked, a quick glance down at her, still waving."Twelve."Damn.”

“What happened to your face?' he asked. 'When I was little, my grandmother was making candles and she had a big vat of hot beeswax in the backyard,' she said. 'I walked into the vat.' Usually that ended the conversation. 'I don't remember it,' she added. 'How old were you?' he asked. She tilted her face slightly, watching him. 'Ten months.' 'You were walking at ten months?' he asked. 'Not very well, apparently,' she said dryly.”

“Maybe I'm just unable to resist how handsome he is," she said. Sam went rigid."He's twelve years older than you.""So?" He didn't think he was serious, did he?”

“You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me, she meant you!" bursts out Peeta."Oh, she meant you," I say with a wave of dismissal."She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," says Peeta.That pulls me up short. Did his mother really say that about me? Did she rate me over her son? I see the pain in Peeta's eyes and know he isn't lying.Suddenly I'm behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of the rain running down my back, the hollowness in my belly. I sound eleven years old when I speak. "But only because someone helped me.”

“What are you smiling about?" Benedict demanded.She didn't bother to glance up as she replied, "I'm plotting your demise."He grinned-not that she was looking at him, but it was one of those smiles she could hear in the way he breathed.She hated that she as that sensitive to his every nuance. Especially since she had a sneaking suspicion that he was the same way about her."At least it sounds entertaining,"he said."What does?" she asked, finally moving her eyes from the lower hem of the curtain, which she'd been staring at for what seemed like hours."My demise," he said, his smile crooked and amused. "If you're going to kill me, you might as well enjoy yourself while you're at it, because Lord knows, I won't."Her jaw dropped a good inch. "You're mad," she said.”