[It was a question she was expecting. Eventually. She looks down at the photograph in her hand, the happy wedding. Peeta, looking proud and in love, arms wrapped tightly around her pretty white dress. Herself, happier than she can ever remember being. Clove and Rue laughing. Other friends in the background. Even the crease in the middle doesn't take away from the joy the image emits.

There's no sign that Cato ever existed in that photo. No sign that there was ever any kind of murder and death between them. No Games.

The question was to be expected. Maybe even now, especially now, with Clove's own photograph. With the altered memories still clinging.]

There were muttations. [Said quietly. She hates this. Hates remembering this.] Big dog-like creatures with human eyes. Cato fell and... it was my arrow. My arrow or the mutts.