[Her hand tightens on the grip of her bow and she scowls, furious.
How could she say that? How could she not care about him? She had seen them in the arena. She had seen how Cato reacted to Clove's death. How the other girl had screamed for him to save her. How he had cried her name as she died. In his arms? She didn't know. She had fled by then, not willing to take the chance that Cato would catch up with her. But the anguish had been clear.
She had seen them here, too. Noticed how much time they spent together. The way the hijackings always seemed to indicate that they might mean something more to each other than just allied Careers. Clove had seemed to understand when Peeta was sick. Seemed to understand Katniss' utter mortification when Cato had announced to all of Luceti that she had slept with Peeta.
How could she possibly say she didn't care? How could she?
And right after Katniss had just lost Peeta? The boy that would die for her, the boy that she'd sacrifice everything to save. She went against every instinct she had to survive in the Quarter Quell because Peeta didn't deserve to lose his life. Then, she had thought she had been selfish, if not maybe a bit noble. Someone so good as Peeta didn't deserve to die in a bloodbath.
Gale had been wrong. She knows that now. The choice between the two boys had never been about survival for her, about who would extend her longevity the most. It never came down to a cold calculation or an unfeeling assessment. It had been about love, about who she would die to protect. And maybe she had felt it all along, that hunger and desire and love for Peeta Mellark. She had just been too stupid, too caught up in her own worries and problems, to really see.]
Do you have any idea how lucky you are? He's still here.
[He's here. They can have... whatever it was that existed between them. She had someone from home to stand by her, someone more than an old drunk mentor. And she says she doesn't care. That she's not like her. In all this time stuck here, Katniss has reached the disturbing conclusion that they are more alike than either would care to admit.
Her lips press together in a thin frown and she looks back in the direction that they had come.]
I could kill him again. Easily. Would you care then?
action;
How could she say that? How could she not care about him? She had seen them in the arena. She had seen how Cato reacted to Clove's death. How the other girl had screamed for him to save her. How he had cried her name as she died. In his arms? She didn't know. She had fled by then, not willing to take the chance that Cato would catch up with her. But the anguish had been clear.
She had seen them here, too. Noticed how much time they spent together. The way the hijackings always seemed to indicate that they might mean something more to each other than just allied Careers. Clove had seemed to understand when Peeta was sick. Seemed to understand Katniss' utter mortification when Cato had announced to all of Luceti that she had slept with Peeta.
How could she possibly say she didn't care? How could she?
And right after Katniss had just lost Peeta? The boy that would die for her, the boy that she'd sacrifice everything to save. She went against every instinct she had to survive in the Quarter Quell because Peeta didn't deserve to lose his life. Then, she had thought she had been selfish, if not maybe a bit noble. Someone so good as Peeta didn't deserve to die in a bloodbath.
Gale had been wrong. She knows that now. The choice between the two boys had never been about survival for her, about who would extend her longevity the most. It never came down to a cold calculation or an unfeeling assessment. It had been about love, about who she would die to protect. And maybe she had felt it all along, that hunger and desire and love for Peeta Mellark. She had just been too stupid, too caught up in her own worries and problems, to really see.]
Do you have any idea how lucky you are? He's still here.
[He's here. They can have... whatever it was that existed between them. She had someone from home to stand by her, someone more than an old drunk mentor. And she says she doesn't care. That she's not like her. In all this time stuck here, Katniss has reached the disturbing conclusion that they are more alike than either would care to admit.
Her lips press together in a thin frown and she looks back in the direction that they had come.]
I could kill him again. Easily. Would you care then?