CATCHING FIRE

“It's all right, Fi

“No, it's not A

I can feel my own cheeks grow pale as I understand his meaning. “Oh, Fi

“Yes. I do. That's exactly what I think,” he says.

I have an image of Prim in a white room, strapped to a table, while masked, robed figures elicit those sounds from her. Somewhere they are torturing her, or did torture her, to get those sounds. My knees turn to water and I sink to the ground. Fi

Fi

I stop fighting Fi

I catch sight of Peeta and Joha

The wall is so transparent, Fi

Peeta presses his hand against the surface and I put my own up to meet it, as if I can feel him through the wall. I see his lips moving but I can't hear him, can't hear anything outside our wedge. I try to make out what he's saying, but I can't focus, so I just stare at his face, doing my best to hang on to my sanity.

Then the birds begin to arrive. One by one. Perching in the surrounding branches. And a carefully orchestrated chorus of horror begins to spill out of their mouths. Fi

I know it's stopped when I feel Peeta's hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.

“It's all right, Katniss,” he whispers.

“You didn't hear them,” I answer.

“I heard Prim. Right in the begi

“It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it,” I say.

“No, that's what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer's eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren't Glimmer's eyes. And that wasn't Prim's voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying,” he says.

“No, they were torturing her,” I answer. “She's probably dead.”

“Katniss, Prim isn't dead. How could they kill Prim? We're almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?” Peeta says.

“Seven more of us die,” I say hopelessly.

“No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?” He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. Forces me to make eye contact. “What happens? At the final eight?”

I know he's trying to help me, so I make myself think. “At the final eight?” I repeat. “They interview your family and friends back home.”

“That's right,” says Peeta. “They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they've killed them all?”

“No?” I ask, still unsure.

“No. That's how we know Prim's alive. She'll be the first one they interview, won't she?” he asks.

I want to believe him. Badly. It's just ... those voices ...

“First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge,” he continues. “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we're the only ones who can be hurt by it. We're the ones in the Games. Not them.”

“You really believe that?” I say.

“I really do,” says Peeta. I waver, thinking of how Peeta can make anyone believe anything. I look over at Fi

“Do you believe it, Fi

“It could be true. I don't know,” he says. “Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone's regular voice and make it ...”

“Oh, yes. It's not even that difficult, Fi

“Of course Peeta's right. The whole country adores Katniss's little sister. If they really killed her like this, they'd probably have an uprising on their hands,” says Joha

My mouth drops open in shock. No one, ever, says anything like this in the Games. Absolutely, they've cut away from Joha

I can't help catching her hand as she passes me. “Don't go in there. The birds—” I remember the birds must be gone, but I still don't want anyone in there. Not even her.

“They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love,” Joha

While Joha

“Who did they use against Fi

“Somebody named A

“Must be A