Johanna does not have time for this Hunger Games nonsense
she’s just one of those contestants who is constantly having her mouth, hands, and other parts blurred out on television.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he says.
Because I can’t handle the nightmares. Not without you, I think.
No one really needs me. I do. I need you.
"Prim!" I rip through a wall of green into a small clearing and the sound repeats directly above me. Above me? My head whips back. Do they have her up in the trees? I desperately search for the branches but see nothing. "Prim?" I say pleadingly. I hear her but can’t see her. Her next wail rings out, clear as a ball, and there’s no mistaking the source. It’s coming from the mouth of a small, crested black bird perched on a branch about three metres over my head. And then I understand.
It’s a jabberjay.