I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look with he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I’ve seen flashes of this before: in the arena, that time he shoved the Peacekeepers’ guns away from me in District 11. I don’t quite know what to make of it. […]

One afternoon Peeta stops shading a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was.

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived.” I say. “But I felt happy.” ... Peeta pulls the chain with the gold disk from around his neck. He holds it in the moonlight so I can clearly see the mockingjay. Then his thumb slides along a catch I didn’t notice before and the disc pops open. It’s not solid, as I had thought, but a locket. And within the locket are photos. […] “Your family needs you, Katniss,” Peeta says. My family. My mother. My sister. And my pretend cousin Gale. But Peeta’s intention is clear. That Gale really is my family, or will be one day, if I live. That I’ll marry him. So Peeta’s giving me his life and Gale at the same time. To let me know I shouldn’t ever have doubts about it. Everything. That’s what Peeta wants me to take from him. ... He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. ... As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Captiol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe. ....

"We are not just beautiful, we are dark and powerful. No, more. We star-crossed lovers from District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little the rewards of our victory, do not seek the fans’ favor, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses. We are unforgiving. And I love it. Getting to be myself at last."

…

“I’m determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life, but the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it’s Peeta, not Haymitch, beside me. Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one.“