R

“Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where they strung up a man they say murdered three. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.” The mockingjays begin to alter their songs as they become aware of my new offering. “Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where the dead man called out for his love to flee. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.” I have the birds’ attention now. In one more verse, surely they will have captured the melody, as it’s simple and repeats four times with little variation. “Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.” A hush in the trees. Just the rustle of leaves in the breeze. But no birds, mockingjay or other. Peeta’s right. They do fall silent when I sing. Just as they did for my father. “Are you, are you Coming to the tree Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be”
― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

“Over the course of the last five years, the lake’s remarkably unchanged and I’m almost unrecognizable.”
― Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire

“I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,” Peeta replies.”
― Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire

“Yes,” I say more forcefully. Everyone is drawing away from me — Gale, Cressida, the insects — giving me the stage. But I stay focused on the red light. “I want to tell the rebels that I am alive. That I’m right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women, and children. There will be no survivors.” The shock I’ve been feeling begins to give way to fury. “I want to tell people that if you think for one second the Capitol will treat us fairly if there’s a cease-fire, you’re deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do.” My hands go out automatically, as if to indicate the whole horror around me. “This is what they do! And we must fight back!”
― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay