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"
Me
,
too
,
"
I
admit
.
"
But
not
tonight
.
"
We
finish
our
food
in
silence
and
then
Peeta
offers
to
take
the
first
watch
.
I
burrow
down
in
the
sleeping
bag
next
to
him
,
pulling
my
hood
up
over
my
face
to
hide
it
from
the
cameras
.
I
just
need
a
few
moments
of
privacy
where
I
can
let
any
emotion
cross
my
face
without
being
seen
.
Under
the
hood
,
I
silently
say
good-bye
to
Thresh
and
thank
him
for
my
life
.
I
promise
to
remember
him
and
,
if
I
can
,
do
something
to
help
his
family
and
Rue
's
,
if
I
win
.
Then
I
escape
into
sleep
,
comforted
by
a
full
belly
and
the
steady
warmth
of
Peeta
beside
me
.
When
Peeta
wakes
me
later
,
the
first
thing
I
register
is
the
smell
of
goat
cheese
.
He
's
holding
out
half
a
roll
spread
with
the
creamy
white
stuff
and
topped
with
apple
slices
.
"
Do
n't
be
mad
,
"
he
says
.
"
I
had
to
eat
again
.
Here
's
your
half
.
"
"
Oh
,
good
,
"
I
say
,
immediately
taking
a
huge
bite
.
The
strong
fatty
cheese
tastes
just
like
the
kind
Prim
makes
,
the
apples
are
sweet
and
crunchy
.
"
Mm
.
"
"
We
make
a
goat
cheese
and
apple
tart
at
the
bakery
,
"
he
says
.
"
Bet
that
's
expensive
,
"
I
say
.
"
Too
expensive
for
my
family
to
eat
.
Unless
it
's
gone
very
stale
.
Of
course
,
practically
everything
we
eat
is
stale
,
"
says
Peeta
,
pulling
the
sleeping
bag
up
around
him
.
In
less
than
a
minute
,
he
's
snoring
.
Huh
.
I
always
assumed
the
shopkeepers
live
a
soft
life
.
And
it
's
true
,
Peeta
has
always
had
enough
to
eat
.
But
there
's
something
kind
of
depressing
about
living
your
life
on
stale
bread
,
the
hard
,
dry
loaves
that
no
one
else
wanted
.
One
thing
about
us
,
since
I
bring
our
food
home
on
a
daily
basis
,
most
of
it
is
so
fresh
you
have
to
make
sure
it
is
n't
going
to
make
a
run
for
it
.
