triangular horse

I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!

My knees turn to water and I sink to the ground. Finnick is trying to tell me something, but I can’t hear him. What I do finally hear is another bird starting up somewhere off to my left. And this time, the voice is Gale’s.

Finnick catches my arm before I can run. “No. It.’s not him.” He starts pulling me downhill, toward the beach. “We’re getting out of here!” But Gale’s voice is so full of pain I can’t help struggling to reach it. “It’s not him, Katniss! It’s a mutt!” Finnick shouts at me.

(Source: drunkmellark, via theblue-eyesinthemud)