My spirit. This is a new thought. I’m not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I’m a fighter. In a sort of brave way.
The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can’t suppress my excitement. Cinna has given me a great advantage. No one will forget me. Not my look, not my name. Katniss. The girl who was on fire.
“You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him — and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen…. I could not touch the boy.
His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice…. This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it … but no matter, I can touch him now.”
dancing all alone to the sound of an enemy’s song