She won’t be able to handle it. The Games destroyed her.
These are just a few of the adjectives tossed around to describe Mason, who’s known for disarming her victims by feigning weakness.
The crunching hits my ear before I even know he’s beside me, and when I turn my head, Finnick Odair’s famous sea green eyes are only inches from mine.
I forget the rest of the gym and the victors and how miserable I am and lose myself in the shooting.
As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still linked with Peeta’s, someone else rustles up to my side. The girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls.
Johanna Mason. From District 7.