My daughter, my Katniss, only seventeen years old, stands up on stage in her wedding dress.
This can't be happening. My baby can't leave.
One way or another my daughter is going away forever. If she marries Peeta, she becomes his wife and leaves me. If she dies in her second Games, the wedding becomes a funeral and she leaves us all. If she is the only one to survive, she will shatter inside and leave us still.
Prim clings to me, as we both savor our last sight of Katniss before she leaves us, one way or the other.