"My pain and all the trouble caused;

No matter how long,

I believe that there's hope buried beneath it all…"

-Paramore

Boggs has come and gone for the past forty-eight hours. I haven't been able to sleep; not that I didn't try. My brain is reeling from everything. Katniss and Madge, dead. Thousands of people, dead.

Can one girl handle so much heartbreak?

I imagine this is how early settlers lived when they came here: No real shelter; huddled together for comfort. My grandfather knew our district's history well, including the name it used to have. What was it again? "Kentucky"? "West Virginia"? Either name sounds a lot more peaceful than "District 12". District 12 sounds like a prison.

Ha. That's not too far off.

We never studied the map of Panem, but I'm pretty sure District 8 is just above us, past this forest. And farther north… District 13.

There are only about thirty people remaining at our campsite. The rest, including most of Gale's family, are now settling into District 13. Gale and Rory stayed behind to continue searching for people who might be trapped, and for our protection.

"I know it's not safe," Rory tells me on this silent morning, "but I'm gonna miss this place."

"So am I," I reply.

"There's a chance we might be able to rebuild and live in District Twelve again someday, though. Look at District Thirteen. If they can do it, we can, too."

"Totally," I agree. "I don't care if I'm old by then. I'll be jumping up and down!"

"I won't celebrate anything until President Snow's executed," Gale mutters, carving into a pine tree with his favorite hunting knife. A birthday gift from Katniss. They were the best of friends; but it's become obvious that Peeta wasn't the only boy who loved her. He's grieving just as much as I am.

When Boggs returns in the hovercar, he surveys the group around us. "Is everybody on your list accounted for here, Mrs. Everdeen?"

"I think so," Mom replies.

Before we got rescued, she distributed sheets of paper so that we could all write our names down as proof of existence. A check by a name means the individual has already left with Boggs.

"Then it's time," he declares, raising his voice so the others can hear. "All of you; pack up and follow me. We're moving out for the last time."

Mom and I share wistful expressions. We have nothing to remind us of Dad or Katniss. In our rush, we only grabbed the items we needed desperately. But there's no going back.

District 13 awaits.

Whoa is all I can think as we exit the hovercar. This whole underground place has existed for decades, and we never knew about it? Mind blown.

"First thing we'll do," Boggs says, "is introduce you to our president, one family at a time."

I feel the beginnings of panic, knowing what I know about President Snow. "You have a president?"

"Yes, we do. She likes meeting every single person who comes into Thirteen, whether they live here or they're just visiting. After that, we'll register you into Thirteen's database and put you in rooms. You'll start working tomorrow."

He leads us down a flight of stairs, to an office door with a plaque that reads, President Alma Coin.

Mom and I are last to be introduced. When we're called in, we meet a stern, gray-haired woman, face wrinkled from age. I'd guess she's in her sixties.

"This," Boggs explains to us, "is President Alma Coin."

"And I definitely know who you two are," she replies, lending me a sweet grin. "Marigold and Primrose Everdeen."

As we shake hands, she says, "These past few days must've been hell for you. But do make yourselves at home. Any relative of Katniss Everdeen is a friend of mine. Boggs told me that both of you are skilled with medicine, so I'd love to have you work in our hospital wing."

We nod, and Mom adds: "We brought more supplies, too."

"Excellent! Boggs, why don't you give them a tour?"

"Of course, ma'am."

The hospital wing is our last stop on the tour, and I can't resist letting my hopes rise. Who knows what I might discover?

Three beds are occupied. The first patient has beige skin, a head of black hair (not much left, though), and glasses beside his nightstand. I think he's one of the victors Katniss allied with…

"Wait," I mutter. "That's not possible."

But Mom confirms it: this is Beetee Latier from District 3, breathing through an oxygen tube. Poor guy could flat-line any moment. The boy in the next bed is in much better shape, a handsome boy adored by every girl in District 4 and beyond.

"Finnick Odair," I say.

Finnick is up and alert, tying ropes into knots as only a fisherman can.

"You must be Primrose Everdeen," he replies automatically.

"Yeah. Thanks for helping Katniss in that jungle… I don't know what she would've done if Peeta died."

He shrugs weakly. "Don't thank me yet. The Capitol got a hold of him before Plutarch could. For all I know they've killed him, anyways. Johanna's there, too. And they got Enobaria, but, well… being from District Two, I bet she's off the hook."

Peeta survived?! Katniss would be so thrilled. My heart starts racing, thinking maybe, just maybe…

Maybe…

I have to calm down. There's no guarantee Katniss was saved as well. And besides, I do have some other questions.

"Who's Plutarch?" I ask Finnick.

"Former Head Gamemaker."

That makes no sense. "What?! How can he-"

"I know, sounds crazy. It was all part of a secret plan. He figured that by getting the job, he could further the rebellion that Katniss started. You know, with the nightlock thing. Me, Beetee, Johanna, and other victors were doing our best to help Katniss stay alive. Whatever it took."

As I watch him, I remember how young he was at the time of his victory. Just as young as I am now.

"But you couldn't save her," I mumble, bowing my head.

Suddenly, the cocky Finnick returns. His perfect, white teeth are glowing with pride. "Ah, sweet Prim, do you really believe that? Just check the next bed."

I don't walk; I run towards bed number three.

There's the outline of a girl sleeping, brunette hair trailing out from under the sheets.

Can it really be…? Please, oh please…

In that instant, I'm so overwhelmed with tears.

"Katniss?" I whisper.

My sister jolts awake.

"Prim?"

I reach out my hand to her. Then I go flying into her arms, and we lock each other in a tight embrace.

"You're here," Katniss says. "You're really here."

"Yeah, it's me."

She looks me over, relieved to find I have no injuries. Wish I could say the same for her. Katniss still has bruising from getting electrocuted and clubbed in the head, along with a stitched forearm. But yes, she's alive. She's alive.

"Mom!" I cry.

"What?"

"Mom… Look!"

When our mother sees her firstborn child, she holds onto her for a whole five minutes. "Sweetheart. I can't… I can't believe this."

"Me neither," Katniss admits, clinging to Mom like she's returned from years of being gone. In a way, she has. "I'm so glad you're both okay."

"Do you know about… about District Twelve?" I ask.

"Yes. Gale told me," she replies with a sniffle.

Then, I spit out words that have chased me for the past year, words I've been too ashamed to say: "This is all my fault."

"No, no, no," Katniss insists. "Prim, you know who's at fault. It's the Capitol. They started the Hunger Games. They put our names into the reaping bowl. They chose you. What came afterwards… I suppose it's on me."

"No, it's-"

"Prim. We've been over this. Do you think I'd have ever let you go into the arena? No way. I didn't think twice, and I'll never regret it, because you're my sister! Cato would've probably slaughtered you in the first three minutes. Your death would've meant nothing. Don't you see?"

She chuckles harshly. "It's funny. Snow asked me if I wanted to be in a real war. I said no, obviously. Like I wanted more blood on my hands! Now, though… I don't see any other way to end him, the Capitol, and the Hunger Games. He's getting what he asked for."

"Then, we'll put the odds in our favor," I say.