We still have to fight for our lives.

[It's quiet, calm, even.]

And they can put us back in an arena, as armed or empty-handed as they see fit.

Whenever they want.

[If they could bring them here without any of them knowing how it was done, they could move them just as easily.

There's a long silence, long enough for Rue to reply, certainly. Then... a sound. A pair of sounds, actually.

A crash. And a thud.

A knife thrown from the bed, shattering a vase of flowers Clove had liked, and burying in the wall behind where the vase had stood.]