Almost nothing remains of District 12. A month ago, the Capitol's firebombs obliterated the poor coal
miners' houses in the Seam, the shops in the town, even the Justice Building. The only area that escaped
incineration was the Victor's Village. I don't know why exactly. Perhaps so anyone forced to come here on
Capitol business would have somewhere decent to stay. The odd reporter. A committee assessing the condition
of the coal mines. A squad of Peacekeepers checking for returning refugees.
But no one is returning except me. And that's only for a brief visit. The authorities in District 13 were against
my coming back. They viewed it as a costly and pointless venture, given that at least a dozen invisible hovercraft
are circling overhead for my protection and there's no intelligence to be gained. I had to see it, though. So much
so that I made it a condition of my cooperating with any of their plans.
Finally, Plutarch Heavensbee, the Head Gamemaker who had organized the rebels in the Capitol, threw up
his hands. "Let her go. Better to waste a day than another month. Maybe a little tour of Twelve is just what she
needs to convince her we're on the same side."
The same side. A pain stabs my left temple and I press my hand against it. Right on the spot where
Johanna Mason hit me with the coil of wire. The memories swirl as I try to sort out what is true and what is false.
What series of events led me to be standing in the ruins of my city? This is hard because the effects of the
concussion she gave me haven't completely subsided and my thoughts still have a tendency to jumble together.
Also, the drugs they use to control my pain and mood sometimes make me see things. I guess. I'm still not
entirely convinced