HUNGER GAMES CATCHING FIRE BOOK PDF
CATCHING FIRE If it were up to me, I would try to forget the Hunger Games entirely. . abandoned quality with no fire on the hearth, no cloth on the table. I mourn .. A small, white-haired man who seems vaguely familiar is reading a book. Catching fire (The Second Book of the Hunger Games). Home · Catching Hunger Games 2 Catching Fire. Read more · Hunger Games 1 The Hunger Games. The Second Book of THE HUNGER GAMES New York Times Bestsel ling Author SUZHNNE COLLINS PARTI "THE SPARK" 2 | P a g e Catching Fire.
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file:///D|/dl/Suzanne%20Collins% Catching fire pdf . The Hunger Games Book 2 Suzanne CollinsTable of ContentsPART 1 – THE SPARKChapter If it were up to me, I would try to forget the Hunger Games entirely. Catching fire / Suzanne Collins. — 1st ed. Summary: By winning the annual Hunger Games, District 12 tributes Katniss Book design by Elizabeth B. Parisi. Get Instant Access to Catching Fire: Hunger Games, Book 2 By Suzanne Collins #1f EBOOK EPUB KINDLE. PDF. Read Download Online.
But I have never seen President Snow. He attends celebrations in the Capitol. If he's made the journey all the way from his city, it can only mean one thing. I'm in serious trouble.
And if I am, so is my family. A shiver goes through me when I think of the proximity of my mother and sister to this man who despises me. Will always despise me. Because I outsmarted his sadistic Hunger Games, made the Capitol look foolish, and consequently undermined his control. All I was doing was trying to keep Peeta and myself alive. Any act of rebellion was purely coincidental. But when the Capitol decrees that only one tribute can live and you have the audacity to challenge it, I guess that's a rebellion in itself.
My only defense was pretending that I was driven insane by a passionate love for Peeta. So we were both allowed to live. To be crowned victors. To go home and celebrate and wave good-bye to the cameras and be left alone. Until now. Perhaps it is the newness of the house or the shock of seeing him or the mutual understanding that he 17 P a g e Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins could have me killed in a second that makes me feel like the intruder.
As if this is his home and I'm the uninvited party. So I don't welcome him or offer him a chair. I don't say anything. In fact, I treat him as if he's a real snake, the venomous kind. I stand motionless, my eyes locked on him, considering plans of retreat. I'm expecting snake lips, which is to say none. But his are overly full, the skin stretched too tight. I have to wonder if his mouth has been altered to make him more appealing.
If so, it was a waste of time and money, because he's not appealing at all. I said any girl who goes to such lengths to preserve her life isn't going to be interested in throwing it away with both hands. And then there's her family to think of.
Her mother, her sister, and all those Well, it's all on the table now. Maybe that's better. I don't do well with ambiguous threats. I'd much rather know the score. Like our home, this is a place that he has no right, but ultimately every right, to occupy. I sit in front of the desk on one of the carved, straight-backed chairs.
It's made for someone taller than I am, so only my toes rest on the ground. But he had an unfortunate sentimental streak. So here you are. Can you guess where he is? I nod because, by the way he says it, it's clear that Seneca Crane has been executed.
The smell of roses and blood has grown stronger now that only a desk separates us. There's a rose in President Snow's lapel, which at least suggests a source of the flower perfume, but it must be genetically enhanced, because no real rose reeks like that.
As for the blood I don't know. And you were pretty good, too, with the love-crazed schoolgirl bit. The people in the Capitol were quite convinced.
Unfortunately, not everyone in the districts fell for your act," he says. You have no access to information about the mood in other districts. In several of them, however, people viewed your little trick with the berries as an act of defiance, not an act of love.
And if a girl from District Twelve of all places can defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, what is to stop them from doing the same?
Then the full weight of it hits me. But they'll follow if the course of things doesn't change. And uprisings have been known to lead to revolution. How many people would die? What conditions those left would have to face? Whatever problems anyone may have with the Capitol, believe me when I say that if it released its grip on the districts for even a short time, the entire system would collapse.
As if his primary concern is the welfare of the citizens of Panem, when nothing could be further from the truth. I don't know how I dare to say the next words, but I do.
Then he simply says, "It is fragile, but not in the way that you suppose. I would like tea," says the president. The door opens wider, and there stands my mother, holding a tray with a china tea set she brought to the Seam when she married. My mother sets the tray on the desk. It holds a china teapot and cups, cream and sugar, and a plate of cookies.
They are beautifully iced with softly colored flowers. The frosting work can only be Peeta's. You know, it's funny how often people forget that presidents need to eat, too," President Snow says charmingly. Well, it seems to relax my mother a bit, anyway. I can cook something more substantial if you're hungry," she offers.
Thank you," he says, clearly dismissing her. My mother nods, shoots me a glance, and goes. President Snow pours tea for both of us and fills his with cream and sugar, then takes a long time stirring. I sense he has had his say and is waiting for me to respond. It doesn't matter. Your stylist turned out to be prophetic in his wardrobe choice.
Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem," he says.
Ill do it," I say. Your mother made these? I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer.
To cover I quickly take a cookie. How is the love of your life? How's the handsome cousin? I don't Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District Surely they haven't been tracking us in there.
Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen?
Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen. First there were the obligatory celebrations. A banquet for the victors that only the most high-ranking people were invited to. A holiday for the whole district with free food and entertainers brought in from the Capitol.
Parcel Day, the first of twelve, in which food packages were delivered to every person in the district. That was my favorite. To see all those hungry kids in the 23 P a g e Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins Seam running around, waving cans of applesauce, tins of meat, even candy.
Back home, too big to carry, would be bags of grain, cans of oil. To know that once a month for a year they would all receive another parcel. That was one of the few times I actually felt good about winning the Games. So between the ceremonies and events and the reporters documenting my every move as I presided and thanked and kissed Peeta for the audience, I had no privacy at all.
After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we've had ever since. My family settled into our house in the Victor's Village. The everyday life of District 12 — workers to the mines, kids to school — resumed its usual pace.
I waited until I thought the coast was really clear, and then one Sunday, without telling anyone, I got up hours before dawn and took off for the woods. The weather was still warm enough that I didn't need a jacket.
I packed along a bag filled with special foods, cold chicken and cheese and bakery bread and oranges. Down at my old house, I put on my hunting boots. As usual, the fence was not charged and it was simple to slip into the woods and retrieve my bow and arrows.
I went to our place, Gale's and mine, where we had shared breakfast the morning of the reaping that sent me into the Games. I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it.
Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing 24 P a g e Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset. Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me.
Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink.
We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same.
That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me.
I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale — watching him talk and laugh and frown — that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me.
I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. At least once.
Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin.
It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something.
Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale.
How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me.
Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done? From the president's point of view, I've ignored Peeta and flaunted my preference for Gale's company before the whole district. Now I've endangered Gale and his family and my family and Peeta, too, by my carelessness.
He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now. Ill be in love with him just as I was," I say. I will. Ill convince everyone in the districts that I wasn't defying the Capitol, that I was crazy with love," I say.
President Snow rises and dabs his puffy lips with a napkin. How can I aim higher? He drops the napkin and retrieves his book. I don't watch him as he heads for the door, so I flinch when he whispers in my ear. What does he do? I think. Drink it? I imagine him sipping it from a teacup. Dipping a cookie into the stuff and pulling it out dripping red.
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Outside the window, a car comes to life, soft and quiet like the purr of a cat, then fades away into the distance. It slips off as it arrived, unnoticed. The room seems to be spinning in slow, lopsided circles, and I wonder if I might black out. I lean forward and clutch the desk with one hand. The other still holds Peeta's beautiful cookie.
I think it had a tiger lily on it, but now it's been reduced to crumbs in my fist. I didn't even know I was crushing it, but I guess I had to hold on to something while my world veered out of control. A visit from President Snow.
Districts on the verge of uprisings. A direct death threat to Gale, with others to follow.
The Hunger Games "Catching Fire"
Everyone I love doomed. And who knows who else will pay for my actions? Unless I turn things around on this tour. Quiet the discontent and put the president's mind at rest.
And how? By proving to the country beyond any shadow of a doubt that I love Peeta Mellark. I'm not that good. Peeta's the good one, the likable one. He can make people believe anything. I'm the one who shuts up and sits back and lets him do as much of the talking as possible.
But it isn't Peeta who has to prove his devotion. It's me. She can't know, I think. Not about any of this. I reach my hands over the tray and quickly brush the bits of cookie from my palm and fingers. I take a shaky sip of my tea. We never see it on television, but the president always visits the victors before the tour to wish them luck," I say brightly.
My mother's face floods with relief. I thought there was some kind of trouble. How I will always have to protect her. Since I've been home I've been trying hard to mend my relationship with my mother. Asking her to do things for me instead of brushing aside any offer of help, as I did for years out of anger.
Letting her handle all the money I won. Returning her hugs instead of tolerating them. My time in the arena made me realize how I needed to stop punishing her for something she couldn't help, specifically the crushing depression she fell into after my father's death. Because sometimes things happen to people and they're not equipped to deal with them. Right now. Besides, there's one wonderful thing she did when I arrived back in the district.
After our families and friends had greeted Peeta and me at the train station, there were a few questions allowed from reporters. Someone asked my mother what she thought of my new boyfriend, and she replied that, while Peeta was the very model of what a young man should be, I wasn't old enough to have any boyfriend at all. She followed this with a pointed look at Peeta. There was a lot of laughter and comments like "Somebody's in trouble" from the press, and Peeta dropped my hand and sidestepped away from me.
That didn't last long — there was too much pressure to act otherwise — but it gave us an excuse to be a little more reserved than we'd been in the Capitol. And maybe it can help account for how little I've been seen in Peeta's company since the cameras left.
I go upstairs to the bathroom, where a steaming tub awaits. My mother has added a small bag of dried flowers that perfumes the air. None of us are used to the luxury of turning on a tap and having a limitless supply of hot water at our fingertips. We had only cold at our home in the Seam, and a bath meant boiling the rest over the fire.
I undress and lower myself into the silky water — my mother has poured in some kind of oil as well — and try to get a grip on things. The first question is who to tell, if anyone. Not my mother or Prim, obviously; they'd only become sick with worry. Not Gale. Even if I could get word to him. What would he do with the information, anyway? If he were alone, I might try to persuade him to run away.
Certainly he could survive in the woods. But he's not alone and he'd never leave his family. Or me. When I get home have to tell him something about why 30 P a g e Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins our Sundays are a thing of the past, but I can't think about that now.
Only about my next move. Besides, Gale's already so angry and frustrated with the Capitol that I sometimes think he's going to arrange his own uprising. The last thing he needs is an incentive. No, I can't tell anyone I'm leaving behind in District There are still three people I might confide in, starting with Cinna, my stylist. But my guess is Cinna might already be at risk, and I don't want to pull him into any more trouble by closer association with me. Then there's Peeta, who will be my partner in this deception, but how do I begin that conversation?
Hey, Peeta, remember how I told you I was kind of faking being in love with you? Well, I really need you to forget about that now and act extra in love with me or the president might kill Gale.
I can't do it. Besides, Peeta will perform well whether he knows what's at stake or not. That leaves Haymitch. Drunken, cranky, confrontational Haymitch, who I just poured a basin of ice water on. As my mentor in the Games it was his duty to keep me alive. I only hope he's still up for the job. I slide down into the water, letting it block out the sounds around me. I wish the tub would expand so I could go swimming, like I used to on hot summer Sundays in the woods with my father.
Those days were a special treat. We would leave early in the morning and hike farther into the woods than usual to a small lake he'd found while hunting. I don't even remember learning to swim, I was so young when he taught me. I just remember diving, turning somersaults, and paddling around.
The muddy bottom of the lake beneath my toes. The smell of blossoms and greenery. Floating on my back, as I am now, staring at the blue sky while the chatter of the woods was muted by the water.
He'd bag the 31 P a g e Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins waterfowl that nested around the shore, I'd hunt for eggs in the grasses, and we'd both dig for katniss roots, the plant for which he named me, in the shallows. At night, when we got home, my mother would pretend not to recognize me because I was so clean.
Then she'd cook up an amazing dinner of roasted duck and baked katniss tubers with gravy. I never took Gale to the lake. I could have. It's time- consuming to get there, but the waterfowl are such easy pickings you can make up for lost hunting time.
It's a place I've never really wanted to share with anyone, though, a place that belonged only to my father and me. Since the Games, when I've had little to occupy my days, I've gone there a couple of times.
The swimming was still nice, but mostly the visits depressed me. Over the course of the last five years, the lake's remarkably unchanged and I'm almost unrecognizable. Even underwater I can hear the sounds of commotion. Honking car horns, shouts of greeting, doors banging shut. It can only mean my entourage has arrived. I just have time to towel off and slip into a robe before my prep team bursts into the bathroom. There's no question of privacy.
When it comes to my body, we have no secrets, these three people and me. Her aqua hair has been styled so it sticks out in sharp points all over her head, and the gold tattoos that used to be confined above her brows have curled around under her eyes, all contributing to the impression that I've literally shocked her. Octavia comes up and pats Venia's back soothingly, her curvy body looking plumper than usual next to Venia's thin, angular one.
But what am I going to do with these nails? No, her skin isn't exactly pea green now. It's more of a light evergreen. The shift in shade is no doubt an attempt to stay abreast of the capricious fashion trends of the Capitol. It's true. I've bitten my nails to stubs in the past couple of months. I thought about trying to break the habit but couldn't think of a good reason I should.
I hadn't really been spending much time worrying about how it might affect my prep team. Flavius lifts a few strands of my wet, tangled hair. He gives his head a disapproving shake, causing his orange corkscrew curls to bounce around. I did remember that. It's more like the issue never came up. Since I've been home, all I've done is stick it in its usual old braid down my back. This seems to mollify them, and they all kiss me, set me on a chair in my bedroom, and, as usual, start talking nonstop without bothering to notice if I'm listening.
While Venia reinvents my eyebrows and Octavia gives me fake nails and Flavius massages goo into my hair, I hear all about the Capitol. What a hit the Games were, how dull things have been since, how no one can wait until Peeta and I visit again at the end of the Victory Tour. It's the best I can do. In a normal year, being a mentor to the tributes is the stuff of nightmares. I can't walk by the school now without wondering what kid have to coach. But to make things even worse, this is the year of the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games, and that means it's also a Quarter Quell.
They occur every twenty-five years, marking the anniversary of the districts' defeat with over-the-top celebrations and, for extra fun, some miserable twist for the tributes. I've never been alive for one, of course. But in school I remember hearing that for the second Quarter Quell, the Capitol demanded that twice the number of tributes be provided for the arena.
The teachers didn't go into much more detail, which is surprising, because that was the year District 12's very own Haymitch Abernathy won the crown.
Haymitch has never mentioned his personal experience in the arena to me. I would never ask.
And if I ever saw his Games televised in reruns, I must've been too young to remember it. But the Capitol won't let him forget it this year. In a way, it's a good thing Peeta and I will both be available as mentors during 34 P a g e Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins the Quell, because it's a sure bet that Haymitch will be wasted. After they've exhausted the topic of the Quarter Quell, my prep team, launches into a whole lot of stuff about their incomprehensibly silly lives.
Who said what about someone I've never heard of and what sort of shoes they just bought and a long story from Octavia about what a mistake it was to have everyone wear feathers to her birthday party. Soon my brows are stinging, my hair's smooth and silky, and my nails are ready to be painted. Apparently they've been given instruction to prepare only my hands and face, probably because everything else will be covered in the cold weather.
Flavius badly wants to use his own trademark purple lipstick on me but resigns himself to a pink as they begin to color my face and nails. I can see by the palette Cinna has assigned that we're going for girlish, not sexy. I'll never convince anyone of anything if I'm trying to be provocative. Haymitch made that very clear when he was coaching me for my interview for the Games.
My mother comes in, somewhat shyly, and says that Cinna has asked her to show the preps how she did my hair the day of the reaping. They respond with enthusiasm and then watch, thoroughly engrossed, as she breaks down the process of the elaborate braided hairdo. In the mirror, I can see their earnest faces following her every move, their eagerness when it is their turn to try a step. In fact, all three are so readily respectful and nice to my mother that I feel bad about how I go around feeling so superior to them.
Who knows who I would be or what I would talk about if I'd been raised in the Capitol? Maybe my 35 P a g e Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins biggest regret would be having feathered costumes at my birthday party, too.
When my hair is done, I find Cinna downstairs in the living room, and just the sight of him makes me feel more hopeful. He looks the same as always, simple clothes, short brown hair, just a hint of gold eyeliner.
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You can comment, mail or contact us and tell the problem regarding your download. Thanks for being with us. The next day, Peeta turns into a taskmaster and pushes them all to start prepping for the Quarter Quell. They work out to get into shape and strategize as much as they can. Then the Games arrive.
Katniss and Peeta are sent off straightaway. Both are glum. They have some time together as they travel to the Capitol for pre-Games events, and they use that time to strategize further. They study previous Games and how other tributes won. In the Capitol, Katniss' prep team, including her stylist Cinna, pretty her up.
She and Peeta head to the opening ceremonies of the Games dressed like smoldering coals. They are a huge hit. They also meet some of their opponents, like the handsome and dangerous Finnick and the off-kilter Johanna.
Then Katniss and Peeta have a bit of time to train for the Games. Haymitch wants them to select allies, but they're not really into it. They evaluate the other players, but Katniss really just wants to be alone with Peeta. On the last day of training, they have to face the Gamemakers alone and show off their skills. Both Katniss and Peeta do foolish and brave things.
Peeta paints a picture of Rue after she died in the last Games, while Katniss hangs a stuffed figure and names it after the previous Head Gamemaker. They both score the highest "danger" rating in the evaluation. Peeta and Katniss get closer and closer. Then it's time for the last public event before the Games: interviews. At the televised interviews, each of the tributes takes a dig at the Capitol when it's his or her turn to talk.
Katniss makes quite a sensation with her costume: she's wearing a wedding dress that transforms into a feathery mockingjay outfit. Her designer, Cinna, put himself in great danger by creating it.
Then Peeta goes even further by telling the audience that he and Katniss are already married and that Katniss is pregnant. This really pulls the audience's heartstrings and fuels further unrest throughout Panem. It's not enough to get our favorite "couple" out of the Quarter Quell, though.
They have a day or so of relative peace and then have to head to the arena. Haymitch wishes them luck and tells Katniss to remember who their real opponent is. Then Katniss and Peeta separate. Cinna goes with her as she is readied, finally, for the arena.
As Katniss is being transported to the Games, she has to watch helplessly as Cinna is viciously beaten. President Snow definitely didn't like the outfit Cinna made for Katniss on interview night. Katniss is dumped into the arena in an area surrounded by water. When she's free to move she swims desperately to the supply center, racing the other tributes to get her hands on a weapon. Luckily, she finds a bow and arrows waiting for her.
She has an encounter with Finnick from District 4 , who's also armed, and the two of them work together to save their friends, Peeta and Mags. The other tributes disperse, and our friends from 12 and 4 head out into the jungle.
Catching Fire.pdf - CATCHING FIRE The Hunger Games Book
The first challenge is finding freshwater, which they have to tap from the trees. Katniss realizes that the whole arena is bound by a force field, info that will come in handy later. Next up is evading a poison gas. They don't all make it out in time, and Mags sacrifices herself so the other three can continue.
They are all affected by the gas and collapse when they get back to what they think is the safety of their original position on the beach. Once there, though, they're attacked by vicious monkeys.You have no access to information about the mood in otherdistricts.
In the course of the story, Katniss senses that a revolt against the oppressive. Something furry covers my ears. It's more than experience.
I just remember diving, turning somersaults, and paddling around. Blow my lips up like President Snow's?