I have been keeping track of the boy with the bread.
Tomorrow's a hunting day," I say. "I won't be much of a help with that," Peeta says. "I've never hunted before." "I'll kill and you cook," I say. "And you can always gather." "I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," says Peeta.
Katniss. I remember about the bread.
I don't know what it is with Finnick and bread, but he seems obsessed with handling it.
The heat of the bread burned into my skin, but I clutched it tighter, clinging to life.
To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.