CATCHING FIRE. The Hunger Games Book 2 . abandoned quality with no fire on the hearth, no cloth on the table. I mourn my old life here. We barely scraped. Catching fire (The Second Book of the Hunger Games). Home · Catching fire ( The Second Book of the Hunger Hunger Games 2 Catching Fire · Read more. Collins, Suzanne. Catching fire / Suzanne Collins. — 1st ed. p. cm. — (The Hunger Games trilogy ; bk. 2). Summary: By winning the annual Hunger Games, .
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Sign in. Main menu. file:///D|/dl/Suzanne%20Collins% Catching fire pdf .. It has an abandoned quality withno fire on the hearth, no cloth on the table. I mourn. Read book Catching Fire |Hunger Games|2 DOWNLOAD EBOOK PDF KINDLE Click button below to download or read this book. Description.
Catching Fire , the second novel in the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins, takes off six months after the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen , and Peeta Mellark, have resumed life back in District The Hunger Games is a competition in which each of the twelve districts sends a female and a male tribute to a fight to the death in a televised event for food and money.
The novel has also been adapted into a film directed by Francis Lawrence; a partial cast list is shown above. We rejoin the protagonists, Katniss, and Peeta, in District 12 now living across the road from each other. On the day they are meant to begin their tour of Panem, President Snow visits Katniss and warns her that her actions in the previous Hunger Games are causing unrest in the districts.
He also says that she needs to convince the country that she truly loves Peeta and that her prior acts were not meant to be rebellious towards the Capitol. If she fails to do so, he promises her that he will destroy District 12 just as he has done with District During the tour of the districts, Katniss often witnesses acts of rebellion by the people and forceful counter-measures by the Peacekeepers to subdue them. During this time, we see Katniss growing angrier with the Capitol and the President as she begins to understand the gravity of the situation.
I can't fight the sun. I can only watch helplessly as it drags me into a day that I've been dreading for months.
By noon they will all be at my new house in the Victor's Village. The reporters, the camera crews, even Effie Trinket, my old escort, will have made their way to District 12 from the Capitol. I wonder if Effie will still be wearing that silly pink wig, or if she'll be sporting some other unnatural color especially for the Victory Tour.
There will be others waiting, too. A staff to cater to my every need on the long train trip. A prep team to beautify me for public appearances. My stylist and friend, Cinna, who designed the gorgeous outfits that first made the audience take notice of me in the Hunger Games.
By the time I make it back to the fence that surrounds District 12, the sun is well up. As always, I listen a moment, but there's no telltale hum of electrical current running through the chain link.
There hardly ever is, even though the thing is supposed to be charged full-time. I wriggle through the opening at the bottom of the fence and come up in the Meadow, just a stone's throw from my home.
My old home. We still get to keep it since officially it's the designated dwelling of my mother and sister. If I should drop dead right now, they would have to return to it. But at present, they're both happily installed in the new house in the Victor's Village, and I'm the only one who uses the squat little place where I was raised.
To me, it's my real home. I go there now to switch my clothes. Exchange my father's old leather jacket for a fine wool coat that always seems too tight in the shoulders.
Leave my soft, worn hunting boots for a pair of expensive machine-made shoes that my mother thinks are more appropriate for someone of my status. I've already stowed my bow and arrows in a hollow log in the woods. Although time is ticking away, I allow myself a few minutes to sit in the kitchen. It has an abandoned quality with no fire on the hearth, no cloth on the table.
I mourn my old life here. We barely scraped by, but I knew where I fit in, I knew what my place was in the tightly interwoven fabric that was our life.
I wish I could go back to it because, in retrospect, it seems so secure compared with now, when I am so rich and so famous and so hated by the authorities in the Capitol. A wailing at the back door demands my attention. I open it to find Buttercup, Prim's scruffy old tomcat. He dislikes the new house almost as much as I do and always leaves it when my sister's at school. We've never been particularly fond of each other, but now we have this new bond.
I let him in, feed him a chunk of beaver fat, and even rub him between the ears for a bit. Buttercup nudges my hand for more petting, but we have to go. The cat springs free and disappears under a bush. The shoes pinch my toes as I crunch along the cinder street. Cutting down alleys and through backyards gets me to Gale's house in minutes. His mother, Hazelle, sees me through the window, where she's bent over the kitchen sink.
She dries her hands on her apron and disappears to meet me at the door. I like Hazelle. Respect her. The explosion that killed my father took out her husband as well, leaving her with three boys and a baby due any day. Less than a week after she gave birth, she was out hunting the streets for work. The mines weren't an option, what with a baby to look after, but she managed to get laundry from some of the merchants in town.
At fourteen, Gale, the eldest of the kids, became the main supporter of the family.
He was already signed up for tesserae, which entitled them to a meager supply of grain and oil in exchange for his entering his name extra times in the drawing to become a tribute. On top of that, even back then, he was a skilled trapper. But it wasn't enough to keep a family of five without Hazelle working her fingers to the bone on that washboard. In winter her hands got so red and cracked, they bled at the slightest provocation. Still would if it wasn't for a salve my mother concocted.
But they are determined, Hazelle and Gale, that the other boys, twelve- year-old Rory and ten-year-old Vick, and the baby, four-year-old Posy, will never have to sign up for tesserae.
Hazelle smiles when she sees the game. She takes the beaver by the tail, feeling its weight. It's comforting here with Hazelle. Weighing the merits of the game, just as we always have.
She pours me a mug of herb tea, which I wrap my chilled fingers around gratefully. After school. Teach him to shoot. Gale means to, but he's only got his Sundays, and I think he likes saving those for you.
It's stupid, of course. Hardly anybody knows me better than Hazelle.