Finnick can't hide his reaction to that, brief hitch in his breath as his blood runs cold. He's seen too many a Cornucopia in his life, both up close and on a screen, as a spectator. To anyone here, it may seem perfectly innocuous. To a Capitol citizen it is a herald of imminent delight and excitement.

To Finnick and every other participant of the games, it's nothing less than a symbol of death.

Swallowing tightly, Finnick finally manages a quick, clear nod. "Good," he says, having to work a little to keep his voice even. "It doesn't belong here."

Or anywhere else as far as he's concerned. But that goes without saying.