"I wasn't here for Halloween," Harry pointed out. But he knew what she was talking about well enough. The strange things the island did, seemingly without reason. That sort of magic that was used to terrify and harm. Harry disliked it immediately on principle, but more so because it left Harry in this very awkward position, standing on the charred remains of Katniss' life, watching her cry.

How could this not be a nightmare?

He stepped forward uncertainly, not nearly moved enough to reach out and comfort her, knowing also that his hand would probably be slapped away. But he moved for something to do, something that might help. "Can we get out of here?" he asked. "Is there anywhere less..."

He remembered standing in front of his parents' home, his childhood home, and for a while it had felt cathartic. But to see it in shambles would have driven him away before long.