His shirt smells like familiar things, even here. Pine and leather from the strap of a hunting bag or quiver. Yet instead of being a comfort like it normally might, it only serves to remind her of the woods behind 12. Still Katniss buries her face into the rough cotton, probably soaking through the fabric and onto Gale's skin.

"Well, you can't," it's cold, but it's also the truth. She'd killed President Coin, and more importantly, Katniss doesn't regret it at all. Whatever might happen to her because of it, she would regret only that she wasn't quick enough to take the pill before Peeta stopped her.