martes, 11 de marzo de 2014


Un trabajito convertir a todos los formatos! Pero bueno, para que nadie tenga que tomarse tal trabajo facilitemos las cosas.

domingo, 9 de marzo de 2014


A chill runs through me. Am I really that cold and calculating? Gale didn't say, "Katniss will pick whoever it
will break her heart to give up," or even "whoever she can't live without." Those would have implied I was
motivated by a kind of passion. But my best friend predicts I will choose the person who I think I "can't survive
without." There's not the least indication that love, or desire, or even compatibility will sway me. I'll just conduct an
unfeeling assessment of what my potential mates can offer me. As if in the end, it will be the question of whether
a baker or a hunter will extend my longevity the most. It's a horrible thing for Gale to say, for Peeta not to refute.
Especially when every emotion I have has been taken and exploited by the Capitol or the rebels. At the moment,
the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.
In the morning, I have no time or energy to nurse wounded feelings. During a predawn breakfast of liver
pate and fig cookies, we gather around Tigris's television for one of Beetee's break-ins. There's been a new
development in the war. Apparently inspired by the black wave, some enterprising rebel commander came up
with the idea of confiscating people's abandoned automobiles and sending them unmanned down the streets.
The cars don't trigger every pod, but they certainly get the majority. At around four in the morning, the rebels
began carving three separate paths--simply referred to as the A, B, and C lines--to the Capitol's heart. As a
result, they've secured block after block with very few casualties.
"This can't last," says Gale. "In fact I'm surprised they've kept it going so long. The Capitol will adjust by
deactivating specific pods and then manually triggering them when their targets come in range." Almost within
minutes of his prediction, we see this very thing happen on-screen. A squad sends a car down a block, setting
off four pods. All seems well. Three scouts follow and make it safely to the end of the street. But when a group of
twenty rebel soldiers follow them, they're blown to bits by a row of potted rosebushes in front of a flower shop.
"I bet it's killing Plutarch not to be in the control room on this one," says Peeta.
Beetee gives the broadcast back to the Capitol, where a grim-faced reporter announces the blocks that
civilians are to evacuate. Between her update and the previous story, I am able to mark my paper map to show
the relative positions of the opposing armies.