Sunrise on the Reaping Book PDF Free

“That’s a great comfort to me. Thank you.” He wipes his glasses and settles them firmly back in place. “So, do you know how to use explosives?” Oddly enough, I do a bit. We have classes in coal produc-tion. Dull as dust usually. But since we’re the future miners of Panem, they do show us…

“Egghead’s not so bad.” “It’s not a compliment. Anyway, I couldn’t get anywhere with them. They’re not big talkers.” Like my pa, I think. He was plenty smart, just didn’t feel the need to share every thought that traipsed through his brain. Nor did he much trust people who did. A lot of the miners…

“They’re peaceful.” “If they are, they’re outliers. All the birds I’ve encountered are vicious.” A dribble of bloody spittle leaks from Snow’s mouth. “Bet I know a thing or two about your dove.” “Like what?” “Like she’s delightful to look at, swishes around in bright colors, and sings like a mockingjay. You love her. And…

“Louella McCoy,” says Snow. “Ah, my bread.” He takes a big bite of a roll and grunts in approval. “Fresh. I think we’re done here, if you’d like to return our tributes to their accommodations. Louella, this is Plutarch.” “Hello, Plutarch.” “Hello.” He can’t stop staring at her. “She’s a good body double. We were…

Mags returns, troubled. “I put her to bed. There’s some sort of device attached to her chest, pumping a drug into her, I think. I was afraid to remove it. That might kill her. I’ve seen something similar before.” “Why did you ask if she was from Eleven?” says Maysilee. “The roll she chose. With…

And someone’s definitely rapping at my chamber door. Gently. I hear the turn of the knob, the brush of the wood against carpet. A figure comes around the door, holding something that emanates a thin beam of light. It’s a pair of boiled potatoes, connected to a pea-sized bulb. Beetee raises a finger to his…

“Ampert, this is your show,” I say. “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve got in mind?” I like how even though he’s only twelve, he jumps right in. “It’s like this. A disproportionate amount of the time, the Careers win. But they’re only one quarter of the tributes. We’ve got three times their numbers….

It’s Maysilee who surprises me. Back home, she isn’t popular, she’s known. She’s not respected, she’s feared. Not deferred to, but avoided. Here, following Ampert’s lead, kids bring her their district trinkets and ask her to make them special, and she agrees. The girl must know fifty ways to braid, twist, and loop a cord…

“It’s called nepenthe,” says Plutarch. “You probably haven’t heard of it.” You’d be wrong there, Plutarch. Not only have I heard of it, I know it from the poem that gave my love her name. I’m tired of being patronized, so I decide to put him in his place. “You mean, like ‘Quaff, oh quaff…

Here’s to you, Louella. I tip open the eagle lid, down the milk, and wipe the moustache from my lip. Then I close the door, holding out the pitcher helplessly. “It’s empty.” Plutarch’s eyes widen in disbelief; he knows full well what I’ve done. I wait for him to rat me out. Instead, he murmurs…