One minute, he was on his way from the woods where he'd been picking blackberries. Then something very large, covered in fur and clawed and fanged, made its way into his field of vision, and he was suddenly in the arena with Cato's arm around his throat and warm blood spilling all over--his--Cato's--he couldn't tell, and the mutts were howling and their eyes were deep and too, too familiar and--

His basket fell and the berries tumbled onto the ground. Peeta sank to his knees, eyes unseeing. His fists clenched in the green silk he wore and his chest went so tight it hurt to breathe.