"I know," Sansa says, quiet and meek. Truth be told, it stings to be told that so harshly. She does know it's true - and, for that matter, she knows she isn't going to win - but it would be nice for Katniss to at least try to soften the blow. She won't let it make her impolite, but her discomfort shows through in the way she withdraws into herself, almost without noticing.

She worries at her lip for a moment, eyes downcast, then looks back up at Katniss from under her lashes. She's a pretty girl, and she looks older than she is, but there's an undeniable fragility to how she looks. She isn't just younger than Katniss was; she's a fundamentally gentle person, sheltered by her family's relative wealth, with none of the hardness that's needed. This is going to take a lot of work.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks at last, keeping her voice as steady as she can.