slam it to the left, shake it to the right

It’s Peeta I’m thinking about. I spot him now, still stranded on his metal plate. I take off and Finnick follows without question, as if knowing this will be my next move. When I’m as close as I can get, I start removing knives from my belt, preparing to swim out to reach him and somehow bring him in. Finnick drops a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get him.” “Cover me,” he says. He disappears with a flawless dive. I raise my bow, warding off any attackers from the Cornucopia, but no one seems interested in pursuing us.

(Source: theoldswingsetoftears)