“Nine bodies,” Gale says. “Each squad has eight members, plus a commander. And 233 had Messalla and Castor. That means we’re missing two bodies.” “Or two people are still alive,” I say, wiping my mouth. Two people out of eleven. Not great odds, but since when have Peeta and I ever followed the statistics? I scan the bodies up and down, trying to look for signs of him, if any of them could be— “Katniss,” Gale says and I hate his tone. Empty and straight-forward. Over on the furthest side of the courtyard, Gale stands over one of the bodies. “Katniss, I’m so sorry.” “What? What is it?” I ask.  “This one,” Gale says, pointing to the body in front of him. “He doesn’t have a leg.”