“Prim!” I cry out. “Prim!” Only another agonized scream answers me. How did she get here? Why is she part of the Games? (..) Her next wail rings out, clear as a bell, and there’s no mistaking the source. It’s coming from the mouth of a small, crested black bird perched on a branch about ten feet over my head. And then I understand. It’s a jabberjay.