"I know." It's said quietly. Probably she didn't need to say anything, either. But she does know. She knows that creeping tension of ignorance, how it can constrict your chest and your mind. They don't have enough data.

They always had enough in Panem.

Carefully, casually, Annie swings her boot to gently tap his shoulder. Just enough to get his attention without startling him like a wary cat out of the tree.

"Should we ask? The, um. The other ones. Like us."

The other strangers.