Peeta could hear that Santana was talking to him, of course, but the exact specifics of what she was saying were lost on him. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying the man who was beckoning for them to walk closer with one of his hands.
"No," he said, unsure if he was answering Santana's statement or protesting his fate as it became clearer to him that he couldn't bring his gaze away from the man's ghostly, blurred face. Peeta tried to reach into his pocket for his knife, but his hands felt clammy and ice-cold, stubborn and unwilling to obey his bidding.
The man's arms began to stretch, and then his torso. Peeta watched in odd fascination as, without stepping any closer, he was swept up by the creature. He swallowed hard, still fumbling for his knife, but one of its fingers -- now at least three feet long -- knocked it out of his hand. And then, as the thing carried him closer towards its face, it became very hard for Peeta to see or remember anything else.