第58章

  back to the lake? to a whole new
  terrain filled with new dangers? i had just found a few hours
  of peace at the pond when this attack began. would there be
  any way i could travel parallel to the fire and work my way
  back there, to a source of water at least? the wall of fire must
  have an end and it won’t burn indefinitely. not because the
  gamemakers couldn’t keep it fueled but because, again, that
  would invite accusations of boredom from the audience. if i
  could get back behind the fire line, i could avoid meeting up
  with the careers. i’ve just decided to try and loop back
  around, although it will require miles of travel away from the
  inferno and then a very circuitous route back, when the first
  fireball blasts into the rock about two feet from my head. i
  spring out from under my ledge, energized by renewed fear.
  the game has taken a twist. the fire was just to get us mov-
  ing, now the audience will get to see some real fun. when i
  hear the next hiss, i flatten on the ground, not taking time to
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  look. the fireball hits a tree off to my left, engulfing it in
  flames. to remain still is death. i’m barely on my feet before
  the third ball hits the ground where i was lying, sending a pil-
  lar of fire up behind me. time loses meaning now as i franti-
  cally try to dodge the attacks. i can’t see where they’re being
  launched from, but it’s not a hovercraft. the angles are not ex-
  treme enough. probably this whole segment of the woods has
  been armed with precision launchers that are concealed in
  trees or rocks. somewhere, in a cool and spotless room, a ga-
  memaker sits at a set of controls, fingers on the triggers that
  could end my life in a second. all that is needed is a direct hit.
  whatever vague plan i had conceived regarding returning
  to my pond is wiped from my mind as i zigzag and dive and
  leap to avoid the fireballs. each one is only the size of an ap-
  ple, but packs tremendous power on contact. every sense i
  have goes into overdrive as the need to survive takes over.
  there’s no time to judge if a move is the correct one. when
  there’s a hiss, i act or die.
  something keeps me moving forward, though. a lifetime of
  watching the hunger games lets me know that certain areas
  of the arena are rigged for certain attacks. and that if i can just
  get away from this section, i might be able to move out of
  reach of the launchers. i might also then fall straight into a pit
  of vipers, but i can’t worry about that now.
  how long i scramble along dodging the fireballs i can’t say,
  but the attacks finally begin to abate. which is good, because
  i’m retching again. this time it’s an acidic substance that
  scalds my throat and makes its way into my nose as well. i’m
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  forced to stop as my body convulses, trying desperately to rid
  itself of the poisons i’ve been sucking in during the attack. i
  wait for the next hiss, the next signal to bolt. it doesn’t come.
  the force of the retching has squeezed tears out of my sting-
  ing eyes. my clothes are drenched in sweat. somehow,
  through the smoke and vomit, i pick up the scent of singed
  hair. my hand fumbles to my braid and finds a fireball has
  seared off at least six inches of it. strands of blackened hair
  crumble in my fingers. i stare at them, fascinated by the trans-
  formation, when the hissing registers.
  my muscles react, only not fast enough this time. the fire-
  ball crashes into the ground at my side, but not before it skids
  across my right calf. seeing my pants leg on fire sends me over
  the edge. i twist and scuttle backward on my hands and feet,
  shrieking, trying to remove myself from the horror. when i fi-
  nally regain enough sense, i roll the leg back and forth on the
  ground, which stifles the worst of it. but then, without think-
  ing, i rip away the remaining fabric with my bare hands.
  i sit on the ground, a few yards from the blaze set off by the
  fireball. my calf is screaming, my hands covered in red welts.
  i’m shaking too hard to move. if the gamemakers want to
  finish me off, now is the time.
  i hear cinna’s voice, carrying images of rich fabric and
  sparkling gems. “katniss, the girl who was on fire.” what a
  good laugh the gamemakers must be having over that one.
  perhaps, cinna’s beautiful costumes have even brought on this
  particular torture for me. i know he couldn’t have foreseen
  this, must be hurting for me because, in fact, i believe he cares
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  about me. but all in all, maybe showing up stark naked in that
  chariot would have been safer for me.
  the attack is now over. the gamemakers don’t want me
  dead. not yet anyway. everyone knows they could destroy us
  all within seconds of the opening gong. the real sport of the
  hunger games is watching the tributes kill one another. every
  so often, they do kill a tribute just to remind the players they
  can. but mostly, they manipulate us into confronting one
  another face-to-face. which means, if i am no longer being
  fired at, there is at least one other tribute close at hand.
  i would drag myself into a tree and take cover now if i
  could, but the smoke is still thick enough to kill me. i make
  myself stand and begin to limp away from the wall of flames
  that lights up the sky. it does not seem to be pursuing me any
  longer, except with its stinking black clouds.
  another light, daylight, begins to softly emerge. swirls of
  smoke catch the sunbeams. my visibility is poor. i can see
  maybe fifteen yards in any direction. a tribute could easily be
  concealed from me here. i should draw my knife as a precau-
  tion, but i doubt my ability to hold it for long. the pain in my
  hands can in no way compete with that in my calf. i hate
  burns, have always hated them, even a small one gotten from
  pulling a pan of bread from the oven. it is the worst kind of
  pain to me, but i have never experienced anything like this.
  i’m so weary i don’t even notice i’m in the pool until i’m
  ankle-deep. it’s spring-fed, bubbling up out of a crevice in
  some rocks, and blissfully cool. i plunge my hands into the
  shallow water and feel instant relief. isn’t that what my moth-
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  er always says?

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