第66章

  “leave the district. run off. live in the woods. you and i, we
  could make it.”
  and suddenly, i’m not thinking of gale but of peeta and . . .
  peeta! he saved my life! i think. because by the time we met
  up, i couldn’t tell what was real and what the tracker jacker
  195
  venom had caused me to imagine. but if he did, and my in-
  stincts tell me he did, what for? is he simply working the lov-
  er boy angle he initiated at the interview? or was he actually
  trying to protect me? and if he was, what was he doing with
  those careers in the first place? none of it makes sense.
  i wonder what gale made of the incident for a moment and
  then i push the whole thing out of my mind because for some
  reason gale and peeta do not coexist well together in my
  thoughts.
  so i focus on the one really good thing that’s happened
  since i landed in the arena. i have a bow and arrows! a full
  dozen arrows if you count the one i retrieved in the tree. they
  bear no trace of the noxious green slime that came from
  glimmer’s body — which leads me to believe that might not
  have been wholly real — but they have a fair amount of dried
  blood on them. i can clean them later, but i do take a minute to
  shoot a few into a nearby tree. they are more like the wea-
  pons in the training center than my ones at home, but who
  cares? that i can work with.
  the weapons give me an entirely new perspective on the
  games. i know i have tough opponents left to face. but i am no
  longer merely prey that runs and hides or takes desperate
  measures. if cato broke through the trees right now, i
  wouldn’t flee, i’d shoot. i find i’m actually anticipating the
  moment with pleasure.
  but first, i have to get some strength back in my body. i’m
  very dehydrated again and my water supply is dangerously
  low. the little padding i was able to put on by gorging myself
  196
  during prep time in the capitol is gone, plus several more
  pounds as well. my hip bones and ribs are more prominent
  than i remember them being since those awful months after
  my father’s death. and then there are my wounds to contend
  with — burns, cuts, and bruises from smashing into the trees,
  and three tracker jacker stings, which are as sore and swollen
  as ever. i treat my burns with the ointment and try dabbing a
  bit on my stings as well, but it has no effect on them. my
  mother knew a treatment for them, some type of leaf that
  could draw out the poison, but she seldom had cause to use it,
  and i don’t even remember its name let alone its appearance.
  water first, i think. you can hunt along the way now. it’s
  easy to see the direction i came from by the path of destruc-
  tion my crazed body made through the foliage. so i walk off in
  the other direction, hoping my enemies still lie locked in the
  surreal world of tracker jacker venom.
  i can’t move too quickly, my joints reject any abrupt mo-
  tions. but i establish the slow hunter’s tread i use when track-
  ing game. within a few minutes, i spot a rabbit and make my
  first kill with the bow and arrow. it’s not my usual clean shot
  through the eye, but i’ll take it. after about an hour, i find a
  stream, shallow but wide, and more than sufficient for my
  needs. the sun’s hot and severe, so while i wait for my water
  to purify i strip down to my underclothes and wade into the
  mild current. i’m filthy from head to toe, i try splashing myself
  but eventually just lay down in the water for a few minutes,
  letting it wash off the soot and blood and skin that has started
  to peel off my burns. after rinsing out my clothes and hanging
  197
  them on bushes to dry, i sit on the bank in the sun for a bit,
  untangling my hair with my fingers. my appetite returns and i
  eat a cracker and a strip of beef. with a handful of moss, i
  polish the blood from my silver weapons.
  refreshed, i treat my burns again, braid back my hair, and
  dress in the damp clothes, knowing the sun will dry them soon
  enough. following the stream against its current seems the
  smartest course of action. i’m traveling uphill now, which i
  prefer, with a source of fresh water not only for myself but
  possible game. i easily take out a strange bird that must be
  some form of wild turkey. anyway, it looks plenty edible to
  me. by late afternoon, i decide to build a small fire to cook the
  meat, betting that dusk will help conceal the smoke and i can
  quench the fire by nightfall. i clean the game, taking extra care
  with the bird, but there’s nothing alarming about it. once the
  feathers are plucked, it’s no bigger than a chicken, but it’s
  plump and firm. i’ve just placed the first lot over the coals
  when i hear the twig snap.
  in one motion, i turn to the sound, bringing the bow and ar-
  row to my shoulder. there’s no one there. no one i can see
  anyway. then i spot the tip of a child’s boot just peeking out
  from behind the trunk of a tree. my shoulders relax and i grin.
  she can move through the woods like a shadow, you have to
  give her that. how else could she have followed me?