第70章

  i can’t help thinking of peeta.
  “i don’t know. it could have been any of the others,” says
  rue. “i guess we’ll know tonight.”
  “who’s left again?” i ask.
  “the boy from district one. both tributes from two. the
  boy from three. thresh and me. and you and peeta,” says rue.
  “that’s eight. wait, and the boy from ten, the one with the bad
  leg. he makes nine.”
  there’s someone else, but neither of us can remember who
  it is.
  “i wonder how that last one died,” says rue.
  “no telling. but it’s good for us. a death should hold the
  crowd for a bit. maybe we’ll have time to do something before
  the gamemakers decide things have been moving too slowly,”
  i say. “what’s in your hands?”
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  “breakfast,” says rue. she holds them out revealing two big
  eggs.
  “what kind are those?” i ask.
  “not sure. there’s a marshy area over that way. some kind
  of waterbird,” she says.
  it’d be nice to cook them, but neither of us wants to risk a
  fire. my guess is the tribute who died today was a victim of the
  careers, which means they’ve recovered enough to be back in
  the games. we each suck out the insides of an egg, eat a rabbit
  leg and some berries. it’s a good breakfast anywhere.
  “ready to do it?” i say, pulling on my pack.
  “do what?” says rue, but by the way she bounces up, you
  can tell she’s up for whatever i propose.
  “today we take out the careers’ food,” i say.
  “really? how?” you can see the glint of excitement in her
  eyes. in this way, she’s exactly the opposite of prim for whom
  adventures are an ordeal.
  “no idea. come on, we’ll figure out a plan while we hunt,” i
  say.
  we don’t get much hunting done though because i’m too
  busy getting every scrap of information i can out of rue about
  the careers’ base. she’s only been in to spy on them briefly,
  but she’s observant. they have set up their camp beside the
  lake. their supply stash is about thirty yards away. during the
  day, they’ve been leaving another tribute, the boy from dis-
  trict 3, to watch over the supplies.
  “the boy from district three?” i ask. “he’s working with
  them?”
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  “yes, he stays at the camp full-time. he got stung, too, when
  they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake,” says rue. “i
  guess they agreed to let him live if he acted as their guard. but
  he’s not very big.”
  “what weapons does he have?” i ask.
  “not much that i could see. a spear. he might be able to
  hold a few of us off with that, but thresh could kill him easily,”
  says rue.
  “and the food’s just out in the open?” i say. she nods.
  “something’s not quite right about that whole setup.”
  “i know. but i couldn’t tell what exactly,” says rue. “katniss,
  even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?”
  “burn it. dump it in the lake. soak it in fuel.” i poke rue in
  the belly, just like i would prim. “eat it!” she giggles. “don’t
  worry, i’ll think of something. destroying things is much easi-
  er than making them.”
  for a while, we dig roots, we gather berries and greens, we
  devise a strategy in hushed voices. and i come to know rue,
  the oldest of six kids, fiercely protective of her siblings, who
  gives her rations to the younger ones, who forages in the
  meadows in a district where the peacekeepers are far less ob-
  liging than ours. rue, who when you ask her what she loves
  most in the world, replies, of all things, “music.”
  “music?” i say. in our world, i rank music somewhere be-
  tween hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness. at
  least a rainbow gives you a tip about the weather. “you have a
  lot of time for that?”