第86章

  he asks.
  “no. shut up and eat your pears,” i say.
  after three applications and what seems like a bucket of
  pus, the wound does look better. now that the swelling has
  gone down, i can see how deep cato’s sword cut. right down
  to the bone.
  “what next, dr. everdeen?” he asks.
  “maybe i’ll put some of the burn ointment on it. i think it
  helps with infection anyway. and wrap it up?” i say. i do and
  the whole thing seems a lot more manageable, covered in
  clean white cotton. although, against the sterile bandage, the
  hem of his undershorts looks filthy and teeming with conta-
  gion. i pull out rue’s backpack. “here, cover yourself with this
  and i’ll wash your shorts.”
  “oh, i don’t care if you see me,” says peeta.
  “you’re just like the rest of my family,” i say. “i care, all
  right?” i turn my back and look at the stream until the under-
  shorts splash into the current. he must be feeling a bit better
  if he can throw.
  “you know, you’re kind of squeamish for such a lethal per-
  son,” says peeta as i beat the shorts clean between two rocks.
  “i wish i’d let you give haymitch a shower after all.”
  i wrinkle my nose at the memory. “what’s he sent you so
  far?”
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  “not a thing,” says peeta. then there’s a pause as it hits him.
  “why, did you get something?”
  “burn medicine,” i say almost sheepishly. “oh, and some
  bread.”
  “i always knew you were his favorite,” says peeta.
  “please, he can’t stand being in the same room with me,” i
  say.
  “because you’re just alike,” mutters peeta. i ignore it
  though because this really isn’t the time for me to be insulting
  haymitch, which is my first impulse.
  i let peeta doze off while his clothes dry out, but by late af-
  ternoon, i don’t dare wait any longer. i gently shake his shoul-
  der. “peeta, we’ve got to go now.”
  “go?” he seems confused. “go where?”
  “away from here. downstream maybe. somewhere we can
  hide you until you’re stronger,” i say. i help him dress, leaving
  his feet bare so we can walk in the water, and pull him
  upright. his face drains of color the moment he puts weight on
  his leg. “come on. you can do this.”
  but he can’t. not for long anyway. we make it about fifty
  yards downstream, with him propped up by my shoulder, and
  i can tell he’s going to black out. i sit him on the bank, push his
  head between his knees, and pat his back awkwardly as i sur-
  vey the area. of course, i’d love to get him up in a tree, but
  that’s not going to happen. it could be worse though. some of
  the rocks form small cavelike structures. i set my sights on
  one about twenty yards above the stream. when peeta’s able
  to stand, i half-guide, half-carry him up to the cave. really, i’d
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  like to look around for a better place, but this one will have to
  do because my ally is shot. paper white, panting, and, even
  though it’s only just cooling off, he’s shivering.
  i cover the floor of the cave with a layer of pine needles,
  unroll my sleeping bag, and tuck him into it. i get a couple of
  pills and some water into him when he’s not noticing, but he
  refuses to eat even the fruit. then he just lies there, his eyes
  trained on my face as i build a sort of blind out of vines to
  conceal the mouth of the cave. the result is unsatisfactory. an
  animal might not question it, but a human would see hands
  had manufactured it quickly enough. i tear it down in frustra-
  tion.
  “katniss,” he says. i go over to him and brush the hair back
  from his eyes. “thanks for finding me.”
  “you would have found me if you could,” i say. his fore-
  head’s burning up. like the medicine’s having no effect at all.
  suddenly, out of nowhere, i’m scared he’s going to die.
  “yes. look, if i don’t make it back —” he begins.
  “don’t talk like that. i didn’t drain all that pus for nothing,” i
  say.
  “i know. but just in case i don’t —” he tries to continue.
  “no, peeta, i don’t even want to discuss it,” i say, placing my
  fingers on his lips to quiet him.
  “but i —” he insists.
  impulsively, i lean forward and kiss him, stopping his
  words. this is probably overdue anyway since he’s right, we
  are supposed to be madly in love. it’s the first time i’ve ever
  kissed a boy, which should make some sort of impression i
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  guess, but all i can register is how unnaturally hot his lips are
  from the fever. i break away and pull the edge of the sleeping
  bag up around him. “you’re not going to die. i forbid it. all
  right?”