第89章

  i doubt it. gifts go
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  up in price the longer the games continue. what buys a full
  meal on day one buys a cracker on day twelve. and the kind of
  medicine peeta needs would have been at a premium from the
  beginning.
  “well, there’s more swelling, but the pus is gone,” i say in
  an unsteady voice.
  “i know what blood poisoning is, katniss,” says peeta.
  “even if my mother isn’t a healer.”
  “you’re just going to have to outlast the others, peeta.
  they’ll cure it back at the capitol when we win,” i say.
  “yes, that’s a good plan,” he says. but i feel this is mostly for
  my benefit.
  “you have to eat. keep your strength up. i’m going to make
  you soup,” i say.
  “don’t light a fire,” he says. “it’s not worth it.”
  “we’ll see,” i say. as i take the pot down to the stream, i’m
  struck by how brutally hot it is. i swear the gamemakers are
  progressively ratcheting up the temperature in the daytime
  and sending it plummeting at night. the heat of the sun-baked
  stones by the stream gives me an idea though. maybe i won’t
  need to light a fire.
  i settle down on a big flat rock halfway between the stream
  and the cave. after purifying half a pot of water, i place it in
  direct sunlight and add several egg-size hot stones to the wa-
  ter. i’m the first to admit i’m not much of a cook. but since
  soup mainly involves tossing everything in a pot and waiting,
  it’s one of my better dishes. i mince groosling until it’s practi-
  cally mush and mash some of rue’s roots. fortunately, they’ve
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  both been roasted already so they mostly need to be heated
  up. already, between the sunlight and the rocks, the water’s
  warm. i put in the meat and roots, swap in fresh rocks, and go
  find something green to spice it up a little. before long, i dis-
  cover a tuft of chives growing at the base of some rocks. per-
  fect. i chop them very fine and add them to the pot, switch out
  the rocks again, put on the lid, and let the whole thing stew.
  i’ve seen very few signs of game around, but i don’t feel
  comfortable leaving peeta alone while i hunt, so i rig half a
  dozen snares and hope i get lucky. i wonder about the other
  tributes, how they’re managing now that their main source of
  food has been blown up. at least three of them, cato, clove,
  and foxface, had been relying on it. probably not thresh
  though. i’ve got a feeling he must share some of rue’s know-
  ledge on how to feed yourself from the earth. are they fighting
  each other? looking for us? maybe one of them has located us
  and is just waiting for the right moment to attack. the idea
  sends me back to the cave.
  peeta’s stretched out on top of the sleeping bag in the
  shade of the rocks. although he brightens a bit when i come
  in, it’s clear he feels miserable. i put cool cloths on his head,
  but they warm up almost as soon as they touch his skin.
  “do you want anything?” i ask.
  “no,” he says. “thank you. wait, yes. tell me a story.”
  “a story? what about?” i say. i’m not much for storytelling.
  it’s kind of like singing. but once in a while, prim wheedles
  one out of me.
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  “something happy. tell me about the happiest day you can
  remember,” says peeta.
  something between a sigh and a huff of exasperation leaves
  my mouth. a happy story? this will require a lot more effort
  than the soup. i rack my brains for good memories. most of
  them involve gale and me out hunting and somehow i don’t
  think these will play well with either peeta or the audience.
  that leaves prim.
  “did i ever tell you about how i got prim’s goat?”