第93章
i’m so furious i’m about to throw
haymitch’s last offering into the stream when it hits me. a full
day? that’s more than i need.
i mash up a handful of berries so the taste won’t be as noti-
ceable and add some mint leaves for good measure. then i
head back up to the cave. “i’ve brought you a treat. i found a
new patch of berries a little farther downstream.”
peeta opens his mouth for the first bite without hesitation.
he swallows then frowns slightly. “they’re very sweet.”
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“yes, they’re sugar berries. my mother makes jam from
them. haven’t you ever had them before?” i say, poking the
next spoonful in his mouth.
“no,” he says, almost puzzled. “but they taste familiar. sug-
ar berries?”
“well, you can’t get them in the market much, they only
grow wild,” i say. another mouthful goes down. just one more
to go.
“they’re sweet as syrup,” he says, taking the last spoonful.
“syrup.” his eyes widen as he realizes the truth. i clamp my
hand over his mouth and nose hard, forcing him to swallow
instead of spit. he tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but
it’s too late, he’s already losing consciousness. even as he
fades away, i can see in his eyes what i’ve done is unforgiva-
ble.
i sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of
sadness and satisfaction. a stray berry stains his chin and i
wipe it away. “who can’t lie, peeta?” i say, even though he
can’t hear me.
it doesn’t matter. the rest of panem can.
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in the remaining hours before nightfall, i gather rocks and
do my best to camouflage the opening of the cave. it’s a slow
and arduous process, but after a lot of sweating and shifting
things around, i’m pretty pleased with my work, the cave now
appears to be part of a larger pile of rocks, like so many in the
vicinity. i can still crawl in to peeta through a small opening,
but it’s undetectable from the out? side. that’s good, because
i’ll need to share that sleeping bag again tonight. also, if i
don’t make it back from the feast, peeta will be hidden but not
entirely imprisoned. although i doubt he can hang on much
longer without medicine. if i die at the feast, district 12 isn’t
likely to have a victor.
i make a meal out of the smaller, bonier fish that inhabit the
stream down here, fill every water container and purify it, and
clean my weapons. i’ve nine arrows left in all. i debate leaving
the knife with peeta so he’ll have some protection while i’m
gone, but there’s really no point. he was right about camouf-
lage being his final defense. but i still might have use for the
knife. who knows what i’ll encounter?
here are some things i’m fairly certain of. that at least ca-
to, clove, and thresh will be on hand when the feast starts. i’m
not sure about foxface since direct confrontation isn’t her
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style or her forte. she’s even smaller than i am and unarmed,
unless she’s picked up some weapons recently. she’ll probably
be hanging somewhere nearby, seeing what she can scavenge.
but the other three . . . i’m going to have my hands full. my
ability to kill at a distance is my greatest asset, but i know i’ll
have to go right into the thick of things to get that backpack,
the one with the number 12 on it that claudius templesmith
mentioned.
i watch the sky, hoping for one less opponent at dawn, but
nobody appears tonight. tomorrow there will be faces up
there. feasts always result in fatalities.
i crawl into the cave, secure my glasses, and curl up next to
peeta. luckily i had that good long sleep today. i have to stay
awake. i don’t really think anyone will attack our cave tonight,
but i can’t risk missing the dawn.
so cold, so bitterly cold tonight. as if the gamemakers have
sent an infusion of frozen air across the arena, which may be
exactly what they’ve done. i lay next to peeta in the bag, trying
to absorb every bit of his fever heat. it’s strange to be so phys-
ically close to someone who’s so distant. peeta might as well
be back in the capitol, or in district 12, or on the moon right
now, he’d be no harder to reach. i’ve never felt lonelier since
the games began.
just accept it will be a bad night, i tell myself. i try not to,
but i can’t help thinking of my mother and prim, wondering if
they’ll sleep a wink tonight. at this late stage in the games,
with an important event like the feast, school will probably be
canceled. my family can either watch on that static-filled old
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clunker of a television at home or join the crowds in the
square to watch on the big, clear screens, they’ll have privacy
at home but support in the square. people will give them a
kind word, a bit of food if they can spare it. i wonder if the
baker has sought them out, especially now that peeta and i are
a team, and made good on his promise to keep my sister’s bel-
ly full.
spirits must be running high in district 12. we so rarely
have anyone to root for at this point in the games. surely,
people are excited about peeta and me, especially now that
we’re together. if i close my eyes, i can imagine their shouts at
the screens, urging us on. i see their faces — greasy sac and
madge and even the peacekeepers who buy my meat cheering
for us.
and gale. i know him. he won’t be shouting and cheering.
but he’ll be watching, every moment, every twist and turn,
and willing me to come home. i wonder if he’s hoping that
peeta makes it as well. gale’s not my boyfriend, but would he
be, if i opened that door?