第110章

  i ask. "that snow will let refugees into the mansion?"
  "i think he has to now, at least for the cameras," says gale.
  "i'm leaving in the morning," i say.
  "i'm going with you," gale says. "what should we do with the others?"
  "pollux and cressida could be useful. they're good guides," i say. pollux and cressida aren't actually the problem. "but peeta's too..."
  "unpredictable," finishes gale. "do you think he'd still let us leave him behind?"
  "we can make the argument that he'll endanger us," i say. "he might stay here, if we're convincing."
  peeta's fairly rational about our suggestion. he readily agrees that his company could put the other four of us at risk. i'm thinking this may all work out, that he can just sit out the war in tigris's cellar, when he announces he's going out on his own.
  "to do what?" asks cressida.
  "i'm not sure exactly. the one thing that i might still be useful at is causing a diversion. you saw what happened to that man who looked like me," he says.
  "what if you...lose control?" i say.
  "you mean...go mutt? well, if i feel that coming on, i'll try to get back here," he assures me.
  "and if snow gets you again?" asks gale. "you don't even have a gun."
  "i'll just have to take my chances," says peeta. "like the rest of you." the two exchange a long look, and then gale reaches into his breast pocket. he places his nightlock tablet in peeta's hand. peeta lets it lie on his open palm, neither rejecting nor accepting it. "what about you?"
  "don't worry. beetee showed me how to detonate my explosive arrows by hand. if that fails, i've got my knife. and i'll have katniss," says gale with a smile. "she won't give them the satisfaction of taking me alive."
  the thought of peacekeepers dragging gale away starts the tune playing in my head again....
  are you, are youcoming to the tree
  "take it, peeta," i say in a strained voice. i reach out and close his fingers over the pill. "no one will be there to help you."
  we spend a fitful night, woken by one another's nightmares, minds buzzing with the next day's plans. i'm relieved when five o'clock rolls around and we can begin whatever this day holds for us. we eat a mishmash of our remaining food--canned peaches, crackers, and snails--leaving one can of salmon for tigris as meager thanks for all she's done. the gesture seems to touch her in some way. her face contorts in an odd expression and she flies into action. she spends the next hour remaking the five of us. she redresses us so regular clothes hide our uniforms before we even don our coats and cloaks. covers our military boots with some sort of furry slippers. secures our wigs with pins. cleans off the garish remains of the paint we so hastily applied to our faces and makes us up again. drapes our outerwear to conceal our weapons. then gives us handbags and bundles of knickknacks to carry. in the end, we look exactly like the refugees fleeing the rebels.
  "never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," says peeta. it's hard to tell, but i think tigris might actually blush under her stripes.
  there are no helpful updates on the television, but the alley seems as thick with refugees as the previous morning. our plan is to slip into the crowd in three groups. first cressida and pollux, who will act as guides while keeping a safe lead on us. then gale and myself, who intend to position ourselves among the refugees assigned to the mansion today. then peeta, who will trail behind us, ready to create a disturbance as needed.
  tigris watches through the shutters for the right moment, unbolts the door, and nods to cressida and pollux. "take care," cressida says, and they are gone.
  we'll be following in a minute. i get out the key, unlock peeta's cuffs, and stuff them in my pocket. he rubs his wrists. flexes them. i feel a kind of desperation rising up in me. it's like i'm back in the quarter quell, with beetee giving johanna and me that coil of wire.
  "listen," i say. "don't do anything foolish."
  "no. it's last-resort stuff. completely," he says.
  i wrap my arms around his neck, feel his arms hesitate before they embrace me. not as steady as they once were, but still warm and strong. a thousand moments surge through me. all the times these arms were my only refuge from the world. perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in my memory, and now gone forever. "all right, then." i release him.
  "it's time," says tigris. i kiss her cheek, fasten my red hooded cloak, pull my scarf up over my nose, and follow gale out into the frigid air.
  sharp, icy snowflakes bite my exposed skin. the rising sun's trying to break through the gloom without much success. there's enough light to see the bundled forms closest to you and little more. perfect conditions, really, except that i can't locate cressida and pollux. gale and i drop our heads and shuffle along with the refugees. i can hear what i missed peeking through the shutters yesterday. crying, moaning, labored breathing. and, not too far away, gunfire.
  "where are we going, uncle?"