Maybe I hadn't realized it before, but it had always been Peeta.
Really, it had. I can credit him now for not just physically keeping me alive back home in District 12, but my emotional and physical survival here at the games. And he has been devoted to me. It had always been him; the boy with the bread.
And now here I was, walking aimlessly about the arena. I didn't know what I was looking for. What to do? Where to go? Was there even a point to staying here and sustaining my own life now that Rue was gone?
And Peeta. Where was he? Was he dead in a field? By the cornucopia? Had a tribe of trackerjackers followed him into a marshy swamp? Had Cato and the others tortured him, burned him slowly in their intimidating pit of ally fire? There were so many questions to be asked but there was no way to answer them. For me, Katniss, the girl who'd pushed every limit, the girl who'd given up everything to fight, could the end be drawing near? I had become dependent on that one spark of hope that kept me alive; the prospect of finding Peeta. With him, survival was possible and it was worth it. While I honestly tried to push me feelings of kinship to the side, as he was my competitor in this crock-of-BS that the capitol cooked up afterall, I couldn't help but feel connected so deeply to him for being on my side unconditionally, and risking himself time after time to make sure I was safe. He would have to show himself soon, and if not, I could only assume he was dead. And Peeta being dead would mean no point to bother carrying on. There were still a handful of tributes out there. There was Thresh and Cato and Clove and who knows who else waiting, all out for my blood, and I felt delirious from the surprising monotony that came with fighting to stay alive. Kill and run and hide and struggle. For me, I was beginning to feel that the real battle was staying sane. It Peeta didn't show himself, I could only assume the cannon I had heard earlier was the alarm of his death. And with his death, I could think of nothing else to do but grab a pile of the forbidden berries Rue had advised me about and prevent the vicious carriers from getting the satisfaction. It was them against me. Me against them. Though I was fighting for Prim and for Gale and for Mom and even for the memory of Father, a ghost in my conscience, the possibility of me ever seeing them was looking dim.
That is when I encountered the stream. I looked out at the water and sighed. Sweet, beautiful water. If only under this river was an entire world, and I could hid away there and pretend like this never happened. But near me, as I was getting ready to dip my feet and douse myself in the necessary calm, I heard a muffled voice from below. And that's when I saw Peeta trapped in the granite rocks.
When we locked eyes, this time it was different. This time there was something more than the simple caring of friendship in his eyes, but something deeper, something behind those big brown eyes. And as I went to rescue him and his mouth shifted slightly, curling up the corners of his mouth, I felt it too. A yearning.