Minor changes to the last chapter; changed the last paragraph to be more in-line with the book.
"Let's try it on!", I urge Thresh, knowing that Cato's appearance in the fields is only a matter of time – the armor fits like a glove; skin-tight and almost invisible. He moves around a little, finally stating it indeed felt perfectly comfortable. For lunch (the sun is already high in the sky), we open the first two packs of the Career's ration. I get some kind of chicken stew... not the fancy food the Capitol used to offer but still way tastier than anything I've eaten inside this arena before.
Silently, a parachute is floating down – three parachutes, to be precise. And what's attached to them doesn't look like the ordinary sponsor gift; instead it's something huge: a carton box, about six feet long and two feet wide at its taller end touches the ground just in front of Thresh. Whatever it is, it must have cost a fortune to send. "Congratulations!", I say, patting him slightly on the back, "looks like if you got some wealthy sponsors out there." He opens the box, and inside lies a curved metal blade connected to a long, wooden grip – they've sent him a harvesting scythe, complete with sharpening stones. He looks at his present in awe, finally attempting a few swings on the wheat around: cuts like a razor; on both edges.
"My first ever sponsor gift.", he states.
"I guess your mentors had to save a lot for this, that's why you never recieved anything before – and because you didn't need.", I say.
"Did you ever get a parachute?", he asks.
"No.", I answer, "And I don't think I will ever get one. You look like a fighter; that's what the Sponsors want to see – I don't."
"Yet you've made it to the final five; the people will recognize how clever you are.", he tries to reassure me.
"Even if they do; it doesn't matter - I haven't told you the worst part yet: it may be the sponsors who bring in the money, but our mentors decide what to send. And when. Mine don't care about anything but booze; I guess they're both propped up against some corner instead of watching my games right now...", I sigh.
"Chaff's a heavy drinker, too – but he only passed out once; during the train ride. After that, he was really nice, trying to give advice whenever he could. I'm sure you've seen him somewhere; the one who's missing a hand. Lost it in the games he won.", he says; I think I do indeed remember him as I've seen him passing bottles back and forth with Twelve's Haymitch at least once. Thresh continues: "And there's Seeder, my other mentor; spent most her time coaching little Rue. Somewhat motherly, and stone cold sober. Olive skin, straight black hair...". Not a clue; I guess she didn't stick out of the crowd the way Chaff did. So there are mentors who never turned to booze or morphling over all the years... why couldn't I end up with one of those?
As I look up, the sun is covered by clouds, in what had been a clear blue sky until a short time ago.
"I think we should move to higher ground.", I say.
"Why?", Thresh asks, "that's nothing but a cloudy sky."
"It's going to rain soon.", I answer.
"I've got my tent; you have your pack – I'm more worried about Cato than about a little rain.", he replies.
Cato, the strongest and fiercest and only remaining Career tribute in these games... what is he doing now? If he seriously attempted to track down Thresh, he would have appeared by now; the trail he left behind on his rampage through the woods is easy enough to follow. We have all his food, and he's probably very, very hungry by now – why doesn't he attack? He must be thinking... that his enemy was lying in ambush somewhere, waiting for him to come.
"Cato? He won't come today; he knows you're expecting him. He knows you're prepared. I guess he'll come at night, for he's got those special glasses to see in the dark... why should he attack in broad daylight, then? He wants to catch you unaware.", I inform him about my suspicion, "And we're still in the Hunger Games, you forgot? There's nothing natural about the weather here. Days hotter than summer, followed by nights cold as ice. Whatever the Gamemakers are planning right now; it won't be ordinary rain...".
"You think they're going to turn this into a swamp?", he asks.
"Could be, or worse. You remember the year they flooded the entire arena?", I reply, although I doubt they'll ever repeat that... must have been a boring year for the audience; all the head Gamemakers were removed after that obvious fiasco (and maybe their heads as well).
The discussion drags on for a while; we finally agree on staying in the fields Thresh is so reluctant to leave – however, we move our camp further away from the lake and out of the immediately flood-endangered area. In the meantime, the skies darken continuously, and soon the first raindrops start falling; by the time we have completed our buildup, it pours like cats and dogs. My tarpaulin is fixed to his tent; effectively creating a second room for me at the entrance, where I am somewhat protected from wind and weather.
I feel exhausted and tired after the last night's sleepless horrors; so Thresh agrees on taking the first watch. I think he has decided to trust me for now; otherwise he'd have opposed so much physical proximity... how long will our alliance hold? We have no common goal; only common enemies.
