Chapter Ten
I sleep until just before dawn, which is a lot longer than I wanted to. What is it with me and oversleeping? I had intended to wake a good couple of hours earlier so I had time to get into position by the lake, ready to see what the three remaining Careers decide to do when they get back from hunting but without having to run the risk of walking straight into them as they return. I suppose now I'll just have to take the chance.
I can't believe there are only three of them left, and, if my calculations are still right, it's even harder to believe that more than half of the other tributes have died and I am still alive. I don't know what makes me think of him, but I suddenly think of Lucius, the hated governor of Laboratory 7, who told me before I left for the Capitol that I wouldn't live past day one. It's unlikely that he will ever regret his words, but I hope he does. At least I have managed to prove him wrong and, in doing so, I hope I would have made my father proud.
I'm making my way through the trees, following one of my usual paths, when I hear the sound of footsteps. Had it been less than a week ago then I wouldn't have heard anything, but I've become accustomed to the sounds of the woods now, and my sense of hearing is at least a hundred times more sensitive than it was before I entered the arena. That is definitely the sound of somebody trying to move silently and not quite succeeding.
I look around frantically until I notice the faded and wilted purple bloom lying at the base of a tall tree. I've become familiar with my surroundings a lot quicker than I thought I would, but I'm still glad I used the flowers. Typically but rather unsurprisingly, I have only recently discovered that I sometimes have the awful habit of freezing when I really should be running, and it's usually the sight of one of my markers that snaps me out of it. I pull myself high up into the tree and look down through the branches, waiting to see who it is that I came so close to coming face to face with.
As I have seen nothing of four of the five remaining non-Careers since the day I accidentally met Lucas in the woods, I'm expecting to see one of the Careers, getting in some last minute hunting before dawn, but it is the boy from District 10 who appears. I should have known that he wouldn't have been able to travel any great distance and watching him now, I'm amazed he's lasted this long. Lucas' face is set with the same determination that had stood out to me so much when we met before, but his clothes are filthy and he looks like he hasn't eaten for days. His foot is causing him more trouble than it was before, and the makeshift strapping he has put on it doesn't seem to be helping very much as he hobbles along, clinging to the tree trunks for support.
I know the audience in the Capitol are probably waiting for me to put him out of his misery, but this time I don't even bother to reach for my knife. I have gained enough knowledge of myself by now to know that if someone kills Lucas then it won't be me. I settle back against the trunk of the tree and wait for him to go past, only to sit bolt upright a couple of seconds later at the sound of more footsteps, this time accompanied by voices. The voices of people so fearless that they don't even bother trying to conceal themselves.
By the time I've leant forwards, trying to find a way of warning Lucas of his impending doom without revealing my own location to anyone but him, he is surrounded by the two Careers. And now I am going to have to watch the death of another person while I sit and hide, I think, immediately seeing the similarities between this scene and the last time that I saw my father.
"What do we have here then?" comes the arrogant and mocking voice of District 1. "I'm surprised you're still alive, District 9. I'd give you the chance to run for your life but I don't think it's worth the bother."
"District 10," corrects Cato, as he pulls a knife from his jacket and moves menacingly towards Lucas. It's Clove's knife. I recognise the handle as matching the one that killed Alecto, so where is she? I would know if she was dead because I would have heard the cannon fire, and besides, I don't think Cato would be calmly holding a knife to the throat of the boy from District 10 if she was.
I can't say how much I don't want to watch this, but I'm unable to tear my eyes away. From my vantage point high in the tree, I can tell that Lucas is terrified, but he approaches what will surely be the moment of his death with the same quiet defiance that he has shown throughout the Games. As he does his very best to fight his fear and stare unwaveringly into Cato's eyes, it's obvious that he knows full well he has no chance of escaping with his life. He doesn't even struggle when the knife cuts into the pale skin of his chest.
Despite the fact that I'm sitting here willing with every fibre of my body for Cato to end this quickly, I knew, even before he dragged the knife lightly over Lucas's chest to leave only a superficial wound, that he would not. Maybe if he had not had District 1 with him then he would have been content to simply end the life of yet another tribute with a single blow or stab, but with the other Career there, showing even this small mercy would be seen as a weakness, and weakness has probably never even been an option for one such as Cato.
This continues for what is probably only a couple of minutes but it feels like hours, Cato cutting Lucas with the knife, waiting for him to break down and beg for his life, and Lucas staring expressionlessly back at him, determined to die with what little pride he has left. I taste blood in my mouth from where I have bitten my lip to stop myself from crying out. It seems to go on for eternity, the view I have never changing.
As I watch, Lucas visibly reaches the limit of his endurance, takes a deep breath and suddenly begins to struggle frantically, just succeeding in escaping from the clutches of District 1, who had previously been pinning his arms behind his back. Although any fool could see that he has nowhere to go and the boy from District 10 is no fool, I expect him to try to run anyway, but he doesn't. He lunges forward towards Cato, grabs his wrist and yanks the knife forwards so that it sinks deep into his own chest. I jump backwards, clinging to the tree as my mind attempts to process what I've just witnessed.
I can understand why he did it. Having seen that there was no way he could escape, he wanted to put an end to his torture, but doing what he did is virtually unheard of in the Hunger Games. Everyone across the whole of the country knows that to do such a thing is seen as acting against the Capitol, which uses the Games as a means of demonstrating the level of control that it can exert over every single citizen of the districts. The consequences of even speaking against Panem's all-powerful authority are dire. Providing entertainment for the mob aside, the point of the Games is to show that the Capitol has the power of life and death over us all. That they can decide how and when we die and there is nothing we can do about it. To take matters into your own hands like Lucas did is tantamount to open rebellion, and I hope he doesn't have a family waiting back in District 10 who can be punished for his crime.
I look back down to the two Careers and see that District 1 is openly shocked by what happened. Cato hides his emotions a lot better, so well that if I hadn't seen him with Clove earlier then I would wonder if he is actually capable of feeling human emotions at all. He leans down to pull the knife from Lucas' lifeless body just as the cannon sounds, before turning to walk back in the direction of the lake. He's halfway to the trees when he comes to an abrupt halt, the emotionless mask sliding from his face instantly.
"Which one did you get?" Clove asks as she steps silently into the clearing, her eyes fixed on Cato.
"District 9," replies District 1. "Or was it 10? They all look the same after a while."
"That's why you will never win the Games, District 1. Because they really do all look the same to you," says Cato. "It was District 10." He turns back to look at Clove. "I was going to give the audience a show but he threw himself on my blade before I'd even started. How did you find us anyway? Where's the boy?"
"You have many strengths Cato, but being discreet isn't one of them. I could track you in the dark." She smirks as she almost playfully insults him, and judging by District 1's look of shock at her comment, I strongly suspect that she's the only person who would even dream of talking to her district partner in that way. " The boy's with the supplies. We reached an understanding eventually." Clove gives another, more evil looking smirk and taps the handle of the knife that is sticking out of her jacket pocket knowingly. Even though I don't have a particularly high opinion of District 3, I feel a sudden rush of pity for the poor boy when I think about what he probably had to go through before this understanding was reached.
"Which way now?" asks District 1, and the two tributes from District 2 turn their heads suddenly to face him, as if they'd forgotten he was there until he spoke. They probably had.
"That's it for now. I'm going back to the camp to rest," answers Clove.
"Because you've had such a strenuous morning so far," is District 1's sarcastic response.
He's either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to talk to her like that, and if I had to choose which then I would bet on the latter with complete confidence. Maybe the audience will be treated to another death this morning. As much as I hate the needless killing, in a way I hope they are, as the only way I stand much of a chance is if the Careers start killing each other.
Clove steps threateningly towards him but Cato, with the knife that killed Lucas still in his hand, gets there first. He's holding the weapon to District 1's throat before the young man even realises what a dangerous position his flippant comment has put him in. He tries to back away but quickly finds that Clove has circled around to stand behind him. All three of them remain in this position for a couple of seconds, then Cato and Clove look at each other, appearing not to need words to communicate as they simultaneously begin to laugh. District 1's usual arrogance has vanished and he looks like he has never been less amused. The expression on his face is that of someone who, for the first time, truly fears for his life.
Cato obviously thinks his actions are sufficient to make the other Career understand that he is pushing his luck, but Clove, rather understandably I think, has less faith in his intelligence.
"Are you capable of counting, District 1? If you are then you'll be able to work out that we are two and you are just one. To borrow the Capitol's words, that means the odds are most definitely not in your favour. If you want to carry on hunting then be my guest, but don't expect us to run and save you if you meet Thresh somewhere along the way or end up falling into one of District 5's traps."
So, my act that I maintained throughout the build-up to the Games really did work. She's convinced I have the ability to trap and kill one of her fellow Careers. Even if she is referring to one as stupid as the boy from 1, I am strangely flattered that she gives me that much credit.
By the time I've finished discounting all the possible ways of trapping and killing District 1 that I can think of, largely due to arriving at the conclusion that Marcus and Viola will not send me either a gun to shoot him with or the ability to dig a twenty foot deep hole in the ground for me to trick him into falling in, even if I ask really nicely, the Careers have once more vanished into the trees. A couple of minutes later the hovercraft swoops down and takes Lucas away. I turn to face the opposite direction, unable to watch.
It's mid-afternoon by the time I get back to the lake and take up my position. I'm finding it so very hard to keep my mind from focussing solely on how thirsty I am that I'm being to get worried. The extreme variations in temperature, which are so dramatic and rapid that they cannot possibly be occurring naturally, are making everything worse as it's almost suffocatingly hot during the day, making my body all the more desperate for water that I simply don't have.
I was hoping they would have already gone hunting or be asleep by the time I reached the camp, but I'm disappointed when I look in the direction of the supply pyramid to see all three Careers walking away from it, carrying as much food as they possibly can, with District 3 trailing along behind. They have obviously given up on any kind of rationing, which I suppose is to be expected really. They could feed the population of an entire district for a week with what they have, and from what I've seen, it's only a matter of a very short time before three Career survivors become two anyway.
We've been in the arena for over a week now, and that usually means the Career Alliance is well past it's sell-by-date. It won't be long before Cato and Clove come to the conclusion that leaving District 1 alive is not benefiting them, and looking at how on edge the boy appears, I think he realises it too. They sit down on the pile of sleeping bags to eat, the pair from District 2 together, with District 1 further away. District 3 seems to have worked out exactly how far he can be from his captors without being accused of doing something he shouldn't, and he maintains this distance at all times, sitting cross-legged on the floor holding a plastic box.
Cato suddenly jumps to his feet and points at something in the distance somewhere to my right. I turn as much as I can, but it's difficult to see when I'm trying not to fall out of a bush right into the middle of the Careers' camp at the same time, so it takes a couple of minutes for me to see what he's looking at.
A plume of thick smoke is rising high above the trees, clearly signalling the whereabouts of the person who lit it to every other tribute in the arena. How could anyone be so stupid? And more to the point, how could anyone who is that stupid have survived for this long? Here am I, secretly congratulating myself for managing to get this far, when there is someone alive out there who doesn't have the sense to know that lighting a fire like that is complete suicide. They've obviously been very lucky to escape the Careers for so long, so part of me starts to think that maybe I have simply been lucky too. Maybe it's me who is the stupid one for sitting in a bush a couple of metres from their camp. 'But you need the food and water,' says the nagging voice in my head, 'You had no choice. You have no choice'. And perhaps that person isn't as brainless as I think. Perhaps they know that the fire will attract the Careers and they lit it on purpose. The only tribute who would even stand a chance against Cato and/or Clove, in a fair fight at least, would be Thresh, but I haven't seen him since he fled the bloodbath on the first day. Could it be that he has had enough of waiting and has decided to take the fight to the Careers? I'll know soon enough if the cannons start firing.
In the time it's taken me to work out what had attracted Cato's attention, the Careers have armed themselves and are ready to go hunting what will probably be disappointingly easy prey. District 1 roughly directs the boy from 3 back towards the supply pyramid, but before he has walked even two steps an argument starts. Cato clearly disagrees with District1 and wants the boy to go with them, thinking that the mines will be enough to prevent another tribute from stealing supplies. By now I've long forgotten the score of the match in my head between me and the Careers, but if I hadn't then that would definitely be a point to me. I can get through the trap and Cato knows nothing about it. Part of me wishes I could see his reaction if he found out, but the other, more sensible part knows what would happen if he did. Another cannon would fire for sure and this time it would be mine, but it would almost be worth it to see the look on his face.
"What about Lover Boy?" asks District 1. When I hear that I suddenly remember Peeta. Until now I'd almost forgotten about him, assuming he was dead and that his picture had appeared in the sky on one of the alarmingly frequent occasions that I've missed the death recap due to being unconscious at the time. Honestly, I think I've spent most of my time in the arena either unconscious or asleep. It's surprising I know what's going on at all.
"I keep telling you, forget about him. I know where I cut him. It's a miracle he hasn't bled to death yet. At any rate, he's in no shape to raid us," replies Cato.
Well, that explains the sounds of swords clashing that were coming from the trees after the great tracker jacker incident. I'd almost convinced myself that the effects of the toxin had made me imagine it, but it obviously really did happen. I wonder now as I did then what it was that made Peeta desperate enough to attempt to fight Cato. He clearly came off worse than his opponent, which is only to be expected, but I wonder if he achieved what he had wanted to achieve. Either way, from what Cato said, he is paying for his foolishness now.
As my attention goes back to the other tributes I immediately see that Cato and Clove have had enough of arguing with District 1. Cato pushes a spear into the hands of District 3 and heads towards the woods with Clove at his side and the other two following behind. District 3 is dwarfed by his companions, staring down at the spear as he walks like it's going to jump up and stab him of its own accord. I have a feeling that however hard I am finding life in the arena, he is worse off than me.
Relieved that the Careers have finally gone, and that they have been considerate enough not to leave a guard on the supplies, I make my way to the lake and fill up my water containers before returning to hide in the undergrowth, sipping my water and waiting for the cannons to fire.
Several minutes pass by and I hear nothing. It is at times like this that I wish the Gamemakers did give us updates about what's happening in other parts of the arena. The not knowing is driving me mad, and what's more I have no idea where the Careers are. This is not their usual hunting time so I can't even guess how long they will be away. I know I'd better go to the supply pyramid now if I'm going to, but I feel a sudden reluctance at the thought of braving the mines again. 'It's better than starving to death, Lysa,' I remind myself as I get to my feet and walk the short distance to the edge of the tree line.
After peering out to check for signs of both the Careers and any other tributes, I step out into the open, running as quickly as I dare towards the pyramid and stopping abruptly when I approach the first small pile of supplies, guessing from what I saw District 3 do that it marks the start of the minefield. I had thought to follow the path taken by the trap's creator, but now that I'm here I'm so nervous that the only way through I can remember is my own.
I pause for a second when I get to a barrel just before the main pile of supplies, taking a deep breath and breathing a sigh of relief that I've made it so far for a second time. I can feel my heart racing and I'm physically shaking with fear, but I force my emotions back, sure that the eyes of all Panem are focussed on me once again. Most of them matter very little to me by now, but as I imagine Cassie and Marcus watching, I find the courage to jump as lightly as I can over the barrel.
I stop breathing when I find myself propelled forwards, misjudging my landing so much that my hands touch the floor as I fight with all of my strength to remain on my feet, the consequences of not doing so running through my mind the whole time. I hear a sharp scream of fear and it is not until I have regained my balance that I work out it was me who made the noise. That was close. Almost too close.
I hold my breath as I continue to the supplies, once again taking a little of everything that I can safely reach and not leaving any bags empty. When I can't fit another thing into my pack, I return it to my shoulder and retrace my steps out of the minefield, sprinting as quickly as I can back to the safety of the woods once I've cleared it.
Once I reach my favourite den, travelling the long way around to make sure nobody is following, I begin to unload and then repack all but a small amount of my new supplies. I carry most of the few possessions that I have with me at all times, but I like to have a few things stored away inside the tree in case something happens to the bag. Like my father used to tell me, it's always best to be prepared for anything.
Just as I think about trying to be prepared for anything, I notice the birds have stopped singing. I'm standing surrounded by complete silence when I hear the crack of a twig snapping from somewhere in front of me. What now? Can I not go a single day without accidentally walking into or being discovered by another tribute? It's almost as if the Gamemakers have developed a way of controlling people's minds and actions and are sending them in my direction on purpose so that I never get any rest. Thinking about it, they probably are.
I dive into the hollow trunk of the tree and pull the screen over the top, leaving the tiniest gap possible so that I can peer out and discover the cause of the snapped branch. A huge figure steps into the clearing and my first thought is that it's Cato, but as the person comes closer I realise with shock that it's Thresh.
I obviously knew that he was still alive and out there somewhere, but I haven't seen him since day one, when he ran in the opposite direction to me and disappeared into the void on the other side of the Cornucopia. As I watch him sit down on the grass under a tree and take some food from a pack he is carrying, I can see that living in the arena for over a week has done him very little harm. If anything he seems to have increased in size and looks more formidable than ever. I wonder what he's been living on? I know he hasn't been relying on the Cornucopia supplies in the same way as I have. Maybe there's food in the place where he's been hiding out. There must be, and coming from the agricultural district, I'm sure he knows exactly what is safe to eat and what isn't.
I'm sitting in exactly the same position about half an hour later, propping the screen up with my good but rapidly cramping arm while cradling my injured and now painfully throbbing arm to my chest, not daring to move in case he looks up and sees me. Suddenly I hear the loudest explosion I've ever heard in my life, which is really saying something as, coming from District 5 and working in the laboratories, I've heard more than my fair share of dramatic explosions.
The only thing it could be is the supplies. Somebody must have triggered a mine, which then set off the rest of them, I think, my heart sinking as I realise my only source of food has literally gone up in smoke. Whichever tribute did it must surely be dead, the sound of the cannon masked by the explosion, but who was it? I can say for certain that it wasn't Thresh, and, taking over Icarus' job of stating the blindingly obvious, I also know that it wasn't me, but other than that it could have been any one of the remaining seven.
Peeta isn't in a fit state to be walking around attempting to steal food, if I assume I can believe what Cato says, and, as I haven't seen her for the entire duration of the Games, I have also been assuming that Rue has other sources of food and wouldn't be interested in the supplies. It's also unlikely to have been any of the Careers as they have been sending District 3 to fetch their food, so that just leaves District 3 himself, who was the one who set up the trap and is therefore the least likely person to set it off, or Katniss, the mysterious girl-on-fire who scored eleven.
I flinch when I hear the cannon fire, and see Thresh do the same. So who could that have been for? Not the person who detonated the landmines, as the Gamemakers know the exact moment of every tribute's death, I suspect via the trackers that were injected into each of us before the hovercraft journey to the arena, and the cannons don't fire a second before or a second after that moment. Whoever that cannon was for died long after the supplies had blown.
Thresh looks around, his face as anxious as I've ever seen it, which is admittedly not very. The tall, powerful tribute from District 11 doesn't seem to feel fear or anxiety, or if he does, he hides it well. Although I barely know him, all that I do know tells me he's a good person, a person who's only wish is that his name had never been drawn from the reaping ball and that he was never put in this position, where he is forced to take the lives of others to save his own. Part of me wants to take the risk and reveal my presence, putting myself at his mercy just to end this waiting, but a sudden flashback of our conversation on the roof of the Training Centre keeps me hidden. He might not want to kill, but I remember his tone of voice and have no doubts that he would if that was the only way to get home.
I eventually give up on holding the screen and let it fall back into place, once more plunging myself into total darkness. While I genuinely think that I would like Thresh if we were not in the arena, by the time night begins to fall without him showing any signs of moving, I'm beginning to consider if it would be possible for someone of my diminutive stature to confront him and win, for the simple reason that not knowing what's happening by the lake is driving me mad.
The whole of my survival strategy has been based around monitoring the other tributes, and I'm not so unintelligent that I fail to see how I have been using my spying as a distraction from my own increasingly dark and morbid thoughts. Now I have no choice but to sit here in the dark, it's becoming far too easy to let my mind wander in all sorts of terrible directions. I think about what will happen if I don't make it out of here, how I might die and what I will feel when I do, and, perhaps even harder for me to contemplate, about what will happen if a miracle occurs and I actually win. Could I really mentor tributes like Marcus is forced to? I would have no choice if I won. I would be granted a life of luxury in a gilded cage, required to do the Capitol's bidding whenever they wished, and the more I think about it, the more I realise that I would go insane if I had to live like that. Even if I win, the Games will never end.
"Stop it, Lysa. Stop thinking," I hiss to myself under my breath, silently pleading for Thresh to disappear into the void once more. What is he doing here anyway? His strategy has always seemed to be avoidance rather than confrontation, as if he knows that simply his physical size and presence will make him a target for the Careers. From observing him in the build-up to the Games, I find it very hard to believe that he's scared of them, so my only other possible answer to the riddle of the man from District 11 is that his reluctance to kill extends even to the Careers, and that he avoids putting himself in a position where he will have to fight for that reason.
But whatever the reason, it doesn't change the fact that I can't move until he does, so I occupy my mind by trying to think of different explanations for what, or more importantly who, caused the explosion. If it was another tribute then, simply by a process of elimination, I would have to guess at Katniss, although I can't see her being stupid enough to walk straight onto a minefield. Maybe her hunger just got the better of her and clouded her judgement. It wouldn't be the first time that has happened to a tribute in the Games.
Of course I have to consider another possibility, which is that it wasn't a tribute that detonated the mines at all. Maybe the Gamemakers did it because they don't like the way District 3 outsmarted them. It's possible. After all, when the audience demands to see direct tribute against tribute battles, the prospect of half of the competitors being obliterated in less than a second by a mine explosion won't be appealing to them. Which could explain why a cannon fired well after the blast. What if more than one tribute was caught in the explosion? If the Gamemakers did blow up the supplies then they wouldn't have done it without ensuring a dramatic death or two for the benefit of the bloodthirsty Capitol audience. However horrible, that would obviously be good for me, but I'll have to wait for the death recap to know for sure. And I will only see that if Thresh moves out of the way.
Some time later, the overwhelming silence is suddenly broken by the grating chords of the anthem, so I take a deep breath to calm myself and slowly raise the screen once more. I don't want to but I need to take the risk as I have to know the identity of the person who caused the explosion. As I peer across the clearing using the dim light provided by the Capitol's seal to see by, it's immediately apparent that Thresh has disappeared without a trace. It's almost as if I imagined his presence.
The first tribute to appear in the sky is the boy from District 3. So all of the Careers survived then. I suppose I was being unusually optimistic to imagine otherwise. Maybe it was something as simple as him misjudging where to put his feet when he was fetching food for his captors, but somehow I don't think so. I cannot shake the feeling that there was more to it than that, however I will learn no more tonight.
The only other face to appear is the one I was already expecting, and I fight back a wave of grief as Lucas stares down at me. I know he had no idea I was there watching when he was caught by Cato and District 1, but his eyes seem to be fixed intently on me, accusing me of doing as little to try and prevent his death as I did my father's. I look away, berating myself for being so stupid. 'You could not have prevented what happened to either of them. The only thing you would have achieved if you had tried would have been your own execution as well as theirs,' I say, attempting to convince myself that there was nothing I could have done.
I suddenly realise that my thoughts are catching up with me again and feel a desperate urge to do something, anything, to distract myself once more. But I also know there is nothing I can do now. I'm surrounded by pitch black darkness and Cato and Clove still have their night-vision glasses. All I can do is wait until morning.
When I push back the screen my drowsiness makes me forget all caution, and I am immediately hit with the blinding rays of sunlight that are streaming through the gaps between the branches. For the sun to be that bright it must be at least half way through the morning. As usual, after taking many hours to finally fall asleep, I have now slept for too long. I must get to the lake immediately as I can't afford to go another day without replenishing my almost non-existent water supply.
Now my mind is made up, I start walking the short distance straight away, heading to the lake first despite my desperation to see what, if anything, is left of the supplies. Once I've established that there are no other tributes around, I refill my bottles then sit at the edge of the water, taking a deep breath as I prepare to take the makeshift bandage off my arm. The pain has steadily increased every day since the fire, and as much as I have tried to block it out and ignore the fact that the burn is probably infected, I know it's time to face reality. I have to at least try to clean the wound and, although I've virtually given up hope by now, it won't hurt to make sure that the cameras get a good view of it, on the off-chance that a rich someone somewhere in the Capitol may admire the way I have survived this long against all odds and decide to send me some medicine. Like that will happen with the two pairs of star-crossed lovers still out there, I think, laughing to myself.
My resolve to investigate the wound lasts as long as it takes me to get the bandage off. It's red and angry looking, and as soon as I splash water onto it, it begins to leak a vile looking fluid that appears to be a mixture of blood and pus. The conclusion I quickly reach is that ignorance is bliss. There are only eight of us left now so the Games will be over soon, one way or another. The chances of me living long enough to die of blood poisoning are very small, and if I do survive beyond all of the other tributes then I will be shipped off back to the Capitol, where I'm sure they would be able to cure me in a matter of minutes. So horrified am I by the sight of my arm without it, that it takes half the time to put the bandage back on as it did to remove it.
To distract myself from the throbbing pain, I cross over to the Cornucopia and survey the scene of total devastation that surrounds me. When he set up the mines, District 3 obviously did his job too well, because it's immediately apparent that there is nothing left. All of the food gone in the space of a few seconds. I had expected at least a small amount to have survived unscathed but there really is nothing. What am I going to do now? There are very few options left. The only thing I can do is salvage what I can and try to think of an alternative way of getting food. The only thing about my brief edible plants lessons back in the Training Centre that I have confidence in my memory of is berries. I'd been relatively clear about the different leaves and roots too when they were all laid neatly out in front of me, but now that I could really do with knowing which is which, I find that the only ones I can remember with any real certainty are the ones I used in experiments back in District 5. And that's no use as, without exception, they would kill me before I had swallowed my first mouthful. I wonder what happens to a person who lives on nothing but berries for days? I guess I'll soon find out.
As I walk over to stand in the middle of what little is left of the pyramid, it suddenly occurs to me that I'm not the only person who was relying on the supplies. I begin to laugh almost hysterically as I realise quite how spectacularly the trap the Careers had forced District 3 to create has backfired on them. If I don't have any food then they don't either. One of their biggest advantages has been lost and they brought it all on themselves. Maybe there is some justice after all.
I walk around in the wreckage for at least a couple of minutes, finding only a knife and what looks like a metal cooking pot, before I return to my senses and stop myself from laughing out loud. I don't know if my reaction to what I'm seeing means I'm finally losing my mind, but breaking down with mad, hysterical laughter cannot be a good sign. 'Get a grip, Lysa', I hiss furiously to myself. Cato and Clove are still out there and they are unlikely to have gone far. I might be losing the will to live almost as rapidly as I appear to be losing my mind, but one of the few things I can still say for certain is that I have no desire to be a victim of their particular brand of torture.
After days and days of being almost totally silent, I've lost the ability to judge exactly how loud I was, but the way the trees surround the open ground causes even the quietest of noises to echo and I wouldn't be surprised if the sound had travelled far enough to reach the other tributes. When I hear rattling coming from the void on the other side of the Cornucopia, I sprint back to the woods. It is probably Thresh, as he seems to have made that part of the arena his own, but it could also be the Careers, returning from a long overdue exploratory mission. Either way I can't stay, and anyway, it's time to start berry hunting.