Chapter 11

"Gale, wake up!" I groggily open my eyes, heavy with exhaustion. "Get up!" Maisy hisses. I look around still disoriented. The sun is high overhead; it must be past noon.

I wake up with a jolt. How could I have slept so late? My mouth is fuzzy and stale with sleep. My jaw, shoulder, and gut ache with my injuries from the past few days. My stomach spasms with hunger.

"Wassgoin on?" I slur at Maisy. She is frantically packing her bag.

"Please, Gale!" her voice is pleading. "It's the Game makers. We have to go!" I finally am awake enough to look around properly. I lean over the edge of the ridge and see a roiling flood below. The valley is filling with water!

I look down and notice that there are a few inches of water already lapping at my boots. The sight galvanizes me to action. I pick up the sleeping bag and rapidly roll it into my pack. Maisy grabs the tarp while I sling my quiver and weapons over my shoulders.

"Come on!" I urge Maisy. "We have to get to higher ground."

"No!" she cries, securing her pack tightly on her back. "That's where the water is coming from!"

I run to the edge of the woods and look up. Sure enough, torrents of water are pouring from the ridges above us. Maisy was right. This water is no ordinary rain; the Game makers are sending gallons of water rushing towards us. Already, the water has reached my calves, sending icy tendrils up my legs.

"Our best chance is to get out of this part of the arena," Maisy says, leaning over the edge of the ridge to examine the flood below. The water is rising faster now, almost to her knees. She shivers. I'm not sure if it's form fear or cold.

"Can you swim?" I ask, measuring the distance from the ridge to the top of the rising the water.

"Well enough," Maisy answers, her voice tight.

That's all the signal I need. "Alright, if we get separated, we head for the stream." Maisy nods in affirmation. I grab her hand, take a deep breath, bend my knees, and jump.

I hit the water with icy force. The freezing cold knocks the wind out of me. I gasp for breath as iced knives jag through my body.

I've lost Maisy's hand during the force of the fall. I turn my head wildly, trying to get my bearings and to find Maisy. I see her a few feet away, but the churning water pulls me in all directions, hitting my face in icy waves.

"Come on!" Maisy pants out, starting to swim in the general direction of the stream. I try to follow her, but the cold has paralyzed my injured shoulder. I grit my teeth and force my shoulder to make a stroke. My back screams in protest, but I continue fighting the impossible pull of the current.

I keep swimming, gasping for breaths, and coughing as the unpredictable waves continue to crash into me, pushing me in different directions. Debris from the forest floats in the water, and twigs and stones scrape my face.

I dodge to avoid a large branch, when I hear Maisy's shout. I turn to my left, and see Maisy flailing her arms but not moving forward. The water is almost covering her mouth, and she struggles for breath.

Adrenaline shoots through me as I race towards her. When I reach her I hold onto a tree trunk to steady myself against the ebbs of the water. Maisy's eyes are wide with panic and I see her hands fumbling with a knife. Cold and fear make her hands shake.

"My pack," she croaks. I look down and see that one of the straps of her backpack has hopelessly tangled around one of the tree branches. The water continues to rise, covering Maisy's mouth.

I grab the knife from Maisy before it falls from her numb fingers. I hook my elbow around the tree to provide some stability. I know that hacking away at the strap blindly will only waste time that Maisy doesn't have.

Instead, I take a deep breath, stealing myself. Then, I plunge my head under the icy water so I can see the strap properly. The harsh cold assaults my face, and I'm sure my eyeballs have frozen in their sockets. With iron determination I grip the knife and begin sawing at the pack strap. It is difficult to cut the strap with one arm, and my injured shoulder screams with pain as I try to hold onto the tree trunk with it.

I surface three more times to gasp for air and restabilize myself on the tree trunk. The water has covered Maisy's nose by the time I cut through the strap, and the water jerks her away.

My hand darts out to grab her before she gets pulled too far away. Maisy coughs and flails. "I got you," I cough out, trying to calm her down. I hook my bad elbow under her neck and begin swimming with my right arm, trying to drag us both to safety. My arms ache with cold and burn with effort, but I continue kicking my numb legs. Maisy's jagged breaths tell me that she is still alive as I tow her through the choppy water.

After what seems like hours of struggling and fighting the random churnings of the icy water, a particularly large wave shoves me into a sharp rock. I feel the edge of the rock cut through my left thigh. I groan, my numb arms involuntarily releasing Maisy. My legs refuse to cooperate as I try to kick away from the rocks. The cold has comletely numbed my limbs, and my movements are too sluggish. The effort of kicking away from the rocks is draining what little energy I have left.

I barely feel Maisy's hand as she grabs a fistful of my jacket in her hand. She reaches her legs towards the rocks and pushes off. Her kick off the rocks is not very strong, but it has enough power to give us some momentum. I stroke with my arms and kick my sluggish legs, but I can feel that we are nearing the end of the dangerous part of the arena. The waves, while still ice cold, have lost some of their power, and the water level is decreasing.

A large wave pushes us towards the edge of the flood and deposits us in a coughing, soaked heap right at the clearing near the stream. Maisy and I crawl away from the woods, trying to put some distance between the flood and ourselves. I only manage to move forward a few feet before I flop onto my back, shivering and groaning. Maisy is next to me on all fours, shaking with cold and hacking painfully.

The sun by the stream is hot and high above, as though disaster doesn't await two feet away in the woods. I try to stretch out my limbs so they can be warmed in the sun. I barely notice Maisy unzipping her pack with shaking hands to pull out a water canteen. My teeth chatter painfully as Maisy takes a sip of water. Her hands are shaking so much that most of the water slops down her shirt. She pauses, still shivering. Then, she rushes on all fours towards the stream.

I hear a splash through the loud chattering of my teeth. I roll over miserably, no longer interested in what Maisy is doing, my mind focused solely on my frozen limbs. Why won't the sun warm me?

I'm trying to kick off my boots when Maisy runs up to me. She is dripping wet, wearing nothing but a light pink camisole and under shorts. But she looks warm, her skin blush with health and water droplets sparkling on her skin in the sun.

"Take off your clothes," she says eagerly, taking me completely by surprise. "It's the icy water. It's not normal. We have to wash it off in the stream!" she explains hurriedly. Without hesitation she grabs the bottom of my shirt and begins to hike it up my chest.

"I got it!" I say, still shivering, as I reflexively scoot away. I pull my shirt over my head and pull off my soggy pants, leaving my wet boxers on.

Maisy grabs my pile of waterlogged clothes and runs to the stream. I try to still my clacking teeth, but groan as cold still permeates all the way to my bones.

Maisy returns a few minutes later brandishing the water canteens. Without warning, she starts at my feet, pouring the water over my shivering body. Immediately, warmth seeps through my skin down to the depth of my being where the water splashes on my skin.

"Ahhh," I sigh in relief as Maisy pours the water up my arms and along my bare chest. Suddenly, I feel the heat of the sun as though an invisible barrier has been lifted.

"Close your eyes," Maisy says, grinning at my expression. I shut my eyes and enjoy the water washing away the chills in my face. All of a sudden I feel Maisy's gentle fingers run through my hair, massaging the fresh water into my scalp. My eyes roll back with pleasure as warm tingles radiate outwards from her touch.

"Flip over," she orders, and without thinking, I flop onto my stomach. She washes away the iciness there too, and my limbs melt in relief.

"Did I miss anywhere?" Maisy asks.

"No," I groan, hauling myself into a sitting position. "Maisy, that was amazing," I say, my whole body loose with contentment.

She throws me another grin. "Hold still. I have to clean off your leg."

I look down and see a nasty gash where I had swam into the rocks during the flood. "Don't bother," I say, feeling my stomach clenching painfully with hunger. "I have to go hunting before I collapse. We need to eat."

"Lie down," Maisy says, pushing on my good shoulder until my back hits the ground. "I hunted already. I thought I'd let you sleep off your injuries this morning and tried to go hunting." She struggles through her pack until she pulls out a bundle packed in the piece of cloth we had found in Eye Patch's bag. She unwraps the bundle to reveal messily cut cubes of cooked meat.

"Whoa," I say, sitting up in shock. The quick movement causes me to wince with the pain from being punched in the gut yesterday.

"It took me ages to kill anything and even longer to clean and cook it," Maisy explains with a pleased grin, "but I managed it." She offers me the bundle with a nervous smile.

I hungrily reach for the top piece and stuff it in my mouth. "It's perfect!" I say, so pleased that I have just received this unexpected pile of ready-made food.

Maisy blushes and picks up her own cube of meat. Just then, I chew something a little crunchy and choke slightly as I try to swallow it. I laugh at Maisy's horrified face. "Well, maybe it's not perfect. You need some practice cleaning meat, but it's still really good for your first try."

Maisy giggles, and we continue eating until the pile of meat has disappeared. I lay back in contentment, licking my fingers and basking in the warmth of the sun. Maisy rinses her fingers in the stream before returning with the water purifier.

"Hand me the med kit," Maisy says, unscrewing the top of the purifier.

"Huh?" I say lazily, looking around half-heartedly.

"By your head. Ugh, never mind," Maisy says in exasperation. She leans forward, pressing her hand into my chest as she stretches for the med kit. My mind clicks suddenly, taking in my bare chest, Maisy's warm hand, wet curls, and tiny camisole tight on her body. An electric shock ripples through my body.

"Whoa!" I say, jumping away from Maisy's touch.

"Did I hurt you?" Maisy asks, concern in her eyes.

"No," I mutter, mussing my hair in embarrassment. "You just can't…touch a guy like that. Without warning, I mean." My face is hot with embarrassment.

Maisy's eyebrows shoot up and a smile lifts at the corners of her mouth. "Oh right, sorry," she says, the sound of suppressed laughter ringing in her voice.

"Here," I say handing Maisy my pack roughly, not meeting her eyes. I scoot back down so I'm lying on my back again. Instead of making fun of me, Maisy busies herself with digging the bandages out of my bag.

"Here," she says, handing me the box of berries she collected yesterday. "They'll go bad in this heat."

I hide my awkwardness in noisily opening the box and picking out a handful of berries. I feel Maisy's hands wiping my leg and rinsing the cut with water. Her hands are gentle and assured.

I begin to relax in the warmth once I realize that Maisy won't mock me for jumping away from her before. My eyelids droop, and I examine Maisy under hooded lids. Her face is smoothed in concentration, her dark eyes focused on her work. Her hair glistens in the sun, curling as it dries. Maisy's pink camisole clings to her body, accentuating her curves.

My mind involuntarily flits to Katniss. She had never been good dealing with injuries, or anything involving gentleness, when it came to me. She was always elbows and sharp edges, reflexively pushing me away whenever there were hints that our relationship was moving beyond the bounds of friendship. "That's the way Katniss is," I think. "She's afraid of letting her guard down." Getting close to her had always been hard work.

But then I pause, knowing that that isn't quite true. I swallow hard, thinking of Katniss with Peeta. Yes, there were times during the Games where I could see her struggling to be open and intimate with Peeta, but there were also times where she leaned in to kiss him. There were times when she reached for him, her expression soft and her eyes lit with desire.

She had never looked at me that way. In fact, I'm fairly certain that she is repulsed by the idea.

I turn my eyes back to Maisy. She is so different from Katniss, with her gentle hands and shining curls spilling over her shoulders. I have always thought Katniss is beautiful, especially when she smiles. But compared with Katniss, Maisy is more mature in some ways, more of a woman. Katniss is all hard edges and defenses while Maisy is all softness and curves. I smile, laughing inwardly at my realization.

"What?" Maisy says, noticing my smile. "I'm not that bad at binding wounds, am I?"

"No," I say languorously, stretching out to get more comfortable. I wave my hand, indicating Maisy's wet, skimpy clothes and her focus on cleaning my leg. "I was just thinking that a guy could really get used to this."

"Gale Hawthorne!" Maisy says, scandalized. She swats at my chest, but the gesture is playful and she's smiling when she says, "You had better mind your manners." She tightens the bandage with a final tug. "There, all done."

I pull myself into a sitting position and examine the clean white bandages. "Looks good," I say. Maisy starts scooting away, but I grab her arm quickly. "Wait, let me get yours."

"What?" Maisy says.

"The cuts on your face." There are thin slivers of blood on Maisy's cheeks and along her hairline. "They must be from hitting all those little pebbles and twigs in the water."

I pick up the tube of analgesic and squirt some onto my sun-browned, calloused fingers. As gently as I can, I massage a little bit of gel onto each of the cuts. I have never looked at Maisy this closely before. She keeps her large eyes demurely down; her long lashes stark against her pale skin. We are quiet for a few minutes while I work.

"Thanks," she whispers finally, "for cutting me free back there. I thought I was going to drown."

I pause, looking at Maisy in surprise. Had she been thinking of that this whole time? "Well, it's the least I could do, after you saved me from Eye Patch yesterday," I say, resuming my cleaning of her wounds.

Maisy nods slightly, accepting my answer.

I swallow. "And I was kind of a jerk to you when the Games first started," I add quickly. Maisy's eyes meet mine then as she looks at me in surprise. I hold her gaze steadily, knowing I owe her an explanation. "I wasn't sure you'd hold up, and I was mad at myself for asking you to be partners." I clear my throat, "So sorry."

Maisy looks down again. "Why are you sorry? Because you found out that I can hold up?"

"Yeah," I say honestly. "I probably wouldn't be alive if you hadn't saved me yesterday. And with the hunting today and the bandages, you've been amazing." I pause. "Also, you're company isn't too bad," I mutter with a sheepish grin.

Instead of smiling at my joke, Maisy blushes a deep pink. It's adorable.

"All done," I say, reluctantly dropping my fingers from Maisy's cheek. I stay close to her though, somehow unwilling to break our sense of closeness and warmth just yet.

Maisy picks at the berries in the box before placing one in her mouth. I gulp, imagining the sweet juice exploding in her mouth.

"Did you mean what you said," Maisy asks unexpectedly, "at the interview with Caesar Flickermann…about you thinking I'm perfect?" her eyes meet mine hesitantly.

I lean back, trying to recall the interview. It seems like it was years ago. I remember Maisy at the opening ceremony, with her tight black dress and endless bare back.

"Yeah," I say without thinking, my mind full of the memory, "I did mean it."

"And the other thing…" Maisy continues with difficulty, "about you being a miner, and…not thinking we could be…close?" Maisy is blushing again.

My jaw hardens as I think back to my childhood and growing up without a father. I think of how I spent all my time worried about the kids and tesserrae and hunting. I never had time to really study for school like Maisy or learn to play the piano or even learn how to be sociable and friendly with other girls, leave aside merchants' daughters. I was always too busy taking care of my family. I had definitely noticed girls in school and around the Seam, but I had always thought I would end up with Katniss and so never made the effort to get close to any one else.

I look at Maisy delicate and beautiful in the sunlight, well versed in social graces, and before the Games destined to marry the son of a businessman with a fancy house and guaranteed fortune. What could I possibly offer a girl like her? She was untouchable. Not even a possibility.

"Yeah, I meant that too," I say, surprised by the bitterness lacing my voice.

"You shouldn't think that, you know," Maisy says quietly after a long pause, still picking at the berries. She looks up, "I'm not close to perfect. And, and you have a lot to offer…to any girl." She inhales quickly, shocked at what she has just said.

I am in shock too. "Maisy, I can hunt and survive in the woods just fine. But dealing with merchants and rich people, I would have no idea what to do!" I say in indignation. What does she know anyway? "I can't schmooze or talk politics all smooth at fancy parties. And courting merchant girls? I wouldn't know where to begin. I don't know anything about flowers and poetry and meeting parents. I sell them dead squirrels, for God's sake!"

I inhale sharply, surprised at my vehemence on the subject. I guess all my bitterness about growing up before my time is coming to a head. Maybe I'm just mad that I never had the time to learn about dating girls when I was too busy trying to keep my family from starving. And the one girl I did bother to learn about doesn't want me.

Maisy looks at me steadily. "Not every girl wants poetry and flowers," she says. "I think there are better ways to show someone that you care." I stare at her in amazement, spluttering for words. "I've seen you with your family, how you care for your little brothers and sister. You give of yourself, you know? You've given them all your time, all your hard work. What girl wouldn't want to be with someone like that?"

"Yeah, but who would want to move from a fancy house to live with a miner from the Seam? It's not worth it, not for anything!" I say, getting angry now. Maisy knows nothing about life in the Seam. No one would want to live that way.

"Well, if you win the Games, you won't be living in the Seam anymore."

That pulls me up short. I had been too focused on winning the Games to think about what I would do if I actually succeeded. Now I think about it.

I would no longer have to work in the mines, and my family would be taken care of so I wouldn't have to hunt. In fact, I would have all the time in the world to learn about girls, and maybe even merchant girls with my newfound wealth.

But I don't want merchant girls; I want Katniss. My mind starts to spin. But even if Katniss decides she loves me in that way too, a long shot at best, the Capitol is arranging her marriage to Peeta at this very moment. So what could I hope for? Sneaking over the hedges separating our houses to be with her when Peeta isn't home? There's not much relationship in that. Even if we ever did manage to have kids, Peeta would have to raise them as his own.

The thought is like cold lead in my stomach. There is no way I can be with Katniss. It's just not possible.

I had set my heart on Katniss for so long that I couldn't really imagine ending up with any other girl. But then I pause. I had never really gotten to know any other girls either. Until now. I look at Maisy and think about how we've gotten along pretty well so far. She's beautiful and resourceful and even-tempered. She even managed to smooth down my rage at the beginning of the Games, something Katniss would never have done. She would rather scream at me or stalk off; we are alike that way. Compared to being with Katniss, being with Maisy is so easy.

Maybe I could find another girl. My mind balks at the thought, but I force myself to think about it. If there is no way I can be with Katniss, and I manage to let her go somehow, maybe I can have a future with someone sweet and pretty and loving, someone like Maisy. There are a lot of ifs in that statement, but it gives me a glimmer of hope anyway.

"Well?" Maisy says, still waiting for my response. I look at her in confusion; I had forgotten the question. "Why wouldn't a girl want to move with you to Victor's Village?" she repeats.

"Oh!" I say and smile. "Because then I would never know if she's only with me for my money."

Maisy vehemently shakes her head in frustration. She reaches out a hand to my face and forces me to look into her eyes. "Gale," she says, "don't you know your own worth?"

My mouth falls open in surprise. My worth? I splutter to answer, "Of course, I can set snares and hunt and survive, and…and that's it," I finish lamely, looking down.

"No that's not it," Maisy says forcing my head up again. "Trust me. As a girl who knows you, I am telling you that you could have any girl in District 12."

I think of Katniss and my heart sinks. "Not any girl," I say quietly.

Maisy drops her hand but continues to give me a hard look. "You can be such an idiot sometimes," she says. Then she gets up and walks towards the stream. I flinch in protest, as she takes her warmth with her.

All of a sudden, a pair of pants hits me in the face, followed by a shirt and jacket. I look up and realize that Maisy has tossed me my clothes, dried after their wash in the stream.

"Thanks!" I call churlishly, but I get up and start pulling them on. Maisy is right; we should probably get moving again.