My efforts to stay strong are punctuated by little yelps that escape me as if they've got a mind of their own. Katniss tries over and over to pull me over to the stream, but it takes a huge yank from her to pull me out of the plants and rocks.
I can feel tears squeeze out of the corner of my eyes at the sensation of branches and leaves being tugged roughly from the gash in my leg. I can hardly hear Katniss when she poses a question that probably doesn't need any answer as pain sends my head swirling.
"Look, Peeta," she began, her voice strained with barely concealed stress, "I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, okay?"
It's just about all I can do to mutter "excellent" through gritted teeth. I can feel her move closer to me, almost on the ground herself.
"On three," she declared, her voice much louder now. "One, two, three!"
She rolls me over just once, but this pain is far, far worse than the debris being pulled out of my wound; instead, it's being shoved in under the weight of my body. I can feel every little piece being pushed into the raw flesh, and suddenly my entire leg is on fire.
I can't help but screech, the noise sounding inhuman. I can see I've startled Katniss, and she pulls back quickly. As I try and breathe, and try to stop the sounds I'm making, she sits back on her haunches, biting her lip and toying unconsciously with the end of her braid.
Watching her is about the only thing potent enough to distract me from the pain, but suddenly she looks up, her face set in grim lines of determination.
"Okay, change of plans. I'm not going to put you all the way in." She sounds very, very nervous, but incredible relief sweeps through me knowing that I won't have to undergo the process again.
"No more rolling?" I ask, hoping she'll confirm.
"That's all done," I sigh in relief as she continues, "Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, okay?"
She sounds suddenly child-like, seemingly at a loss for what to do next. As there isn't much I can do to help her with what has to come next, I follow her orders and keep an eye out for other tributes.
After a few moments of deliberation, I watch as she fills up a small pouch and two bottles with water from the stream. She sets up a little rotation, pouring one of the containers over my body while the other two sit against the flow of the water, always filling.
My body seems to be overheated, so the cool water brings relief. When she moves onto the gash, however, relief is nowhere to be found. But I focus on Katniss, and how worry creases her face, making me selfishly happy. Perhaps she cares a bit more than she let on…then I recall the look on her face when she spotted me with the Careers.
Perhaps I shouldn't get my hopes up.