Normally, Gale and Katniss meet somewhere in the woods. The Hawthorne household is not very close to our own at the edge of the Seam. However, I don't know where to get under the fence or even how to be sure the electricity isn't surging through the links. That would be an awful way to go, heart blasted by a million volts that could have provided light for years, except that someone decided it would serve better to make our cage more secure. The fence would work as well uncharged as charged.
Gale knocks on the door before dawn. Mom hears it before I do, even though he meant to let her sleep. She isn't thrilled with the idea of my going beyond the fence. Frankly, I'm not terribly excited about it either. I would really prefer to stay home, watch the broadcasts than risk leaving District 12. More food tends to win arguments in the Seam, though.
Quickly dressed in rugged clothes, I step out of the tiny bedroom. Mom and Gale have turned the television on to see if anything has happened overnight. Katniss is curled up in the sleeping bag with Peeta. It must be cold again. She may be sleeping or not. It's hard to tell with a pair of funny looking sun glasses that she has been wearing at night.
At his side, Gale's hands squeeze into fists. Is he jealous of Peeta? How could he be jealous of the boy who saved Katniss' life nearly expending his own?
Gale notices me, "Morning, Prim. You got Katniss' bags?"
I nod, throwing the burlap sacks over my shoulder. My throat is tight, swallowing difficult. "I… I guess I'm ready to go."
"Just a minute, dear. Let me put your hair up for you." Mom rapidly ties my hair into a bun and drops one of Katniss' caps on my head. It fits me better than her other clothes. Hand-me-downs never seem to fit just right. Almost everyone wears pre-worn clothes. Patches are in style in the Seam, of necessity.
Gale and I bid mom farewell for the day. By the time we cross the meadow to one of Katniss' regular crawl-paths under the fence, the first rays of the sunrise stream over the horizon.
Now I remember why electrifying the fence is a good idea. A bobcat could easily sneak underneath it. Are those dangerous? Bobcats could probably kill Lady or Buttercup. Katniss said that they'll go after any little animal, the mangy lynxes. It strikes me as repulsive that a lynx would eat a stray cat. And we're going out into their territory?
Apprehension seizes my attention; I want to turn back. My skeleton rattles with fright. Gale leads the way, crawling and dragging his lanky frame easily under the fence. He's done this a million times. I hesitate to follow. "Where's your bow, Gale?"
He tilts an eyebrow. "We keep 'em hidden in the forest, remember? No, weapons allowed?" Gale sighs through a smile. "Prim, it's okay. Alright? I'll be right with you the whole time."
"You promise?"
He laughs, "If you promise not to tell Katniss that I brought you out here." His eyes wince as he speaks. Because that depends on Katniss coming home from the Games. It must be eating him alive, seeing her going through this ordeal and not being able to do anything. Gale and I are much closer to her than anyone.
I relent and crawl under the fence. Gale has spent so much extra time hunting and gathering for us... It's the only thing he can do for Katniss, now. His job is to make sure she doesn't have to worry about me and Mom.
Gale helps me up and we start into the woods. We circle around the fence, staying a few hundred yards away from it. Gale grabs a leather hide from a nook between two boulder outcroppings. He unwraps his bow and arrows. They're all constructed from field materials; even so they look to be very decent quality considering molded synthetic parts aren't available. Unlike the bow Katniss has in the arena.
"Did you make that?"
"No, actually," he strings it and plucks a note on the string. "Your father made it. Katniss traded me for it."
"Oh."
"It's just in case, for protection. No hunting today, like I promised. C'mon." Following after him, my knees still shake disquieted by the tall trees that tower over us, imposing. "Wait a sec. We do need to check the snares, okay?"
That makes sense. Leaving an animal that has been killed by a trap just lets other animals feed on it. Plus Gale's traps kill the animal instantly, he insists. We follow a trail with a few snares every few hundred feet.
Two have rabbits that dangle in the air, like they've been hanged. I look at the fuzzy little animals hanging from Gale's belt, tiny front paws sticking out rigidly from their chests. He tells me their necks are broken when the trap goes off, that they never feel a thing. I eat meat. It's just hard to see these cute, little animals as food.
Gale's last trap has a squirrel and he cleans the game as I look away, trying to become used to these wild surroundings. My anxious shivers have only partially subsided. Wanting to hear his confident voice, I call over my shoulder, "Hey, Gale? How often do we eat squirrel?"
"Actually, very seldom. The meat isn't bad... They're usually better to sell."
"Really? Why?"
"It's all about the buyer. The baker likes them a lot. As long as the witch isn't around. His wife, I mean. Katniss and I call her the witch. He'll buy every squirrel. Trading is all about finding the right buyer."
"Mr. Mellark likes squirrel meat?" I'd never seen him eat anything like that. What meat he eats is usually on a sandwich. Can you make squirrel sandwich?
"He must. He buys every squirrel we offer to him. Maybe he uses them as filler in the pot pies. Who knows? Alright, that should do." I turn back around. Gale has the animals wrapped in a leather pouch he stuffs in one of his bags. "Let's get to gathering."
"Does Mrs. Mellark not like squirrels?" I follow Gale deeper into the woods.
"I think she doesn't like Mr. Mellark. Or anybody else for that matter. If he's not eating squirrel, it'll be something else, I figure. So, why should she care if he eats what he likes?"
"She's insufferable, that's for sure." My knees aren't shaking anymore. I don't think I've ever heard Gale talk this much. It's like the woods are a place of comfort, where he can open up and say whatever he wants. Perhaps my sister feels that way about the wild. Even though I'm getting used to the idea of being out here, I refuse to let Gale's pace put any distance between us. "How do you think he ended up with her?"
"Hmm, I don't know. He's a decent man, I guess. She's just hideous. I thought maybe you'd know since he likes you so much."
"No, he doesn't talk much, even with me. Maybe Allen knows."
Gale shakes his head. "Nah, I wouldn't tell my son what is wrong with his mother, even if she is a horrible person."
We walk in silence, listening to the forest. It's quiet and the air is sharply fresh, unblemished by the coal dust pervasive in District 12. "You're a really nice man too, Gale."
He laughs. "Thanks, Prim. I just hope- wait, scratch that thought."
"What?" I gasp, starting to breathe heavy. I'm not used to uneven ground. Gale slows down. He's accustomed to hiking and his legs are so much longer. "What is it?"
"I just hope that Katniss thinks so too."
"What? You know her better than anyone else. Everyone knows Katniss likes you!"
"I really like her too." He looks off at the sun peeking through distant trees as we cross a clearing. Wildflowers dot the landscape.
"And you told Katniss you loved her."
His reply is slow in coming. "That would have been the first time I told her, Prim. I guess she still hasn't heard it, though."
"She knows you love her. She must!" I follow Gale down a path that twists and winds through thorny bushes.
"Your sister really… really doesn't want to be in love. Ugh, we shouldn't even be talking about this, Primrose." He pulls the bags off his back, "Here we go." Gale waves at some other bushes and points out the berries.
We gather as much as we can from the first hedge and move on to the next. There are so many! I never knew how much food there is out here, if you just venture out and look for it. Within half an hour, we have several pounds of berries from two dozen bushes.
Gale starts to break the stillness "I'd really like-" He cuts himself off and shakes his head.
"If you need to get some stuff off your mind, that's okay. It won't bother me."
He nods, picking more berries in silence. A few minutes later he finally opens up. "Katniss doesn't ever want to have a family or even a boyfriend."
"I know."
He whispers, "She's all I want." Almost too quiet to hear. "More than anything I've ever felt before, I want to be in love with Katniss." His hands swipe at the braches, ripping off twigs and leaves with the berries.
His voice lashes with sudden ferocity, "And now, it doesn't even matter whether I could ever convince her to marry me, because she's stuck in the Hunger Games! With one tribute who loves her like crazy and four others that want her dead!"
What? How can he be that selfish? "It really bothers you that Peeta loves her?"
He stops picking to look at me. "I know it shouldn't. I know. He almost died trying to save Katniss and he is a good person but..." He picks more berries, calming down. "You might understand when you're older, Prim. It just hurts to see Katniss with someone else."
I taste one of the berries. It's sweet and juicy, with a slight sour flavor. "She never even kissed you?"
"I almost kissed her once. That was as close as we got. She and I are very comfortable together. We just... fit together."
These bushes are picked clean of fruit. Gale says there are other things we need to gather. During our walk, he changes subjects to the Capitol. He blames them like I do for the Hunger Games and even more. Most of the stuff he describes I haven't thought about before.
I understand the way the Capitol controls the districts' food because we all experience that. He talks about tesserae and about all the rules the Peacekeepers are supposed to enforce. Apparently, people aren't supposed to be outside of their homes past a curfew time, except in District 12, the Peacekeepers refrain from imposing that law.
And he talks about how the schools are designed to make kids afraid of the government. The Hunger Games do that well enough. The lectures in school just bore me because they're never anything new.
Further on, there's a bunch of little plants and Gale kneels to show me. They're carrots. Well, the root is a carrot anyway. We pick the whole plant and keep even the leaves for Lady. They're dark coming out of the ground, a brownish-red, a few are even have a purple hue to them. Gale says even purple carrots cook just fine.
He seems to have gotten his frustrations out because he starts to grin when he changes the subject, "I saw you in the interviews last night, by the way."
My face blushes uncontrollably. Apparently the editors thought I was endearing and ran several clips of me, including my outburst about using my own words. It was a tad different from the normal interviews. Mom laughed when she saw it and then hugged me. "Oh, Primrose. You're so adorable!"
I'm so glad that school was canceled! A second day off is great. Really though, I would have been too embarrassed to face the other kids with the exhibit on television. Maybe they wouldn't tease me with Katniss still in the arena. I'll never know and I'm happy not knowing.
"It was..." I scavenge for the word that best conveys my feelings. "I was mortified!"
"Mortified?" Gale laughs, falling on the ground, tugging up a carrot with his weight.
"Don't laugh!" I wail. "Gale, quit it!"
"I'm sorry, Prim." He pants. "It was awfully cute though."
"Fine. You can say it was cute. Don't you dare say another word, though!" I wave a muddy bunch of carrots at him.
He pulls up another plant, smirking. "What if I use your words?"
"Gaaaale!" I whine, trying to suppress my childish pout.
"Okay! Okay!" He chuckles again. "Look, for what it's worth, I thought you came across perfectly."
"Like someone who loves Katniss?"
"She's your sister. That was going to show, no matter what. You showed Panem a very human side of the Games... I doubt they'll use anything from my interview."
"They interviewed you?" The dirt under my fingernails feels weird, thick.
"Yeah, for almost half an hour." He cocks his head, tossing a carrot into the bag. "I didn't have a single answer that wasn't loaded in some way. I was careful. Took my time answering. They won't use any of it, if they're smart."
I tug on a root that's stuck fast. Gale will have to get that one. "I just wish Katniss could win and come home. I hate that she had to go."
"Don't blame yourself, Prim."
I nod. Knowing that is easy. If knowing was all it took to make myself feel better, life would be easy. Easier. Of course, no matter what I know and what I feel, Katniss is still gone. Four tributes to go and one extra she needs to care for.
We only have one of six burlap bags full. This is a lot of food. "Gale, how come you don't bring back this much everyday?"
"I do. I always come home with four bags as full as I can get them. You have to remember, Prim, Katniss and I always trade what we can to get other things. Candles, coal, clothes, salt, grain. We can't just eat all this."
"This is going to be a long day, huh?"
"It's going faster than normal. We'll head back before it gets dark, I promise." He picks a carrot with each hand, including the big one I couldn't budge. "Look, I know you've had a rough time these past few weeks and one of the reason's I asked you to come out here is so you can say anything you like without worrying."
I think about that for a while. "Thanks."
"Anything you want to talk about."
"Nope. It's actually nicer being outside of the fence than I remember." Katniss wasn't even fifteen when she took me hunting and we were going for animals. This is much more serene. "It's been hard, yeah. I think I'm getting through it though. Mom's helping me and I've talked to Madge a few times."
"Feel free to bring anything up you want to talk about."
"What if I want to talk about the boys I like?"
"Aren't you a little young to start liking boys?"
I grin sheepishly. "Sort of. Some of the girls in my class are talking about boys, now though."
Gale groans, "Ugh. Okay, what boy do you like?"
Now it's my turn to laugh. "I'm kidding!" The last time I felt this normal was ages ago. It might be just a month ago. But I feel better and I tell Gale so.
"They can't own us here."
Because of the constant work, the day goes more quickly than I expected. Gale was right. There was so much to gather and he insisted that there is more in other areas for the following days. Food isn't quite as scarce out here nearly as I thought.
Since Katniss honed her wilderness skills, we had been doing better than most in the Seam. Even so we are always only a few bites ahead of the game. It's hard to appreciate how other families survive. Mine work pays a little more than the apothecary shop brings in. Honestly, if it weren't for the herbs Katniss and Gale always bring back, Mom and I wouldn't really make much money at all. Gale has to hold the fence while I drag each bag into the district.
He won't let me go to the Hob to trade most of the bounty. We separate out some of the vegetables and he leaves a rabbit, too. Tomorrow he'll bring by some money and provisions from the trades.
I turn on the television to see all the focus remains on District 12's tributes. The corner-screens show the pair of Careers stalking through the woods, no where close to the cave where Katniss attempts to rejuvenate Peeta.
Or not. Peeta lies still, out cold. Maybe he's died, I think, until I remember that the Gamemakers collect each body within minutes of the death, excepting the bloodbath where the fights at the outset can last for extended periods of time. The shot focuses on Katniss who is building elaborate camouflage for the cave. The hide is more effective this time.
After the task is complete, Katniss eats a few raw fish. She's preparing for something, cleaning her weapons, and filling every possible container with water, sorting her supplies. She never leaves, though.
Although Katniss is well rested, these trials are taking a real toll on her body. All over her hands and face, scabs from various cuts take their grueling time to heal, standing out on her pale skin, along with a spattering of inky bruises. She's too malnourished for her immune system to efficiently repair the damage. She needs medicine, herself, albeit not nearly so desperately as Peeta.
When evening begins to descend, the replays fill in the events of the day, entirely leaving out the other tributes. That's very odd. Only Katniss and Peeta receiving attention? The Gamemakers usually at least show where the other tributes are, to assure viewers that they are still around. Life in the Capitol must be thoroughly fanatical about District 12's tributes.
The clips began with another examination of Peeta's left leg. Obvious infection has spread; the flesh is dying and starting the first stages of rot. Following are clips from a story Katniss told about when she bought me my goat. I beam at her joy in remembering that day. Peeta flirts with Katniss all day, with an honest, dry sort of manner. Probably that's just how the Gamemakers have edited the footage. Still, it almost seems like Katniss is struggling not to flirt back.
Claudius Templesmith made another announcement that afternoon. There would be a 'feast' the following morning at sunrise in front of the cornucopia. The announcer says that each district's remaining tributes need something specific and each item will be provided. He fails to elaborate on what those things are. Obviously, District 12 needs medicine.
Peeta and Katniss argue over whether she should go. "No, you're not going."
"I am going and you can't stop me!" Katniss retorts sharply.
Peeta's reply is disjointed. "You go and I'm going too." I wouldn't bet that he could even stand. He's either delirious or this conversation is trimmed in length through careful edits.
"What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?"
"I won't die, I promise. If you promise not to go."
The replay switches to a slow motion clip of Katniss and Peeta kissing. It's less awkward than their first kiss, and yet, still odd for the pair. I really hope Gale isn't home yet. Hope he's not watching this.
A gift floats to Katniss on a parachute. Haymitch sent her a liquid tranquilizer of some sort. She mashes it into a berry paste and spoon feeds it to Peeta. He even recognizes the deception on the last bite, too late. That must be why he's sleeping so heavily. Well, and his body is in terrible shape.
So, my sister tricked the boy, in order that she could return his favor. Maybe the other tributes will be vulnerable at the feast and this awful Hunger Games can be ended. Katniss has her bow and some arrows. She could hit any tribute that set foot near the cornucopia! With her eleven rating, she must be able to hit almost anything.
Gale said her superior skills with the bow, couldn't have alone garnished the eleven rating. And of course, the other tributes who have managed to survive this long will also be viewing the feast as an opportunity for offensive attack, rather than merely a chance to obtain necessary supplies. What is always needed most is victory.
I really hope Gale isn't watching these replays. Are all boys so smitten by girls that they don't even want other boys around them? I can't recall ever seeing Dad tell Mom not to talk to other men. He wouldn't have told her that anyway. I know it in my heart, so maybe it's just a teenage response.
Nevertheless, Gale is aggravated that Katniss is becoming so close to Peeta. Or that she's letting Peeta become important to her. Of course they're becoming close! They have a chance to win together and have had to survive the ordeal mostly alone for two weeks, three if you count the week of preparation. With the loneliness of the arena, Katniss must find his companionship crucial.
Night has settled in. The shot suddenly changes to show Verona. She's at the edge of the forest, demarking the plain with short grass, landmine pits by the lake, and the massive, golden cornucopia. Does she think the announcer said the feast was at sundown? She's sweating a lot and her whole body trembles. She must be terrified or fatigued. The girl never appeared as though she was afraid before, so it's curious that-
Verona dashes madly into the open moonlight, her skin glistening silver with sweat. Reaching the cornucopia, she ducks inside shrouded from the elements and threats. She's going to hide until the morning so as to be closest to the feast when it arrives. That will depend where the Gamemakers deposit the supplies.
Mom goes to bed and I follow suit. Tomorrow is Sunday, another day off. The feast is going to be provided at sunup, only a few hours after sunrise in District 12. Jitters of anxiety still grip me each time I see Katniss in the arena. This time, though, I know when something will happen.
That's worse, I realize, once my head hits pillow. Instead of wondering when encounters may happen, my mind relays a thousand potential disasters. No matter what, Katniss is up against four other tributes, including the careers from District 2. Still treacherous even starved. The hollow desperation of hunger might make them unpredictably dangerous.
I toss and turn in my cold bed for hours, exhausted, begging my imagination to quit churning. Buttercup won't leave me alone, either. The cat walks all over me, making it harder to get comfortable.
Then Mom is waking me, just like that. Dim sunlight already streams in through the dusty windows. Just like that, feeling as if I haven't rested a wink, except that I must have slept at least a little. It just doesn't feel like it. Mom has the television on. She gives me some mushy grain meal for breakfast. A vague hint of cinnamon seasoning makes it quite good.
Katniss is watching the cornucopia from the broad tree line. She's wearing a rudimentary set of mittens made out of extra socks. I recognize that it's the same spot which she used to watch the Careers before destroying their supply dump. She takes off those weird glasses as the morning brightens ever so slowly. A foggy haze collects over the arena, not nearly thick enough to impair visibility in the field.
The image switches to Thresh crouched like a tiger in the wheat, studying the expanse. He's massive and patient, seemingly unaffected by the chill that saps at everyone else.
Cato stalks through the woods near the edge of the plain, searching for any tribute who may be contemplating a sprint to the feast. Clove has her own hiding spot a good three hundred yards away from Katniss.
Another corner-shot displays Peeta, only to reassure the heartsick Capitol that their romantic hero is still alive. They must be falling all over themselves watching the two tributes kiss and spar emotionally. How tragic, they moan. It's all an illusion though. If they really, really cared about Katniss and Peeta, the Games would end and the tributes would all leave the arena alive.
Instead, the Gamemakers have set up another bloodbath, luring each tribute independently. The shot of the cornucopia reveals Verona, glistening with sweat despite the chill. She must be sick as well, I speculate.
The ground splits near the gaping maw of the golden horn and a stone table slides up into place. Four different backpacks rest on the slab, their sides stitched with district numbers, little information bubbles on the screen indicating what's contained in each backpack; the medicine for Peeta is contained in the daintiest backpack, tiny compared to the others. District 2 is getting chain mail armor. Thresh is being given a ghillie suit, whatever that is.
I barely have enough time to read the label on the green backpack, "Insulin kit," when Verona blasts out from the cornucopia, snags the pack, and blazes her way to the tree line before anyone can react. It was a wise move on her part. She managed to get away with her feast, leaving the rest of the tributes to scrap for their own. We don't have insulin in District 12. If you get diabetes, it's a death sentence. District 5 must be a little better off than we are if they can afford to buy that.
The screen switches back to Katniss' angry scowl. She steels her determination. Mom grabs my hand and squeezes hard. Katniss breaks out of the bushes running hard for the table. The shot adjusts to show Clove charging out of the forest, straight toward Katniss, knife already in her hand.
Katniss turns as Clove throws and miraculously smacks the spinning blade out of the air with her bow! A split second later, she returns an arrow toward the girl from District 2.
Clove tries to dodge as the arrow lodges in her left arm just below the shoulder. I want to clap, or jump up and shout that Katniss has taken down another enemy, except Clove doesn't fall, doesn't hesitate for a single breath! She yanks the arrow out with her right hand, all the while trying to close the distance to Katniss.
Katniss arrives at the table and snatches the tiny pack onto her wrist. She draws another arrow. My whimper wishes for a perfect kill. Katniss never pulls the string back. Clove's second knife strikes her in the forehead and skips off the rough angle of bone! Blood pours from the wound, gushing over her face. "No!" my voice moans. Mom's hand clenches mine, the other covers her mouth.
Katniss stumbles, disoriented. Clove tackles her, disregarding the pain that certainly plagues her punctured arm. The image changes again so we can see their faces, blurred in my vision. No, this can't be happening! "Where's your boyfriend, District Twelve?" Clove's voice is savagely sweet, menacingly smooth. "Still hanging on?"
"He's out there now, hunting Cato." Katniss bluffs. "Peeta!"
Clove grabs her neck to choke off the screech. She watches and listens for a response from the forest. Of course, Peeta is still sleeping like a far-off rock. Clove smiles and looks back to Katniss. The girl from District 2 is at least four inches taller than my sister and spent most of her life much better fed. Katniss is hopelessly pinned.
My stomach turns, not because I feel guilty or because I hate the Capitol. I just want my sister back. I cry, my voice eking out weak notes of sorrow. The pain is unbearable even as I wrap my arms around Mom, burying my face in her shoulder. She embraces me, her own mourning shaking her body.
"Liar," I can't see the nightmare, but I can still hear the broadcast over my sobs. "He' nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? Medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it."
Clove pauses for an eternity. Can't this just end? Why does Katniss need to suffer more? "I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show."
Fury, agony, shock! There's nothing I can do, so I squeeze Mom tighter, willing the rest of the world out of existence, so the universe is just me and her. That's all our family will be now, my mind says. Half left.
"Forget it, District Twelve. We're going to kill you, just like we did your pathetic little ally... What was her name? The one who hopped around in the trees? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you. And I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How does that sound...? Now, where to start?"
I don't dare look at the screen. Katniss faced the arena alone and even in the comfort of our mother's arms, I don't have the will to face the very end with her. I'm so angry and scared and sad.
I can't stop thinking how Katniss told Peeta about my goat, Lady. How happy we were when she brought it home on my birthday, even sick as it was. Lady was a wonderful gift, the best ever. I've cared for the goat and pampered her as much as I can. For a moment, I can simply shut out the Hunger Games, the villainy of the Capitol and just remember Katniss loving me, caring for me every second of her fleeting life.
Clove's voice invades my senses again, refusing to give Katniss a decent end. "I think we'll start with your lips." The words are silky and teasing and horrible. "Yes, I don't think you'll have much use for your lips anymore. Want to blow Lover Boy one last kiss?" All of a sudden, her composure vaporizes; her voice blackens with seething hatred. "All right then. Let's get started.
I don't want to look. I can't look! My head turns of its own will and my eyes catch Clove lowering a sleek blade Katniss' face. My stomach threatens to return my breakfast.
The Gamemakers switch cameras. Thresh zooms along the ground with unrealistic speed and grace. He slams into Clove and swings her into the sky, where he shakes her with rage and then whips her back to the ground! "What did you do to that little girl? You kill her?"
"No! No, it wasn't me!" Cloves crawls backward, astonished by Thresh's explosive interruption.
"You said her name! I heard you. You kill her? You cut her up," Thresh jabs a finger toward Katniss, eyes never leaving Clove, his spindly fist wrapped around a hefty rock, "like you were going to cut up this girl here?"
"No! No, I-" Her face contorts into terror, her sultry, sadistic persona vacating her forever. "Cato! Cato!"
A distant voice calls back and in a corner-screen Cato turns, yelling, the audio from that feed muted. Clove is done for with one mighty swing of the rock in Thresh's powerful grip. She collapses; limp, not yet dead, but well on her way.
Thresh whips around to Katniss. "What'd she mean, about Rue being your ally?" Thresh's eyes gleam with a ferocity I've recently come to understand.
Katniss fumbles for words, blood drying on her face. "I - I - We teamed up. Blew up the supplies. I tried to save her, I did. But he got there first, District One." She trembles and I tremble with Mom.
"And you killed him?"
"Yes. I killed him and buried her in flowers. And I sang her to sleep." Katniss' voice cracks with anguish.
"To sleep?" Thresh calms somewhat, fist and stone still menacingly poised.
"To death. I sang until she died. Your district... they sent me bread." She sniffs and Mom and I whimper. "Do it fast, okay, Thresh?"
Thresh considers this, his frown laden with conflict. Then he points at her. "Just this one time, I let you go, for the little girl. You and me, we're even then. No more owed. You understand?" Thresh looks toward the tree line. "You better run now, Fire Girl."
My heart pounds, almost rattles my ribcage; my hand escapes Mom's so I can clap. The exhilaration brings me to my feet, cheering as Katniss half runs, half stumbles to the woods, blood oozing from the laceration on her head.
I had hoped the feast would go better. And yet it could have gone so much worse, almost did! Restless adrenalin surges within and it's minutes later before I can sit back down. Mom beams a beautiful smile at the television, almost fainting from joy. She loves Katniss, even though Katniss doesn't let her get very close. I'm dancing on my toes, prancing back and forth in the room as Katniss heads for the creek. Even when I sit back down, I twitch with jittery excitement.
The screen switches to Cato, remanding my sister to a corner-shot. Thresh has disappeared again, taking his pack and Cato's back to the fields. Cato calls Clove's name, falling down at her side. He shakes Clove's limp form which still holds onto some faint threads of life. "Clove! Wake up!" She's too far gone, already comatose. It won't be long now. He presses her lifeless frame to his chest and then lays her back into the short grass.
It takes Katniss a long while returning to Peeta. Her extra socks serve as bandages, slick and red with blood. She lost a troubling quantity. You can't keep doing this to a starving body. There's no fat left for her system to pillage. She needs nourishment to recover. She needs medical care. She needs Mom and me.
I take a deep breath and sigh, struggling to rid my veins of the hyperactive rush that drove my restlessness. Katniss crawls back into the cave. Peeta is still lost in slumber, dead to the world and nearly to himself. Katniss fumbles as she opens the miniscule zipper and shakes out a box. Inside is a needle filled with some sort of fluid.
Mom doesn't say anything so I doubt she knows what it is either. If it can heal Peeta in his condition or at least help him, it must be way beyond anything we've ever had in the apothecary shop, or even at the doctor's office. She pokes the needle into Peeta's arm and depresses the plunger. I hope she hit a vein. Katniss struggles to stay awake and loses the battle, collapsing back against the cave wall, unconscious.
She's a wreck. A pale, exhausted, starved, bloody, scarred wreck. My sister looks worse off than Peeta, despite his leg which remains hidden under the sleeping bag. There's a chance Katniss won't wake up. About equal with the chance that she will, I dread.
Mom shares my apprehension and tries to reassure us. Her tone shakes with her pity. "It's the exertion, Prim... She didn't loose too much blood. She's only in shock so her system can recoup some energy."
I nod faintly, wanting to return Mom's hope. I don't have any words. I feel like throwing up.
She got the medicine into Peeta. She set herself aside again and went into the maw of evil for someone else. For this boy she hardly knows. How is Gale feeling right now, watching Katniss broken and passed out, clawing for a handhold, trying to keep Peeta alive? It's harsh watching my sister suffer. That's all Gale is feeling, even about Peeta, I tell myself. Love does weird things to people.
Thresh is back in the wheat fields, already quite distant from the cornucopia. His towering legs generate wild speed. Cato has cautiously ventured into the long grasses. Good. Let Cato and Thresh kill each other!
I gaze at Katniss in the corner-screen, her body limp. How many times has she passed out in the Hunger Games? How can we go on and live with this saturation of panic and emotional stress? The day will contain little more for my sister, and there are plenty of chores to be done. Mom and I won't be able to concentrate on them, except there's no choice. In District 12, there's no real day off, or else you can't survive.