Wednesday afternoon, sometime, Verona, so careful about her diet because of her condition, died from the food she ate anyway. It wasn't blood sugar levels that took the girl down. It was an accidental trick upon her cunning.
Verona followed Peeta and Katniss as they gathered food. Katniss went off by herself to hunt while Peeta gathered berries, leaving bags of fruit at a central area. Verona snuck up and stole some of the food, eating freely instead of having to try to regulate her sugar levels by intake.
Peeta had gathered poisonous berries and unwittingly passed on his mistake to Verona. He had never been outside of the fence in District 12, like most residents of the coal mining town.
Katniss called the berries "nightlock," which even sounds terrible. I had never had to face that fear. The concern over whether something you find in the wild is poisonous or not is always taken care of before Gale and Katniss crawl back under the fence. Nightlock looked like just another berry to me.
That day out in the wild has also given me a new respect for Katniss' physique. Gale is very tall and muscular so the idea of him hiking every day and hauling back heavy packs of food isn't physically impressive.
Alternatively, Katniss is still small. My sister's growing up quickly and still every shot shows she could use an extra twenty-five pounds just to look like a normal sixteen-year-old girl. The bandage on her forehead is dirty and stained dark-brown with blood. The no-longer-swollen tracker jacker stings are in the final stages of healing, bluish-yellow-black smeary bruises. Her ribs form mountainous ridges through her undershirt.
Necessity drives my sister and perhaps new hope pushes her as well. Only Cato remains. Starving Cato stalking ceaselessly through the vast woods. The arena is massive, designed for the twenty or so tributes that make it through the bloodbath on occasion. The last few tributes have to be driven together by Gamemakers' intervention. One year, in a cactus-bushed desert arena, all the Careers went for the cornucopia and every other kid went for cover in the arid foothills, leaving little boot prints in the caked mud and gravel. There was no bloodbath.
I estimate the odds for District 12 are fifty-fifty; better than ever. Cato is stronger, bigger, and faster on his feet. He killed Thresh against all odds. Peeta's leg keeps him from moving very fast, limiting what Katniss can do as well, and he won't be able to help very much.
In my own heart, I know that Katniss has a real advantage with the bow. She brings down rabbits and squirrels with practiced ease. She killed Marvel without any hesitation and nearly killed Clove the same. But the Gamemakers gave Cato a ring-link armor vest, and I don't think there's any way Katniss could possibly know about that. It's just not fair!
Wednesday drew to a close and Cato never found them, didn't even notice the smoke wafting into the sky when Peeta and Katniss cooked some rabbit and squirrel. Cato is visibly shaken: Clove's death, Thresh's beating, and starvation savaging his short temper.
The tributes from District 12 retired back to their cave for the night. I surprised myself by sleeping rather fully in my own bed.
Today is Thursday and school lets out early because the Gamemakers decided to encourage the three remaining tributes to go to the lake near the cornucopia. They drained all the other water sources out of the arena. Katniss and Peeta catch on quickly. Before school was let out, they were nearly to the lake. Cato, still convinced Katniss is hiding in a tree somewhere, continues to prowl the woods, his decision-making powers considerably diminished at this point.
Once school lets out, Gale and I rush back to my house to see if the Games' end will come soon. The only thing we talk about is the fact that Madge still isn't back to school. Has it been a week already since she stormed out in tears?
The end of the 74th Hunger Games doesn't arrive. Katniss and Peeta are almost out of the forest, and yet, Cato is moving in deeper, away from the lake. Gale has to leave to hunt and I have my chores to take care of.
Lady is particularly feisty today, stamping her feet as she eats stale grass in the meadow. I let her graze for a while, then take her back to the pen and milk her, scratching her ears with my free hand. I gather up some cheese and head into the business district for some trading.
Everyone's happy. This is the first time in more than two decades that District 12 looks like it will have a victor. And this year, we may have two! The gifts lavished upon a winning district are sure to be even better this year. In the mean time, people give me extra bonuses for my trades. The old woman who sells fruit gives me a whole basketful! It's shockingly generous and I'm thrilled even as I struggle to carry the massive thing along.
Mr. Mellark is his usual quiet self. I didn't expect him to find an appetite for conversation just because Peeta may come home after all. I linger in the baker's shop to talk a while, since the witch isn't around.
"Mr. Mellark?"
"Hmm?" He grunts, looking up from some dough.
"I didn't know you liked squirrels. Gale told me that he sells you squirrels a lot. He and Katniss used to, anyway."
He shrugs and kneads flour into the bread.
"I've just never seen you eating anything like that before." Hidden behind my words is the fact that he owns a bakery. Why would he need to eat scrappy meat like squirrel? He has a lot to choose from.
"They're fine." He watches me as my gaze slides over the cookies and muffins and cakes and pies and- "Prim, what's bothering you?"
"It's Gale!" My voice blurts out before I can stop myself. "He likes Katniss and that's fine! But he doesn't like Peeta because Peeta likes Katniss too!" I blush, remembering who I'm talking to before I finish the outburst. "I just don't understand."
Mr. Mellark waits, rolling a wooden pin over the dough to flatten it. His hands work quickly, with professional expertise. When I don't elaborate he says, "It can be very difficult watching someone else with the person you love."
"Gale doesn't even know Peeta, though. Not very well anyway."
"It's not about Peeta. He loves Katniss and he's just angry that he can't be there with her, when she needs him."
I look over the wonderful foods again. I was angry at myself because Katniss can't be here with me, when I need her. It doesn't explain why Gale is hostile toward Peeta. "I'm sorry I brought all this up, Mr. Mellark."
"Don't worry about it, Prim." He cuts the dough into a circle and sets the round piece in a pan, expertly forming a silky edge. It's quiet for some minutes. I rest, watch him prepare a strawberry pie.
He's happy that Peeta might come home, how Mom and I are thrilled that Katniss might. We don't really even care about their being victors. It's them we want. "You want a muffin?"
My face lightens. "Can I have one, really?" Mr. Mellark nods. Everyone is so generous today! I select a plump blueberry muffin, wondering if I collected some of the berries myself. It's fantastic! Mr. Mellark smiles, pounding wheat flour into the dough.
Whatever emotional estrangement Gale is enduring, he can just talk to Katniss about it when/if she gets back. Fifty-fifty! Much better than the slim-to-none odds everyone gave her at the outset. She beat those. She has to win! She told me she would really, really try, almost a month ago, ages ago. Cato is already done for, as far as I'm concerned.