Chapter 11

Fire

My plan relies solely on Katniss's subconscious telling her to go the right way, away from the noise I will be carefully distributing along the wrong path. It certainly won't be easy, but I think I can make it work. Her ears are very keen to the sounds of the forest, as long as I can keep sending my rocks flying into the tree bark she'll notice the difference between the sound of rock on bark, and normal forest sounds. The plan also hinders on going unnoticed. If Katniss picks up on the noise she will either run, or investigate. I can't afford either.

At this point her rapidly decreasing condition may be my ally, however I resolve that if by the end of the day tomorrow she hasn't found the water, I will help her personally.

Before I settle into my tree for the night I collect stones from the ground, none larger than my palm. I'm fairly certain I'm on screen right now, because for all they know I may be challenging Katniss-deadly, lethal, eleven scoring Katniss Everdeen the sixteen year old-with only a few stones. Only an idiot would try that.

I'm quick on the ground, just not as fast as I am in the trees. In no time I have both my arena pant pockets full of 'ammunition'. I'm on my last sweep of the ground when my hand rakes across a sharp rock. A gash is opened on the outer side of my left hand and I gasp in pain. A steady stream of blood trickles from the cut, but my pain is quickly overpowered by excitement. I have a knife-or close to one! That's about as close to a weapon as I'm going to come, and I think it will be of some use.

I tuck it into my belt, alongside my slingshot for later use-but not until after I cut off a small square of fabric from my sweatshirt. I don't take enough to render me cold at night, just enough to use as a rag, to press into my cut and stop the flow of blood. After a few moments the bleeding has ceased, and I douse it in some water, to prevent infection. I tell myself to look for some medicinal plants that help ward off infection tomorrow, and hold the rag to the cut as I climb my tree.

I feel much better with the water in my system, so I would imagine Katniss feels terrible-even as she sleeps. As adverse as I am to the idea of letting her suffer, my non-direct way of assisting her seems to be the right choice at the moment. I can't think of a way to aid her that would absolve her of guilt at the time of my death, other than to remain hidden, only assisting from the shadows.

I drift off to sleep quickly, 'programming' myself to awake at an hour before dawn to fetch breakfast, and some more water.

I wake up earlier than planned, excited to fetch water and carry out my plan for Katniss. I debate for a moment-while gathering my things, and decide to double back to a berry bush Katniss had found yesterday. The berries had been unfamiliar to her and it was smart of her to refuse them, but I knew they were safe. They're known as 'bilberries' in 11, and we collect the wild ones when they're in season. They are delicious, and if you're careful the red centers won't even stain your fingers.

The bush was about half an hour away, I could make it there and back before Katniss awoke, I hoped, and I could last the day with the water in my water skin-a trip to the spring would be unnecessary.

I set off swiftly, with everything prepared for today. I had my rocks, my slingshot, my spare clothes, and my new item to add to the checklist: my 'knife'. Not bad for a twelve year old, I think, smiling smugly.

By the time I reach the bilberry bush the sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, illuminating my surroundings with the faintest yellow-blue light. I look over the bush, and to my great surprise it's been picked over. Not much, there's still plenty of ripe fruit for me, but it was almost as though someone had purposefully picked the berries in a widespread manner so that other tributes wouldn't know that the bush's fruit was edible. It hadn't looked like this when Katniss was here yesterday.

That meant that one of the other tributes had known that this bush's berries were edible, however, more importantly, someone had been less than half an hour from our camp last night.

I frown, because now I must, not only keep tabs on Katniss, but I must watch over my shoulder, for signs of someone trailing her-or me, though I doubt anyone has noticed me up in the trees. I gather up about thirty berries quickly, leaving about twenty ripe ones untouched. If you're going to die in the arena it shouldn't be because you slowly withered away into the depths of starvation.

It's clear that someone has eaten the bush, if someone were to stumble on it he or she could decide if it were these very berries that caused the death of another tribute. I quickly climb into a tree nearby and begin my trip back to my camp, to Katniss.

I contemplate the number of tributes that would know that the berries were edible. I think Thresh would have, but I feel certain he went to the grasses-to home-and I doubt he ventured this far into the forest. I would have thought Katniss would know that these berries were edible, but maybe they don't grow in 12. That leaves me with the girl tribute from 5. She was the one who cleverly evaded the questions at her interview. I had considered allying with her, but decided that Katniss deserved to go home to her sister. She was the only other person with enough knowledge of plants to have known about these uncommon berries. I also think she would have the idea to make the bush look untouched. She was never one for helping others; she and I are opposites.

The sun has just fully become visible over the horizon when I reach a tree adjacent to Katniss's. I stay here for a while, eating about ten of the berries, which I have kept in the zipper pocket of my arena coat. I'm starting to run out of pockets, my pants pockets are full of stones, and my jacket pocket has berries, soon I will be out of pockets.

When I've eaten some berries I quickly discover that I'm in the mood for something with a little more protein and nutritional value. I discover I'm in the branches of a strong pine tree, so, using my 'knife' I scrape off the edible inner bark of the tree into strips. I gnaw on these for a while, they are hard to chew but they taste fine. My stomach is quickly filled, and I simply sit, waiting for Katniss to wake up.

I try to use my time wisely, scraping more pine bark off for later-you never know when food in the arena will become a hot commodity-and storing it in the same pocket as my bilberries. So far, with two full nights in the arena I'm faring pretty well. I've had plenty of food, and I've even found water in the arena.

Katniss wakes about three hours after sunrise, and it's clear she's suffering. She will not last one more day without water. She climbs down a ways from her perch in the trees, but she looses her footing about seven feet off the ground and she plummets to the earth. I gasp quietly from my tree, but I'm relieved when she gets up without appearing injured. She's just exhausted.

Katniss props herself up against her tree, after arranging her gear, and she seems to be marveling at her dry mouth. It's clear she isn't thinking clearly, and, as if to prove my observation, she turns her face to the sky and says, in a pleading tone, "water."

The desperation in her voice is clear, and to my surprise a tear slips down my cheek. I'm hit once again with the full conviction of how wrong all of this is. No one should slowly dehydrate to death. Granted Katniss has at least two people attempting to aid her at the moment (Haymitch and I)-and who knew what kind of lies Peeta was spouting to the Careers on her behalf, but if we had any moral sense of 'right and wrong' as a nation you'd think it would make an appearance at times like this.

She waits, hoping her plea will be answered, for a good ten minutes, though I doubt she knows that she's waited that long. The dehydration seems to be playing with her sense of time. After waiting, her face blank, she buries her head in her hands-as though she was crying-in frustration. She seems to think that Haymitch is going to let her die this way, until a few moments later and she has a renewed confidence about finding water.

Perhaps she has reached the same conclusion as me: Haymitch-nor any other sane mentor-would send their tribute something they were so, so close to reaching. Especially not if that tribute had an ally assisting them that they didn't know about. Based on the reality of the fact that water is close, Katniss manages to push herself up, and she begins walking.

I put my plan into action, every hundred feet or so firing a stone into the direction I don't want Katniss to take. It works more times than not, but still it takes more than half the day to get Katniss close to the water source. It's clear by mid-afternoon that she's fading fast, and I'm relieved when she collapses next to the pond.

It takes her a moment to place the wet slippery feel of mud, and the crisp scent of the ponds many plants, but when she does it's as though someone has recharged her. She quickly, and efficiently crawls to the ponds edge and fills her canteen with water. I watch her add the iodine purifying drops to the water and wait, what she judges to be 30 minutes but is really only about fifteen. I feel as relieved as I imagine she does when she slowly consumes first one, then another half gallon of water-easily replenishing what her body has lost in two days.

The sun is setting when Katniss selects a tree to reside in for the night, towing yet another half gallon of water. She eats and drinks, and I can see the life returning to her body. Her eyes are more alert, and once I tested out her ears-firing a stone into a tree about ten feet away from her. She had immediately stiffened, and turned to the noise, but quickly dismissed it for what it was, nothing.

By the time the anthem plays she feels better, and I, consequently know that I feel more confident in my position-my sort-of-ally is no longer dying. She falls asleep quickly, and I follow her lead, only to be woken by the snapping of branches, the thunder of feet, and the smell of thick smoke.

I come to my senses quickly, and try and find a way to alert Katniss to the danger. The large wall of flames is quickly advancing towards us, but it will reach her tree first. I yank my slingshot from my belt, and fire a rock directly at her boot. It hits the target and her eyes snap open.

Satisfied, I begin putting as much distance between the flames and myself as possible thinking the whole time: please, please get Katniss out of there. Because I know in the end, if she dies that rebellious fighting hope she's given people will fade away, as I'm sure it's done so many times before.

So, there you have it. Katniss was assisted by Rue, yet again. How adorable is little Rue? So selfless. Sorry I know this is kind of short, but the next chapter is longer for you lovely readers.

Thanks to each and every one of you for my reviews. They mean the world to me, and they literally make my day. Hope you like my version of Rue, and you keep reading.

Thanks,

R&R