CHAPTER V: Advice from a Caterpillar

The Caterpillar and Prim looked at each other for some time in silence. An insect smoking a hookah should have been enough to grab Prim's full attention, but instead, she focused on the creature's face, thinking it had a familiar human resemblance—the name on the tip of her tongue.

At last, the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice, "Who are you?"

Prim's inkling only grew when she heard the Caterpillar's deep, resonating voice; however, she could not place its name, and this was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Prim replied rather shyly, "I...I hardly know, sir, just at present...at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

"What do you mean by that?" asked the Caterpillar sternly. "Explain yourself."

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir," said Prim, "because I'm not myself, you see."

"I don't see," said the Caterpillar.

"I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly," Prim replied very politely," for I can't understand it myself to begin with, and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing."

"It isn't," said the Caterpillar.

"Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet," said Prim, "but when you have to turn into a chrysalis—you will someday, you know, and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?"

"Not a bit," said the Caterpillar.

"Well, perhaps your feelings may be different," said Prim. "All I know is that it would feel very queer to me."

"You," said the Caterpillar contemptuously. "Who are you?"

Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Prim felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such very short remarks. Certain that the creatures face resembled that of a human, someone she might know, so she drew herself up and said very gravely, "I think you ought to tell me who you are first."

"Why?" asked the Caterpillar.

Here was another puzzling question, and as Prim could not think of any good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away.

"Come back," the Caterpillar called after her. "I've something important to say."

This sounded promising, certainly. Prim turned and came back again.

"Here is some advice: stay alive," said the Caterpillar.

"Come up with that on your own?" Prim asked, swallowing down her anger as well as she could when suddenly, she placed the voice and recalled the creature's name. "You're Claudius Templesmith."

"No," said the Caterpillar. "You are severely mistaken."

Not wanting to argue, Prim thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do. And perhaps after all, it might tell her something worth hearing.

For some minutes, it puffed away without speaking, but at last, it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, "If you must know, you are not the first person to mistake me for Claudius Templesmith."

Prim tilted her head to the side as she studied the insects face more closely. Having only seen the man a couple times during post Hunger Games commentary, Prim thought certain that this was Claudius. "You know, sir, you sound exactly like the announcer of the Hunger Games."

"If I'm Claudius, that would mean I'm a liar, and I do not lie."

Prim instantly remember a very important instance when Claudius Templesmith did exactly that. "You lied to my sister, in the Games. Remember?"

The Caterpillar returned to its hookah, diverting his gaze away as it smoked until it said, "Well…that was not my fault."

"So, it is you." Prim attempted to hold back her gloating smile. "I do say that you've changed quite a bit."

"We all changed. You yourself have said you've recently changed."

"I'm afraid I have, sir," said Prim. "I can't remember things as I used, and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together."

"Can't remember what things?" said the Caterpillar.

"Well, I've tried to say 'How doth the little busy bee,' but it all came different," Prim replied in a very melancholy voice.

"Repeat, 'You are old, President Snow'," said Caterpillar.

Prim folded her hands, and began:

'You are old, President Snow,' a young woman said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet, you incessantly send children to their death—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'

'In my youth,' replied President Snow to his daughter,
'I feared the end of society;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure it won't falter,
Why, it's the success of our Treaty.'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown far too omnipotent;
Yet you are willing to risk all, risk war—
Pray, what fuels your endless intent?'

'In my youth,' said the man, as he shook his white locks,
'I followed my heart and helped the humble
But with experience, reason won out—
With wisdom, only I can prevent Panem's tumble.'

'You are old,' said the girl, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you speak such nonsense, boasting with pale cheeks—
Pray how did you manage to do it?'

'In my youth,' said her father, 'I became a senator,
And argued each bill and overcame each strife;
And the muscles developed as an orator,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you devote more to your perfect white rose—
What made you so awfully clever?'

'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,'
Said her father; 'don't confuse me as merry!
Do you think I can listen all day to such fluff?
Be off, or I'll feed you a nightlock berry!'

"That is not said right," said the Caterpillar.

"Not quite right, I'm afraid," said Prim timidly. "Some of the words have got altered."

"It is wrong from beginning to end," said the Caterpillar decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes. Eventually, the insect who resembled Claudius Templesmith even more was the first to speak. "What size do you want to be?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm not particular as to size," Prim hastily replied. "Only one doesn't like changing so often, you know."

"I don't know," retorted the Caterpillar.

Prim said nothing; she had never been so much contradicted in her life before, and she felt that she was losing her temper.

"Are you content now?" asked the Caterpillar.

"Well, I should like to be a little larger, sir, if you wouldn't mind," said Prim. "Three inches is such a wretched height to be."

"It is a very good height indeed!" said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high).

"But I'm not used to it," pleaded poor Prim in a piteous tone. And she thought of herself, I wish the creatures wouldn't be so easily offended!

"You'll get used to it in time," said the Caterpillar, and it put the hookah into its mouth and began smoking again.

This time, Prim waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a minute or two, the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice before shaking itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, "One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter."

One side of what? The other side of what? thought Prim to herself.

"Of the mushroom," said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked him aloud. "Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor," it said in Claudius Templesmith's booming manner as it slithered out of sight.

Prim remained, looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand.

"And now which is which?" she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the right-hand bit to try the effect. The next moment she felt a violent blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot!

She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt that there was no time to be lost as she was shrinking rapidly, so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed so closely against her foot that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it at last and managed to swallow a morsel of the left-hand bit.

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"Come, my head's free at last," said Prim in a tone of delight, which changed into alarm in another moment when she found that her shoulders were nowhere to be found. All she could see when she looked down was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her.

"What can all that green stuff be?" said Prim to herself. "And where have my shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I can't see you?" She was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow except a little shaking among the distant green leaves.

As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she tried to get her head down to them and was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction—like a serpent. She had just succeeded in curving head down into a graceful zigzag and was going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her draw back in a hurry.

A large pigeon had flown into her face and was beating her violently with its wings. "Serpent!" screamed the Pigeon.

"I'm not a serpent," said Prim indignantly. "Let me alone!"

"Serpent, I say again," repeated the Pigeon but in a more subdued tone. With a kind of sob, the bird added, "I've tried every way and nothing seems to suit them."

"I haven't the least idea what you're talking about," said Prim.

"I've tried the roots of trees, and I've tried banks, and I've tried hedges," the Pigeon went on, without attending to her. "But those serpents! There's no pleasing them!"

Prim was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished.

"As if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs," said the Pigeon. "But I must be on the lookout for serpents night and day. Why, I haven't had a wink of sleep these three weeks."

"I'm very sorry you've been annoyed," said Prim, who was beginning to see its meaning.

"And just as I'd taken the highest tree in the wood," continued the Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, "and just as I was thinking I should be free of them at last, they come wriggling down from the sky. Ugh, Serpent!"

"But I'm not a serpent, I tell you," repeated Prim. "I'm a...I'm a..."

"Well, what are you?" asked the Pigeon. "I can see you're trying to invent something."

"I-I'm a little girl," said Prim rather doubtfully as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day.

"A likely story indeed," retorted the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest contempt. "I've seen a good many little girls in my time, but never one with such a neck as that. No, no. You're a serpent, and there's no use denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg."

"I have tasted eggs, certainly," said Prim, who was a very truthful child. "But little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know."

"I don't believe it," said the Pigeon. "But if they do, why then, they're a kind of serpent; that's all I can say."

This was such a new idea to Prim that she was quite silent for a minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, "You're looking for eggs, I know that well enough; and what does it matter to me whether you're a little girl or a serpent?"

"It matters a good deal to me," said Prim hastily. "But I'm not looking for eggs, as it happens. Moreover, if I was, I shouldn't want yours. I don't like them raw."

"Well, be off then," said the Pigeon in a sulky tone as it settled down again into its nest.

Prim crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then, she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height.

It was so long since she had been anything near the right size that it felt quite strange at first, but she got used to it in a few minutes and began talking to herself as usual. "Come, there's half my plan done now. How puzzling all these changes are. I'm never sure what I'm going to be from one minute to another. However, I've got back to my right size. The next thing is...to get into that beautiful garden. How is that to be done, I wonder?"

As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place with a little house in it about four feet high. Whoever lives there, thought Prim, it'll never do to come upon them this size. Why, I should frighten them out of their wits. So she began nibbling at the right-hand bit again and did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high.