suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

the crying, has worn me out. I drift off, reprieved, relieved,
and with the number eleven still flashing behind my eyelids.
At dawn, I lie in bed for a while, watching the sun come up
on a beautiful morning. It’s Sunday. A day off at home. I wonder
if Gale is in the woods yet. Usually we devote all of Sunday
to stocking up for the week. Rising early, hunting and gathering,
then trading at the Hob. I think of Gale without me. Both
of us can hunt alone, but we’re better as a pair. Particularly if
we’re trying for bigger game. But also in the littler things, having
a partner lightened the load, could even make the arduous
task of filling my family’s table enjoyable.
I had been struggling along on my own for about six
months when I first ran into Gale in the woods. It was a Sunday
in October, the air cool and pungent with dying things. I’d
spent the morning competing with the squirrels for nuts and
the slightly warmer afternoon wading in shallow ponds harvesting
katniss. The only meat I’d shot was a squirrel that had
practically run over my toes in its quest for acorns, but the animals
would still be afoot when the snow buried my other
food sources. Having strayed farther afield than usual, I was
hurrying back home, lugging my burlap sacks when I came
across a dead rabbit. It was hanging by its neck in a thin wire a
foot above my head. About fifteen yards away was another. I
recognized the twitch-up snares because my father had used
them. When the prey is caught, it’s yanked into the air out of
the reach of other hungry animals. I’d been trying to use
snares all summer with no success, so I couldn’t help dropping
my sacks to examine this one. My fingers were just on the wire
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