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

Thank goodness, I had the foresight to belt myself in. I’ve
rolled sideways off the fork and I’m facing the ground, held in
place by the belt, one hand, and my feet straddling the pack
inside my sleeping bag, braced against the trunk. There must
have been some rustling when I tipped sideways, but the Careers
have been too caught up in their own argument to catch
it.
“Go on, then, Lover Boy,” says the boy from District 2. “See
for yourself.”
I just get a glimpse of Peeta, lit by a torch, heading back to
the girl by the fire. His face is swollen with bruises, there’s a
bloody bandage on one arm, and from the sound of his gait
he’s limping somewhat. I remember him shaking him his head,
telling me not to go into the fight for the supplies, when all
along, all along he’d planned to throw himself into the thick of
things. Just the opposite of what Haymitch had mid him to do.
Okay, I can stomach that. Seeing all those supplies was
tempting. But this . . . this other thing. This teaming up with
the Career wolf pack to hunt down the rest of us. No one from
District 12 would think of doing such a thing! Career tributes
are overly vicious, arrogant, better fed, but only because
they’re the Capitol’s lapdogs.
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