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

ing me now though. The minute I hit the ground, I’m guaranteed
a close-up.
The audience will have been beside themselves, knowing I
was in the tree, that I overheard the Careers talking, that I discovered
Peeta was with them. Until I work out exactly how I
want to play that, I’d better at least act on top of things. Not
perplexed. Certainly not confused or frightened.
No, I need to look one step ahead of the game.
So as I slide out of the foliage and into the dawn light, I
pause a second, giving the cameras time to lock on me. Then I
cock my head slightly to the side and give a knowing smile.
There! Let them figure out what that means!
I’m about to take off when I think of my snares. Maybe it’s
imprudent to check them with the others so close. But have to.
Too many years of hunting, I guess. And the lure of possible
meat. I’m rewarded with one fine rabbit. In no time, I’ve
cleaned and gutted the animal, leaving the head, feet, tail, skin,
and innards, under a pile of leaves. I’m wishing for a fire —
eating raw rabbit can give you rabbit fever, a lesson I learned
the hard way — when I think of the dead tribute. I hurry back
to her camp. Sure enough, the coals of her dying fire are still
hot. I cut up the rabbit, fashion a spit out of branches, and set
it over the coals.
I’m glad for the cameras now. I want sponsors to see I can
hunt, that I’m a good bet because I won’t be lured into traps as
easily as the others will by hunger. While the rabbit cooks, I
grind up part of a charred branch and set about camouflaging
my orange pack. The black tones it down, but I feel a layer of
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