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gleam of sunlight on his sword and do as Peeta says. Holding
tightly to my bow and arrows, banging into trees that appear
out of nowhere, tripping and falling as I try to keep my balance.
Back past my pool and into unfamiliar woods. The world
begins to bend in alarming ways. A butterfly balloons to the
size of a house then shatters into a million stars. Trees transform
to blood and splash down over my boots. Ants begin to
crawl out of the blisters on my hands and I can’t shake them
free. They’re climbing up my arms, my neck. Someone’s
screaming, a long high pitched scream that never breaks for
breath. I have a vague idea it might be me. I trip and fall into a
small pit lined with tiny orange bubbles that hum like the
tracker jacker nest. Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for
death.
Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought:
Peeta Mellark just saved my life.
Then the ants bore into my eyes and I black out.
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