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

ing Rue on as an ally seems a better choice all the time. We divide
up our food supplies, so in case we’re separated, we’ll
both be set for a few days. Apart from the food, Rue has a
small water skin, a homemade slingshot, and an extra pair of
socks. She also has a sharp shard of rock she uses as a knife. “I
know it’s not much,” she says as if embarrassed, “but I had to
get away from the Cornucopia fast.”
“You did just right,” I say. When I spread out my gear, she
gasps a little when she sees the sunglasses.
“How did you get those?” she asks.
“In my pack. They’ve been useless so far. They don’t block
the sun and they make it harder to see,” I say with a shrug.
“These aren’t for sun, they’re for darkness,” exclaims Rue.
“Sometimes, when we harvest through the night, they’ll pass
out a few pairs to those of us highest in the trees. Where the
torchlight doesn’t reach. One time, this boy Martin, he tried to
keep his pair. Hid it in his pants. They killed him on the spot.”
“They killed a boy for taking these?” I say.
“Yes, and everyone knew he was no danger. Martin wasn’t
right in the head. I mean, he still acted like a three-year-old.
He just wanted the glasses to play with,” says Rue.
Hearing this makes me feel like District 12 is some sort of
safe haven. Of course, people keel over from starvation all the
time, but I can’t imagine the Peacekeepers murdering a simpleminded
child. There’s a little girl, one of Greasy Sae’s
grandkids, who wanders around the Hob. She’s not quite right,
but she’s treated as a sort of pet. People toss her scraps and
things.
203