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

“Yes, he stays at the camp full-time. He got stung, too, when
they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake,” says Rue. “I
guess they agreed to let him live if he acted as their guard. But
he’s not very big.”
“What weapons does he have?” I ask.
“Not much that I could see. A spear. He might be able to
hold a few of us off with that, but Thresh could kill him easily,”
says Rue.
“And the food’s just out in the open?” I say. She nods.
“Something’s not quite right about that whole setup.”
“I know. But I couldn’t tell what exactly,” says Rue. “Katniss,
even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?”
“Burn it. Dump it in the lake. Soak it in fuel.” I poke Rue in
the belly, just like I would Prim. “Eat it!” She giggles. “Don’t
worry, I’ll think of something. Destroying things is much easier
than making them.”
For a while, we dig roots, we gather berries and greens, we
devise a strategy in hushed voices. And I come to know Rue,
the oldest of six kids, fiercely protective of her siblings, who
gives her rations to the younger ones, who forages in the
meadows in a district where the Peacekeepers are far less obliging
than ours. Rue, who when you ask her what she loves
most in the world, replies, of all things, “Music.”
“Music?” I say. In our world, I rank music somewhere between
hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness. At
least a rainbow gives you a tip about the weather. “You have a
lot of time for that?”
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