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

self. I’d probably have to wall him up in the cave just to go myself.
And who knows what the exertion will do to him?
“What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?” I
say. He must know that’s not an option. That the audience
would hate me. And frankly, I would hate myself, too, if I
didn’t even try.
“I won’t die. I promise. If you promise not to go,” he says.
We’re at something of a stalemate. I know I can’t argue him
out of this one, so I don’t try. I pretend, reluctantly, to go
along. “Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water,
wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of the soup no
matter how disgusting it is!” I snap at him.
“Agreed. Is it ready?” he asks.
“Wait here,” I say. The air’s gone cold even though the sun’s
still up. I’m right about the Gamemakers messing with the
temperature. I wonder if the thing someone needs desperately
is a good blanket. The soup is still nice and warm in its iron
pot. And actually doesn’t taste too bad.
Peeta eats without complaint, even scraping out the pot to
show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is,
which should be encouraging if you don’t know what fever
does to people. He’s like listening to Haymitch before the alcohol
has soaked him into incoherence. I give him another
dose of fever medicine before he goes off his head completely.
As I go down to the stream to wash up, all I can think is that
he’s going to die if I don’t get to that feast. I’ll keep him going
for a day or two, and then the infection will reach his heart or
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