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

and zip it on over my own. He doesn’t need it. Not now in the
sleeping bag with his fever, and during the day, if I’m not there
to remove it, he’ll be roasting in it. My hands are already stiff
from cold, so I take Rue’s spare pair of socks, cut holes for my
fingers and thumbs, and pull them on. It helps anyway. I fill
her small pack with some food, a water bottle, and bandages,
tuck the knife in my belt, get my bow and arrows. I’m about to
leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the starcrossed
lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long,
lingering kiss. I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the
Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own. Then I
squeeze through the opening in the rocks out into the night.
My breath makes small white clouds as it hits the air. It’s as
cold as a November night at home. One where I’ve slipped into
the woods, lantern in hand, to join Gale at some prearranged
place where we’ll sit bundled together, sipping herb tea from
metal flasks wrapped in quilting, hoping game will pass our
way as the morning comes on. Oh, Gale, I think. If only you had
my back now . . .
I move as fast as I dare. The glasses are quite remarkable,
but I still sorely miss having the use of my left ear. I don’t
know what the explosion did, but it damaged something deep
and irreparable. Never mind. If I get home, I’ll be so stinking
rich, I’ll be able to pay someone to do my hearing.
The woods always look different at night. Even with the
glasses, everything has an unfamiliar slant to it. As if the daytime
trees and flowers and stones had gone to bed and sent
slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their
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