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

“Not sure. I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying
next to me in a very scary pool of blood,” he says. “I think it’s
stopped finally, but I wouldn’t sit up or anything.”
I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged.
This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a
bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.
“You’re better,” I say.
“Much better. Whatever you shot into my arm did the
trick,” he says. “By this morning, almost all the swelling in my
leg was gone.”
He doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging
him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up
and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment,
he’s all gentleness.
“Did you eat?” I ask.
“I’m sorry to say I gobbled down three pieces of that groosling
before I realized it might have to last a while. Don’t worry,
I’m back on a strict diet,” he says.
“No, it’s good. You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.
“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care
of you for a while.”
I don’t really seem to have much choice. Peeta feeds me bites
of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water.
He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them
in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around
my chin.
“Your boots and socks are still damp and the weather’s not
helping much,” he says. There’s a clap of thunder, and I see
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