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the leaves have fallen and it’s a challenge to move at all without
chasing off the game. I feel certain he’s laughing back
home.
“Yes,” I say patiently. “I will, too. That way we’ll both be
quieter.” Like I was making any noise. So we both strip off our
boots and socks and, while there’s some improvement, I could
swear he’s making an effort to snap every branch we encounter.
Needless to say, although it takes several hours to reach my
old camp with Rue, I’ve shot nothing. If the stream would settle
down, fish might be an option, but the current is still too
strong. As we stop to rest and drink water, I try to work out a
solution. Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple rootgathering
chore and go hunt, but then he’d be left with only a
knife to defend himself against Cato’s spears and superior
strength. So what I’d really like is to try and conceal him
somewhere safe, then go hunt, and come back and collect him.
But I have a feeling his ego isn’t going to go for that suggestion.
“Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing
away the game.”
“Only because your leg’s hurt,” I say generously, because
really, you can tell that’s only a small part of the problem.
“I know,” he says. “So, why don’t you go on? Show me some
plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.”
“Not if Cato comes and kills you.” I tried to say it in a nice
way, but it still sounds like I think he’s a weakling.
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