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As I travel the short distance back, I realize we haven’t exchanged
signals in a while. When my whistle receives no response,
I run. In no time, I find the pack, a neat pile of roots
beside it. The sheet of plastic has been laid on the ground
where the sun can reach the single layer of berries that covers
it. But where is he?
“Peeta!” I call out in a panic. “Peeta!” I turn to the rustle of
brush and almost send an arrow through him. Fortunately, I
pull my bow at the last second and it sticks in an oak trunk to
his left. He jumps back, flinging a handful of berries into the
foliage.
My fear comes out as anger. “What are you doing? You’re
supposed to be here, not running around in the woods!”
“I found some berries down by the stream,” he says, clearly
confused by my outburst.
“I whistled. Why didn’t you whistle back?” I snap at him.
“I didn’t hear. The water’s too loud, I guess,” he says. He
crosses and puts his hands on my shoulders. That’s when I
feel that I’m trembling.
“I thought Cato killed you!” I almost shout.
“No, I’m fine.” Peeta wraps his arms around me, but I don’t
respond. “Katniss?”
I push away, trying to sort out my feelings. “If two people
agree on a signal, they stay in range. Because if one of them
doesn’t answer, they’re in trouble, all right?”
“All right!” he says.
“All right. Because that’s what happened with Rue, and I
watched her die!” I say. I turn away from him, go to the pack
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