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

“Wait!” I cry. I find the leather pouch that belonged to the
boy from District 1 and fill it with a few handfuls of berries
from the plastic. “If they fooled Foxface, maybe they can fool
Cato as well. If he’s chasing us or something, we can act like
we accidentally drop the pouch and if he eats them —”
“Then hello District Twelve,” says Peeta.
“That’s it,” I say, securing the pouch to my belt.
“He’ll know where we are now,” says Peeta. “If he was anywhere
nearby and saw that hovercraft, he’ll know we killed
her and come after us.”
Peeta’s right. This could be just the opportunity Cato’s been
waiting for. But even if we run now, there’s the meat to cook
and our fire will be another sign of our whereabouts. “Let’s
make a fire. Right now.” I begin to gather branches and brush.
“Are you ready to face him?” Peeta asks.
“I’m ready to eat. Better to cook our food while we have the
chance. If he knows we’re here, he knows. But he also knows
there’s two of us and probably assumes we were hunting Foxface.
That means you’re recovered. And the fire means we’re
not hiding, we’re inviting him here. Would you show up?” I
ask.
“Maybe not,” he says.
Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp
wood. In no time, I have the rabbits and squirrel roasting, the
roots, wrapped in leaves, baking in the coals. We take turns
gathering greens and keeping a careful watch for Cato, but as I
anticipated, he doesn’t make an appearance.
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