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the water has dropped considerably and moves at its old leisurely
pace, so I suggest we walk back in it. Peeta’s happy to
oblige and since he’s a lot quieter in water than on land, it’s a
doubly good idea. It’s a long walk back to the cave though,
even going downward, even with the rabbit to give us a boost.
We’re both exhausted by our hike today and still way too underfed.
I keep my bow loaded, both for Cato and any fish I
might see, but the stream seems strangely empty of creatures.
By the time we reach our destination, our feet are dragging
and the sun sits low on the horizon. We fill up our water bottles
and climb the little slope to our den. It’s not much, but out
here in the wilderness, it’s the closest thing we have to a
home. It will be warmer than a tree, too, because it provides
some shelter from the wind that has begun to blow steadily in
from the west. I set a good dinner out, but halfway through
Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has
taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside
the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately.
I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead,
not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful
that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. So
glad that I don’t have to face Cato alone.
Brutal, bloody Cato who can snap a neck with a twist of his
arm, who had the power to overcome Thresh, who has had it
out for me since the beginning. He probably has had a special
hatred for me ever since I outscored him in training. A boy
like Peeta would simply shrug that off. But I have a feeling it
drove Cato to distraction. Which is not that hard. I think of his
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