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

perched, waiting to save my life. Tracker jackers. Glimmer’s
bloated body. The terrifying hallucinations . . .
“Let’s move on,” I say, wanting to escape the darkness that
surrounds this place. Peeta doesn’t object.
Given our late start to the day, when we reach the plain it’s
already early evening. There’s no sign of Cato. No sign of anything
except the gold Cornucopia glowing in the slanting sun
rays. Just in case Cato decided to pull a Foxface on us, we circle
the Cornucopia to make sure it’s empty. Then obediently,
as if following instructions, we cross to the lake and fill our
water containers.
I frown at the shrinking sun. “We don’t want to fight him after
dark. There’s only the one pair of glasses.”
Peeta carefully squeezes drops of iodine into the water.
“Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for. What do you want to do?
Go back to the cave?”
“Either that or find a tree. But let’s give him another half an
hour or so. Then we’ll take cover,” I answer.
We sit by the lake, in full sight. There’s no point in hiding
now. In the trees at the edge of the plain, I can see the mockingjays
flitting about. Bouncing melodies back and forth between
them like brightly colored balls. I open my mouth and
sing out Rue’s four-note run. I can feel them pause curiously at
the sound of my voice, listening for more. I repeat the notes in
the silence. First one mockingjay trills the tune back, then
another. Then the whole world comes alive with the sound.
“Just like your father,” says Peeta.
324