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

My fingers find the pin on my shirt. “That’s Rue’s song,” I
say. “I think they remember it.”
The music swells and I recognize the brilliance of it. As the
notes overlap, they compliment one another, forming a lovely,
unearthly harmony. It was this sound then, thanks to Rue, that
sent the orchard workers of District 11 home each night. Does
someone start it at quitting time, I wonder, now that she is
dead?
For a while, I just close my eyes and listen, mesmerized by
the beauty of the song. Then something begins to disrupt the
music. Runs cut off in jagged, imperfect lines. Dissonant notes
intersperse with the melody. The mockingjays’ voices rise up
in a shrieking cry of alarm.
We’re on our feet, Peeta wielding his knife, me poised to
shoot, when Cato smashes through the trees and bears down
on us. He has no spear. In fact, his hands are empty, yet he
runs straight for us. My first arrow hits his chest and inexplicably
falls aside.
“He’s got some kind of body armor!” I shout to Peeta.
Just in time, too, because Cato is upon us. I brace myself,
but he rockets right between us with no attempt to check his
speed. I can tell from his panting, the sweat pouring off his
purplish face, that he’s been running hard a long time. Not toward
us. From something. But what?
My eyes scan the woods just in time to see the first creature
leap onto the plain. As I’m turning away, I see another half
dozen join it. Then I am stumbling blindly after Cato with no
thought of anything but to save myself.
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