Голодные игры
Chapter 11
Icanhearthebladewhistlingtowardmeandreflexivelyhikethepackuptoprotectmyhead.Thebladelodgesinthepack.Bothstrapsonmyshouldersnow,Imakeforthetrees.SomehowIknowthegirlwillnotpursueme.Thatshe’llbedrawnbackintotheCornucopiabeforeallthegoodstuffisgone.Agrincrossesmyface.Thanksfortheknife,Ithink.
AttheedgeofthewoodsIturnforoneinstanttosurveythefield.Aboutadozenorsotributesarehackingawayatoneanotheratthehorn.Severalliedeadalreadyontheground.Thosewhohavetakenflightaredisappearingintothetreesorintothevoidoppositeme.IcontinuerunninguntilthewoodshavehiddenmefromtheothertributesthenslowintoasteadyjogthatIthinkIcanmaintainforawhile.Forthenextfewhours,Ialternatebetweenjoggingandwalking,puttingasmuchdistanceasIcanbetweenmyselfandmycompetitors.IlostmybreadduringthestrugglewiththeboyfromDistrict9butmanagedtostuffmyplasticinmysleevesoasIwalkIfolditneatlyandtuckitintoapocket.Ialsofreetheknife-it’safineonewithalongsharpblade,serratednearthehandle,whichwillmakeithandyforsawingthroughthings-andslideitintomybelt.Idon’tdarestoptoexaminethecontentsofthepackyet.Ijustkeepmoving,pausingonlytocheckforpursuers.
Icangoalongtime.Iknowthatfrommydaysinthewoods.ButIwillneedwater.ThatwasHaymitch’ssecondinstruction,andsinceIsortofbotchedthefirst,Ikeepasharpeyeoutforanysignofit.Noluck.
