Голодные игры

           Ishesavingthatinformationbecauseheknowsit’sallthatkeepshimalive?Ishestillpretendingtolovemefortheaudience?Whatisgoingoninhishead?

           Suddenly,thebirdsfallsilent.Thenonegivesahigh-pitchedwarningcall.Asinglenote.JustliketheoneGaleandIheardwhentheredheadedAvoxgirlwascaught.Highabovethedyingcampfireahovercraftmaterializes.Asetofhugemetalteethdropsdown.Slowly,gently,thedeadtributegirlisliftedintothehovercraft.Thenitvanishes.Thebirdsresumetheirsong.

           "Move,"Iwhispertomyself.Iwriggleoutofmysleepingbag,rollitup,andplaceitinthepack.Itakeadeepbreath.WhileI’vebeenconcealedbydarknessandthesleepingbagandthewillowbranches,ithasprobablybeendifficultforthecamerastogetagoodshotofme.Iknowtheymustbetrackingmenowthough.TheminuteIhittheground,I’mguaranteedaclose-up.

           Theaudiencewillhavebeenbesidethemselves,knowingIwasinthetree,thatIoverheardtheCareerstalking,thatIdiscoveredPeetawaswiththem.UntilIworkoutexactlyhowIwanttoplaythat,I’dbetteratleastactontopofthings.Notperplexed.Certainlynotconfusedorfrightened.

           No,Ineedtolookonestepaheadofthegame.

           SoasIslideoutofthefoliageandintothedawnlight,Ipauseasecond,givingthecamerastimetolockonme.ThenIcockmyheadslightlytothesideandgiveaknowingsmile.There!Letthemfigureoutwhatthatmeans!

           I’mabouttotakeoffwhenIthinkofmysnares.