Голодные игры

           Withthescarcityofwater,theymayevenhavehadtoreturntothelakeforrefills.

           Maybe,thatistheonlycourseformeaswell.

           Morningbringsdistress.Myheadsthrobswitheverybeatofmyheart.Simplemovementssendstabsofpainthroughmyjoints.Ifall,ratherthanjumpfromthetree.Ittakesseveralminutesformetoassemblemygear.Somewhereinsideme,Iknowthisiswrong.Ishouldbeactingwithmorecaution,movingwithmoreurgency.Butmymindseemsfoggyandformingaplanishard.Ileanbackagainstthetrunkofmytree,onefingergingerlystrokingthesandpapersurfaceofmytongue,asIassessmyoptions.HowcanIgetwater?

           Returntothelake.Nogood.I’dnevermakeit.

           Hopeforrain.There’snotacloudinthesky.

           Keeplooking.Yes,thisismyonlychance.Butthen,anotherthoughthitsme,andthesurgeofangerthatfollowsbringsmetomesenses.

           Haymitch!Hecouldsendmewater!Pressabuttonandhaveitdeliveredtomeinasilverparachuteinminutes.IknowImusthavesponsors,atleastoneortwowhocouldaffordapintofliquidforme.Yes,it’spricey,butthesepeople,they’remadeofmoney.Andthey’llbebettingonmeaswell.PerhapsHaymitchdoesn’trealizehowdeepmyneedis.

           IsayinavoiceasloudasIdare."Water."Iwait,hopefully,foraparachutetodescendfromthesky.Butnothingisforthcoming.

           Somethingiswrong.AmIdeludedabouthavingsponsors?OrhasPeeta’sbehaviormadethemallhangback?No,Idon’tbelieveit.