Голодные игры

           Igiveintomydrowsiness,resolvingthattomorrowthetableswillturn.Tomorrow,it’stheCareerswhowillhavetowatchtheirbacks.

           Theboomofthecannonjoltsmeawake.Thesky’sstreakedwithlight,thebirdsalreadychattering.Rueperchesinabranchacrossfromme,herhandscuppingsomething.Wewait,listeningformoreshots,buttherearen’tany.

           "Whodoyouthinkthatwas?"Ican’thelpthinkingofPeeta.

           "Idon’tknow.Itcouldhavebeenanyoftheothers,"saysRue."Iguesswe’llknowtonight."

           "Who’sleftagain?"Iask.

           "TheboyfromDistrictOne.BothtributesfromTwo.TheboyfromThree.Threshandme.AndyouandPeeta,"saysRue."That’seight.Wait,andtheboyfromTen,theonewiththebadleg.Hemakesnine."

           There’ssomeoneelse,butneitherofuscanrememberwhoitis.

           "Iwonderhowthatlastonedied,"saysRue.

           "Notelling.Butit’sgoodforus.Adeathshouldholdthecrowdforabit.Maybewe’llhavetimetodosomethingbeforetheGamemakersdecidethingshavebeenmovingtooslowly,"Isay."What’sinyourhands?"

           "Breakfast,"saysRue.Sheholdsthemoutrevealingtwobigeggs.

           "Whatkindarethose?"Iask.

           "Notsure.There’samarshyareaoverthatway.Somekindofwaterbird,"shesays.

           It’dbenicetocookthem,butneitherofuswantstoriskafire.MyguessisthetributewhodiedtodaywasavictimoftheCareers,whichmeansthey’verecoveredenoughtobebackintheGames.Weeachsuckouttheinsidesofanegg,eatarabbitlegandsomeberries.It’sagoodbreakfastanywhere.