Chapter 18

           TheboyfromDistrict1diesbeforehecanpulloutthespear.Myarrowdrivesdeeplyintothecenterofhisneck.Hefallstohiskneesandhalvesthebriefremainderofhislifebyyankingoutthearrowanddrowninginhisownblood.I’mreloaded,shiftingmyaimfromsidetoside,whileIshoutatRue,"Aretheremore?Aretheremore?"

           ShehastosaynoseveraltimesbeforeIhearit.Ruehasrolledtoherside,herbodycurvedinandaroundthespear.Ishovetheboyawayfromherandpulloutmyknife,freeingherfromthenet.OnelookatthewoundandIknowit’sfarbeyondmycapacitytoheal,beyondanyone’sprobably.Thespearheadisburieduptotheshaftinherstomach.Icrouchbeforeher,staringhelplesslyattheembeddedweapon.There’snopointincomfortingwords,intellinghershe’llbeallright.She’snofool.HerhandreachesoutandIclutchitlikealifeline.Asifit’smewho’sdyinginsteadofRue.

           "Youblewupthefood?"shewhispers.

           "Everylastbit,"Isay.

           "Youhavetowin,"shesays.

           "I’mgoingto.Goingtowinforbothofusnow,"Ipromise.Ihearacannonandlookup.ItmustbefortheboyfromDistrict1.

           "Don’tgo."Ruetightenshergriponmyhand.

           "Coursenot.Stayingrighthere,"Isay.Imoveinclosertoher,pullingherheadontomylap.Igentlybrushthedark,thickhairbackbehindherear.

           "Sing,"shesays,butIbarelycatchtheword.

           Sing?Ithink.Singwhat?Idoknowafewsongs.Believeitornot,therewasoncemusicinmyhouse,too.MusicIhelpedmake.