Голодные игры

           "Peeta!"

           Clovejamsherfistintomywindpipe,veryeffectivelycuttingoffmyvoice.Butherhead’swhippingfromsidetoside,andIknowforamomentshe’satleastconsideringI’mtellingthetruth.SincenoPeetaappearstosaveme,sheturnsbacktome.

           "Liar,"shesayswithagrin."He’snearlydead.Catoknowswherehecuthim.You’veprobablygothimstrappedupinsometreewhileyoutrytokeephisheartgoing.What’sintheprettylittlebackpack?ThatmedicineforLoverBoy?Toobadhe’llnevergetit."

           Cloveopensherjacket.It’slinedwithanimpressivearrayofknives.Shecarefullyselectsanalmostdainty-lookingnumberwithacruel,curvedblade."IpromisedCatoifheletmehaveyou,I’dgivetheaudienceagoodshow."

           I’mstrugglingnowinanefforttounseather,butit’snouse.She’stooheavyandherlockonmetootight.

           "Forgetit,DistrictTwelve.We’regoingtokillyou.Justlikewedidyourpatheticlittleally.whatwashername?Theonewhohoppedaroundinthetrees?Rue?Well,firstRue,thenyou,andthenIthinkwe’lljustletnaturetakecareofLoverBoy.Howdoesthatsound?"Cloveasks."Now,wheretostart?"

           Shecarelesslywipesawaythebloodfrommywoundwithherjacketsleeve.Foramoment,shesurveysmyface,tiltingitfromsidetosideasifit’sablockofwoodandshe’sdecidingexactlywhatpatterntocarveonit.Iattempttobiteherhand,butshegrabsthehaironthetopofmyhead,forcingmebacktotheground."Ithink."shealmostpurrs."Ithinkwe’llstartwithyourmouth."