Голодные игры
Chapter 22
Hedoesn’tseemangryaboutmytrickinghim,drugginghim,andrunningofftothefeast.MaybeI’mjusttoobeat-upandI’llhearaboutitlaterwhenI’mstronger.Butforthemoment,he’sallgentleness.
"Didyoueat?"Iask.
"I’msorrytosayIgobbleddownthreepiecesofthatgrooslingbeforeIrealizeditmighthavetolastawhile.Don’tworry,I’mbackonastrictdiet,"hesays.
"No,it’sgood.Youneedtoeat.I’llgohuntingsoon,"Isay.
"Nottoosoon,allright?"hesays."Youjustletmetakecareofyouforawhile."
Idon’treallyseemtohavemuchchoice.Peetafeedsmebitesofgrooslingandraisinsandmakesmedrinkplentyofwater.Herubssomewarmthbackintomyfeetandwrapstheminhisjacketbeforetuckingthesleepingbagbackuparoundmychin.
"Yourbootsandsocksarestilldampandtheweather’snothelpingmuch,"hesays.There’saclapofthunder,andIseelightningelectrifytheskythroughanopeningintherocks.Raindripsthroughseveralholesintheceiling,butPeetahasbuiltasortofcanopyovermyheadanupperbodybywedgingthesquareofplasticintotherockaboveme.
"Iwonderwhatbroughtonthisstorm?Imean,who’sthetarget?"saysPeeta.
"CatoandThresh,"Isaywithoutthinking."Foxfacewillbeinherdensomewhere,andClove.shecutmeanthen."Myvoicetrailsoff.
"IknowClove’sdead.Isawitintheskylastnight,"hsays."Didyoukillher?"
"No.Threshbrokeherskullwitharock,"Isay.
"Luckyhedidn’tcatchyou,too,"saysPeeta.
