Голодные игры
Chapter 25
AlthoughI’mshakinginthebitingwind,Iripoffmyjacket,removemyshirt,andzipbackintothejacketasswiftlyaspossible.Thatbriefexposuresetsmyteethchatteringbeyondcontrol.
Peeta’sfaceisgrayinthepalemoonlight.ImakehimliedownbeforeIprobehiswound.Warm,slipperybloodrunsovermyfingers.Abandagewillnotbeenough.I’veseenmymothertieatourniquetahandfuloftimesandtrytoreplicateit.Icutfreeasleevefrommyshirt,wrapittwicearoundhislegjustunderhisknee,andtieahalfknot.Idon’thaveastick,soItakemyremainingarrowandinsertitintheknot,twistingitastightlyasIdare.It’sriskybusiness-Peetamayenduplosinghisleg-butwhenIweighthisagainsthimlosinghislife,whatalternativedoIhave?Ibandagethewoundintherestofmyshirtandlaydownwithhim.
"Don’tgotosleep,"Itellhim.I’mnotsureifthisisexactlymedicalprotocol,butI’mterrifiedthatifhedriftsoffhe’llneverwakeagain.
"Areyoucold?"heasks.HeunzipshisjacketandIpressagainsthimashefastensitaroundme.It’sabitwarmer,sharingourbodyheatinsidemydoublelayerofjackets,butthenightisyoung.Thetemperaturewillcontinuetodrop.
EvennowIcanfeeltheCornucopia,whichburnedsowhenIfirstclimbedit,slowlyturningtoice.
"Catomaywinthisthingyet,"IwhispertoPeeta.
"Don’tyoubelieveit,"hesays,pullingupmyhood,buthe’sshakingharderthanIam.
Thenexthoursaretheworstinmylife,whichifyouthinkaboutit,issayingsomething.
