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the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第21部分
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hing you showed up；〃 said the Goat Man when she arrived。 ¨Girlˇs got her eye on your goat。〃
¨Not if sheˇs spoken for；〃 I said carelessly。
Rooba looked me up and down then frowned at the goat。 ¨Sheˇs not。 Look at that shoulder。 Bet you half the carcass will be too rotten for even sausage。〃
¨What？〃 said the Goat Man。 ¨We had a deal。〃
¨We had a deal on an animal with a few teeth marks。 Not that thing。 Sell her to the girl if sheˇs stupid enough to take her；〃 said Rooba。 As she marched off； I caught her wink。
The Goat Man was mad； but he still wanted that goal off his hands。 It took us half an hour to agree on the price。 Quite a crowd had gathered by then to hand out opinions。 It was an excellent deal if the goat lived； Iˇd been robbed if she died。 People took sides in the argument； but I took the goat。
Gale offered to carry her。 I think he wanted to see the look on Primˇs face as much as I did。 In a moment of plete giddiness； I bought a pink ribbon and tied it around her neck。 Then we hurried back to my house。
You should have seen Primˇs reaction when we walked in with that goat。 Remember this is a girl who wept to save that awful old cat； Buttercup。 She was so excited she started crying and laughing all at once。 My mother was less sure； seeing the injury； but the pair of them went to work on it； grinding up herbs and coaxing brews down the animalˇs throat。
¨They sound like you；〃 says Peeta。 I had almost forgotten he was there。
¨Oh； no； Peeta。 They work magic。 That thing couldnˇt have died if it tried；〃 I say。 But then I bite my tongue； realizing what that must sound like to Peeta； who is dying； in my inpetent hands。
¨Donˇt worry。 Iˇm not trying；〃 he jokes。 ¨Finish the story。〃
¨Well； thatˇs it。 Only I remember that night； Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire。 And just before they drifted off； the goat licked her cheek； like it was giving her a good night kiss or something；〃 I say。 ¨It was already mad about her。〃
¨Was it still wearing the pink ribbon？〃 he asks。
¨I think so；〃 I say。 ¨Why？〃
¨Iˇm just trying to get a picture；〃 he says thoughtfully。 ¨I can see why that day made you happy。〃
¨Well； I knew that goat would be a little gold mine；〃 1 say。
¨Yes； of course I was referring to that； not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping；〃 says Peeta drily。
¨The goat has paid for itself。 Several times over；〃 I say in a superior tone。
¨Well； it wouldnˇt dare do anything else after you saved its life；〃 says Peeta。 ¨I intend to do the same thing。〃
¨Really？ What did you cost me again？〃 I ask。
¨A lot of trouble。 Donˇt worry。 Youˇll get it all back；〃 he says。
¨Youˇre not making sense；〃 I say。 I test his forehead。 The leverˇs going nowhere but up。 ¨Youˇre a little cooler though。〃
The sound of the trumpets startles me。 Iˇm on my feet and at the mouth of the cave in a flash； not wanting to miss a syllable。 Itˇs my new best friend； Claudius Templesmith； and as I expected； heˇs inviting us to a feast。 Well； weˇre not that hungry and I actually wave his offer away in indifference when he says； ¨Now hold on。 Some of you may already be declining my invitation。 But this is no ordinary feast。 Each of you needs something desperately。〃
I do need something desperately。 Something to heal Peetaˇs leg。
¨Each of you will find that something in a backpack； marked with your district number； at the Cornucopia at dawn。 Think hard about refusing to show up。 For some of you； this will be your last chance；〃 says Claudius。
Thereˇs nothing else； just his words hanging in the air。 I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind。 ¨No；〃 he says。 ¨Youˇre not risking your life for me。〃
¨Who said I was？〃 I say。
¨So； youˇre not going？〃 he asks。
¨Of course； Iˇm not going。 Give me some credit。 Do you think Iˇm running straight into some free…for…all against Cato and Clove and Thresh？ Donˇt be stupid；〃 I say； helping him back to bed。 ¨Iˇll let them fight it out； weˇll see whoˇs in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there。〃
¨Youˇre such a bad liar； Katniss。 I donˇt know how youˇve survived this long。〃 He begins to mimic me。 ¨I knew that goat would be a little gold mine。 Youˇre a little cooler though。 Of course； Iˇm not going。 He shakes his head。 ¨Never gamble at cards。 Youˇll lose your last coin；〃 he says。
Anger flushes my face。 ¨All right； I am going； and you canˇt stop me！〃
¨I can follow you。 At least partway。 I may not make it to the Cornucopia； but if Iˇm yelling your name； I bet someone can find me。 And then Iˇll be dead for sure；〃 he says。
¨You wonˇt get a hundred yards from here on that leg；〃 I say。
¨Then Iˇll drag myself；〃 says Peeta。 ¨You go and Iˇm going； too。〃
Heˇs just stubborn enough and maybe just strong enough to do it。 e howling after me in the woods。 Even if a tribute doesnˇt find him； something else might。 He canˇt defend himself。 Iˇd probably have to wall him up in the cave just to go myself。 And who knows what the exertion will do to him？
¨What am I supposed to do？ Sit here and watch you die？〃 I say。 He must know thatˇs not an option。 That the audience would hate me。 And frankly； I would hate myself； too； if I didnˇt even try。
¨I wonˇt die。 I promise。 If you promise not to go；〃 he says。
Weˇre at something of a stalemate。 I know I canˇt argue him out of this one； so I donˇt try。 I pretend； reluctantly； to go along。 ¨Then you have to do what I say。 Drink your water； wake me when I tell you； and eat every bite of the soup no matter how disgusting it is！〃 I snap at him。
¨Agreed。 Is it ready？〃 he asks。
¨Wait here；〃 I say。 The airˇs gone cold even though the sunˇs still up。 Iˇm right about the Gamemakers messing with the temperature。 I wonder if the thing someone needs desperately is a good blanket。 The soup is still nice and warm in its iron pot。 And actually doesnˇt taste too bad。
Peeta eats without plaint； even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm。 He rambles on about how delicious it is； which should be encouraging if you donˇt know what fever does to people。 Heˇs like listening to Haymitch before the alcohol has soaked him into incoherence。 I give him another dose of fever medicine before he goes off his head pletely。
As I go down to the stream to wash up； all I can think is that heˇs going to die if I donˇt get to that feast。 Iˇll keep him going for a day or two； and then the infection will reach his heart or his brain or his lungs and heˇll be gone。 And Iˇll be here all alone。 Again。 Waiting for the others。
Iˇm so lost in thought that I almost miss the parachute； even though it floats right by me。 Then I spring after it； yanking it from the water； tearing off the silver fabric to retrieve the vial。 Haymitch has done it！ Heˇs gotten the medicine I donˇt know how； persuaded some gaggle of romantic fools to sell their jewels and I can save Peeta！ Itˇs such a tiny vial though。 It must be very strong to cure someone as ill as Peeta。 A ripple of doubt runs through me。 I uncork the vial and take a deep sniff。 My spirits fall at the sickly sweet scent。 Just to be sure； I place a drop on the tip of my tongue。 Thereˇs no question； itˇs sleep syrup。 Itˇs a mon medicine in District 12。 Cheap； as medicine goes； but very addictive。 Almost everyoneˇs had a dose at one time or another。 We have some in a bottle at home。 My mother gives it to hysterical patients to knock them out to stitch up a bad inds or just to help someone in pain get through the night。 It only takes a little。 A vial this size could knock Peeta out for a full day； but what good is that？ Iˇm so furious Iˇm about to throw Haymitchˇs last offering into the stream when it hits me。 A full day？ Thatˇs more than I need。
I mash up a handful of berries so the taste wonˇt be as noticeable and add some mint leaves for good measure。 Then I head back up to the cave。 ¨Iˇve brought you a treat。 I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream。〃
Peeta opens his mouth for the first bite without hesitation。 He swallows then frowns slightly。 ¨Theyˇre very sweet。〃
¨Yes； theyˇre sugar berries。 My mother makes jam from them。 Havenˇt you ever had them before？〃 I say； poking the next spoonful in his mouth。
¨No；〃 he says； almost puzzled。 ¨But they taste familiar。 Sugar berries？〃
¨Well； you canˇt get them in the market much； they only grow wild；〃 I say。 Another mouthful goes down。 Just one more to go。
¨Theyˇre sweet as syrup；〃 he says； taking the last spoonful。 ¨Syrup。〃 His eyes widen as he realizes the truth。 I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard； forcing him to swallow instead of spit。 He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up； but itˇs too late； heˇs already losing consciousness。 Even as he fades away； I can see in his eyes what Iˇve done is unforgivable。
I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction。 A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away。 ¨Who canˇt lie； Peeta？〃 I say； even though he canˇt hear me。
It doesnˇt matter。 The rest of Panem can。
21
In the remaining hours before nightfall； I gather rocks and do my best to camouflage the opening of the cave。 Itˇs a slow and arduous process； but after a lot of sweating and shifting things around； Iˇm pretty pleased with my work； The cave now appears to be part of a larger pile of rocks； like so many in the vicinity。 I can still crawl in to Peeta through a small opening； but itˇs undetectable from the out？ side。 Thatˇs good； because Iˇll need to share that sleeping bag again tonight。 Also； if I donˇt make it back from the feast； Peeta will be hidden but not entirely imprisoned。 Although I doubt he can hang on much longer without medicine。 If I die at the feast； District 12 isnˇt likely to have a victor。
I make a meal out of the smaller； bonier fish that inhabit the stream down here； fill every water container and purify it； and clean my weapons。 Iˇve nine arrows left in all。 I debate leaving the knife with Peeta so heˇll have some protection while Iˇm gone； but thereˇs really no point。 He was right about camouflage being his final defense。 But I still might have use for the knife。 Who knows what Iˇll encounter？
Here are some things Iˇm fairly certain of。 That at least Cato； Clove； and Thresh will be on hand when the feast starts。 Iˇm not sure about Foxface since direct confrontation isnˇt her style or her forte。 Sheˇs even smaller than I am and unarmed； unless sheˇs picked up some weapons recently。 Sheˇll probably be hanging somewhere nearby； seeing what she can scavenge。 But the other three 。 。 。 Iˇm going to have my hands full。 My ability to kill at a distance is my greatest asset； but I know Iˇll have to go right into the thick of things to get that backpack； the one with the number 12 on it that Claudius Templesmith mentioned。
I watch the sky； hoping for one less opponent at dawn； but nobody appears tonight。 Tomorrow there will be faces up there。 Feasts always result in fatalities。
I crawl into the cave； secure my glasses； and curl up next to Peeta。 Luckily I had that good long sleep today。 I have to stay awake。 I donˇt really think anyone will attack our cave tonight； but I canˇt risk missing the dawn。
So cold； so bitterly cold tonight。 As if the Gamemakers have sent an infusion of frozen air across the arena； which may be exactly what theyˇve done。 I lay next to Peeta in the bag； trying to absorb every bit of his fever heat。 Itˇs strange to be so physically close to someone whoˇs so distant。 Peeta might as well be back in the Capitol； or in District 12； or on the moon right now； heˇd be no harder to reach。 Iˇve never felt lonelier since the Games began。
Just accept it will be a bad night； I tell myself。 I try not to； but I canˇt help thinking of my mother and Prim； wondering if theyˇll sleep a wink tonight。 At this late stage in the Games； with an important event like the feast； school will probably be canceled。 My family can either watch on that static…filled old clunker of a television at home or join the crowds in the square to watch on the big； clear screens； Theyˇll have privacy at home but support in the square。 People will give them a kind word； a bit of food if they can spare it。 I wonder if the baker has sought them out； especially now that Peeta and I are a team； and made good on his promise to keep my sisterˇs belly full。
Spirits must be running high in District 12。 We so rarely have anyone to root for at this point in the Games。 Surely； people are excited about Peeta and me； especially now that weˇre together。 If I close my eyes； I can imagine their shouts at the screens； urging us on。 I see their faces Greasy Sac and Madge and even the Peacekeepers who buy my meat cheering for us。
And Gale。 I know him。 He wonˇt be shouting and cheering。 But heˇll be watching； every moment； every twist and turn； and willing me to e home。 I wonder if heˇs hoping that Peeta makes it as well。 Galeˇs not my boyfriend； but would he be； if I opened that door？ He talked about us running away together。 Was that just a practical calculation of our chances of survival away from the district？ Or something more？
I wonder what he makes of all this kissing。
Through a crack in the rocks； I watch the moon cross the sky。 At what I judge to be about three hours before dawn； I begin final preparations。 Iˇm careful to leave Peeta with water and the medical kit right beside him。 Nothing else will be of much use if I donˇt return； and even these would only prolong his life a short time。 After some debate； I strip him of his jacket and zip it on over my own。 He doesnˇt need it。 Not now in the sleeping bag with his fever； and during the day； if Iˇm not there to remove it； heˇll be roasting in it。 My hands are already stiff from cold； so I take Rueˇs spare pair of socks； cut holes for my fingers and thumbs； and pull them on。 It helps anyway。 I fill her small pack with some food； a water bottle； and bandages； tuck the knife in my belt； get my bow and arrows。 Iˇm about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the star…crossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long； lingering kiss。 I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own。 Then I squeeze through the opening in the rocks out into the night。
My breath makes small white clouds as it hits the air。 Itˇs as cold as a November night at home。 One where Iˇve slipped into the woods； lantern in hand； to join Gale at some prearranged place where weˇll sit bundled together； sipping herb tea from metal flasks e will pass our way as the morning es on。 Oh； Gale； I think。 If only you had my back now 。 。 。
I move as fast as I dare。 The glasses are quite remarkable； but I still sorely miss having the use of my left ear。 I donˇt know what the explosion did； but it damaged something deep and irreparable。 Never mind。 If I get home； Iˇll be so stinking rich； Iˇll be able to pay someone to do my hearing。
The woods always look different at night。 Even with the glasses； everything has an unfamiliar slant to it。 As if the daytime trees and flowers and stones had gone to bed and sent slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their places。 I donˇt try anything tricky； like taking a new route。 I make my way back up the stream and follow the same path back to Rueˇs hiding place near the lake。 Along the way； I see no sign of another tribute； not a puff of breath； not a quiver of a branch。 Either Iˇm the first to arrive or the others positioned themselves last night。 Thereˇs still more than an hour； maybe two； when I wriggle into the underbrush and wait for the blood to begin to flow。
I chew a few mint leaves； my stomach isnˇt up for much more。 Thank goodness； I have Peetaˇs jacket as well as my own。 If not； Iˇd be forced to move around to stay warm。 The sky turns a misty morning gray and still thereˇs no sign of the other tributes。 Itˇs not surprising really。 Everyone has distinguished themselves either by strength or deadliness or cunning。 Do they suppose； I wonder； that I have Peeta with me？ I doubt Foxface and Thresh even know he was wounded。 All the better if they think heˇs covering me when I go in for the backpack。
But where is it？ The arena has lightened enough for me to remove my glasses。 I can hear the morning birds singing。 Isnˇt it time？ For a second； Iˇm panicked that Iˇm at the wrong location。 But no； Iˇm certain I remember Claudius Templesmith specifying the Cornucopia。 And there it is。 And here I am。 So whereˇs my feast？
Just as the first ray of sun glints off the gold Cornucopia； thereˇs a disturbance on the plain。 The ground before the mouth of the horn splits in two and a round table with a snowy white cloth rises into the arena。 On the table sit four backpacks； two large black ones with the numbers 2 and 11； a medium…size green one with the number 5； and a tiny orange one really I could carry it around my wrist that must be marked with a 12。
The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia； snags the green backpack； and speeds off。 Foxface！ Leave it to her to e up with such a clever and risky idea！ The rest of us are still poised around the plain； sizing up the situation； and sheˇs got hers。 Sheˇs got us trapped； too； because no one wants to chase her down； not while their own pack sits so vulnerable on the table。 Foxface must have purposefully left the other packs alone； knowing that to steal one without her number would definitely bring on a pursuer。 That should have been my strategy！ By the lime Iˇve worked through the emotions of surprise； admiration； anger； jealousy； and frustration； Iˇm watching that reddish mane of hair disappear into the trees well out of shooting range。 Huh。 Iˇm always dreading the others； but maybe Foxface is the real opponent here。
Sheˇs cost me time； too； because by now itˇs clear that I must get to the table next。 Anyone who beats me to it will easily scoop up my pack and be gone。 Without hesitation； I sprint for the table。 I can sense the emergence of danger before I see it。 Fortunately； the first knife es whizzing in on my right side so I can hear it and Iˇm able to deflect it with my bow。 I turn； drawing back the bowstring and send an arrow straight at Cloveˇs heart。 She turns just enough to avoid a fatal hit； but the point punctures her upper left arm。 Unfortunately； she throws with her right； but itˇs enough to slow her down a few moments； having to pull the arrow from her arm； take in the severity of the wound。 I keep moving； positioning the next arrow automatically； as only someone who has hunted for years can do。
Iˇm at the table now； my fingers closing over the tiny orange backpack。 My hand slips between the straps and I yank it up on my arm； itˇs really too small to fit on any other part of my anatomy； and Iˇm turning to fire again when the second knife catches me in the forehead。 It slices above my right eyebrow； opening a gash that sends a gush running down my face； blinding my eye； filling my mouth with the sharp； metallic taste of my own blood。 I stagger backward but still manage to send my readied arrow in the general direction of my assailant。 I know as it leaves my hands it will miss。 And then Clove slams into me； knocking me flat on my back；
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