I stretch and burrow down into the bag。 ¨Iˇll sleep now。 Wake me if anything interesting happens。〃
Apparently nothing does； because when I open my eyes； bright hot afternoon light gleams through the rocks。 ¨Any sign of our friend？〃 I ask。
Peeta shakes his head。 ¨No； heˇs keeping a disturbingly low profile。〃
¨How long do you think weˇll have before the Gamemakers drive us together？〃 I ask。
¨Well； Foxface died almost a day ago； so thereˇs been plenty of time for the audience to place bets and get bored。 I guess it could happen at any moment；〃 says Peeta。
¨Yeah； I have a feeling todayˇs the day；〃 I say。 I sit up and look out at the peaceful terrain。 ¨I wonder how theyˇll do it。〃
Peeta remains silent。 Thereˇs not really any good answer。
¨Well； until they do； no sense in wasting a hunting day。 But we should probably eat as much as we can hold just in case we run into trouble；〃 I say。
Peeta packs up our gear while I lay out a big meal。 The rest of the rabbits； roots； greens； the rolls spread with the last bit of cheese。 The only thing I leave in reserve is the squirrel and the apple。
By the time weˇre done； all thatˇs left is a pile of rabbit bones。 My hands are greasy； which only adds to my growing feeling of grubbiness。 Maybe we donˇt bathe daily in the Seam； but we keep cleaner than I have of late。 Except for my feet； which have walked in the stream； Iˇm covered in a layer of grime。
Leaving the cave has a sense of finality about it。 I donˇt think there will be another night in the arena somehow。 One way or the other； dead or alive； I have the feeling Iˇll escape it today。 I give the rocks a pat good…bye and we head down to the stream to wash up。 I can feel my skin； itching for the cool water。 I may do my hair and braid it back wet。 Iˇm wondering if we might even be able to give our clothes a quick scrub when we reach the stream。 Or what used to be the stream。 Now thereˇs only a bone…dry bed。 I put my hand down to feel it。
¨Not even a little damp。 They must have drained it while we slept；〃 I say。 A fear of the cracked tongue； aching body and fuzzy mind brought on by my previous dehydration creeps into my consciousness。 Our bottles and skin are fairly full； but with two drinking and this hot sun it wonˇt take long to deplete them。
¨The lake；〃 says Peeta。 ¨Thatˇs where they want us to go。〃
¨Maybe the ponds still have some；〃 I say hopefully。
¨We can check；〃 he says； but heˇs just humoring me。 Iˇm humoring myself because I know what Iˇll find when we return to the pond where I soaked my leg。 A dusty； gaping mouth of a hole。 But we make the trip anyway just to confirm what we already know。
¨Youˇre right。 Theyˇre driving us to the lake；〃 I say。 Where thereˇs no cover。 Where theyˇre guaranteed a bloody fight to the death with nothing to block their view。 ¨Do you want to go straightaway or wait until the waterˇs tapped out？〃
¨Letˇs go now； while weˇve had food and rest。 Letˇs just go end this thing；〃 he says。
I nod。 Itˇs funny。 I feel almost as if itˇs the first day of the Games again。 That Iˇm in the same position。 Twenty…one tributes are dead； but I still have yet to kill Cato。 And really； wasnˇt he always the one to kill？ Now it seems the other tributes were just minor obstacles； distractions； keeping us from the real battle of the Games。 Cato and me。
But no； thereˇs the boy waiting beside me。 I feel his arms wrap around me。
¨Two against one。 Should be a piece of cake；〃 he says。
¨Next time we eat； it will be in the Capitol；〃 I answer。
¨You bet it will；〃 he says。
We stand there a while； locked in an embrace； feeling each other； the sunlight； the rustle of the leaves at our feet。 Then without a word； we break apart and head for the lake。
I donˇt care now that Peetaˇs footfalls send rodents scurrying； make birds take wing。 We have to fight Cato and Iˇd just as soon do it here as on the plain。 But I doubt Iˇll have that choice。 If the Gamemakers want us in the open； then in the open we will be。
We stop to rest for a few moments under the tree where the Careers trapped me。 The husk of the tracker jacker nest； beaten to a pulp by the heavy rains and dried in the burning sun； confirms the location。 I touch it with the tip of my boot； and it dissolves into dust that is quickly carried off by the breeze。 I canˇt help looking up in the tree where Rue secretly perched； waiting to save my life。 Tracker jackers。 Glimmerˇs bloated body。 The terrifying hallucinations 。 。 。
¨Letˇs move on；〃 I say； wanting to escape the darkness that surrounds this place。 Peeta doesnˇt object。
Given our late start to the day； when we reach the plain itˇs already early evening。 Thereˇs no sign of Cato。 No sign of anything except the gold Cornucopia glowing in the slanting sun rays。 Just in case Cato decided to pull a Foxface on us； we circle the Cornucopia to make sure itˇs empty。 Then obediently； as if following instructions； we cross to the lake and fill our water containers。
I frown at the shrinking sun。 ¨We donˇt want to fight him after dark。 Thereˇs only the one pair of glasses。〃
Peeta carefully squeezes drops of iodine into the water。 ¨Maybe thatˇs what heˇs waiting for。 What do you want to do？ Go back to the cave？〃
¨Either that or find a tree。 But letˇs give him another half an hour or so。 Then weˇll take cover；〃 I answer。
We sit by the lake； in full sight。 Thereˇs no point in hiding now。 In the trees at the edge of the plain； I can see the mockingjays flitting about。 Bouncing melodies back and forth between them like brightly colored balls。 I open my mouth and sing out Rueˇs four…note run。 I can feel them pause curiously at the sound of my voice； listening for more。 I repeat the notes in the silence。 First one mockingjay trills the tune back； then another。 Then the whole world es alive with the sound。
¨Just like your father；〃 says Peeta。
My fingers find the pin on my shirt。 ¨Thatˇs Rueˇs song；〃 I say。 ¨I think they remember it。〃
The music swells and I recognize the brilliance of it。 As the notes overlap； they pliment one another； forming a lovely； unearthly harmony。 It was this sound then； thanks to Rue； that sent the orchard workers of District 11 home each night。 Does someone start it at quitting time； I wonder； now that she is dead？
For a while； I just close my eyes and listen； mesmerized by the beauty of the song。 Then something begins to disrupt the music。 Runs cut off in jagged； imperfect lines。 Dissonant notes intersperse with the melody。 The mockingjaysˇ voices rise up in a shrieking cry of alarm。
Weˇre on our feet； Peeta wielding his knife； me poised to shoot； when Cato smashes through the trees and bears down on us。 He has no spear。 In fact； his hands are empty； yet he runs straight for us。 My first arrow hits his chest and inexplicably falls aside。
¨Heˇs got some kind of body armor！〃 I shout to Peeta。
Just in time； too； because Cato is upon us。 I brace myself； but he rockets right between us with no attempt to check his speed。 I can tell from his panting； the sweat pouring off his purplish face； that heˇs been running hard a long time。 Not toward us。 From something。 But what？
My eyes scan the woods just in time to see the first creature leap onto the plain。 As Iˇm turning away； I see another half dozen join it。 Then I am stumbling blindly after Cato with no thought of anything but to save myself。
25
Muttations。 No question about it。 Iˇve never seen these mutts； but theyˇre no natural…born animals。 They resemble huge wolves； but what wolf lands and then balances easily on its hind legs？ What wolf waves the rest of the pack forward with its front paw as though it had a wrist？ These things I can see at a distance。 Up close； Iˇm sure their more menacing attributes will be revealed。
Cato has made a beeline for the Cornucopia； and 。 If he thinks itˇs the safest place； who am I to argue？ Besides； even if I could make it to the trees； it would be impossible for Peeta to outrun them on that leg Peeta！ My hands have just landed on the metal at the pointed tail of the Cornucopia when I remember Iˇm part of a team。 Heˇs about fifteen yards behind me； hobbling as fast as he can； but the mutts are closing in o