Catching Fire

then we find his under-garments are saturated with blood as well. There’s no choice but to strip him naked to get him clean, but I have to say this doesn’t make much of an impression on me anymore. Our kitchen table’s been full of so many naked men this year. You kind of get used to it after a while.
    We put down Finnick’s mat and lay Beetee on his stomach so we can examine his back. There’s a gash about six inches long running from his shoulder blade to below his ribs. Fortunately it’s not too deep. He’s lost a lot of blood, though — you can tell by the pallor of his skin — and it’s still oozing out of the wound.
    I sit back on my heels, trying to think. What do I have to work with? Seawater? I feel like my mother when her first line of defense for treating everything was snow. I look over at the jungle. I bet there’s a whole pharmacy in there if I knew how to use it. But these aren’t my plants. Then I think about the moss Mags gave me to blow my nose. “Be right back,” I tell Peeta. Fortunately the stuff seems to be pretty common in the jungle. I rip an armful from the nearby trees and carry it back to the beach. I make a thick pad out of the moss, place it on Beetee’s cut, and secure it by tying vines around his body. We get some water into him and then pull him into the shade at the edge of the jungle.
    “I think that’s all we can do,” I say.
    “It’s good. You’re good with this healing stuff,” he says. “It’s in your blood.”
    “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I got my father’s blood.” The kind that quickens during a hunt, not an epidemic. “I’m going to see about Wiress.”
    I take a handful of the moss to use as a rag and join Wiress in the shallows. She doesn’t resist as I work off her clothing, scrub the blood from her skin. But her eyes are dilated with fear, and when I speak, she doesn’t respond except to say with ever-increasing urgency, “Tick, tock.” She does seem to be trying to tell me something, but with no Beetee to explain her thoughts, I’m at a loss.
    “Yes, tick, tock. Tick, tock,” I say. This seems to calm her down a little. I wash out her jumpsuit until there’s hardly a trace of blood, and help her back into it. It’s not damaged like ours were. Her belt’s fine, so I fasten that on, too. Then I pin her undergarments, along with Beetee’s, under some rocks and let them soak.
    By the time I’ve rinsed out Beetee’s jumpsuit, a shiny clean Johanna and peeling Finnick have joined us. For a while, Johanna gulps water and stuffs herself with shellfish while I try to coax something into Wiress. Finnick tells about the fog and the monkeys in a detached, almost clinical voice, avoiding the most important detail of the story.
    Everybody offers to guard while the others rest, but in the end, it’s Johanna and I who stay up. Me because I’m really rested, she because she simply refuses to lie down. The two of us sit in silence on the beach until the others have gone to sleep.
    Johanna glances over at Finnick, to be sure, then turns to me. “How’d you lose Mags?”
    “In the fog. Finnick had Peeta. I had Mags for a while. Then I couldn’t lift her. Finnick said he couldn’t take them both. She kissed him and walked right into the poison,” I say.
    “She was Finnick’s mentor, you know,” Johanna says accusingly.
    “No, I didn’t,” I say.
    “She was half his family,” she says a few moments later, but there’s less venom behind it.
    We watch the water lap up over the undergarments. “So what were you doing with Nuts and Volts?” I ask.
    “I told you — I got them for you. Haymitch said if we were to be allies I had to bring them to you,” says Johanna. “That’s what you told him, right?”
    No, I think. But I nod my head in assent. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
    “I hope so.” She gives me a look filled with loathing, like I’m the biggest drag possible on her life. I wonder if this is what it’s like to have an older sister who really hates you.
    “Tick, tock,” I hear behind me. I turn and see Wiress has crawled over. Her eyes are focused on the jungle.
    “Oh, goody, she’s back. Okay, I’m going to sleep. You and Nuts can guard together,” Johanna says. She goes over and flings herself down beside Finnick.
    “Tick, tock,” whispers Wiress. I guide her in front of me and get her to lie down, stroking her arm to soothe her. She drifts off, stirring restlessly, occasionally sighing out her