The Hunger Games

one else can use them. I’ve lost my bearings what with all the wandering around I did yesterday evening, but I try and head back in the general direction of the stream. I know I’m on course when I come across Rue’s third, unlit fire. Shortly thereafter, I discover a flock of grooslings perched in the trees and take out three before they know what hit them. I return to Rue’s signal fire and start it up, not caring about the excessive smoke. Where are you, Cato? I think as I roast the birds and Rue’s roots. I’m waiting right here.
    Who knows where the Careers are now? Either too far to reach me or too sure this is a trick or . . . is it possible? Too scared of me? They know I have the bow and arrows, of course, Cato saw me take them from Glimmer’s body. But have they put two and two together yet? Figured out I blew up the supplies and killed their fellow Career? Possibly they think Thresh did this. Wouldn’t he be more likely to revenge Rue’s death than I would? Being from the same district? Not that he ever took any interest in her.
    And what about Foxface? Did she hang around to watch me blow up the supplies? No. When I caught her laughing in the ashes the next morning, it was as if someone had given her a lovely surprise.
    I doubt they think Peeta has lit this signal fire. Cato’s sure he’s as good as dead. I find myself wishing I could tell Peeta about the flowers I put on Rue. That I now understand what he was trying to say on the roof. Perhaps if he wins the Games, he’ll see me on victor’s night, when they replay the highlights of the Games on a screen over the stage where we did our interviews. The winner sits in a place of honor on the platform, surrounded by their support crew.
    But I told Rue I’d be there. For both of us. And somehow that seems even more important than the vow I gave Prim.
    I really think I stand a chance of doing it now. Winning. It’s not just having the arrows or outsmarting the Careers a few times, although those things help. Something happened when I was holding Rue’s hand, watching the life drain out of her. Now I am determined to avenge her, to make her loss unforgettable, and I can only do that by winning and thereby making myself unforgettable.
    I overcook the birds hoping someone will show up to shoot, but no one does. Maybe the other tributes are out there beating one another senseless. Which would be fine. Ever since the bloodbath, I’ve been featured on screens more than I care.
    Eventually, I wrap up my food and go back to the stream to replenish my water and gather some. But the heaviness from the morning drapes back over me and even though it’s only early evening, I climb a tree and settle in for the night. My brain begins to replay the events from yesterday. I keep seeing Rue speared, my arrow piercing the boy’s neck. I don’t know why I should even care about the boy.
    Then I realize . . . he was my first kill.
    Along with other statistics they report to help people place their bets, every tribute has a list of kills. I guess technically I’d get credited for Glimmer and the girl from District 4, too, for dumping that nest on them. But the boy from District 1 was the first person I knew would die because of my actions. Numerous animals have lost their lives at my hands, but only one human. I hear Gale saying, “How different can it be, really?”
    Amazingly similar in the execution. A bow pulled, an arrow shot. Entirely different in the aftermath. I killed a boy whose name I don’t even know. Somewhere his family is weeping for him. His friends call for my blood. Maybe he had a girlfriend who really believed he would come back. . . .
    But then I think of Rue’s still body and I’m able to banish the boy from my mind. At least, for now.
    It’s been an uneventful day according to the sky. No deaths. I wonder how long we’ll get until the next catastrophe drives us back together. If it’s going to be tonight, I want to get some sleep first. I cover my good ear to block out the strains of the anthem, but then I hear the trumpets and sit straight up in anticipation.
    For the most part, the only communication the tributes get from outside the arena is the nightly death toll. But occasionally, there will be trumpets followed by an announcement. Usually, this will be a call to a feast. When food is scarce, the Gamemakers will invite the players to a banquet, somewhere known to all like the Cornucopia, as an inducement to gather and fight.