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- Сюзанна Коллинз
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- Голодные игры
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- Стр. 157/236
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Give
me
something
I
can
work
with
!
"
And
he
's
right
.
If
I
want
to
keep
Peeta
alive
,
I
've
got
to
give
the
audience
something
more
to
care
about
.
Star-crossed
lovers
desperate
to
get
home
together
.
Two
hearts
beating
as
one
.
Romance
.
Never
having
been
in
love
,
this
is
going
to
be
a
real
trick
.
I
think
of
my
parents
.
The
way
my
father
never
failed
to
bring
her
gifts
from
the
woods
.
The
way
my
mother
's
face
would
light
up
at
the
sound
of
his
boots
at
the
door
.
The
way
she
almost
stopped
living
when
he
died
.
"
Peeta
!
"
I
say
,
trying
for
the
special
tone
that
my
mother
used
only
with
my
father
.
He
's
dozed
off
again
,
but
I
kiss
him
awake
,
which
seems
to
startle
him
.
Then
he
smiles
as
if
he
'd
be
happy
to
lie
there
gazing
at
me
forever
.
He
's
great
at
this
stuff
.
I
hold
up
the
pot
.
"
Peeta
,
look
what
Haymitch
has
sent
you
.
"
Getting
the
broth
into
Peeta
takes
an
hour
of
coaxing
,
begging
,
threatening
,
and
yes
,
kissing
,
but
finally
,
sip
by
sip
,
he
empties
the
pot
.
I
let
him
drift
off
to
sleep
then
and
attend
to
my
own
needs
,
wolfing
down
a
supper
of
groosling
and
roots
while
I
watch
the
daily
report
in
the
sky
.
No
new
casualties
.
Still
,
Peeta
and
I
have
given
the
audience
a
fairly
interesting
day
.
Hopefully
,
the
Gamemakers
will
allow
us
a
peaceful
night
.
I
automatically
look
around
for
a
good
tree
to
nest
in
before
I
realize
that
's
over
.
At
least
for
a
while
.
I
ca
n't
very
well
leave
Peeta
unguarded
on
the
ground
.
I
left
the
scene
of
his
last
hiding
place
on
the
bank
of
the
stream
untouched
-
how
could
I
conceal
it
?
-
and
we
're
a
scant
fifty
yards
downstream
.
I
put
on
my
glasses
,
place
my
weapons
in
readiness
,
and
settle
down
to
keep
watch
.
The
temperature
drops
rapidly
and
soon
I
'm
chilled
to
the
bone
.
Eventually
,
I
give
in
and
slide
into
the
sleeping
bag
with
Peeta
.
It
's
toasty
warm
and
I
snuggle
down
gratefully
until
I
realize
it
's
more
than
warm
,
it
's
overly
hot
because
the
bag
is
reflecting
back
his
fever
.
I
check
his
forehead
and
find
it
burning
and
dry
.
I
do
n't
know
what
to
do
.
Leave
him
in
the
bag
and
hope
the
excessive
heat
breaks
the
fever
?
Take
him
out
and
hope
the
night
air
cools
him
off
?
I
end
up
just
dampening
a
strip
of
bandage
and
placing
it
on
his
forehead
.
It
seems
weak
,
but
I
'm
afraid
to
do
anything
too
drastic
.
I
spend
the
night
half-sitting
,
half-lying
next
to
Peeta
,
refreshing
the
bandage
,
and
trying
not
to
dwell
on
the
fact
that
by
teaming
up
with
him
,
I
've
made
myself
far
more
vulnerable
than
when
I
was
alone
.
Tethered
to
the
ground
,
on
guard
,
with
a
very
sick
person
to
take
care
of
.
But
I
knew
he
was
injured
.
And
still
I
came
after
him
.
I
'm
just
going
to
have
to
trust
that
whatever
instinct
sent
me
to
find
him
was
a
good
one
.
When
the
sky
turns
rosy
,
I
notice
the
sheen
of
sweat
on
Peeta
's
lip
and
discover
the
fever
has
broken
.
He
's
not
back
to
normal
,
but
it
's
come
down
a
few
degrees
.
Last
night
,
when
I
was
gathering
vines
,
I
came
upon
a
bush
of
Rue
's
berries
.
I
strip
off
the
fruit
and
mash
it
up
in
the
broth
pot
with
cold
water
.
