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- Сюзанна Коллинз
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- Стр. 171/236
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Just
as
the
first
ray
of
sun
glints
off
the
gold
Cornucopia
,
there
's
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
come
up
with
such
a
clever
and
risky
idea
!
The
rest
of
us
are
still
poised
around
the
plain
,
sizing
up
the
situation
,
and
she
's
got
hers
.
She
's
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
I
've
worked
through
the
emotions
of
surprise
,
admiration
,
anger
,
jealousy
,
and
frustration
,
I
'm
watching
that
reddish
mane
of
hair
disappear
into
the
trees
well
out
of
shooting
range
.
Huh
.
I
'm
always
dreading
the
others
,
but
maybe
Foxface
is
the
real
opponent
here
.
She
's
cost
me
time
,
too
,
because
by
now
it
's
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
comes
whizzing
in
on
my
right
side
so
I
can
hear
it
and
I
'm
able
to
deflect
it
with
my
bow
.
I
turn
,
drawing
back
the
bowstring
and
send
an
arrow
straight
at
Clove
's
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
it
's
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
.
I
'm
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
,
it
's
really
too
small
to
fit
on
any
other
part
of
my
anatomy
,
and
I
'm
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
,
pinning
my
shoulders
to
the
ground
,
with
her
knees
.
This
is
it
,
I
think
,
and
hope
for
Prim
's
sake
it
will
be
fast
.
But
Clove
means
to
savor
the
moment
.
Even
feels
she
has
time
.
No
doubt
Cato
is
somewhere
nearby
,
guarding
her
,
waiting
for
Thresh
and
possibly
Peeta
.
"
Where
's
your
boyfriend
,
District
Twelve
?
Still
hanging
on
?
"
she
asks
.
Well
,
as
long
as
we
're
talking
I
'm
alive
.
"
He
's
out
there
now
.
Hunting
Cato
,
"
I
snarl
at
her
.
Then
I
scream
at
the
top
of
my
lungs
.
"
Peeta
!
"
