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Peeta
looks
at
me
in
concern
.
"
What
is
it
?
Are
you
in
a
lot
of
pain
?
"
I
give
him
another
answer
,
because
it
is
equally
true
but
can
be
taken
as
a
brief
moment
of
weakness
instead
of
a
terminal
one
.
"
I
want
to
go
home
,
Peeta
,
"
I
say
plaintively
,
like
a
small
child
.
"
You
will
.
I
promise
,
"
he
says
,
and
bends
over
to
give
me
a
kiss
.
"
I
want
to
go
home
now
,
"
I
say
.
"
Tell
you
what
.
You
go
back
to
sleep
and
dream
of
home
.
And
you
'll
be
there
for
real
before
you
know
it
,
"
lie
says
.
"
Okay
?
"
"
Okay
,
"
I
whisper
.
"
Wake
me
if
you
need
me
to
keep
watch
.
"
"
I
'm
good
and
rested
,
thanks
to
you
and
Haymitch
.
Besides
,
who
knows
how
long
this
will
last
?
"
he
says
.
What
does
he
mean
?
The
storm
?
The
brief
respite
ii
brings
us
?
The
Games
themselves
?
I
do
n't
know
,
but
I
'm
ion
sad
and
tired
to
ask
.
It
's
evening
when
Peeta
wakes
me
again
.
The
rain
has
turned
to
a
downpour
,
sending
streams
of
water
through
our
ceiling
where
earlier
there
had
been
only
drips
.
Peeta
has
placed
the
broth
pot
under
the
worst
one
and
repositioned
the
plastic
to
deflect
most
of
it
from
me
.
I
feel
a
bit
better
,
able
to
sit
up
without
getting
too
dizzy
,
and
I
'm
absolutely
famished
.
So
is
Peeta
.
It
's
clear
he
's
been
waiting
for
me
to
wake
up
to
eat
and
is
eager
to
get
started
.
There
's
not
much
left
.
