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"
Well
,
I
do
n't
have
much
competition
here
,
"
he
says
.
I
want
to
draw
away
,
to
close
those
shutters
again
,
but
I
know
I
ca
n't
.
It
's
as
if
I
can
hear
Haymitch
whispering
in
my
ear
,
"
Say
it
!
Say
it
!
"
I
swallow
hard
and
get
the
words
out
.
"
You
do
n't
have
much
competition
anywhere
.
"
And
this
time
,
it
's
me
who
leans
in
.
Our
lips
have
just
barely
touched
when
the
clunk
outside
makes
us
jump
.
My
bow
comes
up
,
the
arrow
ready
to
fly
,
but
there
's
no
other
sound
.
Peeta
peers
through
the
rocks
and
then
gives
a
whoop
.
Before
I
can
stop
him
,
lie
's
out
in
the
rain
,
then
handing
something
in
to
me
.
A
silver
parachute
attached
to
a
basket
.
I
rip
it
open
at
once
and
inside
there
's
a
feast
-
fresh
rolls
,
goat
cheese
,
apples
,
and
best
of
all
,
a
tureen
of
that
incredible
lamb
stew
on
wild
rice
.
The
very
dish
I
told
Caesar
Flickerman
was
the
most
impressive
thing
the
Capitol
had
to
offer
.
Peeta
wriggles
back
inside
,
his
face
lit
up
like
the
sun
.
"
I
guess
Haymitch
finally
got
tired
of
watching
us
starve
.
"
"
I
guess
so
,
"
I
answer
.
But
in
my
head
I
can
hear
Haymitch
's
smug
,
if
slightly
exasperated
,
words
,
"
Yes
,
that
's
what
I
'm
looking
lot
,
sweetheart
.
"
Every
cell
in
my
body
wants
me
to
dig
into
the
stew
and
cram
it
,
handful
by
handful
into
my
mouth
.
But
Peeta
's
voice
stops
me
.
"
We
better
take
it
slow
on
that
stew
.
Remember
the
first
night
on
the
train
?
The
rich
food
made
me
sick
and
I
was
n't
even
starving
then
.
"
"
You
're
right
.
And
I
could
just
inhale
the
whole
thing
!
"
I
say
regretfully
.
But
I
do
n't
.
We
are
quite
sensible
.
We
each
have
a
roll
,
half
an
apple
,
and
an
egg-size
serving
of
stew
and
rice
.
I
make
myself
eat
the
stew
in
tiny
spoonfuls
-
they
even
sent
us
silverware
and
plates
-
savoring
each
bite
.
When
we
finish
,
I
stare
longingly
at
the
dish
.
"
I
want
more
.
"
"
Me
,
too
.
Tell
you
what
.
We
wait
an
hour
,
if
it
stays
down
,
then
we
get
another
serving
,
"
Peeta
says
.
