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I
feel
like
I
'm
eleven
again
,
tethered
not
to
the
safety
of
the
fence
but
to
Peeta
,
allowing
myself
twenty
,
maybe
thirty
yards
of
hunting
space
.
Away
from
him
though
,
the
woods
come
alive
with
animal
sounds
.
Reassured
by
his
periodic
whistles
,
I
allow
myself
to
drift
farther
away
,
and
soon
have
two
rabbits
and
a
fat
squirrel
to
show
for
it
.
I
decide
it
's
enough
.
I
can
set
snares
and
maybe
get
some
fish
.
With
Peeta
's
roots
,
this
will
be
enough
for
now
.
As
I
travel
the
short
distance
back
,
I
realize
we
have
n't
exchanged
signals
in
a
while
.
When
my
whistle
receives
no
response
,
I
run
.
In
no
time
,
I
find
the
pack
,
a
neat
pile
of
roots
beside
it
.
The
sheet
of
plastic
has
been
laid
on
the
ground
where
the
sun
can
reach
the
single
layer
of
berries
that
covers
it
.
But
where
is
he
?
"
Peeta
!
"
I
call
out
in
a
panic
.
"
Peeta
!
"
I
turn
to
the
rustle
of
brush
and
almost
send
an
arrow
through
him
.
Fortunately
,
I
pull
my
bow
at
the
last
second
and
it
sticks
in
an
oak
trunk
to
his
left
.
He
jumps
back
,
flinging
a
handful
of
berries
into
the
foliage
.
My
fear
comes
out
as
anger
.
"
What
are
you
doing
?
You
're
supposed
to
be
here
,
not
running
around
in
the
woods
!
"
"
I
found
some
berries
down
by
the
stream
,
"
he
says
,
clearly
confused
by
my
outburst
.
"
I
whistled
.
Why
did
n't
you
whistle
back
?
"
I
snap
at
him
.
"
I
did
n't
hear
.
The
water
's
too
loud
,
I
guess
,
"
he
says
.
He
crosses
and
puts
his
hands
on
my
shoulders
.
That
's
when
I
feel
that
I
'm
trembling
.
"
I
thought
Cato
killed
you
!
"
I
almost
shout
.
"
No
,
I
'm
fine
.
"
Peeta
wraps
his
arms
around
me
,
but
I
do
n't
respond
.
"
Katniss
?
"
