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I

'm

fast

.

I

can

sprint

faster

than

any

of

the

girls

in

our

school

although

a

couple

can

beat

me

in

distance

races

.

But

this

forty-yard

length

,

this

is

what

I

am

built

for

.

I

know

I

can

get

it

,

I

know

I

can

reach

it

first

,

but

then

the

question

is

how

quickly

can

I

get

out

of

there

?

By

the

time

I

've

scrambled

up

the

packs

and

grabbed

the

weapons

,

others

will

have

reached

the

horn

,

and

one

or

two

I

might

be

able

to

pick

off

,

but

say

there

's

a

dozen

,

at

that

close

range

,

they

could

take

me

down

with

the

spears

and

the

clubs

.

Or

their

own

powerful

fists

.

Still

,

I

wo

n't

be

the

only

target

.

I

'm

betting

many

of

the

other

tributes

would

pass

up

a

smaller

girl

,

even

one

who

scored

an

eleven

in

training

,

to

take

out

their

more

fierce

adversaries

.

Haymitch

has

never

seen

me

run

.

Maybe

if

he

had

he

'd

tell

me

to

go

for

it

.

Get

the

weapon

.

Since

that

's

the

very

weapon

that

might

be

my

salvation

.

And

I

only

see

one

bow

in

that

whole

pile

.

I

know

the

minute

must

be

almost

up

and

will

have

to

decide

what

my

strategy

will

be

and

I

find

myself

positioning

my

feet

to

run

,

not

away

into

the

stir

rounding

forests

but

toward

the

pile

,

toward

the

bow

.

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When

suddenly

I

notice

Peeta

,

he

's

about

five

tributes

to

my

right

,

quite

a

fair

distance

,

still

I

can

tell

he

's

looking

at

me

and

I

think

he

might

be

shaking

his

head

.

But

the

sun

's

in

my

eyes

,

and

while

I

'm

puzzling

over

it

the

gong

rings

out

.

And

I

've

missed

it

!

I

've

missed

my

chance

!

Because

those

extra

couple

of

seconds

I

've

lost

by

not

being

ready

are

enough

to

change

my

mind

about

going

in

.

My

feet

shuffle

for

a

moment

,

confused

at

the

direction

my

brain

wants

to

take

and

then

I

lunge

forward

,

scoop

up

the

sheet

of

plastic

and

a

loaf

of

bread

.

The

pickings

are

so

small

and

I

'm

so

angry

with

Peeta

for

distracting

me

that

I

sprint

in

twenty

yards

to

retrieve

a

bright

orange

backpack

that

could

hold

anything

because

I

ca

n't

stand

leaving

with

virtually

nothing

.

A

boy

,

I

think

from

District

9

,

reaches

the

pack

at

the

same

time

I

do

and

for

a

brief

time

we

grapple

for

it

and

then

he

coughs

,

splattering

my

face

with

blood

.

I

stagger

back

,

repulsed

by

the

warm

,

sticky

spray

.

Then

the

boy

slips

to

the

ground

.

That

's

when

I

see

the

knife

in

his

back

.

Already

other

tributes

have

reached

the

Cornucopia

and

are

spreading

out

to

attack

.

Yes

,

the

girl

from

District

2

,

ten

yards

away

,

running

toward

me

,

one

hand

clutching

a

half-dozen

knives

.

I

've

seen

her

throw

in

training

.

She

never

misses

.

And

I

'm

her

next

target

.

All

the

general

fear

I

've

been

feeling

condenses

into

at

immediate

fear

of

this

girl

,

this

predator

who

might

kill

me

in

seconds

.

Adrenaline

shoots

through

me

and

I

sling

the

pack

over

one

shoulder

and

run

full-speed

for

the

woods

.

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I

can

hear

the

blade

whistling

toward

me

and

reflexively

hike

the

pack

up

to

protect

my

head

.

The

blade

lodges

in

the

pack

.

Both

straps

on

my

shoulders

now

,

I

make

for

the

trees

.

Somehow

I

know

the

girl

will

not

pursue

me

.

That

she

'll

be

drawn

back

into

the

Cornucopia

before

all

the

good

stuff

is

gone

.

A

grin

crosses

my

face

.

Thanks

for

the

knife

,

I

think

.

At

the

edge

of

the

woods

I

turn

for

one

instant

to

survey

the

field

.

About

a

dozen

or

so

tributes

are

hacking

away

at

one

another

at

the

horn

.

Several

lie

dead

already

on

the

ground

.

Those

who

have

taken

flight

are

disappearing

into

the

trees

or

into

the

void

opposite

me

.

I

continue

running

until

the

woods

have

hidden

me

from

the

other

tributes

then

slow

into

a

steady

jog

that

I

think

I

can

maintain

for

a

while

.

For

the

next

few

hours

,

I

alternate

between

jogging

and

walking

,

putting

as

much

distance

as

I

can

between

myself

and

my

competitors

.

I

lost

my

bread

during

the

struggle

with

the

boy

from

District

9

but

managed

to

stuff

my

plastic

in

my

sleeve

so

as

I

walk

I

fold

it

neatly

and

tuck

it

into

a

pocket

.

I

also

free

the

knife

-

it

's

a

fine

one

with

a

long

sharp

blade

,

serrated

near

the

handle

,

which

will

make

it

handy

for

sawing

through

things

-

and

slide

it

into

my

belt

.

I

do

n't

dare

stop

to

examine

the

contents

of

the

pack

yet

.

I

just

keep

moving

,

pausing

only

to

check

for

pursuers

.

I

can

go

a

long

time

.

I

know

that

from

my

days

in

the

woods

.

But

I

will

need

water

.

That

was

Haymitch

's

second

instruction

,

and

since

I

sort

of

botched

the

first

,

I

keep

a

sharp

eye

out

for

any

sign

of

it

.

No

luck

.

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