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I have to remind myself sheˇs still alive。 Or is she？ Could the cannon shot announcing her death have e in the wee hours of the morning when even my good ear was too broken to pick it up？ Will she appear in the sky tonight？ No； I refuse to believe it。 There could be a hundred other explanations。 She could have lost her way。 Run into a pack of predators or another tribute； like Thresh； and had to hide。 Whatever happened； Iˇm almost certain sheˇs stuck out there； somewhere between the second fire and the unlit one at my feet。 Something is keeping her up a tree。
I think Iˇll go hunt it down。
Itˇs a relief to be doing something after sitting around all afternoon。 I creep silently through the shadows； letting them conceal me。 But nothing seems suspicious。 Thereˇs no sign of any kind of struggle； no disruption of the needles on the ground。 Iˇve stopped for just a moment when I hear it。 I have to cock my head around to the side to be sure； but there it is again。 Rueˇs four…note tune ing out of a mockingjayˇs mouth。 The one that means sheˇs all right。
I grin and move in the direction of the bird。 Another just a short distance ahead； picks up on the handful of notes。 Rue has been singing to them； and recently。 Otherwise theyˇd have taken up some other song。 My eyes lift up into the trees； searching for a sign of her。 I swallow and sing softly back； hoping sheˇll know itˇs safe to join me。 A mockingjay repeats the melody to me。 And thatˇs when I hear the scream。
Itˇs a childˇs scream； a young girlˇs scream； thereˇs no one in the arena capable of making that sound except Rue。 And now Iˇm running； knowing this may be a trap； knowing the three Careers may be poised to attack me； but I canˇt help myself。 Thereˇs another high…pitched cry； this time my name。 ¨Katniss！ Katniss！〃
¨Rue！〃 I shout back； so she knows Iˇm near。 So； they know Iˇm near； and hopefully the girl who has attacked them with tracker jackers and gotten an eleven they still canˇt explain will be enough to pull their attention away from her。 ¨Rue！ Iˇm ing！〃
When I break into the clearing； sheˇs on the ground； hopelessly entangled in a 。 She just has time to reach her hand through the mesh and say my name before the spear enters her body。
18
The boy from District 1 dies before he can pull out the spear。 My arrow drives deeply into the center of his neck。 He falls to his knees and halves the brief remainder of his life by yanking out the arrow and drowning in his own blood。 Iˇm reloaded； shifting my aim from side to side； while I shout at Rue； ¨Are there more？ Are there more？〃
She has to say no several times before I hear it。 Rue has rolled to her side； her body curved in and around the spear。 I shove the boy away from her and pull out my knife； freeing her from the 。 One look at the wound and I know itˇs far beyond my capacity to heal； beyond anyoneˇs probably。 The spearhead is buried up to the shaft in her stomach。 I crouch before her； staring helplessly at the embedded weapon。 Thereˇs no point in forting words； in telling her sheˇll be all right。 Sheˇs no fool。 Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline。 As if itˇs me whoˇs dying instead of Rue。
¨You blew up the food？〃 she whispers。
¨Every last bit；〃 I say。
¨You have to win；〃 she says。
¨Iˇm going to。 Going to win for both of us now；〃 I promise。 I hear a cannon and look up。 It must be for the boy from District 1。
¨Donˇt go。〃 Rue tightens her grip on my hand。
¨Course not。 Staying right here；〃 I say。 I move in closer to her； pulling her head onto my lap。 I gently brush the dark； thick hair back behind her ear。
¨Sing；〃 she says； but I barely catch the word。
Sing？ I think。 Sing what？ I do know a few songs。 Believe it or not； there was once music in my house； too。 Music I helped make。 My father pulled me in with that remarkable voice but I havenˇt sung much since he died。 Except when Prim is very sick。 Then I sing her the same songs she liked as a baby。
Sing。 My throat is tight with tears； hoarse from smoke and fatigue。 But if this is Primˇs； I mean； Rueˇs last request； I have to at least try。 The song that es to me is a simple lullaby； one we sing fretful； hungry babies to sleep with； Itˇs old； very old I think。 Made up long ago in our hills。 What my music teacher calls a mountain air。 But the words are easy and soothing； promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece of time we call today。
I give a small cough； swallow hard； and begin：
Deep in the meadow； under the willow
A bed of grass； a soft green pillow
Lay down your head； and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open； the sun will rise。
Here itˇs safe； here itˇs warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you。
Rueˇs eyes have fluttered shut。 Her chest moves but only slightly。 My throat releases the tears and they slide down my cheeks。 But I have to finish the song for her。
Deep in the meadow； hidden far away
A cloak of leaves； a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again itˇs morning； theyˇll wash away。
Here itˇs safe； here itˇs warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
The final lines are barely audible。
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you。
Everythingˇs still and quiet。 Then； almost eerily； the mockingjays take up my song。
For a moment； I sit there； watching my tears drip down on her face。 Rueˇs cannon fires。 I lean forward and press my lips against her temple。 Slowly； as if not to wake her； I lay her head back on the ground and release her hand。
Theyˇll want me to clear out now。 So they can collect the bodies。 And thereˇs nothing to stay for。 I roll the boy from District 1 onto his face and take his pack； retrieve the arrow that ended his life。 I cut Rueˇs pack from her back as well； knowing sheˇd want me to have it but leave the spear in her stomach。 Weapons in bodies will be transported to the hovercraft。 Iˇve no use for a spear； so the sooner itˇs gone from the arena the better。
I canˇt stop looking at Rue； smaller than ever； a baby animal curled up in a nest of ting。 I canˇt bring myself to leave her like this。 Past harm； but seeming utterly defenseless。 To hate the boy from District 1； who also appears so vulnerable in death； seems inadequate。 Itˇs the Capitol I hate； for doing this to all of us。
Galeˇs voice is in my head。 His ravings against the Capitol no longer pointless； no longer to be ignored。 Rueˇs death has forced me to confront my own fury against the cruelty； the injustice they inflict upon us。 But here； even more strongly than at home； I feel my impotence。 Thereˇs no way to take revenge on the Capitol。 Is there？
Then I remember Peetaˇs words on the roof。 ¨Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to 。 。 。 to show the Capital they donˇt own me。 That Iˇm more than just a piece in their Games。〃 And for the first time； I understand what he means。
I want to do something； right here； right now； to shame them； to make them accountable； to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do there is a part of every tribute they canˇt own。 That Rue was more than a piece in their Games。 And so am I。
A few steps into the woods grows a bank of wildflowers。 Perhaps they are really weeds of some sort； but they have blossoms in beautiful shades of violet and yellow and white。 I gather up an armful and e back to Rueˇs side。 Slowly； one stem at a time； I decorate her body in the flowers。 Covering the ugly wound。 Wreathing her face。 Weaving her hair with bright colors。
Theyˇll have to show it。 Or； even if they choose to turn the cameras elsewhere at this moment； theyˇll have to bring them back when they collect the bodies and everyone will see her then and know I did it。 I step back and take a last look at Rue。 She could really be asleep in that meadow after all。
¨Bye； Rue；〃 I whisper。 I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction。 Then I walk away without looking back。
The birds fall silent。 Somewhere； a mockingjay gives the warning whistle that precedes the hovercraft。 I donˇt know how it knows。 It must hear things that humans canˇt。 I pause； my eyes focused on whatˇs ahead； not whatˇs happening behind me。 It doesnˇt take long； then the general birdsong begins again and I know sheˇs gone。
Another mockingjay； a young one by the look of it； lands on a branch before me and bursts out Rueˇs melody。
My song； the hovercraft； were too unfamiliar for this novice to pick up； but it has mastered her handful of notes。 The ones that mean sheˇs safe。
¨Good and safe；〃 I say as I pass under its branch。 ¨We donˇt have to worry about her now。〃 Good and safe。
Iˇve no idea where to go。 The brief sense of home I had that one night with Rue has vanished。 My feet wander this way and that until sunset。 Iˇm not afraid； not even watchful。 Which makes me an easy target。 Except Iˇd kill anyone I met on sight。 Without emotion or the slightest tremor in my hands。 My hatred of the Capitol has not lessened my hatred of my petitors in the least。 Especially the Careers。 They； at least； can be made to pay for Rueˇs death。
No one materializes though。 There arenˇt many of us left and itˇs a big arena。 Soon theyˇll be pulling out some other device to force us together。 But thereˇs been enough gore today。 Perhaps weˇll even get to sleep。
Iˇm about to haul my packs into a tree to make camp when a silver parachute floats down and lands in front of me。 A gift from a sponsor。 But why now？ Iˇve been in fairly good shape with supplies。 Maybe Haymitchˇs noticed my despondency and is trying to cheer me up a bit。 Or could it be something to help my ear？
I open the parachute and find a small loaf of bread Itˇs not the fine white Capitol stuff。 Itˇs made of dark ration grain and shaped in a crescent。 Sprinkled with seeds。 I flash back to Peetaˇs lesson on the various district breads in the Training Center。 This bread came from District 11。 I cautiously lift the still warm loaf。 What must it have cost the people of District 11 who canˇt even feed themselves？ How many wouldˇve had to do without to scrape up a coin to put in the collection for this one loaf？ It had been meant for Rue； surely。 But instead of pulling the gift when she died； theyˇd authorized Haymitch to give it to me。 As a thank…you？ Or because； like me； they donˇt like to let debts go unpaid？ For whatever reason； this is a first。 A district gift to a tribute whoˇs not your own。
I lift my face and step into the last falling rays of sunlight。 ¨My thanks to the people of District Eleven；〃 I say。 I want them to know I know where it came from。 That the full value of their gift has been recognized。
I climb dangerously high into a tree； not for safety but to get as far away from today as I can。 My sleeping bag is rolled neatly in Rueˇs pack。 Tomorrow Iˇll sort through the supplies。 Tomorrow Iˇll make a new plan。 But tonight； all I can do is strap myself in and take tiny bites of the bread。 Itˇs good。 It tastes of home。
Soon the sealˇs in the sky； the anthem plays in my right ear。 I see the boy from District 1； Rue。 Thatˇs all for tonight。 Six of us left； I think。 Only six。 With the bread still locked in my hands； I fall asleep at once。
Sometimes when things are particularly bad； my brain will give me a happy dream。 A visit with my father in the woods。 An hour of sunlight and cake with Prim。 Tonight it sends me Rue； still decked in her flowers； perched in a high sea of trees； trying to teach me to talk to the mockingjays。 I see no sign of her wounds； no blood； just a bright； laughing girl。 She sings songs Iˇve never heard in a clear； melodic voice。 On and on。 Through the night。 Thereˇs a drowsy in…between period when I can hear the last few strains of her music although sheˇs lost in the leaves。 When I fully awaken； Iˇm momentarily forted。 I try to hold on to the peaceful feeling of the dream； but it quickly slips away； leaving me sadder and lonelier than ever。
Heaviness infuses my whole body； as if thereˇs liquid lead in my veins。 Iˇve lost the will to do the simplest tasks； to do anything but lie here； staring unblinkingly through the canopy of leaves。 For several hours； I remain motionless。 As usual； itˇs the thought of Primˇs anxious face as she watches me on the screens back home that breaks me from my lethargy。
I give myself a series of simple mands to follow； like ¨Now you have to sit up； Katniss。 Now you have to drink water； Katniss。〃 I act on the orders with slow； robotic motions。 ¨Now you have to sort the packs； Katniss。〃
Rueˇs pack holds my sleeping bag； her nearly empty water skin； a handful of nuts and roots； a bit of rabbit； her extra socks； and her slingshot。 The boy from District 1 has several knives； two spare spearheads； a flashlight； a small leather pouch； a first…aid kit； a full bottle of water； and a pack of dried fruit。 A pack of dried fruit！ Out of all he might have chosen from。 To me； this is a sign of extreme arrogance。 Why bother to carry food when you have such a bounty back at camp？ When you will kill your enemies so quickly youˇll be home before youˇre hungry？ I can onl