The 53rd Hunger Games- Two Words

26. Subtle Apologies

“Do you have any water?” Hadrian asks.

“Look in the pack,” I snap back. It’s not his fault I’m in an irritable mood; my wounds burn from walking. I think they might even have started bleeding again.

He pulls out one of the water bottles, and shakes it. Instead of water moving inside, there is nothing. He stops walking, which I’m secretly glad about. The back of my knees hurt, hurt more than anything. I don’t want to be the one that suggests we stop to rest.

I slump against a tree trunk, and examine the wounds. I should dress them, but I want to reach somewhere safe first. Do the Careers really expect us to double back? Each route we could have taken seemed as inviting as the other. If nothing else, we’ve confused them.

Hadrian takes the other water bottle out of the pack, and shakes it. A weak sloshing sound comes from the inside. He opens it, and looks inside.

“When’s the last time you filled up on water?” he asks.

I tip my head back and laugh. In my struggle to stay alive, I’d forgotten. Or maybe I’d been too scared to risk going down for water. Maybe I thought that my sponsors would send me something. For whatever reason, I’ve been rationing my water for a while now.

“Days ago,” I say. “I just...didn’t want to risk it. The last time I went down to the lake for water, I killed the boy from Five. I don’t want to do something like that again.”

Hadrian comes over, and sits next to me. “Do you want some?”

He holds out the water to me. I take a swig, and pass it back to him.

“Thanks,” I say. “But we’ll have to get more soon. Is there anywhere apart from the lake?”

Hadrian chews his lip. “I don’t think so. At least, not that we’ve come across.”

We’ve. As in the Careers and him. Does he still feel like he’s part of their pack? No, he can’t. The Careers and I are on two very different sides. Hadrian can’t play both of.

Can he?

I feel the tatters of material that are crusted with blood at the back of my knees. I tear some of it, and examine it. Hadrian sees me, and tries to get a look at my wounds.

“Arabella sliced you up, didn’t she? How can you even think about walking to the other side of the lake? Doesn’t it hurt?”

I stand up, trying not to wince as a jolt of pain travels up my leg. I pick up the pack, trying to prove my point. “I’m fine,” I say. “We just need to put distance between the Careers and ourselves.”

“You’re injured,” Hadrian says. “And it isn’t just the wounds Arabella gave you.”

He stands up and grabs my arm. I try to pull away from him, but his grip is too strong. My left forearm is red and swollen at the elbow. The cut is infected, there’s no doubt about that now. It’s just a matter of time before it becomes a problem.

I stop trying to pull myself away, away from his warm, gentle, calloused fingers. I sigh, because I know he’s right.

“You need to take care of these,” he says. His voice is quieter, like he’s trying to reassure me. Not that I want his sympathy.

“How?” I ask, my voice frustrated. “How am I supposed to take care of this? I tried, but it’s still infected. What do you propose I do now?”

Hadrian lets go of my arm. “I don’t know. I guess we just hope one of your sponsors sends you something for it.”

I pull one of the bandages out of my pack, and wrap it around my arm.