When I wake I feel as though thick fog is clouding my mind. Something, pulling at the edges of my memory, trying to come back…when did I fall asleep anyway? I don't remember getting into the sleeping bag… the last thing I remember is Katniss bringing me the sugar berries…
"Katniss!" I suddenly remember. I open my eyes in a startle and jerk my body upright, in a reflex reaction, without thinking. I hold my breath, expecting the pain to take its toll for my stupid reaction…but asides from a head-rush, nothing happens, no pain. I stare at my now un-swollen leg in confusion for about a second before I become aware of the bloody scene next to me.
"Katniss!" I gasp in horror. "Oh no, oh no," I crouch anxiously over her not sure what to do. "What happened to you?" I worry out loud. I gently turn her face around. There's a huge gash in her forehead, and she has a small cut in her lip. There are also a number of bruises and scratches distributed where her skin is exposed, but those don't worry me right now. I'm more concerned with stopping the blood that's slowly flowing from her forehead. It's not a lot, but judging from the scary pool of blood she's laying in, any small amount of blood counts.
"Why couldn't you just listen to me for once?" I demand, though I know she can't hear me. Why cat you understand that if you die, I die, too? That the only reason I'm still breathing is because of you. That life wouldn't mean anything to me if you stopped breathing…
I reach for the bottle of water and slowly pour it on her face, washing away the dried blood and dirt. With some effort, I manage to move her on to the sleeping bag. I look through the emergency kit and am glad to find white, sterile bandages. But before I bandage her forehead, I chew on some of those leaves she used to drain the pus from my leg, and put it on the cut until it dries and then wash it away. Finally, I put some burn ointment on her forehead, and then carefully bandage her forehead.
Her face is pale – too pale – and that worries me. The pool of blood on the cave floor is not all she lost. If she got cut at the cornucopia while fighting for whatever it is she gave me, then she had a lot of time to lose blood on her way back here.
I sit next to her, brushing the hair off her face with my fingers. I gently touch the small cut on the corner of her lips and sigh, shaking my head. This is all my fault, I think. Why didn't I just let Cato kill me? Why did I have to put this heavy burden on her fragile shoulders?
I sit by her through the entire night, sometimes staring through the cave door at nothing in particular, sometimes at her beautiful, peaceful face. Having slept through I don't know how long keeps sleep from taking me over, and I'm glad for that. I don't want to put my guard down now that she needs me. Though if our friend Cato found us right now I wouldn't be of much help… I don't know how long I sat like that before my stomach growled hungrily. I look through Katniss's bag till I find the groosling that had seemed so revolting to me a couple of days ago. I eat three pieces before I realize that's probably not a good idea, considering that Katniss is unconscious and I'm not strong enough to hunt yet. I return to take my place next to Katniss. Shortly after the anthem plays, and I watch as the picture of Clove lights the sky and then disappears. I'm not surprised. If Katniss made it back, then that means somebody else didn't.
I lose track of time, distracted with my own thoughts, but am brought back when – after so long – I catch a small fidgeting on my peripheral vision. I turn my attention on Katniss who is now groaning lightly.
"Katniss? Katniss, can you hear me?"
Her eyes open slowly, a strange expression crosses her face, like she was expecting to see somebody else, but then she smiles
"Peeta," she says in a raspy whisper.
I take a deep breath of relief.
"Hey," I smile back. "Good to see your eyes again."
