28. The Hidden Truth

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28. The Hidden Truth

I was woken up early the next morning by Shane moving under me. I sat up, seeing him thrash around. I knew what was going on: he was having a nightmare. I restrained his arms carefully, trying not to hurt him.

"Shane," I whispered. "Wake up!"

His eyes shot awake, wide in fear. I shushed him, he stopped fretting. He panted, looking at me.

I gave him a sad smile. "Morning."

"Morning," he mumbled groggily.

"You were having a nightmare. I figured I'd be nice and let you get away from it before you got worse." I shrugged.

"Thoughtful," he complimented me.

"Do you want to share it?"

"Since when did you become Miss Compassionate?" he teased.

I snorted. "Since I haven't wanted to kill you," I retorted. "Now, are you going to share or not?"

"I'd rather not. Being in it is one thing." He shuddered. "I can't really explain the details I saw."

I kept the sad smile on my face. "How's your body feeling today?"

"Well, judging by how sore I am, I'd say not well," he huffed, tilting his head to look at the cave ceiling.

"If I had something, I'd help you," I whimpered.

"Don't act like you're the reason I'm hurting."

"I'm trying not to. I feel useless since I can't help your blisters. But I guess I'm not entirely useless, I can still go out and hunt."

"What if I didn't want you to go?" he prompted, tilting his head back down to look at me.

"Why wouldn't I go? Shane, we need food. You can't move very much without being in pain. Right now, I'm healthier than you are." I touched my wounded shoulder. I unwrapped my arm to see a pink line where the slice to my arm was made. That was sure to be a scar. Oh well, what's being a tribute in the Hunger Games worth if I didn't have a scar from battle?

Shane's fingers brushed my newly healed arm. "You're a fast healer," he murmured.

"So I've been told." I giggled.

"Wow. That's another first."

"What is?" I looked at him.

"You laughing. I don't think you've done that once since I rescued you."

I couldn't remember the last time I laughed, either. It had to have been a while.

I looked out past the waterfall. I wasn't going to possibly catch anything by sitting here with Shane. I rose, venturing over to grab Shane's bow and arrows.

"You're still going out?" he croaked.

"Saying that you don't want me to go is a poor argument if you don't have a reason. Besides, I don't know about you, but I don't want to starve," I said.

"I'm used to starving. I'm from Twelve, remember? Starvation is sort of a common thing there."

"Right."

"You're leaving me alone defenseless."

"Goodness," I whined. I grabbed the knife and handed it to him. "There. Now you're armed should anyone come to try and kill you."

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