𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

EIGHTEEN

EIGHTEEN -

Trig makes a start on digging up and reburying the mines the next morning, whilst the rest of us split off into pairs to comb the woods for more tributes. The others agreed that leaving the boy from 3 alone with the supplies last night, before he'd even started the minefield, wasn't the smartest idea, so we head off on the hunt two at a time. Everybody else stays under the shelter to defend the camp.

I find myself paired off with Marvel, and after a simple breakfast of bread and crackers and nettle tea, we arm ourselves and disappear into the trees. As we walk, he mostly chats, and I mostly listen.

Marvel tells me more about his parents' gemstone workshop back home. They craft luxury jewellery items for the people of the Capitol, bedazzled necklaces and wrist cuffs, giant teardrop earrings like the one's Tallulah wears. But despite their flashy profession, they are not a wealthy family by 1's standards. It seems the class divide in the first District is much more prominent than that in 2.

Of course, every District has its rich and poor, but where Cato and I come from your worth is determined by your abilities and skills rather than by how much money your family earns in a year. With my father shipping out all over Panem in the Capitol's law enforcement service, us Kentwells are far from struggling. Any family with a Peacekeeper in its ranks is considered successful by 2's standards. Coupled with my proficiency in the Academy and Loren's popularity, my family hold a stellar reputation. Nothing close to Hadley level of course, but still decent.

It's easy to get along with Marvel. I noticed it back in the training gym but here in the woods, running through the undergrowth like a clown, laughing and twirling his spear in hand, I realise how fun he is to be around. In another life, we probably could have been friends. I try my best to quash the reminders that he too will have to die if I want to see my sister again.

We trek through the trees for hours, to no avail. A couple of empty snares are dotted about the branches beneath our feet, and Marvel even manages to trip himself on one of them, but the tribute who made them is clearly long gone. The two of us start to make our way back to camp just before the sun centres in the sky above our heads, indicating midday. Great. After our meagre breakfast and busy morning, I'm starving.

By the time we reach the cornucopia clearing, the grass is heaped with mounds of dirt. Glimmer and Cato are chatting animatedly as they cook some kind of meat over the fire pit. Zafira and Peeta both sit by, staring into space, and Trig is pouring over some strange box-like metal contraption which I presume must be one of the launch mines. Multicoloured wires protrude from the ends, and he's using the sharp tip of a spare knife to crack open it's outer casing.

After a satisfying lunch of some kind of wild bird, shot down by Glimmer during a boredom-induced target practice, I make my way over to the lake. Scouring the woods with Marvel this morning has made my shirt stick to my skin with sweat. I strip off my clothing and jump into the lake in my undergarments, basking in the feeling of the cool water against my skin. I dunk my shirt in after me and scrub it as much as possible before hanging it out on a branch to dry. Ducked behind the trees, I have a chance to collect myself away from the rest of my allies.

No cannons have fired since the one for the girl Cato – or should I say Peeta – killed last night. Which means both the Gamemakers and the viewers back in Capitol are likely to be getting bored. I can only hope that Trig finishes off the mines by sundown. That way we might have the chance of a pack hunt tonight, to track down more tributes. I know Cato won't let us leave the camp unguarded until then and frankly, I don't think it's a good idea either.

Once I've washed my hair and combed it out into some kind of order with my fingers, I pull myself from the lake and redress. My shirt is still soaked, but the sun is baking overhead and I have no doubt it'll dry off within the next couple of hours. I head back over to the camp, damp waves still clinging to my neck and dripping rivulets of lake water down my back.