𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

TWENTY TWO

TWENTY TWO -

I watch Cato extra closely for the rest of the afternoon, desperately hoping he doesn't slip back into a rage. Every subtle change in the tone of his voice has me leaping to attention, straight to his side in seconds, searching out the glassy haze that collects over his eyes just before he loses control. I've come to recognise even the tiniest signs, the hitches in his breathing, the sharp jerk of his movements. Each one pulls me close in an effort to calm him.

I don't doubt that those protective, careful actions will have triggered people's suspicions back in the Capitol, but I find I'm no longer scared of the retributions. I'm sure Marvel is catching on to whatever it is that Cato and I share as well, but to my relief he doesn't mention anything. I don't know his reasoning, but I'm grateful for it, whatever it is. Marvel asking would mean I'd have to attempt to explain it, and as I'm not entirely sure what it is myself, I've come to the conclusion that might prove a difficult task.

Either way, whatever it is puts the odds so far from in our favour that's its easier just not to think about it at all.

When the trumpets of the anthem finally begin to sound, we gather around the crumbling remains of our fire pit to watch the faces appear in the sky. Trig, followed by the boy Cato and I hunted down in the woods earlier, who happened to be from District 10. But nobody else. Which means that whoever took out our supplies survived the explosion.

My gaze quickly shoots to Cato, but there is nothing but a grim sense of determination on his face. No hint of his earlier rage taints his expression, instead replaced by the desire to enact revenge on whoever did this to us. It's a feeling we seem to share, Marvel included. With the pyramid gone, our odds of staying alive have been significantly reduced.

As soon as the anthem dies down, the tribute display over, we collect our weapons and head back into the forest. Marvel leads the way, flaming torch clamped in his hand. We do not care about giving away our position. Let the others come, to try and take us down. They will not win a second time. Imbued with a brand new thirst for vengeance, adrenaline coursing through my body, I am ready to kill.

We have already reduced the playing field today, but as we walk the three of us discuss the tributes who are left inside the arena. With Glimmer, Zafira and Trig already on their way back home in boxes, we are the last of the Careers. Finch from 5 is still kicking, along with both from 11 and most infuriatingly, 12.

The chances of either Finch, the tiny little girl from 11 or a mortally wounded Peeta blowing up the supplies and managing to survive are extremely slim. Which leaves Thresh and the girl on fire as the prime suspects for ruining our camp. And as we trek through the forest, Cato hacking at the tangle of overgrown bushes blocking our path with his sword, he mentions a piece of brand new information.

When he followed Peeta back to the nest after the Tracker Jacker attack, to cut him down, he's sure that Glimmer's body no longer possessed the bow she'd carried since the cornucopia.

Is he suggesting that Katniss Everdeen's secret talent might be archery? It would certainly be one way to explain that goddamn eleven she received in training. But how could she have ever come across such equipment in District 12? They barely have enough money to feed themselves, let alone be able to afford weapons. On second thoughts, it's likely the Peacekeepers there wouldn't even allow it. Back home in 2, the Academy is kept locked up at night. Round the clock surveillance provided by the woman who runs it - another of our former victors, Lyme - assures that no weapons are ever removed from the studio.

So how does a girl from one of the outer Districts get hold of a bow and, more importantly, where on earth would she be able to practice her shooting without an Academy? Surely the Peacekeepers would have caught wind of somebody firing arrows in town, and arrested her before now?