Of Victors and Tributes

Chapter 21: Living in the Games

In the morning, Meadow and I eat a hearty meal, which is once again a terrible idea. We need to be rationing our food, and Meadow suggests we keep a close count of it in case someone or something starts trying to steal from us. I think the suggestion might be because of the killer sloth encounter and wanting to protect from any new mutts, but then I remember how desperate the Careers might be for food. Surely not yet, it's barely been two days. But if every tribute is spread out, and the Gamemakers leave us to see what happens, maybe they will get desperate enough to come for us. . .

We take inventory. One sleeping bag, one sword, one hatchet, a belt of knives, three bags of dried meat, one bag of dried fish, two containers of crackers, four bags of dried fruits, three water bottles, two containers of iodine, five throwing stars, a pair of those night glasses, the water compass which is useless while we're basically wading through the streams in the forest. We finish off the real apples and cheese, taking slow sips of water to help us digest. For the first time since I've left the Capitol and been placed in this arena, I feel full.

We also have medical supplies, two first aid kits full of stuff. Needles, sterile string and gauze and bandages, pills for infection and quick healing and pain, the mostly empty bottle of burn cream. I eye the burn cream with worry. My hand continues to throb, and I'm sure it will continue to for the rest of all time. What will we do when we run out of burn cream, which we surely will considering how bad my wound is? The skin is still blistering, peeling, aching at every given moment. I fear the thought of having to amputate in the Games. It's happened before, a handful of times or more, and almost all of those tributes didn't end up as the victors.

"How do you feel?" Meadow asks, taking my arm gently. She peels back the gauze, glances over the scorched skin, and tries not to cringe.

"Well, I'm not hungry anymore."

She laughs.

"Good for us, bad for the Careers," she says. We look at our food, then pack it into one bag. The other bag is for the rest of our supplies.

"So what should we do now?" I ask. The Games have come to a standstill. It's almost like two teams against each other, there are very few people that are left outside of us. I do a quick mental check: District 3 and Axel, and then the three Careers.

"Do you want to make a camp?" Meadow asks. I look at her closely. She smiles back.

"Sure."

Meadow and I journey the Hunger Games like it's only a camping trip for two and a half more days. We move from the outskirts of the forest to deep into the woods, and the night of the ninth day– the day after I took the life of the golden boy from District 9– we sleep in a hole that was strangely dug into the forest ground. Meadow muses that a bear could have lived there, and that we probably shouldn't risk staying, but I decide that it's too late for us to look somewhere else. She reluctantly agrees, but keeps watch most of the night, which is no problem to me.

We spend the next day wandering vaguely, trading stories, even remembering the days we spent with Fairlie and Axel. Meadow tells me of the Peacekeepers at her district that do nothing but trade at the black market, the Hob, and how her father once worked closely with one. She even mentions being younger once or twice, with her siblings alive and not suffering from starvation. She lets me hold her locket and looks at it fondly in my hands.

"Aren't you afraid I'll take it?" I ask her as we rest on the logs of fallen jungle trees. We keep a close eye out for animals, especially sloths after the mutt encounter.

"Why would you?" she asks, then looks up at me and smiles. "I trust you. If I die, you'd want me to die with it."

"You think of me too highly," I say, and hand her back her pendant. It's true. I'm beginning to be careful of how I act with Meadow. No more sleeping closely together, no more hands being held, boundaries have been built. I think of Jean most of the time, trying to keep a picture of her in my memory. I almost wish I had brought a locket like Meadow, but we didn't exactly have the time to run out and buy a pendant, put a picture in it, and deliver it before I was taken to the Capitol. And we don't have the money either.