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e a fiend。
The girl with the arrows； Glimmer I hear someone call her ugh； the names the people in District 1 give their children are so ridiculous anyway Glimmer scales the tree until the branches begin to crack under her feet and then has the good sense to stop。 Iˇm at least eighty feet high now。 She tries to shoot me and itˇs immediately evident that sheˇs inpetent with a bow。 One of the arrows gets lodged in the tree near me though and Iˇm able to seize it。 I wave it teasingly above her head； as if this was the sole purpose of retrieving it； when actually I mean to use it if I ever get the chance。 I could kill them； everyone of them； if those silver weapons were in my hands。
The Careers regroup on the ground and I can hear them growling conspiratorially among themselves； furious I have made them look foolish。 But twilight has arrived and their window of attack on me is closing。 Finally； I hear Peeta say harshly； ¨Oh； let her stay up there。 Itˇs not like sheˇs going anywhere。 Weˇll deal with her in the morning。〃
Well； heˇs right about one thing。 Iˇm going nowhere。 All the relief from the pool water has gone； leaving me to feel the full potency of my burns。 I scoot down to a fork in the tree and clumsily prepare for bed。 Put on my jacket。 Lay out my sleeping bed。 Belt myself in and try to keep from moaning。 The heat of the bagˇs too much for my leg。 I cut a slash in the fabric and hang my calf out in the open air。 I drizzle water on the wound； my hands。
All my bravado is gone。 Iˇm weak from pain and hunger but canˇt bring myself to eat。 Even if I can last the night； what will the morning bring？ I stare into the foliage trying to will myself to rest； but the burns forbid it。 Birds are settling down for the night； singing lullabies to their young。 Night creatures emerge。 An owl hoots。 The faint scent of a skunk cuts through the smoke。 The eyes of some animal peer at me from the neighboring tree a possum maybe catching the firelight from the Careersˇ torches。 Suddenly； Iˇm up on one elbow。 Those are no possumˇs eyes； I know their glassy reflection too well。 In fact； those are not animal eyes at all。 In the last dim rays of light； I make her out； watching me silently from between the branches。 Rue。
How long has she been here？ The whole time probably。 Still and unobserved as the action unfolded beneath her。 Perhaps she headed up her tree shortly before I did； hearing the pack was so close。
For a while we hold each otherˇs gaze。 Then； without even rustling a leaf； her little hand slides into the open and points to something above my head。
14
My eyes follow the line of her finger up into the foliage above me。 At first； I have no idea what sheˇs pointing to； but then； about fifteen feet up； I make out the vague shape in the dimming light。 But of 。 。 。 of what？ Some sort of animal？ It looks about the size of a raccoon； but it hangs from the bottom of a branch； swaying ever so slightly。 Thereˇs something else。 Among the familiar evening sounds of the woods； my ears register a low hum。 Then I know。 Itˇs a wasp nest。
Fear shoots through me； but I have enough sense to keep still。 After all； I donˇt know what kind of wasp lives there。 It could be the ordinary leave…us…alone…and…weˇll…leave…youalone type。 But these are the Hunger Games； and ordinary isnˇt the norm。 More likely they will be one of the Capitolˇs muttations； tracker jackers。 Like the jabberjays； these killer wasps were spawned in a lab and strategically placed； like land mines； around the districts during the war。 Larger than regular wasps； they have a distinctive solid gold body and a sting that raises a lump the size of a plum on contact。 Most people canˇt tolerate more than a few stings。 Some die at once。 If you live； the hallucinations brought on by the venom have actually driven people to madness。 And thereˇs another thing； these wasps will hunt down anyone who disturbs their nest and at184 tempt to kill them。 Thatˇs where the tracker part of the name es from。
After the war； the Capitol destroyed all the nests surrounding their city； but the ones near the districts were left untouched。 Another reminder of our weakness； I suppose； just like the Hunger Games。 Another reason to keep inside the fence of District 12。 When Gale and I e across a tracker jacker nest； we immediately head in the opposite direction。
So is that what hangs above me？ I look back to Rue for help； but sheˇs melted into her tree。
Given my circumstances； I guess it doesnˇt matter what type of wasp nest it is。 Iˇm wounded and trapped。 Darkness has given me a brief reprieve； but by the time the sun rises； the Careers will have formulated a plan to kill me。 Thereˇs no way they could do otherwise after Iˇve made them look so stupid。 That nest may be the sole option I have left。 If I can drop it down on them； I may be able to escape。 But Iˇll risk my life in the process。
Of course； Iˇll never be able to get in close enough to the actual nest to cut it free。 Iˇll have to saw off the branch at the trunk and send the whole thing down。 The serrated portion of my knife should be able to manage that。 But can my hands？ And will the vibration from the sawing raise the swarm？ And what if the Careers figure out what Iˇm doing and move their camp？ That would defeat the whole purpose。
I realize that the best chance Iˇll have to do the sawing without drawing notice will be during the anthem。 That could begin any time。 I drag myself out of my bag； make sure my knife is secured in my belt； and begin to make my way up the tree。 This in itself is dangerous since the branches are being precariously thin even for me； but I persevere。 When I reach the limb that supports the nest； the humming bees more distinctive。 But itˇs still oddly subdued if these are tracker jackers。 Itˇs the smoke； I think。 Itˇs sedated them。 This was the one defense the rebels found to battle the wasps。
The seal of the Capitol shines above me and the anthem blares out。 Itˇs now or never； I think； and begin to saw。 Blisters burst on my right hand as I awkwardly drag the knife back and forth。 Once Iˇve got a groove； the work requires less effort but is almost more than I can handle。 I grit my teeth and saw away occasionally glancing at the sky to register that there were no deaths today。 Thatˇs all right。 The audience will be sated seeing me injured and treed and the pack below me。 But the anthemˇs running out and Iˇm only three quarters of the way through the wood when the music ends； the sky goes dark； and Iˇm forced to stop。
Now what？ I could probably finish off the job by sense of feel but that may not be the smartest plan。 If the wasps are too groggy； if the nest catches on its way down； if I try to escape； this could all be a deadly waste of time。 Better； I think； to sneak up here at dawn and send the nest into my enemies。
In the faint light of the Careersˇ torches； I inch back down to my fork to find the best surprise Iˇve ever had。 Sitting on my sleeping bag is a small plastic pot attached to a silver parachute。 My first gift from a sponsor！ Haymitch must have had it sent in during the anthem。 The pot easily fits in the palm of my hand。 What can it be？ Not food surely。 I unscrew the lid and I know by the scent that itˇs medicine。 Cautiously； I probe the surface of the ointment。 The throbbing in my fingertip vanishes。
¨Oh； Haymitch；〃 I whisper。 ¨Thank you。〃 He has not abandoned me。 Not left me to fend entirely for myself。 The cost of this medicine must be astronomical。 Probably not one but many sponsors have contributed to buy this one tiny pot。 To me； it is priceless。
I dip two fingers in the jar and gently spread the balm over my calf。 The effect is almost magical； erasing the pain on contact； leaving a pleasant cooling sensation behind。 This is no herbal concoction that my mother grinds up out of woodland plants； itˇs high…tech medicine brewed up in the Capitolˇs labs。 When my calf is treated； I rub a thin layer into my hands。 After wrapping the pot in the parachute； I nestle it safely away in my pack。 Now that the pain has eased； itˇs all I can do to reposition myself in my bag before I plunge into sleep。
A bird perched just a few feet from me alerts me that a new d