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in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there。〃
¨Youˇre such a bad liar； Katniss。 I donˇt know how youˇve survived this long。〃 He begins to mimic me。 ¨I knew that goat would be a little gold mine。 Youˇre a little cooler though。 Of course； Iˇm not going。 He shakes his head。 ¨Never gamble at cards。 Youˇll lose your last coin；〃 he says。
Anger flushes my face。 ¨All right； I am going； and you canˇt stop me！〃
¨I can follow you。 At least partway。 I may not make it to the Cornucopia； but if Iˇm yelling your name； I bet someone can find me。 And then Iˇll be dead for sure；〃 he says。
¨You wonˇt get a hundred yards from here on that leg；〃 I say。
¨Then Iˇll drag myself；〃 says Peeta。 ¨You go and Iˇm going； too。〃
Heˇs just stubborn enough and maybe just strong enough to do it。 e howling after me in the woods。 Even if a tribute doesnˇt find him； something else might。 He canˇt defend himself。 Iˇd probably have to wall him up in the cave just to go myself。 And who knows what the exertion will do to him？
¨What am I supposed to do？ Sit here and watch you die？〃 I say。 He must know thatˇs not an option。 That the audience would hate me。 And frankly； I would hate myself； too； if I didnˇt even try。
¨I wonˇt die。 I promise。 If you promise not to go；〃 he says。
Weˇre at something of a stalemate。 I know I canˇt argue him out of this one； so I donˇt try。 I pretend； reluctantly； to go along。 ¨Then you have to do what I say。 Drink your water； wake me when I tell you； and eat every bite of the soup no matter how disgusting it is！〃 I snap at him。
¨Agreed。 Is it ready？〃 he asks。
¨Wait here；〃 I say。 The airˇs gone cold even though the sunˇs still up。 Iˇm right about the Gamemakers messing with the temperature。 I wonder if the thing someone needs desperately is a good blanket。 The soup is still nice and warm in its iron pot。 And actually doesnˇt taste too bad。
Peeta eats without plaint； even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm。 He rambles on about how delicious it is； which should be encouraging if you donˇt know what fever does to people。 Heˇs like listening to Haymitch before the alcohol has soaked him into incoherence。 I give him another dose of fever medicine before he goes off his head pletely。
As I go down to the stream to wash up； all I can think is that heˇs going to die if I donˇt get to that feast。 Iˇll keep him going for a day or two； and then the infection will reach his heart or his brain or his lungs and heˇll be gone。 And Iˇll be here all alone。 Again。 Waiting for the others。
Iˇm so lost in thought that I almost miss the parachute； even though it floats right by me。 Then I spring after it； yanking it from the water； tearing off the silver fabric to retrieve the vial。 Haymitch has done it！ Heˇs gotten the medicine I donˇt know how； persuaded some gaggle of romantic fools to sell their jewels and I can save Peeta！ Itˇs such a tiny vial though。 It must be very strong to cure someone as ill as Peeta。 A ripple of doubt runs through me。 I uncork the vial and take a deep sniff。 My spirits fall at the sickly sweet scent。 Just to be sure； I place a drop on the tip of my tongue。 Thereˇs no question； itˇs sleep syrup。 Itˇs a mon medicine in District 12。 Cheap； as medicine goes； but very addictive。 Almost everyoneˇs had a dose at one time or another。 We have some in a bottle at home。 My mother gives it to hysterical patients to knock them out to stitch up a bad inds or just to help someone in pain get through the night。 It only takes a little。 A vial this size could knock Peeta out for a full day； but what good is that？ Iˇm so furious Iˇm about to throw Haymitchˇs last offering into the stream when it hits me。 A full day？ Thatˇs more than I need。
I mash up a handful of berries so the taste wonˇt be as noticeable and add some mint leaves for good measure。 Then I head back up to the cave。 ¨Iˇve brought you a treat。 I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream。〃
Peeta opens his mouth for the first bite without hesitation。 He swallows then frowns slightly。 ¨Theyˇre very sweet。〃
¨Yes； theyˇre sugar berries。 My mother makes jam from them。 Havenˇt you ever had them before？〃 I say； poking the next spoonful in his mouth。
¨No；〃 he says； almost puzzled。 ¨But they taste familiar。 Sugar berries？〃
¨Well； you canˇt get them in the market much； they only grow wild；〃 I say。 Another mouthful goes down。 Just one more to go。
¨Theyˇre sweet as syrup；〃 he says； taking the last spoonful。 ¨Syrup。〃 His eyes widen as he realizes the truth。 I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard； forcing him to swallow instead of spit。 He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up； but itˇs too late； heˇs already losing consciousness。 Even as he fades away； I can see in his eyes what Iˇve done is unforgivable。
I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction。 A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away。 ¨Who canˇt lie； Peeta？〃 I say； even though he canˇt hear me。
It doesnˇt matter。 The rest of Panem can。
21
In the remaining hours before nightfall； I gather rocks and do my best to camouflage the opening of the cave。 Itˇs a slow and arduous process； but after a lot of sweating and shifting things around； Iˇm pretty pleased with my work； The cave now appears to be part of a larger pile of rocks； like so many in the vicinity。 I can still crawl in to Peeta through a small opening； but itˇs undetectable from the out？ side。 Thatˇs good； because Iˇll need to share that sleeping bag again tonight。 Also； if I donˇt make it back from the feast； Peeta will be hidden but not entirely imprisoned。 Although I doubt he can hang on much longer without medicine。 If I die at the feast； District 12 isnˇt likely to have a victor。
I make a meal out of the smaller； bonier fish that inhabit the stream down here； fill every water container and purify it； and clean my weapons。 Iˇve nine arrows left in all。 I debate leaving the knife with Peeta so heˇll have some protection while Iˇm gone； but thereˇs really no point。 He was right about camouflage being his final defense。 But I still might have use for the knife。 Who knows what Iˇll encounter？
Here are some things Iˇm fairly certain of。 That at least Cato； Clove； and Thresh will be on hand when the feast starts。 Iˇm not sure about Foxface since direct confrontation isnˇt her style or her forte。 Sheˇs even smaller than I am and unarmed； unless sheˇs picked up some weapons recently。 Sheˇll probably be hanging somewhere nearby； seeing what she can scavenge。 But the other three 。 。 。 Iˇm going to have my hands full。 My ability to kill at a distance is my greatest asset； but I know Iˇll have to go right into the thick of things to get that backpack； the one with the number 12 on it that Claudius Templesmith mentioned。
I watch the sky； hoping for one less opponent at dawn； but nobody appears tonight。 Tomorrow there will be faces up there。 Feasts always result in fatalities。
I crawl into the cave； secure my glasses； and curl up next to Peeta。 Luckily I had that good long sleep today。 I have to stay awake。 I donˇt really think anyone will attack our cave tonight； but I canˇt risk missing the dawn。
So cold； so bitterly cold tonight。 As if the Gamemakers have sent an infusion of frozen air across the arena； which may be exactly what theyˇve done。 I lay next to Peeta in the bag； trying to absorb every bit of his fever heat。 Itˇs strange to be so physically close to someone whoˇs so distant。 Peeta might as well be back in the Capitol； or in District 12； or on the moon right now； heˇd be no harder to reach。 Iˇve never felt lonelier since the Games began。
Just accept it will be a bad night； I tell myself。 I try not to； but I canˇt help thinking of my mother and Prim； wondering if theyˇll sleep a wink tonight。 At this late stage in the Games； with an important event like the feast； school will probably be canceled。 My family can either watch on that static…filled old clunker of a television at home or join the crowds in the square to watch on the big； clear screens； Theyˇll have privacy at home but support in the square。 People will give them a kind word； a b