Iˇve been featured on screens most than I care。
Eventually； I wrap up my food and go back to the stream to replenish my water and gather some。 But the heaviness from the morning drapes back over me and even though itˇs only early evening； I climb a tree and settle in for the night。 My brain begins to replay the events from yesterday。 I keep seeing Rue speared； my arrow piercing the boyˇs neck。 I donˇt know why I should even care about the boy。
Then I realize 。 。 。 he was my first kill。
Along with other statistics they report to help people place their bets； every tribute has a list of kills。 I guess technically Iˇd get credited for Glimmer and the girl from District 4； too； for dumping that nest on them。 But the boy from District 1 was the first person I knew would die because of my actions。 Numerous animals have lost their lives at my hands； but only one human。 I hear Gale saying； ¨How different can it be； really？〃
Amazingly similar in the execution。 A bow pulled； an arrow shot。 Entirely different in the aftermath。 I killed a boy whose name I donˇt even know。 Somewhere his family is weeping for him。 His friends call for my blood。 Maybe he had a girlfriend who really believed he would e back 。 。 。
But then I think of Rueˇs still body and Iˇm able to banish the boy from my mind。 At least； for now。
Itˇs been an uneventful day according to the sky。 No deaths。 I wonder how long weˇll get until the next catastrophe drives us back together。 If itˇs going to be tonight； I want to get some sleep first。 I cover my good ear to block out the strains of the anthem； but then I hear the trumpets and sit straight up in anticipation。
For the most part； the only munication the tributes get from outside the arena is the nightly death toll。 But occasionally； there will be trumpets followed by an announcement。 Usually； this will be a call to a feast。 When food is scarce； the Gamemakers will invite the players to a banquet； somewhere known to all like the Cornucopia； as an inducement to gather and fight。 Sometimes there is a feast and sometimes thereˇs nothing but a loaf of stale bread for the tributes to pete for。 I wouldnˇt go in for the food； but this could be an ideal time to take out a few petitors。
Claudius Templesmithˇs voice booms down from overhead； congratulating the six of us who remain。 But he is not inviting us to a feast。 Heˇs saying something very confusing。 Thereˇs been a rule change in the Games。 A rule change！ That in itself is mind bending since we donˇt really have any rules to speak of except donˇt step off your circle for sixty seconds and the unspoken rule about not eating one another。 Under the new rule； both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive。 Claudius pauses； as if he knows weˇre not getting it； and repeats the change again。
The news sinks in。 Two tributes can win this year。 If theyˇre from the same district。 Both can live。 Both of us can live。
Before I can stop myself； I call out Peetaˇs name。
PART III
〃THE VICTOR〃
19
I clap my hands over my mouth； but the sound has already escaped。 The sky goes black and I hear a chorus of frogs begin to sing。 Stupid！ I tell myself。 What a stupid thing to do！ I wait； frozen； for the woods to e alive with assailants。 Then I remember thereˇs almost no one left。
Peeta； whoˇs been wounded； is now my ally。 Whatever doubts Iˇve had about him dissipate because if either of us took the otherˇs life now weˇd be pariahs when we returned to District 12。 In fact； I know if I was watching Iˇd loathe any tribute who didnˇt immediately ally with their district partner。 Besides； it just makes sense to protect each other。 And in my case being one of the star…crossed lovers from District 12 itˇs an absolute requirement if I want any more help from sympathetic sponsors。
The star…crossed lovers 。 。 。 Peeta must have been playing that angle all along。 Why else would the Gamemakers have made this unprecedented change in the rules？ For two tributes to have a shot at winning； our ¨romance〃 must be so popular with the audience that condemning it would jeopardize the success of the Games。 No thanks to me。 All Iˇve done is managed not to kill Peeta。 But whatever heˇs done in the arena； he must have the audience convinced it was to keep me alive。 Shaking his head to keep me from running to the Cornucopia。 Fighting Cato to let me escape。 Even hooking up with the Careers must have been a move to protect me。 Peeta； it turns out； has never been a danger to me。
The thought makes me smile。 I drop my hands and hold my face up to the moonlight so the cameras can be sure to catch it。
So； who is there left to be afraid of？ Foxface？ The boy tribute from her district is dead。 Sheˇs operating alone； at night。 And her strategy has been to evade； not attack。 I donˇt really think that； even if she heard my voice； sheˇd do anything but hope someone else would kill me。
Then thereˇs Thresh。 All right； heˇs a distinct threat。 But I havenˇt seen him； not once； since the Games began。 I think about how Foxface grew alarmed when she heard a sound at the site of the explosion。 But she didnˇt turn to the Woods； she turned to whatever lies across from it。 To that area of the arena that drops off into I donˇt know what。 I feel almost certain that the person she ran from was Thresh and that is his domain。 Heˇd never have heard me from there and； even if he did； Iˇm up too high for someone his size to reach。
So that leaves Cato and the girl from District 2； who are now surely celebrating the new rule。 Theyˇre the only ones left who benefit from it besides Peeta and myself。 Do I run from them now； on the chance they heard me call Peetaˇs name？ No； I think。 Let them e。 Let them e with their night…vision glasses and their heavy； branch…breaking bodies。
Right into the range of my arrows。 But I know they wonˇt。 If they didnˇt e in daylight to my fire； they wonˇt risk what could be another trap at night。 When they e； it will be on their own terms； not because Iˇve let them know my whereabouts。
Stay put and get some sleep； Katniss； I instruct myself； although I wish I could start tracking Peeta now。 Tomorrow； youˇll find him。
I do sleep； but in the morning Iˇm extra…cautious； thinking that while the Careers might hesitate to attack me in a tree； theyˇre pletely capable of setting an ambush for me。 I make sure to fully prepare myself for the day eating a big breakfast； securing my pack； readying my weapons before I descend。 But all seems peaceful and undisturbed on the ground。
Today Iˇll have to be scrupulously careful。 The Careers will know Iˇm trying to locate Peeta。 They may well want to wait until I do before they move in。 If heˇs as badly wounded as Cato thinks； Iˇd be in the position of having to defend us both without any assistance。 But if heˇs that incapacitated； how has he managed to stay alive？ And how on earth will I find him？
I try to think of anything Peeta ever said that might give me an indication as to where heˇs hiding out； but nothing rings a bell。 So I go back to the last moment I saw him sparkling in the sunlight； yelling at me to run。 Then Cato appeared； his sword drawn。 And after I was gone； he wounded Peeta。 But how did Peeta get away？ Maybe heˇd held out better against the tracker jacker poison than Cato。
Maybe that was the variable that allowed him to escape。 But heˇd been stung； too。 So how far could he have gotten； stabbed and filled with venom？ And how has he stayed alive all these days since？ If the wound and the stingers havenˇt killed him； surely thirst would have taken him by now。
And thatˇs when I get my first clue to his whereabouts。 He couldnˇt have survived without water。 I know that from my first few days here。 He must be hidden somewhere near a source。 Thereˇs the lake； but I find that an unlikely option since itˇs so close to the Careersˇ base camp。 A few spring…fed pools。 But youˇd really be a sitting duck at one of those。 And the stream。 The one that leads from the camp Rue and I made all the way down near the lake and beyond。 If he stuck to the stream； he could change his location and always be near water。 He could walk in the current and erase any tracks。 He might even be able to get a fish or two。
Well； itˇs a place to start； anyway。
To confuse my enemiesˇ minds； I start a fire with plenty of green wood。 Even if they think itˇs a ruse； I hope theyˇll decide Iˇm hidden somewhere near it。 While in reality； Iˇll be tracking Peeta。
The sun burns off the morning haze almost immediately and I can tell the day will be hotter than usual。 The waters cool and pleasant on my bare feet as I head downstream。 Iˇm tempted to call out Peetaˇs name as I go but decide against it。 I will have to find him with my eyes and one good ear or he will have to find me。 But heˇll know Iˇll be looking； right？ He wonˇt have so low of an opinion of me as to think Iˇd ignore the new rule and keep to myself。 Would he？ Heˇs very hard to predict； which might be interesting under different circumstances； but at the moment only provides an extra obstacle。
It doesnˇt take long to reach the spot where I peeled off to go the Careersˇ camp。 Thereˇs been no sign of Peeta； but this doesnˇt surprise me。 Iˇve been up and down this stretch three times since the tracker jacker incident。 If he were nearby； surely Iˇd have had some suspicion of it。 The stream begins to curve to the left into a part of the woods thatˇs new to me。 Muddy banks covered in tangled water plants lead to large rocks that increase in size until I begin to feel somewhat trapped。 It would be no small matter to escape the stream now。 Fighting off Cato or Thresh as I climbed over this rocky
terrain。 In fact； Iˇve just about decided Iˇm on the wrong track entirely； that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source； when I see the bloody streak going down the curve of a boulder。 Itˇs long dried now； but the smeary lines running side to side suggest someone who perhaps was not fully in control of his mental faculties tried to wipe it away。
Hugging the rocks； I move slowly in the direction of the blood； searching for him。 I find a few more bloodstains； one with a few threads of fabric glued to it； but no sign of life。 I break down and say his name in a hushed voice。 ¨Peeta！ Peeta！〃 Then a mockingjay lands on a scruffy tree and begins to mimic my tones so I stop。 I give up and climb back down to the stream thinking； He must have moved on。 Somewhere farther down。
My foot has just broken the surface of the water when I hear a voice。
¨You here to finish me off； sweetheart？〃
I whip around。 Itˇs e from the left； so I canˇt pick it up very well。 And the voice was hoarse and weak。 Still； it must have been Peeta。 Who else in the arena would call me sweetheart？ My eyes peruse the bank； but thereˇs nothing。 Just mud； the plants； the base of the rocks。
¨Peeta？〃 I whisper。 ¨Where are you？〃 Thereˇs no answer。 Could I just have imagined it？ No； Iˇm certain it was real and very close at hand； too。 ¨Peeta？〃 I creep along the bank。
¨Well； donˇt step on me。〃
I jump back。 His voice was right under my feet。 Still thereˇs nothing。 Then his eyes open； unmistakably blue in th