¨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 the brown mud and green leaves。 I gasp and am rewarded with a hint of white teeth as he laughs。
Itˇs the final word in camouflage。 Forget chucking weights around。 Peeta should have gone into his private session with the Gamemakers and painted himself into a tree。 Or a boulder。 Or a muddy bank full of weeds。
¨Close your eyes again；〃 I order。 He does； and his mouth； too； and pletely disappears。 Most of what I judge to be his body is actually under a layer of mud and plants。 His face and arms are so artfully disguised as to be invisible。 I kneel beside him。 ¨I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off。〃
Peeta smiles。 ¨Yes； frosting。 The final defense of the dying。〃
¨Youˇre not going to die；〃 I tell him firmly。 ¨Says who？〃 His voice is so ragged。 ¨Says me。 Weˇre on the same team now； you know；〃 I tell him。
His eyes open。 ¨So； I heard。 Nice of you to find whatˇs left of me。〃
I pull out my water bottle and give him a drink。 ¨Did Cato cut you？〃 I ask。
¨Left leg。 Up high；〃 he answers。
¨Letˇs get you in the stream； wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds youˇve got；〃 I say。
¨Lean down a minute first；〃 he says。 ¨Need to tell you something。〃 I lean over and put my good ear to his lips； which tickle as he whispers。 ¨Remember； weˇre madly in love； so itˇs all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it。〃
I jerk my head back but end up laughing。 ¨Thanks； Iˇll keep it in mind。〃 At least； heˇs still able to joke around。 But when I start to help him to the stream； all the levity disappears。 Itˇs only two feet away； how hard can it be？ Very hard when I realize heˇs unable to move an inch on his own。 Heˇs so weak that the best he can do is not to resist。 I try to drag him； but despite the fact that I know heˇs doing all he can to keep quiet； sharp cries of pain escape him。 The mud and plants seem to have imprisoned him and I finally have to give a gigantic tug to break him from their clutches。 Heˇs still two feet from the water； lying there； teeth gritted； tears cutting trails in the dirt on his face。
¨Look； Peeta； Iˇm going to roll you into the stream。 Itˇs very shallow here； okay？〃 I say。
¨Excellent；〃 he says。
I crouch down beside him。 No matter what happens； I tell myself； donˇt stop until heˇs in the water。 ¨On three；〃 I say。 ¨One； two； three！〃 I can only manage one full roll before I have to stop because of the horrible sound heˇs making。 Now heˇs on the edge of the stream。 Maybe this is better anyway。
¨Okay； change of plans。 Iˇm not going to put you all the way in；〃 I tell him。 Besides； if I get him in； who knows if Iˇd ever be able to get him out？
¨No more rolling？〃 he asks。
¨Thatˇs all done。 Letˇs get you cleaned up。 Keep an eye on the woods for me； okay？〃 I say。 Itˇs hard to know where to start。 He so caked with mud and matted leaves； I canˇt even see his clothes。 If heˇs wearing clothes。 The thought makes me hesitate a moment； but then I plunge in。 Naked bodies are no big deal in the arena； right？
Iˇve got two water bottles and Rueˇs water skin。 I prop them against rocks in the stream so that two are always filling while I pour the third over Peetaˇs body。 It takes a while； but I finally get rid of enough mud to find his clothes。 I gently unzip his jacket； unbutton his shirt and ease them off him。 His undershirt is so plastered into his wounds I have to cut it away with my knife and drench him again to work it loose。 Heˇs badly bruised with a long burn across his chest and four tracker jacker stings； if you count the one under his ear。 But I feel a bit better。 This much I can fix。 I decide to take care of his upper body first； to alleviate some pain； before I tackle whatever damage Cato did to his leg。
Since treating his wounds seems pointless when heˇs lying in whatˇs bee a mud puddle； I manage to prop him up against a boulder。 He sits there； unplaining； while I wash away all the traces of dirt from his hair and skin。 His flesh is very pale in the sunlight and he no longer looks strong and stocky。 I have to dig the stingers out of his tracker jacker lumps； which causes him to wince； but the minute I apply the leaves he sighs in relief。 While he dries in the sun； I wash his filthy shirt and jacket and spread them over boulders。 Then I apply the burn cream to his chest。 This is when I notice how hot his skin is being。 The layer of mud and the bottles of water have disguised the fact that heˇs burning with fever。 I dig through the first…aid kit I got from the boy from District 1 and find pills that reduce your temperature。 My mother actually breaks down and buys these on occasion when her home remedies fail。
¨Swallow these；〃 I tell him； and he obediently takes the medicine。 ¨You must be hungry。〃
¨Not really。 Itˇs funny； I havenˇt been hungry for days；〃 says Peeta。 In fact； when I offer him groosling； he wrinkles his nose at it and turns away。 Thatˇs when I know how sick he is。
¨Peeta； we need to get some food in you；〃 I insist。
¨Itˇll just e right back up；〃 he says。 The best I can do is to get him to eat a few bits of dried apple。 ¨Thanks。 Iˇm much better； really。 Can I sleep now； Katniss？〃 he asks。
¨Soon；〃 I promise。 ¨I need to look at your leg first。〃 Trying to be as gentle as I can； I remove his boots； his socks； and then very slowly inch his pants off of him。 I can see the tear Catoˇs sword made in the fabric over his thigh； but it in no way prepares me for what lies underneath。 The deep inflamed gash oozing both blood and pus。 The swelling of the leg。 And worst of all； the smell of festering flesh。
I want to run away。 Disappear into the woods like I did that day they brought the burn victim to our house。 Go and hunt while my mother and Prim attend to what I have neither the skill nor the courage to face。 But thereˇs no one here but me。 I try to capture the calm demeanor my mother assumes when
handling particularly bad cases。
¨Pretty awful； huh？〃 says Peeta。 Heˇs watching me closely。
¨So…so。〃 I shrug like itˇs no big deal。 ¨You should see some of the people they bring my mother from the mines。〃 I refrain from saying how I usually clear out of the house whenever sheˇs treating anything worse than a cold。 e to think of it； I donˇt even much like to be around coughing。 ¨First thing is to clean it well。〃
Iˇve left on Peetaˇs undershorts because theyˇre not in bad shape and I donˇt want to pull them over the swollen thigh and； all right； maybe the idea of him being naked makes me unfortable。 Thatˇs another thing about my mother and Prim。 Nakedness has no effect on them； gives them no cause for embarrassment。 Ironically； at this point in the Games； my little sister would be of far more use to Peeta than I am。 I scoot my square of plastic under him so I can wash down the rest of him。 With each bottle I pour over him； the worse the wound looks。 The rest of his lower body has fared pretty well； just one tracker jacker sting and a few small burns that I treat quickly。 But the gash on his leg 。 。 。 what on earth can I do for that？
¨Why donˇt we give it some air and then 。 。 。〃 I trail off。
¨And then youˇll patch it up？〃 says Peeta。 He looks almost sorry for me； as if he knows how lost I am。
¨Thatˇs right；〃 I say。 ¨In the meantime； you eat these。〃 I put a few dried pear halves in his hand and go back in the stream to wash the rest of his clothes。 When theyˇre flattened out and drying； I examine the contents of the first…aid kit。 Itˇs pretty basic stuff。 Bandages； fever pills； medicine to calm stomachs。 Nothing of the caliber Iˇll need to treat Peeta。
¨Weˇre going to have to experiment some；〃 I admit。 I know the tracker jacker leaves draw out infection； so I start with those。 Within minutes of pressing the handful of chewed…up green stuff into the wound； pus begins running down the side of his leg。 I tell myself this is a good thing and bite the inside of my cheek hard because my breakfast is threatening to make a reappearance。
¨Katniss？〃 Peeta says。 I meet his eyes； knowing my face must be some shade of green。 He mouths the words。 ¨How about that kiss？〃
I burst out laughing because the whole thing is so revolting I canˇt stand it。
¨Something wrong？〃 he asks a little too innocently。
¨I 。 。 。 Iˇm no good at this。 Iˇm not my mother。 Iˇve no idea what Iˇm doing and I hate pus；〃 I say。 ¨Euh！〃 I allow myself to let out a groan as I rinse away the first round of leaves and apply the second。 ¨Euuuh！〃
¨How do you hunt？〃 he asks。
¨Trust me。 Killing things is much easier than this；〃 I say。 ¨Although for all I know； I am killing you。〃
¨Can you speed it up a little？〃 he asks。
¨No。 Shut up and eat your pears；〃 I say。
After three applications and what seems like a bucket of pus； the wound does look better。 Now that the swelling has gone down； I can see how deep Catoˇs sword cut。 Right down to the bone。
¨What next； Dr。 Everdeen？〃 he asks。
¨Maybe Iˇll put some of the burn ointment on it。 I think it helps with infection anyway。 And wrap it up？〃 I say。 I do and the whole thing seems a lot more manageable； covered in clean white cotton。 Although； against the sterile bandage； the hem of his undershorts looks filthy and teeming with contagion。 I pull out Rueˇs backpack。 ¨Here； cover yourself with this and Iˇll wash your shorts。〃
¨Oh； I donˇt care if you see me；〃 says Peeta。
¨Youˇre just like the rest of my family；〃 I say。 ¨I care； all right？〃 I turn my back and look at the stream until the undershorts splash into the current。 He must be feeling a bit better if he can throw。
¨You knoish for such a lethal person；〃 says Peeta as I beat the shorts clean between two rocks。 ¨I wish Iˇd let you give Haymitch a shower after all。〃
I wrinkle my nose at the memory。 ¨Whatˇs he sent you so far？〃
¨Not a thing；〃 says Peeta。 Then thereˇs a pause as it hits him。 ¨Why； did you get something？〃
¨Burn medicine；〃 I say almost sheepishly。 ¨Oh； and some bread。〃
¨I always knew you were his favorite；〃 says Peeta。
¨Please； he canˇt stand being in the same room with me；〃 I say。
¨Because youˇre just alike；〃 mutters Peeta。 I ignore it though because this really isnˇt the time for me to be insulting Haymitch； which is my first impulse。
I let Peeta doze off while his clothes dry out； but by late afternoon； I donˇt dare wait any longer。 I gently shake his shoulder。 ¨Peeta； weˇve got to go now。〃
¨Go？〃 He seems confused。 ¨Go where？〃
¨Away from here。 Downstream maybe。 Somewhere we can hide you until youˇre stronger；〃 I say。 I help him dress； leaving his feet bare so we can walk in the water； and pull him upright。 His face drains of color the moment he puts weight on his leg。 ¨e on。 You can do this。〃
But he canˇt。 Not for long anyway。 We make it about fifty yards downstream； with him propped up by my shoulder； and I can tell heˇs going to black out。 I sit him on the bank； push his head between his knees； and pat his back awkwardly as I survey the area。 Of course； Iˇd love to get him up in a tree； but thatˇs not going to happen。 It could be worse though。 Some of the rocks form small cavelike structure