Itˇs funny。 Haymitch and I donˇt get along well in person； but maybe Peeta is right about us being alike because he seems able to municate with me by the timing of his gifts。 Like how I knew I must be close to water when he withheld it and how I knew the sleep syrup just wasnˇt something to ease Peetaˇs pain and how I know now that I have to play up the romance。 He hasnˇt made much effort to connect with Peeta really。 Perhaps he thinks a bowl of broth would just be a bowl
of broth to Peeta； whereas Iˇll see the strings attached to it。
A thought hits me； and Iˇm amazed the questionˇs taken so long to surface。 Maybe itˇs because Iˇve only recently begun to view Haymitch with a degree of curiosity。 ¨How do you think he did it？〃
¨Who？ Did what？〃 Peeta asks。
¨Haymitch。 How do you think he won the Games？〃 I say。
Peeta considers this quite a while before he answers。 Haymitch is sturdily built； but no physical wonder like Cato or Thresh。 Heˇs not particularly handsome。 Not in the way that causes sponsors to rain gifts on you。 And heˇs so surly； itˇs hard to imagine anyone teaming up with him。 Thereˇs only one way Haymitch could have won； and Peeta says it just as Iˇm reaching this conclusion myself。
¨He outsmarted the others；〃 says Peeta。
I nod； then let the conversation drop。 But secretly Iˇm wondering if Haymitch sobered up long enough to help Peeta and me because he thought we just might have the wits to survive。 Maybe he wasnˇt always a drunk。 Maybe； in the beginning； he tried to help the tributes。 But then it got unbearable。 It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die。 Year after year after year。 I realize that if I get out of here； that will bee my job。 To mentor the girl from District 12。 The idea is so repellent； I thrust it from my mind。
About half an hour has passed before I decide I have to eat again。 Peetaˇs too hungry himself to put up an argument。 While Iˇm dishing up two more small servings of lamb stew and rice； we hear the anthem begin to play。 Peeta presses his eyes against a crack in the rocks to watch the sky。
¨There wonˇt be anything to see tonight；〃 I say； far more interested in the stew than the sky。 ¨Nothingˇs happened or we wouldˇve heard a cannon。〃
¨Katniss；〃 Peeta says quietly。
¨What？ Should we split another roll； too？〃 I ask。
¨Katniss；〃 he repeats； but I find myself wanting to ignore him。
¨Iˇm going to split one。 But Iˇll save the cheese for tomorrow；〃 I say。 I see Peeta staring at me。 ¨What？〃
¨Thresh is dead；〃 says Peeta。
¨He canˇt be；〃 I say。
¨They must have fired the cannon during the thunder and we missed it；〃 says Peeta。
¨Are you sure？ I mean； itˇs pouring buckets out there。 I donˇt know how you can see anything；〃 I say。 I push him away from the rocks and squint out into the dark； rainy sky。 For about ten seconds； I catch a distorted glimpse of Threshˇs picture and then heˇs gone。 Just like that。
I slump down against the rocks； momentarily forgetting about the task at hand。 Thresh dead。 I should be happy； right？ One less tribute to face。 And a powerful one； too。 But Iˇm not happy。 All I can think about is Thresh letting me go； letting me run because of Rue； who died with that spear in her stomach。 。 。 。
¨You all right？〃 asks Peeta。
I give a nonmittal shrug and cup my elbows in my hands； hugging them close to my body。 I have to bury the real pain because whoˇs going to bet on a tribute who keeps sniveling over the deaths of her opponents。 Rue was one thing。 We were allies。 She was so young。 But no one will understand my sorrow at Threshˇs murder。 The word pulls me up short。 Murder！ Thankfully； I didnˇt say it aloud。 Thatˇs not going to win me any points in the arena。 What I do say is； ¨Itˇs just 。 。 。 if we didnˇt win 。 。 。 I wanted Thresh to。 Because he let me go。 And because of Rue。〃
¨Yeah； I know；〃 says Peeta。 ¨But this means weˇre one step closer to District Twelve。〃 He nudges a plate of foot into my hands。 ¨Eat。 Itˇs still warm。〃
I take a bite of the stew to show I donˇt really care； but itˇs like glue in my mouth and takes a lot of effort to swallow。 ¨It also means Cato will be back hunting us。〃
¨And heˇs got supplies again；〃 says Peeta。
¨Heˇll be wounded； I bet；〃 I say。
¨What makes you say that？〃 Peeta asks。
¨Because Thresh would have never gone down without a fight。 Heˇs so strong； I mean； he was。 And they were in his territory；〃 I say。
¨Good；〃 says Peeta。 ¨The more wounded Cato is the better。 I wonder how Foxface is making out。〃
¨Oh； sheˇs fine；〃 I say peevishly。 Iˇm still angry she thought of hiding in the Cornucopia and I didnˇt。 ¨Probably be easier to catch Cato than her。〃
¨Maybe theyˇll catch each other and we can just go home；〃 says Peeta。 ¨But we better be extra careful about the watches。 I dozed off a few times。〃
¨Me； too；〃 I admit。 ¨But not tonight。〃
We finish our food in silence and then Peeta offers to take the first watch。 I burrow down in the sleeping bag next to him； pulling my hood up over my face to hide it from the cameras。 I just need a few moments of privacy where I can let any emotion cross my face without being seen。 Under the hood； I silently say good…bye to Thresh and thank him for my life。 I promise to remember him and； if I can； do something to help his family and Rueˇs； if I win。 Then I escape into sleep； forted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me。
When Peeta wakes me later； the first thing I register is the smell of goat cheese。 Heˇs holding out half a roll spread with the creamy white stuff and topped with apple slices。 ¨Donˇt be mad；〃 he says。 ¨I had to eat again。 Hereˇs your half。〃
¨Oh； good；〃 I say； immediately taking a huge bite。 The strong fatty cheese tastes just like the kind Prim makes； the apples are sweet and crunchy。 ¨Mm。〃
¨We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery；〃 he says。
¨Bet thatˇs expensive；〃 I say。
¨Too expensive for my family to eat。 Unless itˇs gone very stale。 Of course； practically everything we eat is stale；〃 says Peeta； pulling the sleeping bag up around him。 In less than a minute； heˇs snoring。
Huh。 I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life。
And itˇs true； Peeta has always had enough to eat。 But thereˇs something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread； the hard； dry loaves that no one else wanted。 One thing about us； since I bring our food home on a daily basis； most of it is so fresh you have to make sure it isnˇt going to make a run for it。
Somewhere during my shift； the rain stops not gradually but all at once。 The downpour ends and thereˇs only the residual drippings of water from branches； the rush of the now overflowing stream below us。 A full； beautiful moon emerges； and even without the glasses I can see outside。 I canˇt decide if the moon is real or merely a projection of the Gamemakers。 I know it was full shortly before I left home。 Gale and I watched it rise as we hunted into the late hours。
How long have I been gone？ Iˇm guessing itˇs been about two weeks in the arena； and there was that week of preparation in the Capitol。 Maybe the moon has pleted its cycle。 For some reason； I badly want it to be my moon； the same one I see from the woods around District 12。 That would give me something to cling to in the surreal world of the arena where the authenticity of everything is to be doubted。
Four of us left。
For the first time； I allow myself to truly think about the possibility that I might make it home。 To fame。 To wealth。 To my own house in the Victorˇs Village。 My mother and Prim would live there with me。 No more fear of hunger。 A new kind of freedom。 But then 。 。 。 what？ What would my life be like on a daily basis？ Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food。 Take that away and Iˇm not really sure who I am； what my identity is。 The idea scares me some。 I think of Haymitch； with all his money。 What did his life bee？ He lives alone； no wife or children； most of his waking hours drunk。 I donˇt want to end up like that。
¨But you wonˇt be alone；〃 I whisper to myself。 I have my mother and Prim。 Well； for the time being。 And then 。 。 。 I donˇt want to think about then； when Prim has grown up； my mother passed away。 I know Iˇll never marry； never risk bringing a child into the world。 Because if thereˇs one thing being a victor doesnˇt guarantee； itˇs your childrenˇs safety。 My kidsˇ names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone elseˇs。 And I swear Iˇll never let that happen。
The sun eventually rises； its light slipping through the cracks and illuminating Peetaˇs face。 Who will he transform into if we make it home？ This perplexing； good…natured boy who can spin out lies so convincingly the whole of Panem believes him to be hopelessly in love with me； and Iˇll admit it； there are moments when he makes me believe it myself？ At least； weˇll be friends； I think。 Nothing will change the fact that weˇve saved each otherˇs lives in here。 And beyond that； he will always
be the boy with the bread。 Good friends。 Anything beyond that though 。 。 。 and I feel Galeˇs gray eyes watching me watching Peeta； all the way from District 12。
Disfort causes me to move。 I scoot over and shake Peetaˇs shoulder。 His eyes open sleepily and when they focus on me； he pulls me down for a long kiss。
¨Weˇre wasting hunting time；〃 I say when I finally break away。
¨I wouldnˇt call it wasting；〃 he says giving a big stretch as he sits up。 ¨So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge？〃
¨Not us；〃 I say。 ¨We stuff ourselves to give us staying power。〃
¨Count me in；〃 Peeta says。 But I can see heˇs surprised when I divide the rest of the stew and rice and hand a heaping plate to him。 ¨All this？〃
¨Weˇll earn it back today；〃 I say； and we both plow into our plates。 Even cold； itˇs one of the best things Iˇve ever tasted。 I abandon my fork and scrape up the last dabs of gravy with my finger。 ¨I can feel Effie Trinket shuddering at my manners。〃
¨Hey； Effie； watch this！〃 says Peeta。 He tosses his fork over his shoulder and literally licks his plate clean with his tongue making loud； satisfied sounds。 Then he blows a kiss out to her in general and calls； ¨We miss you； Effie！〃
I cover his mouth with my hand； but Iˇm laughing。 ¨Stop！ Cato could be right outside our cave。〃
He grabs my hand away。 ¨What do I care？ Iˇve got you to protect me now；〃 says Peeta； pulling me to him。
¨e on；〃 I say in exasperation； extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss。
Once weˇre packed up and standing outside our cave； our mood shifts to serious。 Itˇs as though for the last few days； sheltered by the rocks and the rain and Catoˇs preoccupation with Thresh； we were given a respite； a holiday of sorts。 Now； although the day is sunny and warm； we both sense weˇre really back in the Games。 I hand Peeta my knife； since whatever weapons he once had are long gone； and he slips it into his belt。 My last seven arrows of the twelve I sacrificed three in the explosion； two at the feast rattle a bit too loosely in the quiver。 I canˇt afford to lose any more。
¨Heˇll be hunting us by now；〃 says Peeta。 ¨Cato isnˇt one to wait for his prey to w