I heard her before I saw her. I continue to lay still, unsure if this is one of Cato’s tricks. The mud plastered on my face making me virtually invisible to the untrained eye. The sun’s rays draining the mud of its moisture and reducing it to dust. I would have to renew the layer. Although I was directly next to the river, every minute I’m exposed I risk being discovered and killed. I force my muscles to go against their natural instinct to move and urge them to stay still. My mouth parched since my last drink of water and my stomach as empty as the Gamemaker’s souls
Dust dislodged from above my right eye and sprinkled into my eyeball, tears started to form as the redness spread to the areas affected. My vision blurred and smudged. But I still saw her, a small, lithe frame a silhouette against the blazing sun. The bow grasped in her hand seemed like an extension of her body instead of a weapon, loaded and ready to kill. Her voice resonates in my ear, “Peeta! PEEETA!” her voice strained and hoarse as if she had been crying. I realise she doesn’t see me, I croak out a reply, “you here to finish me off, sweetheart?” I knew she hated being called sweetheart, and that’s why Haymitch continued to do so.
She looks around still unable to see me. An amused mask slowly appears on my face, her foot presses into my stomach, the pain buried by the more amusement, “Well don’t step on me” I say. Her eyes lock onto my position, I open my eyes and her mouth widens, the confused look washed away as her features transform to astonishment. I laugh. A sound that I had thought impossible in the confines of the hunger games. A genuine laugh, not the artificial ones that had won over the crowds during the interviews with Caesar Flickerman, but then again I’m sure the artificial laugh had warmed their artificial hearts.
“Close your eyes again” I had almost forgotten how controlling she was. My eyes shut close, I feel the cracks appear around my eyes. I open them and I see Katniss’s features mould into a sensation she wasn’t accustomed to. She kneels by me, “I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off” She comments. This draws out a smile, but along with it memories. Memories of friends and family even my mother, who I wasn’t too fond of, I missed them all.
“Yes, frosting the final defence of the dying” I joke. Her voice changes drastically, “You are not going to die. We are on the same team now, you know?” I know I am not going to live through this and I had come to terms with my death, even now I can feel the energy and will leaving my body. I also knew how stubborn Katniss was and if she wanted me alive she would risk her own life to ensure mine. She pulls out a bottle and presses it against my mouth, I reluctantly take the water, knowing she wouldn’t yield. Water moisturises my raspy tongue and my dehydrated mouth. My withered form feeling slightly better. The water was delicious even though it had no taste or flavour. I gulp it down greedily, water dribbling off my chin and saturating the dust.
“Did Cato cut you?” I had been waiting for this question. Memories flash through my mind. I slash through the foliage, I had been stung at least twice. My spear poised over my head ready to be launched. I see Katniss, the sight of her ignites feelings of anger and worry inside me, and she was hunched over the mutilated body of Glimmer, prying the bow the dead girl possessed.
“What are you still doing here??” I ask not bothering to mask my irritation, “Get up, GET UP!” I urge, she stares at me until the noise of someone charging through the greenery brought her back to reality. Cato. “RUN! RUN!” I scream, the desperation seeping into my voice. I had sabotaged my temporary position within the Careers, but I had saved Katniss. Cato emerges from the bushes, sword ready to decapitate. The image of Cato retreats back to my memories and I’m reeled back to reality by Katniss’s voice as she makes plans to clean me up. I ask her to lean in, my lips graze her ear, “Remember, we are madly in love, so it’s alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it”
We both laughed, it seemed to resonate within the eerie silence of the arena. We both knew, coated by the humour, it had a meaning behind it. We could continue playing the love-struck couple, this would increase the chances of us getting a sponsor. She explains her plan of rolling me into the river. She counts down from three and the pain is instantaneous, my face scrunches up as bile rises in my throat and I splutter, saliva dripping from my mouth. A choked sound escapes my mouth without consent from my brain as I slip in and out of consciousness. I hear Katniss, even though she was right next to me she sounded distant.
“No more rolling?” I manage. She instructs me to keep watch for anything or anyone. She moves to the river and starts filling up the bottles. I notice she has an extra one, a water skin, did she kill a tribute and scavenge supplies from their carcasses? Like she had done with Glimmer? I push the thought away, the Hunger Games is not a place of pity or regret. She walks back and props me against a sturdy boulder. I sit motionless obeying any command she says. I feel the cold water flow down my suit, washing down the mud and dirt, my hair now matted to my head, back to its original ashy-blonde colour. Katniss had cut away my suit, I see it drying in the sun, blood and mud washed out. She pinches out the Tracker Jacker stingers, which now resided in mountainous lumps. The pain is immediate and excruciating but she places some leaves on the sting and the pain dissipates as if the leaves had sucked them out. I welcome the relief, after all, it was a scarce feeling.