【饥饿游戏】34（在线收听） |
My fingers were just on the wire above one of the rabbits when a voice rang out. “That’s dangerous.”
I jumped back several feet as Gale materialized from behind
a tree. He must have been watching me the whole time.
He was only fourteen, but he cleared six feet and was as good
as an adult to me. I’d seen him around the Seam and at school.
And one other time. He’d lost his father in the same blast that
killed mine. In January, I’d stood by while he received his
medal of valor in the Justice Building, another oldest child
with no father. I remembered his two little brothers clutching
his mother, a woman whose swollen belly announced she was
just days away from giving birth.
“What’s your name?” he said, coming over and disengaging
the rabbit from the snare. He had another three hanging from
his belt.
“Katniss,” I said, barely audible.
“Well, Catnip（猫薄荷）, stealing’s punishable by death,
or hadn’t you heard?” he said.
“Katniss,” I said louder. “And I wasn’t stealing it. I just
wanted to look at your snare. Mine never catch anything.”
He scowled at me, not convinced. “So where’d you get the
squirrel?”
“I shot it.” I pulled my bow off my shoulder. I was still using
the small version my father had made me, but I’d been practicing
with the full-size one when I could. I was hoping that by
spring I might be able to bring down some bigger game.
Gale’s eyes fastened on the bow. “Can I see that?” I handed
it over. “Just remember, stealing’s punishable by death.”
That was the first time I ever saw him smile. It transformed
him from someone menacing to someone you wished you
knew. But it took several months before I returned that smile.
We talked hunting then. I told him I might be able to get
him a bow if he had something to trade. Not food. I wanted
knowledge. I wanted to set my own snares that caught a belt
of fat rabbits in one day. He agreed something might be
worked out. As the seasons went by, we grudgingly began to
share our knowledge, our weapons, our secret places that
were thick with wild plums or turkeys. He taught me snares
and fishing. I showed him what plants to eat and eventually
gave him one of our precious bows. And then one day, without
either of us saying it, we became a team. Dividing the work
and the spoils. Making sure that both our families had food.
Gale gave me a sense of security I’d lacked since my father’s
death. His companionship replaced the long solitary hours in
the woods. I became a much better hunter when I didn’t have
to look over my shoulder constantly, when someone was
watching my back. But he turned into so much more than a
hunting partner. He became my confidante, someone with
whom I could share thoughts I could never voice inside the
fence. In exchange, he trusted me with his. Being out in the
woods with Gale . . . sometimes I was actually happy.
I call him my friend, but in the last year it’s seemed too casual
a word for what Gale is to me. A pang of longing shoots
through my chest. If only he was with me now! But, of course,
I don’t want that. I don’t want him in the arena where he’d be
dead in a few days. I just . . . I just miss him. And I hate being
so alone. Does he miss me? He must.
I think of the eleven flashing under my name last night. I
know exactly what he’d say to me. “Well, there’s some room
for improvement there.” And then he’d give me a smile and I’d
return it without hesitating now.
I can’t help comparing what I have with Gale to what I’m
pretending to have with Peeta. How I never question Gale’s
motives while I do nothing but doubt the latter’s. It’s not a fair
comparison really. Gale and I were thrown together by a mutual
need to survive. Peeta and I know the other’s survival
means our own death. How do you sidestep that?
Effie’s knocking at the door, reminding me there’s another
“big, big, big day!” ahead. Tomorrow night will be our televised
interviews. I guess the whole team will have their hands
full readying us for that. I get up and take a quick shower,
being a bit more careful about the buttons I hit, and head down
to the dining room. Peeta, Effie, and Haymitch are huddled around
the table talking in hushed voices. That seems odd, but hunger
wins out over curiosity and I load up my plate with breakfast
before I join them.The stew’s made with tender chunks of lamb
and dried plums today. Perfect on the bed of wild rice. I’ve
shoveled about halfway through the mound when I realize no one’s
talking. I take a big gulp of orange juice and wipe my mouth.
“So, what’s going on? You’re coaching us on interviews today,
right?”
“That’s right,” says Haymitch.
“You don’t have to wait until I’m done. I can listen and cat
at the same time,” I say.
“Well, there’s been a change of plans. About our current
approach,” says Haymitch.
“What’s that?” I ask. I’m not sure what our current approach
is. Trying to appear mediocre in front of the other tributes
is the last bit of strategy I remember.
Haymitch shrugs. “Peeta has asked to be coached separately.” |
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