the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第20章
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I sit on the ground； a few yards from the blaze set off by the fireball。 My calf is screaming； my hands covered in red welts。 Iˇm shaking too hard to move。 If the Gamemakers want to finish me off； now is the time。
I hear Cinnaˇs voice； carrying images of rich fabric and sparkling gems。 ¨Katniss； the girl who was on fire。〃 What a good laugh the Gamemakers must be having over that one。 Perhaps； Cinnaˇs beautiful costumes have even brought on this particular torture for me。 I know he couldnˇt have foreseen this； must be hurting for me because； in fact； I believe he cares about me。 But all in all； maybe showing up stark naked in that chariot would have been safer for me。
The attack is now over。 The Gamemakers donˇt want me dead。 Not yet anyway。 Everyone knows they could destroy us all within seconds of the opening gong。 The real sport of the Hunger Games is watching the tributes kill one another。 Every so often； they do kill a tribute just to remind the players they can。 But mostly； they manipulate us into confronting one another face…to…face。 Which means； if I am no longer being fired at； there is at least one other tribute close at hand。
I would drag myself into a tree and take cover now if I could； but the smoke is still thick enough to kill me。 I make myself stand and begin to limp away from the wall of flames that lights up the sky。 It does not seem to be pursuing me any longer； except with its stinking black clouds。
Another light； daylight； begins to softly emerge。 Swirls of smoke catch the sunbeams。 My visibility is poor。 I can see maybe fifteen yards in any direction。 A tribute could easily be concealed from me here。 I should draw my knife as a precaution； but I doubt my ability to hold it for long。 The pain in my hands can in no way pete with that in my calf。 I hate burns； have always hated them； even a small one gotten from pulling a pan of bread from the oven。 It is the worst kind of pain to me； but I have never experienced anything like this。
Iˇm so weary I donˇt even notice Iˇm in the pool until Iˇm ankle…deep。 Itˇs spring…fed； bubbling up out of a crevice in some rocks； and blissfully cool。 I plunge my hands into the shallow water and feel instant relief。 Isnˇt that what my mother always says？ The first treatment for a burn is cold water？ That it draws out the heat？ But she means minor burns。 Probably sheˇd remend it for my hands。 But what of my calf？ Although I have not yet had the courage to examine it； Iˇm guessing that itˇs an injury in a whole different class。
I lie on my stomach at edge of the pool for a while； dangling my hands in the water； examining the little flames on my fingernails that are beginning to chip off。 Good。 Iˇve had enough fire for a lifetime。
I bathe the blood and ash from my face。 I try to recall all I know about burns。 They are mon injuries in the Seam where we cook and heat our homes with coal。 Then there are the mine accidents。 。 。 。 A family once brought in an unconscious young man pleading with my mother to help him。 The district doctor whoˇs responsible for treating the miners had written him off； told the family to take him home to die。 But they wouldnˇt accept this。 He lay on our kitchen table； senseless to the world。 I got a glimpse of the wound on his thigh； gaping； charred flesh； burned clear down to the bone； before I ran from the house。 I went to the woods and hunted the entire day； haunted by the gruesome leg； memories of my fatherˇs death。 Whatˇs funny was； Prim； whoˇs scared of her own shadow； stayed and helped。 My mother says healers are born； not made。 They did their best； but the man died； just like the doctor said he would。
My leg is in need of attention； but I still canˇt look at it。 What if itˇs as bad as the manˇs and I can see my bone？ Then I remember my mother saying that if a burnˇs severe； the victim might not even feel pain because the nerves would be destroyed。 Encouraged by this； I sit up and swing my leg in front of me。
I almost faint at the sight of my calf。 The flesh is a brilliant red covered with blisters。 I force myself to take deep； sloeras are on my face。 I canˇt show weakness at this injury。 Not if I want help。 Pity does not get you aid。 Admiration at your refusal to give in does。 I cut the remains of the pant leg off at the knee and examine the injury more closely。 The burned area is about the size of my hand。 None of the skin is blackened。 I think itˇs not too bad to soak。 Gingerly I stretch out my leg into the pool； propping the heel of my boot on a rock so the leather doesnˇt get too sodden； and sigh； because this does offer some relief。 I know there are herbs； if I could find them； that would speed the healing； but I canˇt quite call them to mind。 Water and time will probably be all I have to work with。
Should I be moving on？ The smoke is slowly clearing but still too heavy to be healthy。 If I do continue away from the fire； wonˇt I be walking straight into the weapons of the Careers？ Besides； every time I lift my leg from the water； the pain rebounds so intensely I have to slide it back in。 My hands are slightly less demanding。 They can handle small breaks from the pool。 So I slowly put my gear back in order。 First I fill my bottle with the pool water； treat it； and when enough time has passed； begin to rehydrate my body。 After a time； I force myself to nibble on a cracker； which helps settle my stomach。 I roll up my sleeping bag。 Except for a few black marks； itˇs relatively unscathed。 My jacketˇs another matter。 Stinking and scorched； at least a foot of the back beyond repair。 I cut off the damaged area leaving me with a garment that es just to the bottom of my ribs。 But the hoodˇs intact and itˇs far better than nothing。
Despite the pain； drowsiness begins to take over。 Iˇd take to a tree and try to rest； except Iˇd be too easy to spot。 Besides； abandoning my pool seems impossible。 I neatly arrange my supplies； even settle my pack on my shoulders； but I canˇt seem to leave。 I spot some water plants with edible roots and make a small meal with my last piece of rabbit。 Sip water。 Watch the sun make its slow arc across the sky。 Where would I go anyway that is any safer than here？ I lean back on my pack； overe by drowsiness。 If the Careers want me； let them find me； I think before drifting into a stupor。 Let them find me。
And find me； they do。 Itˇs lucky Iˇm ready to move on because when I hear the feet； I have less than a minute head start。 Evening has begun to fall。 The moment I awake； Iˇm up and running； splashing across the pool； flying into the underbrush。 My leg slows me down； but I sense my pursuers are not as speedy as they were before the fire； either。 I hear their coughs； their raspy voices calling to one another。
Still； they are closing in； just like a pack of wild dogs； and so I do what I have done my whole life in such circumstances。 I pick a high tree and begin to climb。 If running hurt； climbing is agonizing because it requires not only exertion but direct contact of my hands on the tree bark。 Iˇm fast； though； and by the time theyˇve reached the base of my trunk； Iˇm twenty feet up。 For a moment； we stop and survey one another。 I hope they canˇt hear the pounding of my heart。
This could be it； I think。 What chance do I have against them？ All six are there； the five Careers and Peeta； and my only consolation is theyˇre pretty beat…up； too。 Even so； look at their weapons。 Look at their faces； grinning and snarling at me； a sure kill above them。 It seems pretty hopeless。 But then something else registers。 Theyˇre bigger and stronger than I am； no doubt； but theyˇre also heavier。 Thereˇs a reason itˇs me and not Gale who ventures up to pluck the highest fruit； or rob the most remote bird nests。 I must weigh at least fifty or sixty pounds less than the smallest Career。
Now I smile。 ¨Howˇs everything with you？〃 I call down cheerfully。
This takes them aback； but I know the crowd will love it。
¨Well enough；〃 says the boy from District 2。 ¨Yourself？〃
¨Itˇs been a bit warm for my taste；〃 I say。 I can almost hear the laughter from the Capitol。 ¨The airˇs better up here。 Why donˇt you e on up？〃
¨Think I will；〃 says the same boy。
¨Here； take this； Cato；〃 says the girl from District 1； and she offers him the silver bow and sheath of arrows。 My bow！ My arrows！ Just the sight of them makes me so angry I want to scream； at myself； at that traitor Peeta for distracting me from having them。 I try to make eye contact with him now； but he seems to be intentionally avoiding my gaze as he polishes his knife with the edge of his shirt。
¨No；〃 says Cato； pushing away the bow。 ¨Iˇll do better with my sword。〃 I can see the weapon； a short； heavy blade at his belt。
I give Cato time to hoist himself into the tree before I begin to climb again。 Gale always says I remind him of a squirrel the way I can scurry up even the slenderest limb。 Part of itˇs my weight； but part of itˇs practice。 You have to know where to place your hands and feet。 Iˇm another thirty feet in the air when I hear the crack and look down to see Cato flailing as he and a branch go down。 He hits the ground hard and Iˇm hoping he possibly broke his neck when he gets back to his feet； swearing like a fiend。
The girl with the arrows； Glimmer I hear someone call her ugh； the names the people in District 1 give their children are so ridiculous anyway Glimmer scales the tree until the branches begin to crack under her feet and then has the good sense to stop。 Iˇm at least eighty feet high now。 She tries to shoot me and itˇs immediately evident that sheˇs inpetent with a bow。 One of the arrows gets lodged in the tree near me though and Iˇm able to seize it。 I wave it teasingly above her head； as if this was the sole purpose of retrieving it； when actually I mean to use it if I ever get the chance。 I could kill them； everyone of them； if those silver weapons were in my hands。
The Careers regroup on the ground and I can hear them growling conspiratorially among themselves； furious I have made them look foolish。 But twilight has arrived and their window of attack on me is closing。 Finally； I hear Peeta say harshly； ¨Oh； let her stay up there。 Itˇs not like sheˇs going anywhere。 Weˇll deal with her in the morning。〃
Well； heˇs right about one thing。 Iˇm going nowhere。 All the relief from the pool water has gone； leaving me to feel the full potency of my burns。 I scoot down to a fork in the tree and clumsily prepare for bed。 Put on my jacket。 Lay out my sleeping bed。 Belt myself in and try to keep from moaning。 The heat of the bagˇs too much for my leg。 I cut a slash in the fabric and hang my calf out in the open air。 I drizzle water on the wound； my hands。
All my bravado is gone。 Iˇm weak from pain and hunger but canˇt bring myself to eat。 Even if I can last the night； what will the morning bring？ I stare into the foliage trying to will myself to rest； but the burns forbid it。 Birds are settling down for the night； singing lullabies to their young。 Night creatures emerge。 An owl hoots。 The faint scent of a skunk cuts through the smoke。 The eyes of some animal peer at me from the neighboring tree a possum maybe catching the firelight from the Careersˇ torches。 Suddenly； Iˇm up on one elbow。 Those are no possumˇs eyes； I know their glassy reflection too well。 In fact； those are not animal eyes at all。 In the last dim rays of light； I make her out； watching me silently from between the branches。 Rue。
How long has she been here？ The whole time probably。 Still and unobserved as the action unfolded beneath her。 Perhaps she headed up her tree shortly before I did； hearing the pack was so close。
For a while we hold each otherˇs gaze。 Then； without even rustling a leaf； her little hand slides into the open and points to something above my head。
14
My eyes follow the line of her finger up into the foliage above me。 At first； I have no idea what sheˇs pointing to； but then； about fifteen feet up； I make out the vague shape in the dimming light。 But of 。 。 。 of what？ Some sort of animal？ It looks about the size of a raccoon； but it hangs from the bottom of a branch； swaying ever so slightly。 Thereˇs something else。 Among the familiar evening sounds of the woods； my ears register a low hum。 Then I know。 Itˇs a wasp nest。
Fear shoots through me； but I have enough sense to keep still。 After all； I donˇt know what kind of wasp lives there。 It could be the ordinary leave…us…alone…and…weˇll…leave…youalone type。 But these are the Hunger Games； and ordinary isnˇt the norm。 More likely they will be one of the Capitolˇs muttations； tracker jackers。 Like the jabberjays； these killer wasps were spawned in a lab and strategically placed； like land mines； around the districts during the war。 Larger than regular wasps； they have a distinctive solid gold body and a sting that raises a lump the size of a plum on contact。 Most people canˇt tolerate more than a few stings。 Some die at once。 If you live； the hallucinations brought on by the venom have actually driven people to madness。 And thereˇs another thing； these wasps will hunt down anyone who disturbs their nest and at184 tempt to kill them。 Thatˇs where the tracker part of the name es from。
After the war； the Capitol destroyed all the nests surrounding th
