【饥饿游戏】46

As I refill my pack I have an awful thought. The lake. The one
I saw while I was waiting for the gong to sound. What if that's
the only water source in the arena 1? That way they'll guarantee
drawing us in to fight. The lake is a full day's journey from
where I sit now, a much harder journey with nothing to drink.
And then, even if I reach it, it's sure to be heavily guarded by
some of the Career Tributes. I'm about to panic when I remember
the rabbit I startled earlier today. It has to drink, too.
I just have to find out where.
Twilight 2 is closing in and I am ill at ease. The trees are too
thin to offer much concealment 3. The layer of pine needles that
muffles 4 my footsteps also makes tracking animals harder
when I need their trails to find water. And I'm still heading
downhill, deeper and deeper into a valley that seems endless.
I’m hungry, too, but I don’t dare break into my precious
store of crackers 5 and beef yet. Instead, I take my knife and go
to work on a pine tree, cutting away the outer bark and scraping 
off a large handful of the softer inner bark. I slowly chew
the stuff as I walk along. After a week of the finest food in the
world, it’s a little hard to choke down. But I’ve eaten plenty of
pine in my life. I’ll adjust quickly.
In another hour, it’s clear I’ve got to find a place to camp.
Night creatures are coming out. I can hear the occasional hoot 6
or howl, my first clue that I’ll be competing with natural 
predators 7 for the rabbits. As to whether I’ll be viewed as a 
source of food, it’s too soon to tell. There could be any number 
of animals stalking me at this moment.
But right now, I decide to make my fellow tributes a priority.
I’m sure many will continue hunting through the night.
Those who fought it out at the Cornucopia 8 will have food, an
abundance of water from the lake, torches or flashlights, and
weapons they’re itching 9 to use. I can only hope I’ve traveled
far and fast enough to be out of range.
Before settling down, I take my wire and set two twitch-up
snares 10 in the brush. I know it’s risky 11 to be setting traps, but
food will go so fast out here. And I can’t set snares on the run.
Still, I walk another five minutes before making camp.
I pick my tree carefully. A willow 12, not terribly tall but set in
a clump 13 of other willows 14, offering concealment in those long,
flowing tresses. I climb up, sticking to the stronger branches
close to the trunk, and find a sturdy fork for my bed. It takes
some doing, but I arrange the sleeping bag in a relatively 
comfortable manner. I place my backpack in the foot of the bag,
then slide in after it. As a precaution, I remove my belt, loop it
all the way around the branch and my sleeping bag, and refasten 
it at my waist. Now if I roll over in my sleep, I won’t go
crashing to the ground. I’m small enough to tuck the top of the
bag over my head, but I put on my hood 15 as well. As night falls,
the air is cooling quickly. Despite the risk I took in getting the
backpack, I know now it was the right choice. This sleeping bag, 
radiating back and preserving my body heat, will be invaluable 16.
I’m sure there are several other tributes whose biggest concern 
right now is how to stay warm whereas I may actually be able to 
get a few hours of sleep. If only I wasn’t so thirsty
. . .
Night has just come when I hear the anthem 17 that proceeds
the death recap. Through the branches I can see the seal of the
Capitol, which appears to be floating in the sky. I’m actually
viewing another screen, an enormous one that’s transported
by of one of their disappearing hovercraft. The anthem fades
out and the sky goes dark for a moment. At home, we would
be watching full coverage 18 of each and every killing 19, but that’s
thought to give an unfair advantage to the living tributes. For
instance, if I got my hands on the bow and shot someone, my
secret would be revealed to all. No, here in the arena, all we
see are the same photographs they showed when they televised
our training scores. Simple head shots. But now instead
of scores they post only district numbers. I take a deep breath
as the face of the eleven dead tributes begin and tick them off
one by one on my fingers.
The first to appear is the girl from District 3. That means
that the Career Tributes from 1 and 2 have all survived. No
surprise there. Then the boy from 4. I didn’t expect that one,
usually all the Careers make it through the first day. The boy
from District 5 . . . I guess the fox-faced girl made it. Both 
tributes from 6 and 7. The boy from 8. Both from 9. Yes, 
there’s the boy who I fought for the backpack. I’ve run 
through my fingers, only one more dead tribute to go. Is it 
Peeta? No, there’s the girl from District 10. That’s it. The 
Capitol seal is back with a final musical flourish. Then 
darkness and the sounds of the forest resume.
I’m relieved Peeta’s alive. I tell myself again that if I get
killed, his winning will benefit my mother and Prim 20 the most.
This is what I tell myself to explain the conflicting emotions
that arise when I think of Peeta. The gratitude 21 that he gave me
an edge by professing 22 his love for me in the interview. The 
anger at his superiority on the roof. The dread 23 that we may 
come face-to-face at any moment in this arena.
recap vt. 扼要重述