【饥饿游戏】47

Eleven dead, but none from District 12. I try to work out
who is left. Five Career Tributes. Foxface. Thresh and Rue 1. Rue
. . . so she made it through the first day after all. I can’t help
feeling glad. That makes ten of us. The other three I’ll figure
out tomorrow. Now when it is dark, and I have traveled far,
and I am nestled high in this tree, now I must try and rest.
I haven’t really slept in two days, and then there’s been the
long day’s journey into the arena 2. Slowly, I allow my muscles
to relax. My eyes to close. The last thing I think is it’s lucky I
don’t snore. . . .
Snap! The sound of a breaking branch wakes me. How long
have I been asleep? Four hours? Five? The tip of my nose is icy
cold. Snap! Snap! What’s going on? This is not the sound of a
branch under someone’s foot, but the sharp crack of one coming
from a tree. Snap! Snap! I judge it to be several hundred
yards to my right. Slowly, noiselessly, I turn myself in that 
direction. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but blackness and
some scuffling. Then I see a spark and a small fire begins to
bloom. A pair of hands warms over flames, but I can’t make
out more than that.
I have to bite my lip not to scream every foul 3 name I know
at the fire starter. What are they thinking? A fire I’ll just at
nightfall would have been one thing. Those who battled at the
Cornucopia 4, with their superior strength and surplus of 
supplies, they couldn’t possibly have been near enough to spot
the flames then. But now, when they’ve probably been combing
the woods for hours looking for victims. You might as well be 
waving a flag and shouting, “Come and get me!”
And here I am a stone’s throw from the biggest idiot in
the Games. Strapped 5 in a tree. Not daring to flee since my
general location has just been broadcast to any killer 6 who
cares. I mean, I know it’s cold out here and not everybody
has a sleeping bag. But then you grit 7 your teeth and stick it
out until dawn!
I lay smoldering 8 in my bag for the next couple of hours really
thinking that if I can get out of this tree, I won’t have the least 
problem taking out my new neighbor. My instinct has been to 
flee, not fight. But obviously this person’s a hazard. Stupid 
people are dangerous. And this one probably doesn’t have 
much in the way of weapons while I’ve got this excellent knife.
The sky is still dark, but I can feel the first signs of dawn
approaching. I’m beginning to think we — meaning the person
whose death I’m now devising and me — we might actually
have gone unnoticed. Then I hear it. Several pairs of feet
breaking into a run. The fire starter must have dozed 9 off.
They’re on her before she can escape. I know it’s a girl now, I
can tell by the pleading, the agonized 10 scream that follows.
Then there’s laughter and congratulations from several voices.
Someone cries out, “Twelve down and eleven to go!” which
gets a round of appreciative 11 hoots 12.
So they’re fighting in a pack. I’m not really surprised. Often
alliances are formed in the early stages of the Games. The
strong band together to hunt down the weak then, when the
tension becomes too great, begin to turn on one another. I
don’t have to wonder too hard who has made this alliance. It’ll
be the remaining Career Tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4.
Two boys and three girls. The ones who lunched together.
For a moment, I hear them checking the girl for supplies. I
can tell by their comments they’ve found nothing good. I 
wonder if the victim is Rue but quickly dismiss the thought. 
She’s much too bright to be building a fire like that.
“Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts
stinking 13.” I’m almost certain that’s the brutish boy from District
2. There are murmurs 14 of assent 15 and then, to my horror, I
hear the pack heading toward me. They do not know I’m here.
How could they? And I’m well concealed 16 in the clump 17 of trees.
At least while the sun stays down. Then my black sleeping bag
will turn from camouflage 18 to trouble. If they just keep moving,
they will pass me and be gone in a minute.
But the Careers stop in the clearing about ten yards from
my tree. They have flashlights, torches. I can see an arm here,
a boot there, through the breaks in the branches. I turn to
stone, not even daring to breathe. Have they spotted 19 me? No,
not yet. I can tell from their words their minds are elsewhere.
“Shouldn’t we have heard a cannon 20 by now?”
“I’d say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately.”
“Unless she isn’t dead.”
“She’s dead. I stuck her myself.”
“Then where’s the cannon?”
“Someone should go back. Make sure the job’s done.”
“Yeah, we don’t want to have to track her down twice.”
“I said she’s dead!”
An argument breaks out until one tribute silences the others.
“We’re wasting time! I’ll go finish her and let’s move on!”
I almost fall out of the tree. The voice belongs to Peeta.
a stone’s throw 一箭之遥