【饥饿游戏】49

I eat half the rabbit as I go, then wrap up the leftovers 1 in my
plastic for later. The meat stops the grumbling 2 in my stomach
but does little to quench 3 my thirst. Water is my top priority now.
As I hike along, I feel certain I’m still holding the screen in
the Capitol, so I’m careful to continue to hide my emotions.
But what a good time Claudius Templesmith must be having
with his guest commentators 4, dissecting 5 Peeta’s behavior, my
reaction. What to make of it all? Has Peeta revealed his true
colors? How does this affect the betting odds 6? Will we lose
sponsors? Do we even have sponsors? Yes, I feel certain we
do, or at least did.
Certainly Peeta has thrown a wrench 7 into our star-crossed
lover dynamic. Or has he? Maybe, since he hasn’t spoken much
about me, we can still get some mileage 8 out of it. Maybe
people will think it’s something we plotted together if I seem
like it amuses me now.
The sun rises in the sky and even through the canopy 9 it
seems overly bright. I coat my lips in some grease from the
rabbit and try to keep from panting, but it’s no use. It’s only
been a day and I’m dehydrating fast. I try and think of everything
I know about finding water. It runs downhill, so, in fact,
continuing down into this valley isn’t a bad thing. If I could
just locate a game trail or spot a particularly green patch of
vegetation, these might help me along, but nothing seems to
change. There’s just the slight gradual slope, the birds, the
sameness to the trees.
As the day wears on, I know I’m headed for trouble. What
little urine I’ve been able to pass is a dark brown, my head is
aching, and there’s a dry patch on my tongue that refuses to
moisten. The sun hurts my eyes so I dig out my sunglasses, but
when I put them on they do something funny to my vision, so I
just stuff them back in my pack.
It’s late afternoon when I think I’ve found help. I spot a
cluster of berry bushes and hurry to strip the fruit, to suck the
sweet juices from the skins. But just as I’m holding them to my
lips, I get a hard look at them. What I thought were blueberries
have a slightly different shape, and when I break one open
the insides are bloodred. I don’t recognize these berries, perhaps
they are edible 10, but I’m guessing this is some evil trick on
the part of the Gamemakers. Even the plant instructor 11 in the
Training Center made a point of telling us to avoid berries unless
you were 100 percent sure they weren’t toxic 12. Something
I already knew, but I’m so thirsty it takes her reminder 13 to give
me the strength to fling them away.
Fatigue 14 is beginning to settle on me, but it’s not the usual
tiredness that follows a long hike. I have to stop and rest frequently,
although I know the only cure for what ails 15 me requires
continued searching. I try a new tactic 16 — climbing a
tree as high as I dare in my shaky state — to look for any signs
of water. But as far as I can see in any direction, there’s the
same unrelenting stretch of forest.
Determined 17 to go on until nightfall, I walk until I’m stumbling
over my own feet.
Exhausted 18, I haul myself up into a tree and belt myself in.
I’ve no appetite, but I suck on a rabbit bone just to give my
mouth something to do. Night falls, the anthem 19 plays, and high
in the sky I see the picture of the girl, who was apparently 20
from District 8. The one Peeta went back to finish off.
My fear of the Career pack is minor 21 compared to my burning
thirst. Besides, they were heading away from me and by
now they, too, will have to rest. With the scarcity 22 of water,
they may even have had to return to the lake for refills.
Maybe, that is the only course for me as well.
Morning brings distress 23. My heads throbs 24 with every beat
of my heart. Simple movements send stabs of pain through my
joints 25. I fall, rather than jump from the tree. It takes several
minutes for me to assemble my gear. Somewhere inside me, I
know this is wrong. I should be acting 26 with more caution,
moving with more urgency. But my mind seems foggy and
forming a plan is hard. I lean back against the trunk of my
tree, one finger gingerly stroking the sandpaper surface of my
tongue, as I assess my options. How can I get water?
Return to the lake. No good. I’d never make it.
Hope for rain. There’s not a cloud in the sky.
Keep looking. Yes, this is my only chance. But then, another
thought hits me, and the surge of anger that follows brings me
to me senses.
Haymitch! He could send me water! Press a button and
have it delivered to me in a silver parachute in minutes. I
know I must have sponsors, at least one or two who could afford
a pint 27 of liquid for me. Yes, it’s pricey, but these people,
they’re made of money. And they’ll be betting on me as well.
Perhaps Haymitch doesn’t realize how deep my need is.
I say in a voice as loud as I dare. “Water.” I wait, hopefully,
for a parachute to descend 28 from the sky. But nothing is forthcoming.
Something is wrong. Am I deluded 29 about having sponsors?
Or has Peeta’s behavior made them all hang back? No, I don’t
believe it. There’s someone out there who wants to buy me
water only Haymitch is refusing to let it go through. As my
mentor 30, he gets to control the flow of gifts from the sponsors. I
know he hates me. He’s made that clear enough. But enough to
let me die? From this? He can’t do that, can he? 
dehydrating 脱水.