第44部分(第1/7 页)

end；　despite　his　remarkable　strength　and　skill；　he　is　simply　overpowered。

I　donˇt　know　how　long　it　has　been；　maybe　an　hour　or　so；　when　Cato　hits　the　ground　and　we　hear　the　mutts　dragging　him；　dragging　him　back　into　the　Cornucopia。　Now　theyˇll　finish　him　off；　I　think。　But　thereˇs　still　no　cannon。

Night　falls　and　the　anthem　plays　and　thereˇs　no　picture　of　Cato　in　the　sky；　only　the　faint　moans　ing　through　the　metal　beneath　us。　The　icy　air　blowing　across　the　plain　reminds　me　that　the　Games　are　not　over　and　may　not　be　for　who　knows　how　long；　and　there　is　still　no　guarantee　of　victory。

I　turn　my　attention　to　Peeta　and　discover　his　leg　is　bleeding　as　badly　as　ever。　All　our　supplies；　our　packs；　remain　down　by　the　lake　where　we　abandoned　them　when　we　fled　from　the　mutts。　I　have　no　bandage；　nothing　to　staunch　the　flow　of　blood　from　his　calf。　Although　Iˇm　shaking　in　the　biting　wind；　I　rip　off　my　jacket；　remove　my　shirt；　and　zip　back　into　the　jacket　as　swiftly　as　possible。　That　brief　exposure　sets　my　teeth　chattering　beyond　control。

Peetaˇs　face　is　gray　in　the　pale　moonlight。　I　make　him　lie　down　before　I　probe　his　wound。　Warm；　slippery　blood　runs　over　my　fingers。　A　bandage　will　not　be　enough。　Iˇve　seen　my　mother　tie　a　tourniquet　a　handful　of　times　and　try　to　replicate　it。　I　cut　free　a　sleeve　from　my　shirt；　wrap　it　twice　around　his　leg　just　under　his　knee；　and　tie　a　half　knot。　I　donˇt　have　a　stick；　so　I　take　my　remaining　arrow　and　insert　it　in　the　knot；　twisting　it　as　tightly　as　I　dare。　Itˇs　risky　business　�　Peeta　may　end　up　losing　his　leg　�　but　when　I　weigh　this　against　him　losing　his　life；　what　alternative　do　I　have？　I　bandage　the　wound　in　the　rest　of　my　shirt　and　lay　down　with　him。

¨Donˇt　go　to　sleep；〃　I　tell　him。　Iˇm　not　sure　if　this　is　exa