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It doesnˇt take long to reach the spot where I peeled off to go the Careersˇ camp。 Thereˇs been no sign of Peeta； but this doesnˇt surprise me。 Iˇve been up and down this stretch three times since the tracker jacker incident。 If he were nearby； surely Iˇd have had some suspicion of it。 The stream begins to curve to the left into a part of the woods thatˇs new to me。 Muddy banks covered in tangled water plants lead to large rocks that increase in size until I begin to feel somewhat trapped。 It would be no small matter to escape the stream now。 Fighting off Cato or Thresh as I climbed over this rocky
terrain。 In fact； Iˇve just about decided Iˇm on the wrong track entirely； that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source； when I see the bloody streak going down the curve of a boulder。 Itˇs long dried now； but the smeary lines running side to side suggest someone who perhaps was not fully in control of his mental faculties tried to wipe it away。
Hugging the rocks； I move slowly in the direction of the blood； searching for him。 I find a few more bloodstains； one with a few threads of fabric glued to it； but no sign of life。 I break down and say his name in a hushed voice。 ¨Peeta！ Peeta！〃 Then a mockingjay lands on a scruffy tree and begins to mimic my tones so I stop。 I give up and climb back down to the stream thinking； He must have moved on。 Somewhere farther down。
My foot has just broken the surface of the water when I hear a voice。
¨You here to finish me off； sweetheart？〃
I whip around。 Itˇs e from the left； so I canˇt pick it up very well。 And the voice was hoarse and weak。 Still； it must have been Peeta。 Who else in the arena would call me sweetheart？ My eyes peruse the bank； but thereˇs nothing。 Just mud； the plants； the base of the rocks。
¨Peeta？〃 I whisper。 ¨Where are you？〃 Thereˇs no answer。 Could I just have imagined it？ No； Iˇm certain it was real and very close at hand； too。 ¨Peeta？〃 I creep along the bank。
¨Well； donˇt step on me。〃
I jump back。 His voice was right under my feet。 Still thereˇs nothing。 Then his eyes open； unmistakably blue in the brown mud and green leaves。 I gasp and am rewarded with a hint of white teeth as he laughs。
Itˇs the final word in camouflage。 Forget chucking weights around。 Peeta should have gone into his private session with the Gamemakers and painted himself into a tree。 Or a boulder。 Or a muddy bank full of weeds。
¨Close your eyes again；〃 I order。 He does； and his mouth； too； and pletely disappears。 Most of what I judge to be his body is actually under a layer of mud and plants。 His face and arms are so artfully disguised as to be invisible。 I kneel beside him。 ¨I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off。〃
Peeta smiles。 ¨Yes； frosting。 The final defense of the dying。〃
¨Youˇre not going to die；〃 I tell him firmly。 ¨Says who？〃 His voice is so ragged。 ¨Says me。 Weˇre on the same team now； you know；〃 I tell him。
His eyes open。 ¨So； I heard。 Nice of you to find whatˇs left of me。〃
I pull out my water bottle and give him a drink。 ¨Did Cato cut you？〃 I ask。
¨Left leg。 Up high；〃 he answers。
¨Letˇs get you in the stream； wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds youˇve got；〃 I say。
¨Lean down a minute first；〃 he says。 ¨Need to tell you something。〃 I lean over and put my good ear to his lips； which tickle as he whispers。 ¨Remember； weˇre madly in love； so itˇs all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it。〃
I jerk my head back but end up laughing。 ¨Thanks； Iˇll keep it in mind。〃 At least； heˇs still able to joke around。 But when I start to help him to the stream； all the levity disappears。 Itˇs only two feet away； how hard can it be？ Very hard when I realize heˇs unable to move an inch on his own。 Heˇs so weak that the best he can do is not to resist。 I try to drag him； but despite the fact that I know heˇs doing all he can to keep quiet； sharp cries of pain escape him。 The mud and plants seem to have imprisoned him and I finally have to give a gigantic tug to break him from their clutches。 Heˇs still two feet from the water； lying there； teeth gritted； tears cutting trails in the dirt on his face。
¨Look； Peeta； Iˇm going to roll you into the stream。 Itˇs very shallow here； okay？〃 I say。
¨Excellent；〃 he says。
I crouch down beside him。 No matter what happens； I tell myself； donˇt stop until heˇs in the water。 ¨On three；〃 I say。 ¨One； two； three！〃 I can only manage one full roll before I have to stop because of the horrible sound heˇs making。 Now heˇs on the edge of the stream。 Maybe this is better anyway。
¨Okay； change of plans。 Iˇm not going to put you all the way in；〃 I tell him。 Besides； if I get him in； who knows if Iˇd ever be able to get him out？
¨No more rolling？〃 he asks。
¨Thatˇs all done。 Letˇs get you cleaned up。 Keep an eye on the woods for me； okay？〃 I say。 Itˇs hard to know where to start。 He so caked with mud and matted leaves； I canˇt even see his clothes。 If heˇs wearing clothes。 The thought makes me hesitate a moment； but then I plunge in。 Naked bodies are no big deal in the arena； right？
Iˇve got two water bottles and Rueˇs water skin。 I prop them against rocks in the stream so that two are always filling while I pour the third over Peetaˇs body。 It takes a while； but I finally get rid of enough mud to find his clothes。 I gently unzip his jacket； unbutton his shirt and ease them off him。 His undershirt is so plastered into his wounds I have to cut it away with my knife and drench him again to work it loose。 Heˇs badly bruised with a long burn across his chest and four tracker jacker stings； if you count the one under his ear。 But I feel a bit better。 This much I can fix。 I decide to take care of his upper body first； to alleviate some pain； before I tackle whatever damage Cato did to his leg。
Since treating his wounds seems pointless when heˇs lying in whatˇs bee a mud puddle； I manage to prop him up against a boulder。 He sits there； unplaining； while I wash away all the traces of dirt from his hair and skin。 His flesh is very pale in the sunlight and he no longer looks strong and stocky。 I have to dig the stingers out of his tracker jacker lumps； which causes him to wince； but the minute I apply the leaves he sighs in relief。 While he dries in the sun； I wash his filthy shirt and jacket and spread them over boulders。 Then I apply the burn cream to his chest。 This is when I notice how hot his skin is being。 The layer of mud and the bottles of water have disguised the fact that heˇs burning with fever。 I dig through the first…aid kit I got from the boy from District 1 and find pills that reduce your temperature。 My mother actually breaks down and buys these on occasion when her home remedies fail。
¨Swallow these；〃 I tell him； and he obediently takes the medicine。 ¨You must be hungry。〃
¨Not really。 Itˇs funny； I havenˇt been hungry for days；〃 says Peeta。 In fact； when I offer him groosling； he wrinkles his nose at it and turns away。 Thatˇs when I know how sick he is。
¨Peeta； we need to get some food in you；〃 I insist。
¨Itˇll just e right back up；〃 he says。 The best I can do is to get h