。
Peeta looks at me in concern。 ¨What is it？ Are you in a lot of pain？〃
I give him another answer； because it is equally true but can be taken as a brief moment of weakness instead of a terminal one。 ¨I want to go home； Peeta；〃 I say plaintively； like a small child。
¨You will。 I promise；〃 he says； and bends over to give me a kiss。
¨I want to go home now；〃 I say。
¨Tell you what。 You go back to sleep and dream of home。 And youˇll be there for real before you know it；〃 lie says。 ¨Okay？〃
¨Okay；〃 I whisper。 ¨Wake me if you need me to keep watch。〃
¨Iˇm good and rested； thanks to you and Haymitch。 Besides； who knows how long this will last？〃 he says。
What does he mean？ The storm？ The brief respite ii brings us？ The Games themselves？ I donˇt know； but Iˇm ion sad and tired to ask。
Itˇs evening when Peeta wakes me again。 The rain has turned to a downpour； sending streams of water through our ceiling where earlier there had been only drips。 Peeta has placed the broth pot under the worst one and repositioned the plastic to deflect most of it from me。 I feel a bit better； able to sit up without getting too dizzy； and Iˇm absolutely famished。 So is Peeta。 Itˇs clear heˇs been waiting for me to wake up to eat and is eager to get started。
Thereˇs not much left。 Two pieces of groosling； a small mishmash of roots； and a handful of dried fruit。
¨Should we try and ration it？〃 Peeta asks。
¨No； letˇs just finish it。 The grooslingˇs getting old anyway； and the last thing we need is to get sick off spoilt food；〃 I say； dividing the food into two equal piles。 We try and eat slowly； but weˇre both so hungry were done in a couple of minutes。 My stomach is in no way satisfied。 ¨Tomorrowˇs a hunting day；〃 I say。