The Hunger Games - Peeta Mellark (1)

}15{ - Little Rue

The little padding she was able to put on by gorging herself during prep time in the Capitol was gone, plus several more pounds as well.

Livia's hip bones and ribs were more prominent than ever and then there were her wounds to contend with- cuts and bruises from smashing into the trees, and three tracker jacker stings, which were as sore and swollen as ever.

Livia needed water first and then she could hunt along the way.

It was easy to see the direction she came from by the path of destruction her crazed body made through the foliage.

So she walked off in the other direction, hoping her enemies still lied locked in the surreal world of tracker jacker venom.

Livia couldn't move too quickly, her joints rejecting any abrupt motions.

But she established the slow hunter's tread she used when tracking game.

Within a few minutes, she spotted a rabbit and made her first of many hunting kills.

After about an hour, she found a stream, shallow but wide, and more than sufficient for her needs.

The sun was hot and severe, so while she waited for her water to purify- with the iodine from her backpack- she stripped down to her underclothes and waded into the mild current.

She was filthy from head to toe, she tried splashing myself but eventually just laid down in the water for a few minutes, letting it wash off the blood, dirt, and skin that threatened to peel.

After rinsing out her clothes and hanging them on bushes to dry, Livia sat on the bank in the sun for a bit, untangling her hair with her fingers.

Her appetite returned and she ate a cracker and a strip of beef.

With a handful of moss, Livia polished the blood from her silver weapons.

Refreshed, she pulled her hair back again and dressed in the damp clothes, knowing the sun would dry them soon enough.

Following the stream against its current seemed the smartest course of action.

Livia was traveling uphill now, which she preferred, with a source of fresh water not only for herself but possible game.

She easily took out a strange bird that must be some form of wild turkey.

Anyway, it looked plenty edible to her.

By late afternoon, she decided to build a small fire to cook the meat, betting that dusk would help conceal the smoke and she could quench the fire by nightfall.

She cleaned the game, taking extra care with the bird, but there was nothing alarming about it.

Once the feathers were plucked, it was no bigger than a chicken, but it was plump and firm.

She had just placed the first lot over the coals when she heard a twig snap.

In one motion, she turned to the sound, a disc in her grasp.

There was no one there.

No one she could see anyway.