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slowly press down on the plunger。
My hands go to my head and then drop to my lap; slick with blood。
The last thing I remember is an exquisitely beautiful greenand… silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist。
22
The sound of rain drumming on the roof of our house gently pulls me toward consciousness。 I fight to return to sleep though; wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets; safe at home。 Iˇm vaguely aware that my head aches。 Possibly I have the flu and this is why Iˇm allowed to stay in bed; even though I can tell Iˇve been asleep a long time。 My motherˇs hand strokes my cheek and I donˇt push it away as I would in wakefulness; never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch。 How much I miss her even though I still donˇt trust her。 Then thereˇs a voice; the wrong voice; not my motherˇs; and Iˇm scared。
¨Katniss;〃 it says。 ¨Katniss; can you hear me?〃
My eyes open and the sense of security vanishes。 Iˇm not home; not with my mother。 Iˇm in a dim; chilly cave; my bare feet freezing despite the cover; the air tainted with the unmistakable smell of blood。 The haggard; pale face of a boy slides into view; and after an initial jolt of alarm; I feel better。 ¨Peeta。〃
¨Hey;〃 he says。 ¨Good to see your eyes again。〃
¨How long have I been out?〃 I ask。
¨Not sure。 I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood;〃 he says。 ¨I think itˇs stopped finally; but I wouldnˇt sit up or anything。〃
I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged。 This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy。 Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily。
¨Youˇre better;〃 I say。
¨Much better。 Whatever you shot into my arm did the trick;〃 he says。 ¨By this morn