"The boy from District One. Both tributes from Two.
The boy from Three. Thresh and me. And you and Peeta," says Rue."That's eight. Wait, and the boy from Ten, the one with the bad leg. He makes nine." There's someone else, but neither of us can remember who it is.
"I wonder how that last one died," says Rue.
"No telling. But it's good for us. A death should hold the crowd for a bit. Maybe we'll have time to do something before the Gamemakers decide things have been moving too slowly," I say."What's in your hands?"
"Breakfast," says Rue. She holds them out revealing two big eggs.
"What kind are those?" I ask.
"Not sure. There's a marshy area over that way. Some kind of waterbird," she says.
It'd be nice to cook them, but neither of us wants to risk a fire. My guess is the tribute who died today was a victim of the Careers, which means they've recovered enough to be back in the Games. We each suck out the insides of an egg, eat a rabbit leg and some berries. It's a good breakfast anywhere.
"Ready to do it?" I say, pulling on my pack.
"Do what?" says Rue, but by the way she bounces up, you can tell she's up for whatever I propose.
"Today we take out the Careers' food," I say.
"Really? How?" You can see the glint of excitement in her eyes. In this way, she's exactly the opposite of Prim for whom adventures are an ordeal.
"No idea. Come on, we'll figure out a plan while we hunt," I say.
We don't get much hunting done though because I'm too busy getting every scrap of information I can out of Rue about the Careers' base. She's only been in to spy on them briefly, but she's observant. They have set up their camp beside the lake. Their supply stash is about thirty yards away. During the day, they've been leaving another tribute, the boy from District 3, to watch over the supplies.
"The boy from District Three?" I ask. "He's working with them?"
"Yes, he stays at the camp full-time. He got stung, too, when they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake," says Rue. "I guess they agreed to let him live if he acted as their guard. But he's not very big."
"What weapons does he have?" I ask.
"Not much that I could see. A spear. He might be able to hold a few of us off with that, but Thresh could kill him easily,"says Rue.
"And the food's just out in the open?" I say. She nods."Something's not quite right about that whole setup."
"I know. But I couldn't tell what exactly," says Rue."Katniss, even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?"
"Burn it. Dump it in the lake. Soak it in fuel." I poke Rue in the belly, just like I would Prim. "Eat it!" She giggles."Don't worry, I'll think of something.
Destroying things is much easier than making them." For a while, we dig roots, we gather berries and greens, we devise a strategy in hushed voices. And I come to know Rue, the oldest of six kids, fiercely protective of her siblings, who gives her rations to the younger ones, who forages in the meadows in a district where the Peacekeepers are far less obliging than ours. Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, "Music."
"Music?" I say. In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness. At least a rainbow gives you a tip about the weather. "You have a lot of time for that?"
"We sing at home. At work, too. That's why I love your pin," she says, pointing to the mockingjay that I've again forgotten about.
"You have mockingjays?" I ask.
"Oh, yes. I have a few that are my special friends. We can sing back and forth for hours. They carry messages for me," she says.
"What do you mean?" I say.
"I'm usually up highest, so I'm the first to see the flag that signals quitting time. There's a special little song I do," says Rue. She opens her mouth and sings a little four-note run in a sweet, clear voice. "And the mockingjays spread it around the orchard. That's how everyone knows to knock off," she continues."They can be dangerous though, if you get too near their nests. But you can't blame them for that." I unclasp the pin and hold it out to her. "Here, you take it. It has more meaning for you than me."
"Oh, no," says Rue, closing my fingers back over the pin. "I like to see it on you. That's how I decided I could trust you. Besides, I have this." She pulls a necklace woven out of some kind of grass from her shirt. On it, hangs a roughly carved wooden star. Or maybe it's a flower. "It's a good luck charm."
"Well, it's worked so far," I say, pinning the mockingjay back on my shirt. "Maybe you should just stick with that."