CATCHING FIRE

“Slowly would be better than not at all.” Fi

I check over my weapons, which I know are in perfect condition, because it makes me seem more in control. “I'll take the lead,” I a

Peeta starts to object but Fi

I hesitate. To reveal that I know Beetee and Wiress's trick of recognizing a force field could be dangerous. I don't know if the Gamemakers made note of that moment during training when the two pointed it out to me or not. One way or the other, I have a very valuable piece of information. And if they know I have it, they might do something to alter the force field so I can't see the aberration anymore. So I lie. “I don't know. It's almost as if I could hear it. Listen.” We all become still. There's the sound of insects, birds, the breeze in the foliage.

“I don't hear anything,” says Peeta.

“Yes,” I insist, “it's like when the fence around District Twelve is on, only much, much quieter.” Everyone listens again intently. I do, too, although there's nothing to hear. “There!” I say. “Can't you hear it? It's coming from right where Peeta got shocked.”

“I don't hear it, either,” says Fi

I decide to play this for all it's worth. “That's weird,” I say. I turn my head from side to side as if puzzled. “I can only hear it out of my left ear.”

“The one the doctors reconstructed?” asks Peeta.

“Yeah,” I say, then give a shrug. “Maybe they did a better job than they thought. You know, sometimes I do hear fu

“You,” says Mags, nudging me forward, so I take the lead. Since we're to be moving slowly, Mags prefers to walk with the aid of a branch Fi

I walk with the force field on my left, because that's supposed to be the side with my superhuman ear. But since that's all made up, I cut down a bunch of hard nuts that hang like grapes from a nearby tree and toss them ahead of me as I go. It's good I do, too, because I have a feeling I'm missing the patches that indicate the force field more often than I'm spotting them. Whenever a nut hits the force field, there's a puff of smoke before the nut lands, blackened and with a cracked shell, on the ground at my feet.

After a few minutes I become aware of a smacking sound behind me and turn to see Mags peeling the shell off one of the nuts and popping it in her already-full mouth. “Mags!” I cry. “Spit that out. It could be poisonous.”

She mumbles something and ignores me, licking her lips with apparent relish. I look to Fi

I go forward, wondering about Fi

I keep walking, tossing my nuts, sometimes catching a glimpse of the force field, trying to press to the left to find a spot where we can break through, get away from the Cornucopia, and hopefully find water. But after another hour or so of this I realize it's futile. We're not making any progress to the left. In fact, the force field seems to be herding us along a curved path. I stop and look back at Mags's limping form, the sheen of sweat on Peeta's face. “Let's take a break,” I say. “I need to get another look from above.”

The tree I choose seems to jut higher into the air than the others. I make my way up the twisting boughs, staying as close to the trunk as possible. No telling how easily these rubbery branches will snap. Still I climb beyond good sense because there's something I have to see. As I cling to a stretch of trunk no wider than a sapling, swaying back and forth in the humid breeze, my suspicions are confirmed. There's a reason we can't turn to the left, will never be able to. From this precarious vantage point, I can see the shape of the whole arena for the first time. A perfect circle. With a perfect wheel in the middle. The sky above the circumference of the jungle is tinged a uniform pink. And I think I can make out one or two of those wavy squares, chinks in the armor, Wiress and Beetee called them, because they reveal what was meant to be hidden and are therefore a weakness. Just to make absolutely sure, I shoot an arrow into the empty space above the tree line. There's a spurt of light, a flash of real blue sky, and the arrow's thrown back into the jungle. I climb down to give the others the bad news.

“The force field has us trapped in a circle. A dome, really. I don't know how high it goes. There's the Cornucopia, the sea, and then the jungle all around. Very exact. Very symmetrical. And not very large,” I say.

“Did you see any water?” asks Fi

“Only the saltwater where we started the Games,” I say.

“There must be some other source,” says Peeta, frowning. “Or we'll all be dead in a matter of days.”

“Well, the foliage is thick. Maybe there are ponds or springs somewhere,” I say doubtfully. I instinctively feel the Capitol might want these unpopular Games over as soon as possible. Plutarch Heavensbee might have already been given orders to knock us off. “At any rate, there's no point in trying to find out what's over the edge of this hill, because the answer is nothing.”

“There must be drinkable water between the force field and the wheel,” Peeta insists. We all know what this means. Heading back down. Heading back to the Careers and the bloodshed. With Mags hardly able to walk and Peeta too weak to fight.

We decide to move down the slope a few hundred yards and continue circling. See if maybe there's some water at that level. I stay in the lead, occasionally chucking a nut to my left, but we're well out of range of the force field now. The sun beats down on us, turning the air to steam, playing tricks on our eyes. By midafternoon, it's clear Peeta and Mags can't go on.

Fi

Thirsty. I am so thirsty. Finally I can't stand it anymore. “Fi