Recovery [Day Four]

It is only as I wake up that I realize I had fallen asleep. It must be morning by now; from the way my joints ache I know that I must have been out for a number of hours. But there is no sunlight seeping through the cracks in my makeshift cave, and for a second I wonder why. Then I see the snow that's blown in.

Obviously I haven't escaped that blizzard.

I am cold, but it's bearable thanks to the extra jacket I acquired after the fight with Jestina. No, the real discomfort is coming from my leg and the gash on my forehead. Both feel better compared to yesterday, but they still hurt. I once got a gash on my arm from a sharp bit of textile machinery, and though it was probably close to the severity of one of these, the doctors merely disinfected it, stitched it up, and I was out of pain by the second day. And that was only one, not two gashes at once. Neither of these were life threatening, and I'd probably work through them in a few days, perhaps a week or so, but every day I am incapacitated in the arena is a risk of death. I want to be in full health, able to defend myself and, though the thought didn't please me, dispose of my opposition so I am one step closer to District Eight. To home. If I am going to be back to health soon, I will need some sort of help. Some sort of medicine.

And for that, I will need a sponsor.

Am I really that undesirable, that no one will sponsor me? No one has any faith that I may win? I seemed to draw the crowd in the Capitol with my story of separation from Heidi, my love of over a year. They seemed to be rooting for me, at the very least. Maybe.

It seems like it would be hard to get a camera on me right now, what with the intense blizzard. But I know the Gamemakers have eyes everywhere, so I croak out "Medicine," as loudly as I can make my voice go, just above the noise of the raging winds outside. Hopefully someone will take note of my request and donate a bit of money in my favor.

I realize I am finally hungry, so I reach into my backpacks and see what food I can find. I have two rabbit legs left from a catch yesterday morning, a handful of strips of beef jerky, my chocolate slab, and a tiny bit of cheese from Jestina's pack. It is not enough, and after two meals or so I'll be going hungry until this blizzard lets up and my leg heals enough for me to hunt. So on top of my request for medicine, I add an "Or at least food. Please." My voice is slightly desperate. I want to be back on my feet, back in the game. And to do that, I need food to keep me going until I am healed, or else medicine to actually do the healing. Either one I'd be eternally grateful for.

So, gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, I sit and wonder what will happen to me next. Whatever it is, and I recall the late Jestina Lelborne's words, it will be an awful big adventure.