The Hunger Games (Told by Primrose Everdeen)

Chapter 16

Today was the day of the Feast.

I woke up suddenly with that one thought in my head. I pulled off my covers and decided to get dressed. So many children always died on Feast day. I pulled on a tan colored dress that I had for a couple years that Mama made me. It was getting a little tight, but it worked just fine for now. I grabbed a bucket from the kitchen and went outside to milk Lady. The sky today matched my mood perfectly. The sun was hidden behind some very gray clouds and the air smelled strongly of rain. A shiver crawled up my back to my neck.
I milked Lady as quickly as I could and gave her a little kiss on the nose.
"You're the best goat a girl could ask for." I hurried inside with my bucket half-full and set in inside the kitchen. Mama was at the kitchen table slicing some sort of strong-smelling herb.
"Good morning, Mama," I said as I went to wash my hands.
"Good morning, sweetheart. Listen, there's someone coming here who was injured and they need some help. Would you want to assist me today?"
"Yes! I always love being able to help out." I dry my hands on the front of my dress and sit down next to my mother. "What happened to them?"
"Mine accident," my mom says, continuing to chop the herbs. The majority of the people who needed our help were injured from the mine, so that was no surprise. "I must warn you, though, it is a pretty bad one. The family wasn't sure if he was going to make it."
"Oh, that's okay, Mama. I'll still help as best as I can." Any distraction that we could get from the Hunger Games, the better it would be.
"I love you so much, sweetheart." She got up from where she was sitting at the table and brought the tray of herbs with her. She set the tray on the nearby counter.
"So when are they coming?"
"They should be here any moment now." As if on cue, there was a hard knock on the front door. I ran to open it and see two men holding a stretcher with a figure covered by a blanket. The figure groaned and stirred from his prostrate position.
"May we come in?" asked one of the men.
"Please," I said, moving out of the doorway to make room for them to bring in the stretcher. My mother was right beside me when the people brought in the injured man.
"Set him right on the table," she instructed. The men did as she ordered. "What happened exactly?" My mother moved toward the man on the stretcher and uncovered the blanket.
"A boulder from an explosion got his left leg." Usually I am okay with seeing injuries of all sorts, but this one was pretty bad. Maybe one of the worst I've seen. My stomach churned at the sight of the man's leg. It was completely crushed from just above the knee down. The man groaned again, on the edge of consciousness.
I took a deep breath as my mother instructed me to get a cloth and bucket of water from the sink. She grabbed the herbs from the counter that was chopping just a few minutes earlier. One thing my mother never failed to be was prepared. I grabbed the bucket and cloth just as my mom instructed and returned to her side. It was time to get to work.

That night, as the rain was pattering against the windows, my mom and I turned on tv. We sent the injured man home all wrapped up and on the road to recovery. He would need to walk with crutches most likely for the rest of his life. We watched the tv screen intently as the beginning of the day's recap began. First, they counted the deaths that day which were much higher than usual. You can thank the Feast for that. If Katniss could make it past the Feast, she could win this thing. As they showed the faces of the deceased tributes, I was hoping and praying my sister's face wouldn't show up. After the dead tributes were shown, they showed the surviving people. One of the last faces that were shown was Katniss. My Katniss.