My hands close over air a second too late. "Give that back." If I sound a little bit more petulant than normal, a little bit more desperate...well, it matters less now. The rope is a stupid thing and I can easily get another, but it's the fact that he's meddling in my life at all that makes me angry.

I always have a knife on me, to make up for the lack of a bow. The first night I fell asleep with it underneath my pillow was was a sharp comparison between myself and Haymitch. At least I'm not a drunk, but who knows?

The knife's handle is wrapped in leather, attached to my belt. I throw it at a tree opposite and watch it embed into the wood - sinking straight into the center of the knot on its surface. "Now give me the rope."