As the knife sinks into the wood, I'm sharply reminded of Locke. Which is silly, really. This girl isn't anything like Locke, because no matter how much shit Locke pulled, no matter how dangerous the guy sometimes seemed, he was always soft at the core. He was all about belief, about faith, and that's something I can't imagine that Katniss has a lot of. But I still think of Locke as I stare at the knife on over there, as I hear her petulant tone, like she resents the fact that I'm telling her what to do. Or what not to do. Or what I won't let her do, which probably adds the most insult to injury.

So I toss the rope back on over, because yeah, having the knife is enough of a reason to give her something back, at least. And I head on over to the tree, staring at the angle of the knife carefully before I yank it right out and wave for her to follow, peering deeper into the forest.

"C'mon. There's been a boar still wufflin' around my hut now that it's all cold out, more'n they're used to. We're better off eatin' the thing before it dies of frostbite," I say, actually hoping she'll come.