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ing a lovely； unearthly harmony。 It was this sound then； thanks to Rue； that sent the orchard workers of District 11 home each night。 Does someone start it at quitting time； I wonder； now that she is dead？
For a while； I just close my eyes and listen； mesmerized by the beauty of the song。 Then something begins to disrupt the music。 Runs cut off in jagged； imperfect lines。 Dissonant notes intersperse with the melody。 The mockingjaysˇ voices rise up in a shrieking cry of alarm。
Weˇre on our feet； Peeta wielding his knife； me poised to shoot； when Cato smashes through the trees and bears down on us。 He has no spear。 In fact； his hands are empty； yet he runs straight for us。 My first arrow hits his chest and inexplicably falls aside。
¨Heˇs got some kind of body armor！〃 I shout to Peeta。
Just in time； too； because Cato is upon us。 I brace myself； but he rockets right between us with no attempt to check his speed。 I can tell from his panting； the sweat pouring off his purplish face； that heˇs been running hard a long time。 Not toward us。 From something。 But what？
My eyes scan the woods just in time to see the first creature leap onto the plain。 As Iˇm turning away； I see another half dozen join it。 Then I am stumbling blindly after Cato with no thought of anything but to save myself。
25
Muttations。 No question about it。 Iˇve never seen these mutts； but theyˇre no natural…born animals。 They resemble huge wolves； but what wolf lands and then balances easily on its hind legs？ What wolf waves the rest of the pack forward with its front paw as though it had a wrist？ These things I can see at a distance。 Up close； Iˇm sure their more menacing attributes will be revealed。
Cato has made a beeline for the Cornucopia； and 。 If he thinks itˇs the safest place； who am I to argue？ Besides； even if I could make it to the trees； it would be impossible for Peeta to outrun them on that leg Peeta！ My hands have just landed on the metal at the pointed tail of the Cornucopia when I remember Iˇm part of a team。 Heˇs about fifteen yards behind me； hobbling as fast as he can； but the mutts are closing in on him fast。 I send an arrow into the pack and one goes down； but there are plenty to take its place。
Peetaˇs waving me up the horn； ¨Go； Katniss！ Go！〃
Heˇs right。 I canˇt protect either of us on the ground。 I start climbing； scaling the Cornucopia on my hands and feet。 The pure gold surface has been designed to resemble the woven horn that we fill at harvest； so there are little ridges and seams to get a decent hold on。 But after a day in the arena sun； the metal feels hot enough to blister my hands。
Cato lies on his side at the very top of the horn； twenty feet above the ground； gasping to catch his breath as he gags over the edge。 Nowˇs my chance to finish him off。 I stop midway up the horn and load another arrow； but just as Iˇm about to let it fly； I hear Peeta cry out。 I twist around and see heˇs just reached the tail； and the mutts are right on his heels。
¨Climb！〃 I yell。 Peeta starts up hampered by not only the leg but the knife in his hand。 I shoot my arrow down the throat of the first mutt that places its paws on the metal。 As it dies the creature lashes out； inadvertently opening gashes on a few of its panions。 Thatˇs when I get a look at the claws。 Four inches and clearly razor…sharp。
Peeta reaches my feet and I grab his arm and pull him along。 Then I remember Cato waiting at the top and whip around； but heˇs doubled over with cramps and apparently more preoccupied with the mutts than us。 He coughs out something unintelligible。 The snuffling； growling sound ing from the mutts isnˇt helping。
¨What？〃 I shout at him。
¨He said； ˉCan they climb it？ˇ〃 answers Peeta； drawing my focus back to the base of the horn。
The mutts are beginning to assemble。 As they join together； they raise up again to stand easily on their back legs giving them an eerily human quality。 Each has a thick coat； some with fur that is straight and sleek； others curly； and the colors vary from jet black to what I can only describe as blond。 Thereˇs something else about them； something that makes the hair rise up on the back of my neck； but I canˇt put my finger on it。
They put their snouts on the horn； sniffing and tasting the metal； scraping paws over the surface and then making highpitched yipping sounds to one another。 This must be how they municate because the pack backs up as if to make room。 Then one of them； a good…size mutt with silky waves of blond fur takes a running start and leaps onto the horn。 Its back legs must be incredibly powerful because it lands a mere ten feet below us； its pink lips pulled back in a snarl。 For a moment it hangs there； and in that moment I realize what else unsettled me about the mutts。 The green eyes glowering at me are unlike any dog or wolf； any canine Iˇve ever seen。 They are unmistakably human。 And that revelation has barely registered when I notice the collar with the number 1 inlaid with jewels and the whole horrible thing hits me。 The blonde hair； the green eyes； the number 。 。 。 itˇs Glimmer。
A shriek escapes my lips and Iˇm having trouble holding the arrow in place。 I have been waiting to fire； only too aware of my dwindling supply of arrows。 Waiting to see if the creatures can； in fact； climb。 But now； even though the mutt has begun to slide backward； unable to find any purchase on the metal； even though I can hear the slow screeching of the claws like nails on a blackboard； I fire into its throat。 Its body twitches and flops onto the ground with a thud。
¨Katniss？〃 I can feel Peetaˇs grip on my arm。
¨Itˇs her！〃 I get out。
¨Who？〃 asks Peeta。
My head snaps from side to side as I examine the pack； taking in the various sizes and colors。 The small one with the red coat and amber eyes 。 。 。 Foxface！ And there； the ashen hair and hazel eyes of the boy from District 9 who died as we struggled for the backpack！ And worst of all； the smallest mutt； with dark glossy fur； huge brown eyes and a collar that reads 11 in woven straw。 Teeth bared in hatred。 Rue 。 。 。
¨What is it； Katniss？〃 Peeta shakes my shoulder。
¨Itˇs them。 Itˇs all of them。 The others。 Rue and Foxface and 。 。 。 all of the other tributes；〃 I choke out。
I hear Peetaˇs gasp of recognition。 ¨What did they do to them？ You donˇt think 。 。 。 those could be their real eyes？〃
Their eyes are the least of my worries。 What about their brains？ Have they been given any of the real tributes memories？ Have they been programmed to hate our faces particularly because we have survived and they were so callously murdered？ And the ones we actually killed 。 。 。 do they believe theyˇre avenging their own deaths？
Before I can get this out； the mutts begin a new assault on the horn。 Theyˇve split into two groups at the sides of the horn and are using those powerful hindquarters to launch themselves at us。 A pair of teeth ring together just inches from my hand and then I hear Peeta cry out； feel the yank on his body； the heavy weight of boy and mutt pulling me over the side。 If not for the grip on my arm； heˇd be on the ground； but as it is； it takes all my strength to keep us both on the curved back of the horn。 And