For a moment, Ruth, too, pondered the possibility of Max hauling a patch around on his back. Nope, maybe, or Tic. Any one of those grizzled Hounds hiked up on the back of that good-natured idiot, drunk as hell and probably yelling Hi-ho, Silver or something. The picture alone was enough to draw something like a smile from her. "Now that I would have liked to see. Too bad." And they weren't likely to get another chance soon either. Last night had been a final hurrah, a middle finger to whatever was coming next after the confrontation with the Capitol. Ruth wasn’t quite sanguine enough to assume they’d have another chance for festivity in the near future.
"I just caught the tail end as he was hopping down -- didn’t even see who it was -- but the story's going around this morning. Allowing for embellishments, it's probably nothing more than someone making a go and getting lucky he didn't fall and break his neck in the attempt." She shrugged. "But you can never tell with these boys. Might've made it to the top and ridden the whole way around."
It seemed like the kind of stupid stunt someone in the camp would try out, anyway. Get a little liquid courage in them, and some of the men started thinking they were invulnerable.