I always wanted to do a fic about Foxface. I mean, she's such a mysterious character. We don't know anything about her, or her intentions. Not even her name. Hope you like it. Disclaimer: I do not own Foxface, Peeta Mellark, or The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does.

I brush back a few leaves for a better view. I see a block of cheese, an apple and a few berries. Berries. No. They're not just any ordinary kind of berries.

I glance at the boy. Blond, with blue eyes. Lover Boy. I don't remember his real name, though. Is it Peter? Pedro? Oh well. It doesn't matter. He has to know those berries are poisonous, if he doesn't know already. And the cheese. Where'd he get that? Sponsors? During the whole time I was in this arena, I never got any sponsors. Arena. I want to get out of this accursed place right now, even if it means dying.

Dying. It suddenly occurs to me that one of the quickest ways I can get out of this arena is to die. I knew from the very start I was going to die. But I don't want to die a slow, brutal death. I take another quick glance at the nightlock. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone by taking and eating the berries. That way, I can die and 'tell' him that the berries are poisonous.

I swipe a bit of cheese and some of the fruit and leave the rest. I run away, and when I'm at a safe distance from the boy. I stare at the nightlock again. Do I really want to die?

There's no one waiting for me at home. My father... he's a careless jerk who probably doesn't even know my name. My mother died having me. I don't have any friends.

I've survived my whole life with my mind and my wits. Like a fox would. Fast, nimble... that's how I was. I used to steal a bit of food everyday, just enough to last me until the next day. I never got caught. Well, I guess karma caught up with me and got me thrown into this... this... I don't even know what this arena is. But I'm sure it's worse than hell.

I want to get out of here. I know I'm not going to win, so I want the fast way out of this place. I'm not afraid of death.

With no hesitation, I shove the berries into my mouth.

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