I do not own Hunger Games.
.Resting Fox.
One.
Two.
Three!
The berries cascade into her mouth lazily, spilling from her sweaty palm in slow motion.
She doesn't taste them. She doesn't feel a thing.
It's so slow; she is waiting. There are doubts, misgivings -- could I have been wrong? -- but they fade away like mist when she sighs blissfully and every ounce of tension floats away. Relief.
That crystalline blue sky is the last thing she sees as she oh-so-finally gets to lay her head down and rest. Of course they'll never know…