I peer through the bushes, scrutinizing what I heard making noises earlier. Listening very carefully, I am still.
"Katniss," says the blonde kid. "We need to split up. I know I'm chasing away the game."
"Only because your leg's hurt," the archer lies.
"I know," he responded with an odd sincerity, as if he actually believed her. "So, why don't you go on? Show me some plants to gather and that way we'll both be useful."
They banter on for a while, like an old married couple that simply doesn't care anymore. He eventually wears her down, and she leaves to hunt while he picks some plants. At least, he should be, but for a few minutes he looks around, as if he doesn't know where to start.
As I observe him, I notice that I can't get a certain topic of their conversation off of my mind. Cato. I'll admit it, he scares the living daylights out of me. His brawn and his sword separately are scary enough, but together, they are quite a force to be reckoned with. In the same vein, I couldn't imagine the pain of taking an arrow to the heart. Or head. Or anywhere, really. Two of my three opponents are... competition. And perhaps a little more.
I watch the blonde boy as he begins to pick at some berries, and watch very carefully where he sets his backpack down.
It's a bit hard to concentrate on stealth as their irritating Mockingjay whistle flies back and forth through the trees in quite the repetitive manner. He gathers fruit with an obvious obliviousness to the specifics of what he is doing. She never really told him which fruit to pick.
Minutes pass, when I hear the Mockingjay signal, but not a response from the boy. He doesn't seem to hear it. Figuring this may alert the hunter girl, I quickly move to the backpack, picking some cheese and some berries from the plastic he set on the ground, and scurrying away just as I hear the archer running closer through the trees.
Within seconds I hear her calling his name, and not too long after, a loud argument between the tiring duo.
I look down at what I picked out and am shocked by what I see. The boy picked out poisonous berries.
With a chuckle, I begin to nibble at my cheese when it suddenly hits me how close I am to home. I mean, all I have to do now is kill the ruthless beast, or the long-distance piercer. Fear jolts through me, and I realize the truth in that moment.
I can't win.
I just can't do it. I don't have a weapon for the brawn and the other can kill me from thirty feet away.
I begin to shake, knowing that if I continue on, my death will be painful, bloody, and nothing worth what I've done to get this far. Yet, death is inevitable.
"...I've been down by the stream collecting berries. Would you care for some?"
I look at the berries in my hand and know that if I consider it for another second, I wont let myself do this.
With all of my dignity and honor on the floor, and a tear rolling down my cheek, I pluck the berries into my mouth.
In that, I never had to feel pain again.