She sat in the bushes silently, watching as the male tribute from 12 turned around and slowly shuffled off, leaving all of his supplies behind. It would be just one spring from the bushes to grab some food and she'd scurry off. In a few minutes she would vanish, pockets slighly heavier. The very thought of it would usually make her stifle a giggle or at least make her grin. But today was no day for small victories. She crept out from the bushes a bit slower than routine, revealing a body a few pounds too less on her, bones almost visible. Hands sweeping over berries and pinching off a small amount of cheese, she fled, waiting for a safe distance before her meal.
Sponsors hadn't been good to her. There really was no reason to be. She knew that thousands of citizens safe in the capitol would be oohing with delight everytime she slunk around in the shadows in theft. But out of all the other tributes, she wasn't the one they would bet on for victor.
And the number of tributes was dropping everyday. She was doing fine, until she saw Thresh's name in the sky one murky night. She had hoped for another brute force, almost counted on another physically powered opposition to the careers so she could make a clean win, or so she had always comforted herself with. It was down to four- Cato, Peeta, and Katniss. And soon, one of them would be hunting her down.
Fully secluded, she took a look at her swiped pickings. The berries she recognized in an instant. She wasn't going to win. Stuffing her mouth with the meager amount of cheese, she forced back instinct and squeezed a berry in with it. At least she wouldn't die hungry. The berries really were sweet, she thought, it's just that no one tries them.
The canon fired to signal her first, and last kill of the Hunger Games.