I wiggle my fingers so that the berries roll in my palm. The light catches on the thick, shimmery syrup that burst from one I accidently crushed with my foot. I know what these are: nightlock. Once when I was 14 I found a book in our small building that couldn't technically be called a library. It was tattered on the edges and peeling at the seam. I was a book on plants, which made it clear to me why it was hidden in a corner since all anyone cares about in my district is power. I sneaked the book out and ran to the cover of bushes by the edge of District 5. I read it for hours until I was sure I had memorized every shrub, root, and berry. Nightlock is one of the most deadly plants I read about that day.
A couple days ago I saw a boy from a district somewhere beyond mine almost crawling on the ground from hunger. I spotted him while I was on my way to the careers food supply for the third time. He searched every bush and tree. His hand clawed at bark, petals, whatever could fit into his mouth. Finally, he came to a plant with dark berries glistening with juice. It probably looked like heaven to the boy. I contemplated telling him to stop; warning him not to eat those berries. But then I thought about what he would have to go through if I did. He would have to stay here, where kids' only desire is to stab and slice and kill. Now this boy would have a way out. And I let him have it.
I also saw the small girl before, cautiously skipping these particular berries while gathering food herself. She probably knew that from her days spent in agriculture. Sometimes I also saw her flying from tree to tree with the kind of skill that can only come from years of training. Looks like coming from an outlying district can come in handy after all. I secretly hoped she would win, as crazy as it sounds. What better way to give hope to the districts? But that ended when I saw the life drain from her eyes while hiding behind a tree. Her death was beautiful. Some kinds of birds in the trees were singing along with her ally. And she was covered in flowers.
And now there's me, with juice staining my hands and a stomach growling in hunger. There's no way I could win these games anyway. Not with 12, 11, and 1 still alive. And they're all so… talented with weapons. All I have is the ability to run. I run every day. I run through these stupid fields and woods and tributes. I run from the capitol and from their "natural disasters". I'm tired of running.
I hear rustles in the foliage. The 12 boy is coming back. I gently toss the nightlock into my mouth and smile with delight as the sweet taste slides down my throat.
No one can run forever.