Finch dashed through the forest, eventually emerging in the open plain where the games had begun. She immediately turned left and headed toward the field of high grass.
The tall grass was about the only place where her size would put her at an advantage.
Finch moved swiftly and silently through the thick, tall grass, making sure to stay low. She could heard Cato cursing in rage and frustration behind her. He was a lot closer than she had thought.
Finch was hoping that the torrents of rain and the loud pattering of the drops on the flooded plains would mask her movement. Still, she knew that it was only a matter of time before Cato found her, and then it would all be over.
She would have to move quickly.
As Finch rushed through the field of wheat, a flash of lightning illuminated the area and she saw a brief glint of orange to her right. If she hadn't been looking for it, she might have missed it. She stopped and looked to make sure.
Squinting to help her see through the blades of grass and the obscuring rainfall, lightning illuminated the field once more and Finch was sure that she saw it.
Cato was nearly on top of her now and she could hear the fury in his voice, bordering on insanity. He wasn't going to play around this time. Slicing wildly through the grass with his sword, Cato seemed to be blind with rage. If he spotted her now, it would all be over.
Changing directions, Finch ran to where she had seen the brief flash of orange. She had almost reached it when her foot snagged, and she tripped over an exposed root. She let out a cry in surprise and fell, hitting the flooded ground with a loud splash. She quickly brought her hands up over mouth to stifle the cry, but it was too late. As she rolled over, she could clearly see Cato staring straight at her, just yards away.
Still sprawled on the ground, she stumbled backwards through the flooded plain until she knocked into something. Examining it, she recognized the large bright orange bag with a number eleven embroidered neatly onto the front.
She knew that she must be close.
Finch looked back over at the upturned root that had caused her to fall. When she did, she saw that it was staring back at her.
There you are, she thought.
The figure slowly rose up out of the grassy field until it was towering over her. Another flash of lightning streaked across the sky and Finch could make out the mountainous silhouette of Thresh.
It was a fight the capitol wanted, and it was a fight they were going to get.
Just not one with me, Finch thought, edging backwards into the tall grass until she melted into the background.