Well la-de-da, wasn't she a clever girl, blowing up the supplies like that? Because she was hungry now, a pain that went beyond the familiar ache she'd always known, clenching in her stomach, twisting. This was agony, and it made concentrating difficult. Thresh was a lot bigger than her, he'd need more food. He'd be suffering more, he must be. She had the advantage.
It had been two days since she'd killed foxface and bomb-boy, and the parachute still hadn't come. She had stood out in the open, just after remains had been lifted away and when all the cameras were on her, and she had quietly but clearly stated, "I want sleep-syrup. Lots."
It was the first thing she'd asked for in her whole pitiful life, and they were denying it to her. She'd played their game, she was the best, she was winning, and they still wouldn't send her one gift, one lousy parachute. Because they still thought that Thresh, that lumbering idiot, would win, even after all she'd achieved.
She knew that she was being different, that that's not how the games work, that you don't request gifts, not unless you're dying of thirst, and even then, who's going to sponsor someone in that state? But she was afraid they'd mess it up and send her food instead. She'd survive for a while longer on roots and nuts, but she was going to die soon if she didn't get that sleep syrup.
The plan was simple, really, because she was too hungry to think of something elaborate. All she needed was that one parachute, and she'd take the sleep-syrup, and mash it into the bitter roots like paste. She'd then put that in the pot, and bundle it all back in, and make it look like the parachute hadn't been opened. She'd climb a tree above Thresh and drop it, let it float down and let him think the skies had broken their silence for him.
He'd wolf it down. They were both so hungry by now, there's no way he'd resist. And then he'd pass out. That's why she needed lots, to make sure that it knocked him out completely. He was a giant after all.
And then she'd climb down and hold her hands over his mouth and nose until he died. It was so simple.
If only they would send the parachute.