[She's not so quiet as she approaches the camp. Not as quiet as she should be. There's an uncharacteristic recklessness to her as she walks. This isn't the girl that grew up in the woods, that spent so many days hunting with the other boy from the Seam. It isn't the girl that survived two Hunger Games either. She doesn't care where she steps. Twigs snap loudly beneath her feet. Leaves scatter as she walks.
The wind blows, bringing with it a scent that makes her mouth water just a little. It smells similar to the stew she had found the night before. Her stomach rumbles just a bit. Aside from the bite of stew, she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before.
She keeps walking, path straight as if in a chance. She still can't figure out why Clove would share some of her precious stew. Why'd she even care. Peeta's gone. She should be happy. If the treaty ever breaks, it'll be easier for her and Cato. Easier for them to kill her.]
action;
The wind blows, bringing with it a scent that makes her mouth water just a little. It smells similar to the stew she had found the night before. Her stomach rumbles just a bit. Aside from the bite of stew, she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before.
She keeps walking, path straight as if in a chance. She still can't figure out why Clove would share some of her precious stew. Why'd she even care. Peeta's gone. She should be happy. If the treaty ever breaks, it'll be easier for her and Cato. Easier for them to kill her.]