The bag lay open on the ground, contents slightly spilled, as if inviting her to take a bite.
But she knew better. She knew of the deadly poison that laid so carefully hidden. The blond boy, Lover Boy, as she had heard the Careers call him, had foolishly picked the deadly nightlock. But she was too smart to die like this, to fall for the disguised berries, to fall on the ground unknowing.
But, maybe, it would be better.
She had nothing to go back to after all. No family, no lover, no person that needed her. No one.
Even in the Games, she had never really been a contender. She was well aware most tributes didn't know her name, the red-haired, clever girl from an out-lying district. She had only been an observer, watching as the girl from 12 dropped a tracker jacker nest on the Careers, a small girl get impaled on a spear, the same girl from 12 sing her to sleep.
She had watched Careers pin down tributes and murder them, watched them set a trap, with food as bait. Then she'd stolen from them.
But she had nothing to live for.
Surely, this was better than some death at the hands of a merciless, blood-thirsty Career. Surely it was better to die on her own terms.
She always knew she'd never win.
And so, in an act of defiance to the Capitol, she ended her own Games.
And breathed her last.