Interlude: Spy

It’s hard to tell sometimes. But whether you’re surrounded by your allies or trekking at it alone, you’re increasingly certain that you’re being watched.

And not just by the cameras that are no doubt within every bush, embedded in every tree. No, you’ve gotten used to that after having them thrust in your face for the last two and a bit weeks. This is something different, as if the eyes watching you aren’t merely wide-eyed Capitolites looking for entertainment. Almost as if there’s something primal in the mix. Something malevolent.

But whether you sleep easy or stay awake until the sun begins to rise, nothing seems to shake that feeling. And in a situation like the Hunger Games, you’re not sure if the lack of action to accompany the feeling is a good thing, or the harbinger to something much more terrible indeed.