Back into the arena, for real this time, instead of just in his repeating nightmares. Oddly, it wasn't as bad as Wyatt expected it to be. Maybe it was the clear goal, having something to focus on - something to do besides fight and starve and die; maybe it was the voices in his ears, reminding him that he wasn't alone as he pushed into the greenery.

An hour wasn't long. Not with the arena being as big as it was and there being so many kids to try and find, so he moved at a quick clip and fought against his urge to go quietly. He was not a tribute here. The pack bouncing lightly, gun cradled against his chest, he jogged on, eyes roving, finger resting on the guard of his rifle.