It's only the heat of running that keeps her warm. Thank god for all those evening games of basketball with the guys, because otherwise she'd be out of breath, gasping, ready to die.

When the Cornucopia is out of sight -- really out of sight -- she slows to a fast jog (well, as fast as she can go, anyway), slides the quiver of arrows over her shoulder, and starts criss-crossing her way up the mountain. Higher ground is better, right?

She hopes she dries out sooner rather than later, but given how humid this place is, she doesn't really expect it.