Amy clears the open area and tucks herself down in some bushes, her hands drifting to her ankle. It's not broken, just bruised, she's pretty sure; it already hurts less.

She listens as hard as she can, through her strangely-dulled senses, hoping that no one heard or saw that fiasco. She'd literally slipped on a rock. No fancy traps. No tributes in pursuit. Just her own stupidity.