Marius wasn't the only one hunting. Though, given the circumstances, Don wasn't sure at that precise moment whether he meant to hunt the elk, or Tribute he saw from his hiding place that was hunting the elk.

On the one hand, he would kill the Tributes. How did their lives, their thoughts, their beliefs truly matter in this place? They were meat puppets, true monsters, muttations with programmed memories. Little could change that fact. Not even the knowledge of the rebellion changed the fact in his now crushed psyche, that they could be discarded or recreated at will, by both sides. Used by both with no hope of finding another way. If they were not the scapegoats of the Capitol, then they were the tools of the rebellion. They could never go back to their homes, for their true home was Panem. And in Panem, their purpose was to entertain. That meant killing. That was all he was good for in the end.

On the other hand, he was hungry and thirsty. Almost ravenously so. His state was exacerbated by his haggard appearance from injury and lack of sleep, and his clothing bloodied from both himself and others. Despite his rationing and Sponsors more than happily gifting him, everything ran out very quickly. And this elk, he reckoned, would keep him alive for he quietly decided he wouldn't calculate Harley into the equation starting that afternoon for closer to a week with the resources it contained.

So the turtle waited for the moment. Then he saw the bolt hit the elk, causing it to fall forward, flailing on the ground.

Careless. Punctured the lung. The creature will likely survive despite diminished lung capacity.

That was when he revealed himself, and with fast reflexes - certainly not lightning fast, certainly slower because of his hunger - brought the scythe down upon the mammal's neck as it thrashed on the ground. The clean cut caused warm blood to spurt from the trunk and onto him, but this was ignore in favor of taking the severed head and turning it actually upside down.

Best not to waste too much blood.