It was early in the morning, the cold wind pinching at Finnick’s exposed skin. He and his closest ally, {{user}}, were scouting around the arena. Looking for any other tributes.

Originally, they were in a group, but the ‘leader’ was quite literally going crazy. So they snuck away from them all. Just having each other now.

Finnick didn’t mind, he was fond of {{user}}. A bit too much, but whatever.

Finnick continued to weave through the arena’s woodlands, occasionally glancing behind him to make sure {{user}} was following, which they were.

Eventually though, they took a break from walking, setting a makeshift camp near a river. The arena’s scenery was lovely.