Finnick has been largely out of things for the past few weeks, too, though for reasons of his own that were unrelated to the illness he's since heard about. Unrelated, and maybe a factor in neither him nor Annie catching the disease that had swept through the village. It's been a slow recovery -- and recovery probably isn't the right word, because he's never actually better, just not as bad as he had been.

Still, he's back to helping Annie check the traps, even though it takes more time and energy than it used to. He still sometimes runs into people; he has the whole length of the river to walk, but others use it too, and sometimes he's there at the same time as someone else. This time, he's alerted to another presence by the sound of some words he doesn't recognize in a tone he does, that says they're some sort of swearing.

A few steps in that direction and Finnick's in sight of a man holding what looks like a makeshift bow. Very makeshift, the sort tributes make in the Games when they think they have no other choice, that hardly ever work. This one looks better than most he'd seen in the Games, but still nowhere near as good as a proper bow, the sort they'd trained on when they covered archery in the Academy. Finnick was never an expert archer, but he knows a bad shot when he sees one.

"Make that yourself?" he asks.