This was a different set of games than Peeta was used to, if they were games at all. The presence of the other victors, of his friends certainly was a reason to believe the idea, but there was something about this place that didn't feel like an arena. The houses, the lack of traps and dangers, all designed to push people together and encourage them to continue killing. There were gifts, like what the sponsors sent, but none of it was to help push them further in the games.
This was...just different. Finnick, Katniss and the others might think they were still playing, but Peeta took a different path. If this reminded him of anything, it was a district. It wasn't completely like District 12, they were allowed to hunt without problem and there was more food available. But the homes, the feeling of being controlled, not for entertainment but for other reasons, it all came closer to districts than an arena.
This was what lead him to lower his guard, if only a little. Survival wasn't based on every man for himself. This seemed to rely on the collective. It wasn't a good idea to be secretive or hostile, hiding out in the woods. They needed to be personable and that had always been his strongest suit.
Everyday he helped in the kitchens, as he had done at his family's bakery. With the few supplies they had and the gifts they received, he could prepare something nice for the villagers. Bread, muffins, and cake. There was no edible paint to use, but there were different berries. Mashing them up and creating a type of paint was simple and allowed him to return to what he knew.
Turning the finished product (a scene of the sea, which looked quite a bit like the one he and Katniss had briefly enjoyed in the arena), he smiled with pride. "What do you think?"
Peeta Mellark | The Hunger Games
This was...just different. Finnick, Katniss and the others might think they were still playing, but Peeta took a different path. If this reminded him of anything, it was a district. It wasn't completely like District 12, they were allowed to hunt without problem and there was more food available. But the homes, the feeling of being controlled, not for entertainment but for other reasons, it all came closer to districts than an arena.
This was what lead him to lower his guard, if only a little. Survival wasn't based on every man for himself. This seemed to rely on the collective. It wasn't a good idea to be secretive or hostile, hiding out in the woods. They needed to be personable and that had always been his strongest suit.
Everyday he helped in the kitchens, as he had done at his family's bakery. With the few supplies they had and the gifts they received, he could prepare something nice for the villagers. Bread, muffins, and cake. There was no edible paint to use, but there were different berries. Mashing them up and creating a type of paint was simple and allowed him to return to what he knew.
Turning the finished product (a scene of the sea, which looked quite a bit like the one he and Katniss had briefly enjoyed in the arena), he smiled with pride. "What do you think?"