"Night creatures emerge. An owl hoots. The faint scent of a skunk cuts through the smoke.
The eyes of some animal peer at me from the neighbouring tree -- a possum maybe --
catching the firelight from the Careers' torches. Suddenly, I'm up on one elbow. Those are
no possum's eyes; I know their glassy reflection too well. In fact, those are not animal eyes
at all. In the last dim rays of light, I make her out, watching me silently from between the branches.
The Hunger Games. By Suzzane Collins.