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May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor	By : CJ_Wallace Category: G through L > The Hunger Games Trilogy Views: 12259 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy and make no money off the posting of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Note before chapter: As pleased as I am to see how many hits I've gotten, I really would like feedback. Even if you say you hate it, and why. I know this makes me sound insecure, but I'm really not. This is one of my best pieces of work, if not the best I've ever written. I know it sounds silly, because it's a fan fiction, but I've put a lot of work into it. So, if you like it, or don't, just give it a review and let me know what you think. I have thick skin, I can take it.

Chapter Seven
Morning came too soon, and I wake at the slight click of the door opening. It was the girl from the train and I rise slowly as not to frighten her. She is carrying clothes and begins to lay them out when she sees me move. I smile at her and motion for her to continue as I stretch. When I finish, I slide out of the bed and dwell on the wonderful dreams I had that were slipping away. It was so warm and comforting, not frightening at all. Just when I think maybe my mother and father had been there, I see the girl moving to leave.
"Wait," I say, catching her attention. "Were you the one who took my clothes last night?"
She looks frightened, but she nods and starts to go again.
I let her, wondering why her actions were so strange. However, I was glad it was another female that had seen me showering. If it had been Sug, that was one thing, but a male Avox seeing me naked was just one too many people this week. I look over the outfit I have been brought and am pleased with what Sug crafted up.
It is lightweight, and extremely thin, despite the four layers he wanted me to wear. The first was skin-tight pants of the deepest forest green I've ever seen. Over that there is a long sleeved leotard, standard black, a thin-strapped silk underdress of a vibrant green, the color of new leaves in the spring that falls to my knees. The overdress is thicker, velvety soft, and mint green. It’s sewn to slip over my head and hug my form flawlessly. It’s short, halfway down my calf, but with the underdress, it looks like it had been made to go together, and I am able to move easily.
Over that, went a vivid green sleeveless jacket with tiny five-petal pink flowers cascading down the back. I don't like that it falls to the floor, or that it’s held closed by a simple silver leaf clasp just under my breasts, but I have to admit, the way I walk gives the back of the coat a certain flare I like; the pockets hidden inside the coat were a nice touch as well. It isn't like I have to wear it the whole time, either.
I scowl at the black leather boots provided, and when I put them on (muttering curses the whole time) a plot to lose them began to sprout. At least they don't have heels, I muse to myself. All in all, it isn't a bad look. My hair is still braided and I leave it, knowing the longer I have it tied back, the better it will look when I brush it out later.
My only focus is coffee, and I find it already brewed in the eating area. I am sitting, sipping on my second cup, halfway through a small plate of eggs, and humming a tune my mother had sung when I was little. I am joined by Aollie, and Jade not long after, which brought an abrupt end to my song.
They seemed in high spirits and I smiled as I bid them good morning. We spend the next few minutes gushing over the parade last night, the thoughts going through my head, my perspective of the act (embellished, of course). I had just beginning to run out of things to say when Jet dragged himself to the table.
He's wearing a sleeveless hunter-green tunic over black slacks, and thick black boots. He also sported dark circles under his puffy eyes, red like he'd been crying. He eats slowly, doesn't participate in small talk and barely says more than "please" and "thank you".
I blink, annoyed and bored, likening him to a crow before spooning more sweet rice pudding into my mouth and watching Silvya join the table. He looks like a well-rested angel, all sleepy smiles and soft words sweetened with sarcasm. I was disliking Jet's stylist more and more. In fact, even Sug's loud laugh was getting on my nerves and his jokes seem tasteless and tacky. I feel disgust and irritation pour down me like it had been in a bucket above my head. First a trickle, and then all at once.
Luckily, all I have to do is say nothing and practice patience.
As if my mind were an open book, Sid sits next to me with his plate of food. "You look like you slept well," he says quietly, glancing in my direction.
I shrug and smile a little. "You know, as well as one sleeps..." I let the sentence trail off and return to my food.
Sid seems to understand, and he lets it go. "We will talk later about your strengths and weaknesses." His eyes narrow as he looks at me. "I want you to stick to basic stations today. Do what you like, but don't give yourself away."
I nod, knowing he had caught me on the train. He knew I used martial arts, and had before he even caught me. I was sure of it. "My father gave me all the information I would need to enter these games. I think he always knew I was going to enter..." I can't say anymore or my throat will close up. I take another nibble of bacon, but find myself unable to swallow easily.
Sid doesn't move, doesn't look up and barely murmurs "The Crimson Blade... yes, I have heard of him."
Jet is watching us curiously now. "What, is your father famous, Nara?"
I almost answer when I realize something. Jet has never called me by my first name. He is insistent on calling me Nara. However, now he doesn't seem to be mocking me. So I lay down my spoon and rest my chin on my linked fingers. "You could say that... Before he became a jeweler, he was a victor in the Hunger Games. Aollie mentioned it when I took the stage in District One."
"One of the more thrilling Hunger Games," Aollie adds, spreading a creamy cheese on a slice of toast. "Your father was a favorite from the beginning, despite being so silent and sullen. I see him in you when you scowl, although, you greatly resemble your mother."
I am surprised at that, but I refuse to ask Aollie how old he was. He didn't look more than twenty, but that could mean any age in the Capitol! I wonder how well he knew my parents, but I don't have the voice to ask. In that moment I miss them more than I ever had. I wish they could see me now, holding together, making them proud.
"It seems we have a family tradition!" Aollie concludes, laughing lightly.
"You must know a lot about the Arena," Jet says, looking thoughtful.
I shake my head. "No. After all, every arena is different. I just know how to survive, and that's the important thing."
"I couldn't have said it better myself," Jade agrees. "Well well, you are an interesting girl!"
"Or an unlucky one," I said, wondering when they will realize my parents are both dead. If they plan to acknowledge it at all... "Well," I sighe, wiping my mouth and standing. "That's enough of that subject. I'd like some time to myself before we head down, and I'd like to be early to get a look at what they have!" I excuse myself and leave my dishes to clean up, fingering a bit of the thick syrup to suck as I walk away with my coffee.
I take it to the window where I look over the city. It was eight in the morning, sun in the sky and the Capitol is almost dead. It seems these people got to sleep in while we exchange pleasantries and contemplate the end of our lives. It is so peaceful in the empty room I can't even give voice to the irritations in my mind. I still feel drained, like I had slept well, but I hadn't rested.
I finish my drink slowly, planning how I would use the day. I want to start with a weapon, but not a sword. If you start with anything less than a melee weapon, you won’t be taken seriously. I know that I won't need training in arms, but if I did what I need to do first, I could do what I don’t when it doesn't matter. Even waving around sharp things gets boring after three days. I decide spear training can wait as well, even though I know there will be plenty spears in the Arena. They were the most common weapon and have always been in the Hunger Games as far as I could tell. I could leave archery for the last day, as well. I have never shot a bow before, but I learn quickly and I will only use it as a last resort weapon anyway.
Fed up with all the decisions, I set my cup down and head to the elevators. "Sid!" I call, seeing him. "Take me to the training rooms early, please?"
He turns the corner and eyes my outfit, frowning. "They send clowns out to learn to kill."
I push the button for the elevator and give a little giggle. "Oh, but don't you know? The hardest face to read is the one that is laughing."
The ride down in silent, despite my attempts at small talk. He leaves me in the training room where a few other tributes have already gathered, joining the trainers on the far wall. I see many stations set up and aside from the weapon stands. Targets are set up for archery and throwing weapons, there is an area for learning knots and snares, a place to use mud and other means to camouflage, a plants section, and ropes up and around the room for climbing.
I slowly take my coat off and hang it up carefully on a peg sticking out of the wall. I warm up nearby, starting small physical exercises. I stretch my back, arms, legs and do some core crunches and bends. I am rolling onto my hands when I feel a shadow fall over me. I push myself into a handstand and concentrate on that task only. When I find my balance, I look up and see Brock watching from a safe distance, but in my light. "You don't say much, do ya?" I ask, flipping to my feet.
His face is impassive as it had been during the tribute parade, but his lips twitch after a second. "They don't like you," he says in a low gravelly voice.
"I know."
His eyes sweep over me, but there's none of the discomfort I felt last night with the other boy tributes. It is as if he is simply sizing me up. "You made Cairn angry during the parade. She wants to kill you."
I shrug and cross my arms loosely. "Well, the whole point is to be the last one standing. I'd be insulted if she didn't want to kill me."
Brock nods slowly, then laughs. It is the strangest laugh, sort of like a dust-choked cough and a wheeze that fades away. "I like you."
It is my turn to laugh. "You're not too bad yourself, big man! I mean, you're intimidating and huge and quiet..." I try to smile, but seeing the small group of careers already gathering and glaring in our direction, I change my mind. I purse my lips and look at him seriously. "You have to know that they're going to try and take you down together."
All trace of the shy smile he had offered was gone. He is back to being unreadable again. "I know." Without another word, he turns and leaves me staring after him.
I see Jet arrive, but he makes no move to join me, or Two and Four. I am still deciding if I want to join them myself, or if it is even an option. If I join them, it'd be more work than I wanted to do. If I didn't... well, that would mean even more work and a possible horrific game. So I wait until a trainer comes to pin a cloth with the number 1 on it to my dress and we are instructed to turn our attention to the woman who seemed to be in charge.
We're told all the stations are open to us, but we're still not allowed to spar with other tributes, so trainers have been provided for us. The Gamemakers show up and sit, some looking us over, most falling into conversation with the others. When we're released, I watch the stations fill up quickly. Most go for a blade, a few knives. The Lumber tributes, whom I've started calling "the twins" even though they look nothing alike, and possibly aren’t even related, head straight for axes. I see Brock lifting weights with Jet in the corner and wonder if they're talking about me.
I try to find stations no one's at. I do ropes first, because no one seems paying attention to them. I find I'm a bit slow at climbing, but my movements are deft. At the top I hop to another rope and find my feet. From there it's easy as walking, climbing around the edge of the room, over crossed ropes, swinging down and dropping down to land next to the girl tribute from District Five.
I had expected to give her a fright, but she just looks over, eyes me, and returns to her knot. Sliding up next to her, I offered a little smile as I pick up a piece of twine. As I had learned to sew at a young age, knots and stitches came easily to me, so I tied a few in silence before I struck up conversation. "Shame about your costume last night. I saw it on the broadcasts. You'd think they would have done something more tasteful for one of the most important Districts."
The blonde girl fixes her amber eyes on me, her lips twisted into a scowl. "Are you here to mock me, or are you really stupid?"
I shrug and hold up my bowline knot. She's twelve. I remember from the nightly repeating of our names in my silent prayers to empty space, asking for nothing more than the memory of our names. I understand her demeanor, and so do nothing but stay quiet for another minute. "To tell the truth," I say quietly, "I'm here to learn fishing, but I'm starting one step at a time." After a pause, I look back to her. "I was being serious. Your District deals with Power right?" I wait for her to nod and see her shoot me a dirty look. "So your district provides all the electricity in Panem, and they send you out with nothing but lights? Forgive me for saying so, but it would have been better to drape you in copper and then twist the lights around you that way. Sending you out naked doesn't get you sponsors."
Jewel purses her lips and focuses on the snare she's sorting out. The instructor is looking at me in horror, then glances around to make sure no adults had heard. I am confident they hadn't.
When she refuses to bite, I start up a snare. I can sense she is still listening even though neither of us has spoken. I wait until she is almost finished, then turn to her. "Still... I would have rather been you last night."
The girl's face is so plain, but I find her light spatter of freckles cute. Her expression never changes as she nods. It's short and sharp, without much emotion, but I knew she understood. "I wouldn't have traded my nakedness for your pretty dress last night if that's what it meant."
I shrug again and fall silent. I wonder if she would believe me if I told her it hadn't been an act; that I hadn't known about Jet's plan. I end up burying it inside of myself, knowing that I still didn't understand what had happened between us and I wasn't ready to deal with it. After a few moments, she rises and leaves to head over to the archery pitch. It wasn't long before I was joined by the boy from Ten. I saw him coming and watched him carefully, screwing up my snare to do it. Luckily, he had the sense not to come up behind me. I didn't like that he wanted to be close to me, but I let him sit anyway.
As tense as I was, I can't forget my manners. It would also be very rude to strike up conversation with one tribute and not another. "Maverick," I greet him, carefully raising a hand as he sat on the stool next to mine. "You're looking better out of those hideous coveralls. Not your look, really. I would have opted for wool and leather, a vest. You'd look good in a vest, but that's just me."
His piggy eyes, for once, were focused on the knot he started learning from the instructor. He had some skill with loops, but knots themselves seemed more difficult than the construct of the snare I was working on. He had given a grunt at my comment, but offered no return response.
Still, I chat happily with the silent lump of meat. I try asking questions about him, but they were left unanswered. I try to tell him a joke, but there is no indication he heard. So I resort to silence as well, glancing up curiously every now and then. He had seemed so revolting, the way he looked at me last night.
The longer I sit there, the more aware of the feeling of tension between us. I stand and ready myself to leave, and I think of something to say something in parting, but when he sees me waiting, he stands as well, towering over me. It is the look in his eye that makes me jump back. It is the look of a predator, like I am something to catch, to hold down, to break...
I can't think, and before I know what’s happening, my body is in motion. I have to get away, and nothing else matters. I leave quickly, glancing over my shoulder as I jog off.
He watches me flee from him, his eyes filled with rage and excitement, but he sits back down, perfectly still except his hands.
I cry softly as I ran into a body and fall backwards, scrambling away into a mace stand. I am focusing on slowing my breathing when Jet sticks out his hand to help me up. Trembling, I take his hand and push myself to my feet. I take a few stable breaths and wipe at my sweaty face. "Stay away from Bos Maverick," I say quietly. "That one scares me more than anyone here. He's not right, Jet. Not right in the head."
"Calm down Nara, he's just bigger than you." Jet holds my shoulders tightly as he looks over to the snares section. Bos is still working, oblivious to the world. "Look, you're making yourself look bad. Bo probably just saw you as a pretty girl and wanted to sit near you. He's real thick in the head and, most likely, didn't know what to say. He's going to be intimidating." He didn't lower his voice and the nearby tributes are glancing up from their projects to watch him chastise me.
I glare at him, wanting to lose my mind and scream at him. Instead I step aside, jerk his arm off my shoulder, and shove him back. The force sent him reeling, and I see the shock on his face as he catches himself. I had the sense to lower my voice, but the closest ones still heard. "You didn't see the way he looked at me, Jet. I'm nothing more than fresh meat to him, and you just had to make me look oh so tempting last night."
Jet's calm had been touched and I see ripples of emotions cross his face. Guilt, shame, and anger. "He won't touch you," he exclaims, as if he didn't care either way. "It's against the rules for us to fight."
"And in the Arena, Jet?" I ask, stepping a little closer, looking at a little girl with long blonde hair who was staring at me with large blue-grey eyes. Her name was Mallow, the girl from Twelve. "What happens when there isn't anyone to stop him?"
Jet laughs, patting my head. His mask is back in place. "Then I guess we'll hear your cannon one night!"
Helpless and exasperated, I look around the room, finding Sid watching us. I slowly make my way over to him, sizing him up. "I have a request, and it's... well, it's not traditional."
Sid's dark eyes search mine, then look to Jet. "What happened over there? You looked half-mad. The Gamekeepers are going to think you're unstable."
I roll my eyes and cross my arms. "The boy from District Ten looked like he wanted to hunt me down and eat me. I lost my head a little. I understand it was a tactic to scare me, and it damn well worked. Now I need to calm down and train at the same time. Will you dance with me?"
That shocks him, and I relish the expression, sure I’ll never see it again. It makes him look years younger than his wrinkled and stern face has hinted. I guess he has to be around thirty, even though he appeared older. "Dance? What kind of training is that?"
I bite my lip, smiling. "Well, see... I noticed how well you and Jade moved on the train. Like you were one person, of one mind, and could tell each other’s steps. Dance could help me learn to do that, couldn't it? Lighten my step and help my swordplay."
I watched him think it over ever so patiently and am rewarded with an offered hand. It had been a long time since I had danced with anyone, maybe my father at a party? People don't dance often anymore. People who work have no time for frivolous things like fun.
Sid is a natural teacher, and at his instruction we start from the feet and work our way up to body language. He comes up with complicated patterns to dance in and I have to find footsteps to both keep up and still look graceful.
I am miserable at it. I am so focused on trying to avoid his feet, my feet slip or I stumble. We take a break after a few turns and he steps back. "Your problem is moving with someone,” he says, frowning. “You're so naturally repelled by people that you do anything you can to get away from them. You need to learn to move with me. Feel my body move, anticipate where I will turn and in which direction. Again."
Our second attempt is better, although I do step on his feet once or twice. We start arm’s length from each other and every so often he closes the gap between us. It isn't very much longer before he stops and instructs me to go get four knives. When I bring them back, he takes two of them.
If we hadn't attracted enough attention with our dancing, which I'm sure fanned the rumor that I was a talentless thing and only focused on unimportant skills, people were sure paying attention now.
"Focus now on my arms, on my body, and on my feet. We will not actually injure, but I will poke you if you mess up. You will not back away, or move in any direction but towards me. Do you understand?" He is focused now, as if having a weapon back in his hand has woken something inside him.
"Yeah, fine." I hold my blades like he does and we put distance between ourselves. The dance begins, swiftly and without warning. He lunges, swinging his left arm down. Terrified, I step forward and raise my right arm. Our blade touch, but there is no pressure before he moves away to my right.
I concentrate on the advance, twisting away only once. I receive a nice tap on the hand for that, and quickly rectify my mistake. Twenty minutes of circling each other and I start to realize I am still using lessons my father had taught. Things I had taught myself, as well. It isn't unlike hand to hand combat, except I have the appearance of a weapon.
Sid stops when he's pleased with my efforts, handing me his knives. "Now go and find something else before you eat. You understand we won't be working together any more until your private session. I don't want the other tributes getting tipped off."
"I understand," I say, pulling my dress away from my sweaty body. "Thanks. I really needed that. Every time I've ever been able to move like that was pure luck. I've never seen the movement." I leave him to find a quiet place where I focus on our lesson from memory.
Jet is surrounded by a few male tributes, laughing at some joke. He doesn't spare me a glance, so I find myself a spear and pace myself away from the dummy. My first throw is unimpressive, and miss the dummy by three hands. The second is closer, but the force I throw it with is pathetic. After a few tries I get the hang of it, and am hitting various parts of the dummy's body. They are never the parts I am aiming for, but they are so vicious, they look accurate.
When we are called to eat, I am one of the first ones in. I find an empty table and pick at the plate in front of me that is piled with lots of colorful delights. For the most part, I eat alone, until I am joined by Ray, the boy from District Four. As he looked to be part of the Pack, I am cautious, but when he plunked down across from me I give him my attention.
"You really did a number on that dummy," he jokes, trying to warm me up.
"Trust me, if we had been spearing fish, I'd be eating nothing." I want to be rude and ask what he wants, but he's so friendly, I find it hard.
"Well, that may be, but it isn't every day you see a pretty girl who knows where to aim." He licks his lips and looks over to the Pack table where they are watching him. "Look... no one, over there I mean, really wants to approach you. We've agreed you're useful, and you'd be a strong member of our group. Brock made the push to get you, even though Jet is popular with the girls."
I reach for the first thing I could on my plate and take a bite out of it. It turns out to be a butter cake dipped in chocolate, thick and chewy. When I am able to swallow and had sipped some water, I am still not ready to speak. Still, seeing him waiting so patiently forces me to open my mouth. "I don't want to enter into conflict,” I say simply, finally lowering my eyes. “If it's me or Jet, then maybe that's something he and I will have to discuss at the Cornucopia. However, if you're asking me to join right now with two female members who hate me, forcing Jet to work on his own... That I can work with."
Ray shakes his head and rakes his copper hair back with his fingers. He has more freckles than Jewel, darker on his paler skin. "Well, that will be taken into consideration. How about we both take a couple of days to think it over?"
I reach for my water again and take a long look at it. "Ray, you live by the ocean, right?"
"Fairly close, aye."
I set the glass between us and motion him to look at it. "Would you say the glass is half empty or half full?"
He squints his brown eyes at the glass, the water, then to me. "It's half full?" he asks, as if he’s not sure. "Is the answer important?"
I grin, knowing I've hooked him. "I have an idea. Let's settle this now." I pick up the glass and stand, heading over to the Pack's table. Jet is sitting alone in a corner, and when he sees me making my way over, I can feel the resentment. I focus on the tributes sitting there, then gently set the glass on the table.
Brock looks at the glass in interest, then to the others. Cairn is scowling, but trying to appear pleasant. Amia is haughty and not even bothering to conceal her resentment.
"Ray and I, we're having a disagreement about this glass of water," I say, stepping back. "He thinks it's half full, I think he's wrong. We figured we'd ask other intelligent minds to settle this, and Amia, you live near the water too. So, is it half full or half empty?"
Amia looks surprised, but she laughs. "Well, of course it's half full!" she snapped. "You fill glasses, don't you?"
"She's been drinking it," Cairn pointed out. "So she has been draining it. It would have to be half empty, since she has emptied it while drinking." She looks surprised at her own words, disappointed that she had disagreed, as if agreeing with me was something she hoped she never have to do.
"Well, I just thought..." Ray started, looking at the water in the glass. "I mean, it is fresh drinking water. A glass with that much water in it for someone to drink is half full. If it were sea water, I'd say it's half-empty. It depends on what's in the glass!"
I have been grinning slowly at the disagreement, but at that comment I frown. It hadn't occurred to me that fresh water might be difficult to get in a place so close to the sea. "How about looking at it this way..." I say quietly, stepping back up to the table and pushing the glass forward. "This glass is completely full."
Brock grunts. I think it's an encouraging sound. "Air and water, you mean."
"Exactly," I say, placing my hands on the table in front of me. "Two elements, together forming a whole. It's a different perspective that eliminates the problem. I hope that helps with your little issue." I smile to Ray, and give him a thumbs up before returning to my food.
We spend a few more hours in the training room and I waste it on shelter building and camouflage. I'm cleaning up when I see Cairn hanging around. Surprised, but interested, I wave her over.
"That was a clever little trick at the table," she snaps haughtily. "Still... it's smart. You have brains, I'll give you that."
"If you're angry about last night, I understand." I brush my hands off on my already dirty pants and stand, facing her. "I much preferred your dress, though white is not my color. I have friend back home... Well, I'll bet you're her favorite. She's still talking about your dress, that’s for sure."
Her frown receded a little, but it’s clear she isn't fooled by my sweet words. "I don't trust you, but Brock seems to think you're worth more than Jet."
"I'd have to agree with him," I mutter, moving off slowly to the archery range. She followed. I had hoped to wait, but there were few things you could practice while standing still. We take up targets next to each other and string our bows. I draw my bow back, testing the pull and resistance before gently returning it back to its original position. Examining the fletching to avoid the girl's gaze, I see the feathers are from a vibrant blue bird and have been roughed up a little.
"Care to indulge in why you think you're worth more?" she asks, stringing her bow quickly and drawing an arrow as well. She glances over when I don't answer, totally absorbed in smoothing out the feathers on my arrow, but keeping a careful watch on the movement of her hair, which was shorter than most girls and left hanging about her face. It wiggled when she turned her head.
I carefully nock an arrow, closing one eye and memorizing where I aim for comparison with the hit. I fired at the target and hit just outside the circle. "Jet is a trickster," I say, lowering my bow and looking right at her. It is true enough, and made me remember how he had betrayed me in the chariot. "He makes you think one thing, then when your guard is down, he brutally informs you there must have been some mistake." I huff and string another arrow, ignoring that she hit fairly close to the middle of her target.
"We can't work with both of you. He's already made it clear he doesn't want to work with you." She blew a piece of mousy brown hair out of her eyes before sending another arrow close to the first.
I laugh, startling her. "Oh, that's because I told him on the train, if it came down to it, I'd slit his throat for the cameras while he slept," I admit, aiming a little lower and to the right of the mark I last aimed at. There is little improvement. "Of course, when we arrived he started acting and pulling me along with him... What can I say? The guy is bigger and stronger than me. He acts gallant with his kisses and pulling me close to him, which I'm supposed to return as per my mentor's plea for us to work together... but it's just mind tricks. Last night, after we went upstairs... well, I wasn't about to let him get away with using me in front of the whole world!"
Cairn nods, sympathetic and a little impressed by my threat. "It was quite vulgar, and obvious you didn't expect it."
I'll bet that's what you said last night, I think to myself, notching my last arrow. "Well, by the end of the chariot ride, I saw the resolve to kill me in his eyes. He has made up his mind. We will fight, and one will walk away."
"Keep both eyes open, that's the key," Cairn says, lowering her bow.
Startled, I let my arm jerk forward and lower mine as well. Had she given me advice? Yes, it seemed she had...
"You're... left handed? Really?" Cairn comments, her eyes only on my hands and the bow. She is surprised, and it then I notice she held a slightly different bow. "Okay, when you pull back, lower your elbow a bit, you'll want to make your arm perfectly straight. The way you were aiming made you look like an awkward bird. Make sure your shoulders are straight too, you'll want a perfect line from your draw. Imagine you're in that dress you wore last night. I see now it made you look thinner, was it a corset?"
I follow her instructions to the letter without a word, shifting sideways and holding myself taller. I could feel how improved stance helps my aim and I keep both eyes open as I focus on the target again. Her backhanded compliment is not lost on me. "It was a bodice that my stylist made," I tell her, seeing how it is useless prattle to throw away, focusing on her advice. Both eyes open...
"Now, don't hold your breath. I know you want to, it is instinct, but it can ruin your shot. You'll want to breathe after firing and ruin your stature. Take a breath before you fire... and let it out, slowly. In concordance, you'll want to hold your position as well, don't drop your arms until after the arrow has hit. It reduces the amount of spin you'll want to put on the arrow and guarantee a cleaner shot." She says this all rapidly, but methodically, as if she has been taking lessons her whole life. The part that irritates me is the superior way she inserts insults into her instructions, but I push past it and focus on one thing.
To my amazement, I hit the target just outside the bulls-eye. I throw my fist up in the air and look at Cairn excitedly. "That's amazing! How did you learn all this?"
"I just read a book once," Cairn mutters, her face going red. "Look, I'm not here to make friends or be all chummy. I just want to know what you can offer me that Jet can't?"
I know offering her words will do no good. Promises mean nothing in the Arena. The only thing of value is either strength or wit. So I put down my bow and motion her to follow me back to the camouflage station. I find an empty jar and start putting some large rocks in it. Cairn watches me critically, and when I turn around, she rolls her eyes. "It's not for you," I assure her. "Tell me, my other lesson aside and if you don't count the air, is this jar full?"
She's hesitant to answer, fearing another trick, but after examining the jar she nods. "It's pretty full, sure."
I look at the jar, then search around until I find a pile of gravel. Handful after handful I scoop them into the jar until it fills the spaces, shaking it to make sure it filled in every gap. Again, I hold it up. "How about now?"
Sheepishly, she nods. "It's fuller." She follows as I move further back in the station to where they had set up a fake riverside area for fishing tips and fire building.
I scoop sand in the same fashion and hold up the jar for the last time, offering it out to her. "Now, Cairn... is that jar full?"
She turns it in her hands and I can see the gears turning. She's smart enough to get it, but I think she needed one more push before she'd get the meaning behind our time together. "Yeah, I mean, it has to be full now! There isn't possibly anything that could fit between the sand!"
Perfect. Unknowingly, she stumbled into a trap she didn't know was set. She couldn't be this easy, surely she had heard this story! Didn't her parents tell her stories? Regardless, I knew I was in, Jet or no Jet. "Pour water into it," I say, motioning towards the water's edge, enjoying the simple words. "Only then will it be full."
It took a moment, but Cairn finally moved towards the river. Ever so carefully she lowered the jar into the water until it went under. Some of the sand sifted out, but when she brought it back up the water didn't soak in. "Where do you get these... ideas?" she asks.
I hate the sad smile I give her, but it comes unbidden. "My father was a wise man. He taught me to think in different ways."
She nods, but I don't think she hears me over her own thoughts. "Look, I'm not saying you have to train with us or anything, and I don't speak for the group... but, I'm okay with you joining us. Every so often. This isn't an acceptance or anything."
I laugh and smile at her kindly. I can see what kind of girl she is. She was the kind of girl who was taught to be strong, she is taught to think strategically. She didn't have a father and mother who told her bedtime stories. They told her nightmare stories and forced her to be brave. She's not above killing me if I'm useless to her, which I know I'm not. "I'll see you if you want to see me then? Well, thanks for the archery lesson."
"And yours," she says, lifting the jar.
When I turn around, I blush, seeing Brock standing just behind us. Cairn had obviously seen him come up behind me and didn't let on. I wave and walk off towards the door, wondering if Brock was working with his partner now because he wanted to, or if he had a strategy of his own. He has an obvious dislike of her, and that was useful to our alliance. Had he only starting watching me because I riled up this girl? I wanted to know what he knew about her. I want to know what he thinks of me more.
I can't help but think, as I'm standing in the elevator, that perhaps what I had done was dangerous. Perhaps showing her the smallest amount of my wit had given her too much of look at the way I operate. However, if she keeps me for my mind, I have a good chance of sticking around for a long while.
Luckily, I look like I'm poor with weapons so far, even though I know I'm not. I am poor at archery, however. I made one good shot with the bow under rigorous concentration, who knew when I'd be able to do that again? I wouldn't be able to do it running for my life, that was for sure. This disappoints me, but had wanted to spend time at the archery range tomorrow before the private sessions to improve quickly. Jewel looked like she had some skill, maybe she'd help me. But what could I trade?
"Getting close to the Pack?" Jet snarls when I walk into the sitting room.
I jump and step back, raising my left arm in front of me, fist clenched as if it would protect me. I frown and walk around him, relaxing. "Hasn't anyone ever warn you against bothering a troubled tribute?"
"I saw you talking to them," he says stubbornly, following.
"They can't decide if they want you or me, since they can't have us both," I filled him in carelessly as I hang up my jacket. Either he was going to work with me or not, but facts were facts. Flopping on the couch and relaxing, I blink sleepily at him. "And what about you, wonder boy? I hear you've impressed the boys with your fancy weapons, and the girls with your dazzling dark dreaminess."
"They asked you to join them, didn't they?" he asks angrily, ignoring my comment. "That fish boy said he'd talk to you later, but he was mum on what about."
"Ray," I said pointedly, stressing his name, "stopped by to have an intellectual conversation with me about strategy and water glasses."
"I saw... what was that about?"
"Oh, just the normal half full or half empty question," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "Stupid, I know, but it caught their attention and gave me information. I like to do stupid things to learn, it makes it look like I'm stupid until the lesson is over. It also takes the boring and tediousness out of teaching, and gives me a chance to gather information."
Jet looks confused. "What did you learn?"
I prop myself up and look at him sleepily. "If you present an either or, people pick one or the other. I taught them that just because there are two options are presented doesn't mean there's only two choices. Sometimes, the third option, the invisible one in the back, would be best."
Jet thinks about it, then scowls. "They did ask you to join the Pack."
I sigh and drop my head. "They didn't offer, I didn't accept! They'd like to get their claws on us both, but we're all in agreement that it's non-negotiable. I told them if it's one or the other, we'd settle that in the Arena." That much I could give him, but no more, though he pressed me to tell.
It left him in a foul mood when Jade came to take him. What they went to do was beyond me. To speak of his future, maybe develop a plan. I didn't care, I was left with Sid and that was more concerning. "The Pack wants both of us to join," I say as he sits in Jet's vacated seat. "We're not working together still, I haven't been able to change his mind, and he’s just as stubborn as I am!"
Sid sat quietly, thinking. His dark eyes dart from left to right, then back again to the left. It is like he had a debate going in his mind that only he could hear. "If you two truly cannot work together. One of you will end up joining the Pack; it's suicide not to."
I know all of this, and I nod patiently. "Exactly, I've been saying that all along. I understand Jet well enough to understand why he doesn't want to go through this together. I know, if we worked together, eventually there will be a situation and it's him or me. We can hope that it'll be someone else, but we both... know. It's like that, in the games. District tributes work together, it happens all the time. And, not every year, but a lot of the years I've watched... Well, one of them kills the other for one reason or another. It's difficult to go through that, to kill someone who saved your life maybe... or someone who you might love, if it weren't this way. And I've seen them do it."
Sid's face has been wiped of any emotion, and he is frowning at me. It’s like he’s bored. I know better. "It changes people, that's certain. Yet, when it is life or death, fight or flight... then it'll be your time to choose. Now it’s your time to plan. You get so very little of it. Every second drags now, but when you're in the Arena, you'll wish you had fresh fruit, or a glass of water, or just ten minutes to form a new plan. The things you take for granted now, put them to use. You can bet Jade is in there, right now, telling Jet the same thing. I know some of the mentors, not well, but our paths do cross from time to time. Victors tend to know reputations, at the very least. Even if a tribute's head is full of straw, if they remember the right instructions, they could be very deadly."
"Did you join the Pack?" I ask suddenly. "Did you join, or did you go it alone?"
"I was in the Pack for a total of three hours before I killed them all," Sid said, in a low voice. "The weakest tributes got cut down in the bloodbath, but eight long nights later they had thinned the herd. By time I joined the Pack, there were only three of them left and they needed direction."
Helped them to their graves, more like, I think. He must have hunted the rest of the tributes down, one by one. That must be why he looked so tired and old. He'd seen a lot and it had changed him. Everyone changes... "I'd rather get that over with quickly. In fact... the sooner the Pack is dead, the sooner the fun starts. Pity though... Brock seems like a cold wall of steel, but he's not. I can feel it. He does have a sharp eye though, and he's clever."
"Sounds like trouble," Sid agrees.
"He was the first one to talk to me though, and he argued for me instead of Jet. I know I don't want to be the one to kill him, even if I could..." I sigh and hang my head. "I don't really want to kill anyone… I know I will though."
"Every tribute is different, every Games is different," Sid explained. "Victors have won without killing before, but mostly they starved slower."
"Food won't be an issue," I say quickly, almost happy. "Water might be a problem, depending, but I don't eat a lot. Half on purpose, half accidental habit." I explain to him how when I was a child I began to eat very little portions, to see how kids in other districts ate. It became an obsession to eat less and less, or not at all, or at certain times. It consumed my life for years before my parents’ deaths. "After they died, I've always eaten when I wake, and before I go to sleep. I eat as well as I can afford to on the tessare, and the slim amount I allow to go for food out of my check. You know, to take care of their daughter for them."
"You work?" Sid asks. "Doing what?"
I want to say Nothing anymore, but I know better. "I am a jeweler's apprentice. I started sweeping up the place and keeping everything organized; now I'm allowed to fetch things, design my own jewelry and do pretty much everything, but make anything." I leave out a few details, like it being Chiara's father's shop. "I made enough to live comfortably, without any comfort."
"So you have a good eye, and an attention to detail. That's useful and will save your life if used correctly."
I can tell there is more he wanted to say, but I am exhausted. Knowing I have another bright day of the same thing waiting for me, I excuse myself. "Wake me for dinner, I'll get up," I promise through a yawn.
I wake in my bed a couple hours later to a knock and a dinner call. When I opened the door, Jet is standing there in loose silk pajamas. I raise an eyebrow and rub at my eyes. "Is there a sleepover party I wasn't invited to?" I ask.
"They're comfortable, and I deserve one night to feel like a champion," he responds tersely, turning his back on me.
I follow him to the eating area and take the chair next to him, as Aollie, Jade and Sid have already claimed one ends of the table. We chew quietly, never saying more than a few words. For once, I eat more than I have in the past few days. There were nutty soups (chestnut and almond) I tried, several cooked fowl of varying types, but the centerpiece was a beautifully roasted swan, stuffed with bread, greens and carrots.
"Wow, they're really going overboard with the food, aren't they?" I ask, picking at the greasy duck in front of me.
"What do you mean, my dear?" Aollie asks, picking up a carving knife and standing over the bird. "Do our tastes here offend?"
I laugh and shake my head. He is absurd, but he was so ignorant of it, I can't even find the proper words for a moment. "Well... I don't know if you've noticed Aollie, but Jet and I typically don't eat very much. Jet more than me, but he’s an active man. I mean, the next thing I know you're going to bring in a roast pig!"
Aollie frowned, concerned. "Well, I can tell them not to bring it..."
"What she's trying to say, ever so politely," Jet said, smiling calmly at the man, "is that the food is too rich and looking at it somehow makes her sick."
Clever way of putting it, and I nod. "I look at food and it fills me up sometimes. Or smelling it. I don't actually eat a lot." That was actually true, part of my fasting as a child that I never got over. Helpful, all these years later, I had to admit. "In fact, I think I'm done. Finish without me."
I wander to the sitting room and lay on the cool couch, staring out the window at the darkening sky. It was really beautiful here in the Capitol, and I understood why the people here lived the way they did. They didn't have a care about outside, and the sufferings of others didn't matter because they were rich enough not to care. They ate and partied and mutilated themselves to make themselves more and more beautiful. In a strange way, it worked. If it weren't for the Hunger Games, the Capitol might even be a place a victor would strive to stay in.
"Do you feel well?" Jet asks softly, leaning over the couch.
"Well enough," I answer, moving my legs. "You can sit if you want."
He does, resting his arm on the curve of my legs. "Sid may be content to keep us apart, but Jade thinks we need to spend time together, even if we're not working together."
I adjust my head to rest on my hand and look at him. "How?"
Jet is quiet, the dark room throwing strange shadows across his face. "I'm not sure."
I sigh and roll my eyes. "Isn't it obvious to you yet?"
He looks at me hard. "You have a plan then?"
"I've had a plan since the train. Several. Some of them included you, some of them saw you dead, but one of them... If one works the Pack in one direction and the other works the rest in the other direction, it'll break the mechanism holding it together." I watch as he processes what I've said, smirking smugly. Of course, that didn't include the circles I'd be running around other people.
"So you're saying one of us should join the pack, and the other-"
I sit up and smooth my dress under me. "No, what I'm saying is we should both join the Pack."
Jet shakes his head. "I don't understand."
I pull his arm around my shoulders and lean my head close to his. "Look, I'm not saying you have to pretend you love me. You don't have to protect me, you don't have to kiss me, and you don't have to even touch me. I'm saying we need to at least be civil." I look him in the eye, stern and resolved. "We make them think we're on their side, then at the Cornucopia or after we've had time to arm ourselves. We could strike and drive them apart."
Jet's arm tensed around me and he slowly withdrew it, leaning back. He crosses his arms and stares directly ahead of him. "Of course, if that doesn't work, we could be driven off and hunted."
"It is dangerous," I agree, moving away. "However, if done carefully... one of us could break off and the other could stay."
"I'd rather be the one to leave," Jet says quickly. "If it comes to that, anyway. I like the idea of us working together, I just can't bring myself to do it. If we met somewhere in the arena and had to kill each other, that's one thing..."
"Do what you like, Jet," I sigh wearily. "I'm tired of fighting before the real fighting begins. If you want to get away from me, do it. At least promise you'll help kill people out there. Me, if it comes to it, but kill others too."
"I'll take my share," he said simply. "The ones I have to kill will be the ones that get in my way."
"Right, then I'll talk to you the in the morning." I stand and stretch, yawning. "Sleep well, Jet." I leave him alone in the dark room, but I can feel him watching me as I walk to my room. When I reach my door, I look back and he’s still staring. In that moment, I wonder how he sees me. I'd seen him with groups of girls, but never heard of him dating... everyone just assumed he didn't want to settle down and commit to a girl. Then again, my knowledge of his personal life was limited. It wasn’t like I had been interested anyway. Pushing the thought away, I close the door behind me.
I woke out of a dead sleep that night when a dark shadow crept in and lay in my bed on top of the blankets. Rolling over, I see Jet's back not far from me. The beds were big enough to share and then some, but I had never expected him to come in! I was on the verge of yelling at him when he rolls onto his back and looks at me.
Tentatively, I wrap an arm around him and hold his body. He tenses slightly for a moment, then melts into complete relaxation, sighing softly and nuzzling the pillow he'd brought. I understood the need for contact, remembering the previous night alone. I get him to climb under the covers and we hold each other tightly.
He hides his face in my hair, whispering apologies, telling me he just needed to be held. I see he needs someone because he's never had anyone before, and I understand. His father had never wanted him and he was replaced by his younger brother in his mother's eyes, far outshined by his siblings. He's breaking bit by bit, and the pressure is wearing at him.
I tell him softly he can stay, and close my eyes again.
He never touches me inappropriately, or even tries to get under my dress. It's only when he's asleep, lying half on me with my hand clutched in his, I realize how similar we were in personality. Even though our backgrounds were different, we still have a lot of anger and hidden emotions. We both were resistant types, turning into ourselves because there's nowhere left to go.
I can't turn him away, because I need the contact as much as he does. I hold him as his head rises on my chest with every breath. The feel of strong arms around me, soft breaths that aren't mine, and the hint of fragrance that clings to Jet lull me to sleep. This would be a one-time thing that we both needed, that would save us from ripping each other apart.
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