Hello everyone. I'm so, so, so, so, soooooooo sorry that this chapter is really late! With the holidays and all, and then I got the flu. Murp, I hate the flu! I'll try to update more. Oh, and this is kinda short, but I tried to make it both long and published quickly. So... Yup.

Thud.

I've once again hit the ground. It's the first day of training, and I have just been knocked over by a trainer for the millionth time.

"Cladia, you have to focus!" he exclaims. Kerin is in charge of the hand-to-hand combat station, and while swinging knives and fists at each other, he knocked me off my feet. "Combat is not just having the skills in weaponry, it's concentrating and staying calm and aware!"

I do nothing but grumble and get up, wincing as I flex my sore arms. "I'm leaving now. Bye." I don't care that Kerin looks offended, that the Region 9 tributes sharing the station with me are watching with wide eyes, I just need to get away. I know I'm not going to live if I don't learn to fight, but what hope is there? I'm terrible at it, and I will never learn.

I wander over to the archery station, where my fellow tribute Travis is learning to shoot. I must admit, he's terrible. In fact, so far, as I can tell from watching him, he's not very talented at fighting. He seems weak, almost. Incapable of fighting, or just unwilling.

"Hey." he mumbles to me, still concentrating on his bow. His hand is drawn back, but it's wobbly, and when he lets go, the arrow flies far away from the target. "I'm not very good at this."

Hardly, I think to myself, but I just give a noncommittal shrug. "It's just archery. I'm sure you're good at other things." Not really. But why not pretend?

Travis sighs. "I just-" He's interrupted as a bell sounds and all of the tributes rush out. "Lunch." He mutters.

Oh, good. I'm starving.

But when we get there, I'm not so enthusiastic. The tributes from regions 1 and 3 are grouped together and motion us towards them. Right. We're the new Career Tributes, the richest and best of them all banding together.

I reluctantly sit down next to a tall blonde girl from Region 3. She glances at me, obviously sizing me up.

"Decent enough. Okay, let's talk," she decides. For some reason, Travis hangs back. He's supposed to be with us. But I suppose it's due to his inadequate performance in training. He must not think he's strong enough to keep up with the Careers.

The whole time, the tributes at my table boast about their skills.

"I can take down ninety tributes a minute with my knife throwing." says one. It's impressive, but why do you need to take down ninety tributes? There's only 23 others.

I reflect on how ironic this is. The first Games, and we've already settled into the traditional positions. Richest regions proving their superiority by banding together to hunt down the weak, the less worthy.

I feel a poke in my side and snap my head up. The bulky male tribute from Region 1 is staring at me pointedly. I feel disgruntled by his anger.

"What is it?" I ask with a sharp edge of irritability in my voice. He smirks.

"Ooh, attitude. I said, what's your talent? What can you do in the arena, Region 2?" says the boy. I stare at him for a moment as I try to figure out my words. Special talents? Try none.

"I'm quick and clever. No one can catch me. And, I can hide, and… um, throw… knives." I stammer. I can't actually throw knives, but I am quick, and small and light enough to run fast.

The blonde girl sitting next to me snorts. "Titan, do you actually believe that?"

Titan? I have to admit, it suits him. Big, strong, and brutish.

Titan considers this. "Not sure. Haven't seen her throw knives too much."

"Wait, you're not from Regions 1 or 3," I blurt, pointing at a scrawny, ashen-haired boy sitting at the far edge of the table. He seems to sit back and watch us, but the gleam in his eye makes my stomach churn with uneasiness. Like the way he watches us is how a lion watches a herd of gazelles, trying to decide which one to eat first.

The boy smiles slyly. He reminds me of a fox, the way he grins at me, the way he leans back and observes us in a quiet but unsettling way. "Conor, Region 12." he says.

So he's from the very last Region. This is unexpected, since in the past, the Careers are made up of a certain group of Districts, or in our case, Regions. But he must be an exceptional fighter, because they occasionally take in a somewhat talented tribute.

And this worries me somewhat. If the new Careers are willing to take in another fighter, the crowd must be better that I would expect. Which means I must learn to fight. It's my only chance at life, but it is a very impossible chance.