Disclaimer: I have never used a spear, nor do I have any idea how to throw one. I have thrown a javelin during school athletics so I went off that and some research to come up with the scene in this chapter. It's the best I could, but I don't recommend taking it as a guide on how to throw a spear! :P

* Chapter Seven *

I keep my head down through lunch, only picking at my food until it is time for us to move back into the training centre. Linden tries to get my attention at one point, but I purposefully move away from him. A horrible feeling is gnawing at my stomach and I can't bring myself to look anyone in the eye. It sickens me that I didn't even think twice; I suggested Rue and I get lunch without any thought of what that actually meant. After snubbing the Careers' offer to sit with them, sitting with the little girl would not only draw attention to her, but it would also paint a massive target on her back. If Thresh hadn't stepped in, my mistake would likely have cost her her life.
I veer away from the rope's course where I had planned on climbing up to the top of the roof as I realise that the last thing I want is to be alone with my thoughts. The tributes in the room seem of greater number than usual and they seem to be taking up a lot more room than they have previously. Everywhere I look there is someone. All the survival stations have at least one person at them, even the tree climbing and hammock building, which as far as I'm concerned are complete wastes of time. Glimmer is practicing her archery, the girl from Four and Clove are at the knives station, Marvel is lifting weights, Cato is back working with his huge sword and Four's male tribute is trying out hand-to-hand combat.
My eyes linger on the axes, as I wistfully think about my family back home. I'd give anything to be able to hear one of Fletcher's lame jokes, to have him wrap me in one of his hugs or for him to insist on a fighting bout to reassure himself I could defend myself. I never thought I'd miss Laurel's babble or her waking me up in the middle of the night with her restless sleep. Kicking and blanket stealing were all common features, but we also had the odd random conversation where she'd purposefully wake me, because she was worried or wanted to know my thoughts on something. I missed hearing Laina tell me stories about Willow's antics and hearing my niece tell me about her day. I wanted to silently sit beside Robin in one of the huge pines, looking out over the forest, up at the stars or watching the sun rise or set. I missed seeing Tillia's almost permanent happy smile as she worked out the details of her wedding day or seeing the dreamy look in her eyes as she got lost in thoughts that I probably didn't want to know too much about. Hell, I even missed Glen's whining about his wife's mood swings and seeing the nervous anticipation grow in his eyes everyday as the due date of the baby got closer. And of course there was my parents. Dad's weary, crooked smile as he kissed my mother's cheek after a long day's work. The light shining beneath our bedroom door in the middle of the night that told me Mum had gotten up to sew. Tripping over Dad's work boots and always finding Mum's tea cup in the strangest places.
I missed the crisp, clean scent of pine, the musky smell of rain on dirt and the wind and sun on my skin. I hated being confined inside all day, I hated the artificial lighting and the concrete walls. All I wanted was to be sitting on the forest floor, my parents smiling at Glen fussing over Felicity, Fletcher flicking pine needles at Tilia and teasing her about her fiancé, Laurel chasing Willow around the trees as Rob and Laina watch on with matching exasperatedly amused expressions and all of us together, safe and happy.
With a deep breath I tear my eyes away from the axes and set my jaw. I don't have time for homesickness. My gaze lands on the spear station and I swallow, before determinedly making my way over. I need something to take my mind off the fact that I might never see any of my family again. I need something to distract me from the nausea churning away in my stomach. If I want to survive the Games I also need to make sure that I can use some of the more traditional weapons of the Capitol. Axes aren't nearly as common as spears, knives and swords. I can already passably use a knife and I don't have time to learn anything about swords, considering they take years to master. That leaves spears. It would be good to be able to have a long range weapon and throwing a spear is supposed to be easier than throwing knives. Considering both are completely different movements to axe throwing, I'm ready to make an absolute fool of myself and I'm a little annoyed I haven't been to visit the station until now.
I spend a good ten minutes talking to the trainer and having him explain and demonstrate the movement before I even pick up one of the weapons. I'm honest with him, telling him that I can use and throw an axe reasonably well for my size and strength, but that while I'm very good at hand-to-hand combat both with and without a knife, I've never been able to master the art of throwing one. Despite my attempts to prepare the trainer for how bad I'm going to be, the moment I make my first throw his mouth thins and he seems to be suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.
I actually hadn't thought it was that bad. I threw to the distance of the furtherest target, it was just my aim that needed work with the spear impaling a few metres to the left of the human sized target.

"So?" I question, planting my hands on my hips and waiting for some sort of feedback that could help me improve my aim, "What should I do?"

The trainer's lip curls mockingly, "Go back to your dresses and pretty smiles."

Before I can do more than narrow my eyes a very tall figure steps up beside me, "Say that again," Cato growls menacingly, "And I'll mess your face up so badly, your own mother wouldn't recognise you!"

The blood drains from the trainer's face, but he firmly holds his ground, his lips pressed tightly together. Cato makes a small noise of disgust and reaches passed him to aggressively grab another spear. I lift a single eyebrow, my body tense and my weight balanced evenly so I'm ready for whatever he does next. I'm expecting the aggression to turn to me or for another bout of angry, insulting conversation, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of running away with my tail between my legs. Instead, Cato surprises me. He offers me the spear as he grabs a slightly larger one for himself. I accept it hesitantly, not once taking my eyes off him and I carefully search for a sign that he's going to attack. Instead, he gets into the position that the trainer briefly demonstrated and lifts the spear.
"Firstly, it's about the movement of your weight," he says, without looking at me, "You're used to throwing all of your body weight behind a throw, but this isn't an axe. Instead of the movement coming from your waist and knees, it needs to come from your hips and shoulders. It should be a twist of your hips, not a bend at the waist." I watch silently as he demonstrates the difference a few times. "Second, you're not trying to throw a spear dead straight. You don't want it to flip like you want an axe to, it won't. The head is heavy, so it pulls down at the front, which means you have to aim up. You do that by dropping your shoulder." Again he demonstrates and I can't help but admire the way his muscles ripple and bulge as he moves and the quiet, clear voice he uses as he explains in a way that doesn't make me feel stupid. When he speaks again, I quickly drag my eyes away from his biceps back to his face, but he's still not looking at me so doesn't notice, "And thirdly, you shouldn't be staring at the bull's-eye as you make the throw. You should be visualising the entire path that you want the spear to take, which means you look up as you release and then let your chin drop as your arm follows through. You track the path it'll take with your eyes as you step up to the mark and then you track that exact same path as you make the throw, except this time, the spear will be real. Lastly, you have to remember to breathe. Breathe in as you lift your arm and exhale as you throw."
He does exactly what he's just said, taking a deep breath in and then exhaling as he does a textbook - at least according to what he's just told me - perfect throw. I'm not surprised when it slams into the dead centre of the furtherest bull's-eye, but I am very impressed by the sheer power behind the throw. Deadly accurate, with deadly weight behind the spear. Had the throw hit a person, they'd have been dead on impact.
Instead of commenting on the throw, I take up position and while he is still admiring his bull's-eye, I practice the motion once, do my best to visualise and then take a deep breath and try to replicate what he did. My spear flies a lot better than before and there is something oddly satisfying about the perfect balance at which the spear stops arching upwards and starts driving back down. Again, I make the distance with the spear hitting with good impact and it's a lot more accurate than my first attempt. It hits the empty space of the target board several inches from the left shoulder. I allow myself a small smile, then glance sidelong at Cato to see his reaction. I'm still on my guard and my heart is hammering, but with the absence of the intense stare I feel much more in control of my physical reactions to him. I'm tense and on guard, but I'm not afraid.
He nods slowly, his lips twitching as though he's suppressing a smile and wordlessly hands me another spear. As I lift it to throw, he clears his throat. I tense and look over at him cautiously. He takes a small step towards me and our eyes lock together.
"May I?" he asks very, very quietly, slowly reaching towards me. The furtive glance he gives over my shoulder, tells me that he's desperately hoping nobody has heard him ask my permission. For what I'm not sure for a moment, but as he takes another step closer, I realise what he's asking. It seems that he has been listening when I've told him I don't like being touched. Which isn't entirely true. I used to be the sort of person that loved giving and receiving hugs. I used to crave physical contact and my older sisters were fond of telling me that I had no respect for people's personal space when I was a kid. Apparently I used to 'lean' on them a lot. Even now, after I learnt exactly how horrible invasions of personal space could be and have a minor panic attack every time someone touches me when I'm not expecting it, I love receiving hugs from my family. I personally think it stems from being the closest in age to Fletcher, who growing up was always jumping on me, throwing his arm over my shoulders and nudging me about some immature comment he had to make. Even now he was still fond of doing all three things.
Cato is not my brother however. I don't know why he's doing this, I don't even recognise the person in front of me. The only time he's smirked the whole time he's been there, is when he successfully pulled off his shot. He hasn't leered at my body, he hasn't even made any smart arse comments. Besides the angry snap at the trainer - which I had been about to do myself anyway - he hadn't scowled or lost his temper. In fact, had this been my first interaction with him, I would probably have been extremely impressed by how clearly and efficiently he described what he wanted me to do. I would have been touched by the kindness and patience he was showing and definitely have been extremely happy about the respect shown in asking my permission before touching me. The problem is, this isn't the first time I've interacted with him and every other time he's been an arrogant, violent and controlling monster.
I hesitate a long moment and seeing this Cato slowly retracts his hands, holding my gaze steadily as I search his face for some sort of hidden motive. It's this patience and the fact he actually waits for me to say yes that makes me decide. Probably a decision I'll regret. With a deep breath to prepare myself, I nod once. My pulse starts hammering the moment he closes the distance between us and slowly sets his hands on my body. He's standing close enough that I can feel his presence behind me, but the hand he places on my hip and on top of the hand holding the spear are incredibly light and gentle. A tremor goes through my entire body as I try to stop my instinctual reaction to spring away from him. I lift my chin and swallow thickly.

"Loosen your grip, slightly," Cato murmurs, his hand tapping on my fingers which are clenched in a death grip on the spear. I can feel his breath on the side of my neck and it only makes me want to tense up even more. Perhaps Cato senses this, because he removes his hand from my hip and steps into my line of vision. Being able to see him does do a little to settle my panic and I release a tight breath between clenched teeth.
"Remember to breathe," he advises, though there is an unusual look in his eyes as he studies me, "The motion will become more natural the more you do it. Just let me help you through it a few times and then you can try again by yourself." He doesn't move until I nod again, upon which he returns to his position behind me. Determined that I'm not going to tip him off more than I already have about how panicked I am, I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, letting him twist my hips and guide my arm through the movement. He's murmuring directions as he does so, but I let them wash over me, focusing on the movement so I don't have to think about his warm hands on my bare skin and the last time a boy touched my hips. "Are you ready?" he asks, his thumb shifting minutely against my hip bone.

"Yes," I breathe out.

"Okay, visualise the path you want the spear to take," he's silent for a moment and I open my eyes to do as he says, seeing the slight arch and the hit it's going to make directly into the target's chest, "Now breathe in…" I suck in a deep lungful of air and both feel and hear him do the same as he adjusts his position slightly, his chest touching my back. "And throw," he exhales, his body moving in time with mine as step forward and move arm, shoulder and hips, before releasing the spear. He moves with me, his body is pressed flush against my back, but his touch on my hand holding the spear is very light, simply guiding my own movements, rather than aiding the actual throw. He holds his position until a moment after the spear hits the target. This time it is only a couple of inches left of the bull's-eye. Still within the rings of the target. A genuine smile crosses my face as my arm and shoulders relax down. I unconsciously press back into Cato as I relax and I hear him draw in a sharp breath, before he murmurs a single word of approval. "Good. Now let's do it again."

By the time Cato has walked me through at least ten more shots where he's a presence against my back, shadowing my movements we are consistently hitting the inner circle of the bulls-eye. I have relaxed enough about the danger of the boy behind me, that I am becoming much more aware of his presence in a different sense. He seems to brush against my entire back, from the side of my neck, down to my thighs and calves. He's more confident about touching me now too and when we manage to get a direct bulls-eye for the second time, his hands settle on my hips and he leans in over my shoulder to say, "You're a fast learner. Well done."

It's the most approval I've received and it makes me smile, but still I step away from him. For the first time since he appeared I turn to face him directly, "You're a good teacher," I shoot back in the same tone, studying his expression, which as far as I can tell is simple approval and happiness, with a small amount of pride, "Should I try by myself now?"

It's a small test and I'm prepared for an annoyed, demeaning action, but instead Cato gives me a small smile and hands me a spear. He steps up alongside me and crosses his arms to watch. I take a moment to visualise, then breathe in and move through the motion. As Cato promised, it's becoming natural and seems almost ingrained into my memory. I can almost feel his hands guiding me through the movement. The throw makes a direct hit just within the outer ring of the target. Cato hands me another spear and I repeat the process. This time I aim for the smaller target on the 'head' and manage to once again hit the outside ring.

"Visualise," Cato advises as he hands me the third spear.

I take a few deep breaths and do as he says, once again aiming for the chest, then I release. This time I hit the innermost ring of the target, separated by barely an inch from the bull's-eye. I grin and turn to Cato, arching an eyebrow at him, "What do you know, there is something other than rubbish that can come out of your mouth. I must say, I'm surprised," I tease, with a playful smile.

"I'm full of surprises," Cato promises me with a smirk.

I laugh slightly, because it's not the typical arrogant smirk, it's an almost gleeful one and it makes him look a little less like a stone statue and more like a mischievous little boy.

"So am I," I smirk back.

I'm rewarded with a genuine, rumbling laugh that lights up his whole face and makes his eyes gleam. It's the same laugh I heard from him when he was speaking to Thresh the day before. He looks alive, and it sends a shiver down my spine as a laugh bubbles from my throat too. A carefree, happy, glowing laugh of someone enjoying life, of someone having fun. It's the first time I've laughed like that since the Reaping.

"It's official," Linden hisses to me as we ride the elevator back up to the seventh floor after training, "You are completely insane! I don't even want to think about what Johanna is going to say! Golly Rose, how are you possibly going to explain today's training to her?"

"I'm sure I'll figure it out," I say with a small hint of exasperation.

"I mean, crikey! You punched a Career in the face and then took spear throwing lessons from the same–"

"I know Butcher-Boy," there's more irritation in my voice now, but Linden's on a roll and doesn't notice.

"-monster that you'd just completely chewed out! You even let him touch you! You don't let me anywhere near you most of the time and you let Cato touch you for ages! Holy cow Rosilda! You're completely psycho! Very brave, don't get me wrong! But also completely–"

"ASPEN!"

The elevator doors have just opened and the moment they do a furious looking Johanna Mason is storming towards us. She seizes some sort of decorative plate off the wall and throws it violently at my head with a yell that it filled with rage. Linden squeaks as we both duck hurriedly and wince at the sheer volume of Johanna's voice as she starts screaming at me. "What part of don't lose your bloody temper did you not understand? I had to have a meeting with Seneca Crane about you Aspen! Never, not in all the years Hillier's been mentoring this fiasco has District Seven ever been called to the Game Makers office like children! You better have a damn good explanation for this! I might as well give up on you now! You just killed yourself, you moronic cow! He's going to cut you into pieces and fry you up over a bloody bonfire! And you know what? I want to do the same! YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

"Johanna! Do you have to yell quite so loud!" Hillier demands hobbling into view, "District Two can probably hear you!"

"Actually, I don't think it's as bad as you think-"

"NOT AS BAD AS I THINK? YOU PUNCHED A CAREER-"

"Yes, but-"

"You're even more reckless and stupid than your goddamn brother! How could y–"

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN FOR ONCE MASON!" I roar back at her, taking a step forward and refusing to back down under her absolutely murderous glare, "Yes I punched him! He deserved it! But he just spent all afternoon teaching me how to use a spear!"

"He did," Linden pipes up nervously, "And I overheard him threatening Marvel."

"You what?" I demand, looking over my shoulder at him incredulously, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Linden glances anxiously at our mentors before answering, "Because the reason Cato was threatening him, was because he said some incredibly crude things about what he would like to do to you and Cato's response was even more disturbingly graphic. If his district partner hadn't stopped him, I think he would have attacked One over it."

"Did he say anything…" I hesitate, "Did he say anything about me when he did it? Maybe he was just annoyed at Marvel going on and on…"

Before I've even finished talking, Linden is firmly shaking his head, "He said that if Marvel even looked at you in that way again, he would shove his body so far up his arse that Marvel would be fucking himself."

"And this was after you punched him?" Johanna asks harshly.

Linden uncomfortably string of swear words that comes out of Johanna's mouth is both filthy and educational as most I have never heard of. Unfortunately at this moment Anariel appears. She's in a completely different outfit than she was when we left this morning, something I've noticed is a bit of a pattern, and looks rather apprehensive as she slowly approaches, probably having heard the yelling.

"Is everything okay?" she asks tentatively, peering out from behind her fringe like it's a shield.

I wince as Johanna turns around and absolutely rips into the escort, for what has to be the twentieth time since we arrived in the Capitol. I can't help but feel sorry for the red-head woman. She's young and has been nothing but nice to me and Linden. She doesn't talk about the Games, blab on about Capitol news or try and convince any of us that we should be excited. She's firmly supportive of Linden and I, never hesitating to give a quiet word of encouragement and does her best to offer as much information as she can about the things we need to or want to know about. As best as I can tell, Johanna takes her anger out on Anariel, because the Capitol woman is most definitely an easy target. It makes my hackles rise every time she does it.

"Johanna!" I snap, "Leave Anariel alone! She hasn't done anything wrong, if you want to yell at someone, yell at me or go and find Cato and yell at him! Don't we need to talk a bit more about what happened and what I should try and focus on tomorrow? I have no idea what I'm going to do for my private session and some advice would be much appreciated!"

For a moment it looks like Johanna is going to go back to chewing me out, but then she releases an angry grunt and nods irritably, "Come on then Thorns! Let's try and save your sorry arse!"

I spend the next morning practicing my spear throws for a good hour and having another oddly friendly conversation with Cato as he stops by to "check on my form". He nods his head in approval and tells me the Gamemakers will be impressed with me, then swaggers off with a small smile. Either I knocked some sense into him when I punched him or some part of his persona is a complex strategy that I can't begin to wrap my head around. Either way, he's giving me premature grey hairs. When I'm content that I'm getting more bull's-eyes than I'm missing, I retire up to the top of the roof to relax and watch the other tributes. I want to make sure that I'm not completely shocked by any scores that might be received. I stand by my first assessments of who my largest competition is, but I have also been paying a fair bit of attention to the boy from Twelve this morning. His name is Peeta and I'm beginning to suspect an at least decent score from him. As for his district partner. The more I watch her, the more nervous she makes me. She's very good at not drawing attention to herself, but she's definitely the one to watch.
I've just turned my attention to Brinna, who has bravely decided to visit the edible insects station, when something makes me turn my attention sideways. I nearly have a heart attack and fall off the beam, plummeting to the training centre floor when I see that the little girl from Eleven has found my spot and is agilely walking along the beam towards me. When she sees that I've spotted her, she pauses and gives a small wave, looking hesitant to continue. I spare a moment to reason that nobody ever looks up anyway and smile, beckoning her over.

"Hello Rue," I say softly as she carefully crouches to straddle the beam next to me, "Fancy seeing you here."

She giggles slightly, "It's just too easy. How are we supposed to resist moving into the roof, when it's so easy to get to?"

It's not easy to get to and I'm not sure any of the other tributes would even have the head for heights and balance required to get here, even if they had the physical ability, but I just laugh and nod in agreement, "It's just too tempting, isn't it?"

Nodding eagerly she shyly asks me if I climb lots of trees at home. I briefly explain that my job requires me to climb the tree that we're planning on felling to place the lead anchors that are used to set up safety lines for the loggers to use when they climb to cut branches off the main trunk, before it is brought down. In turn Rue begins to tell me about how she climbs to the top of the trees in the orchards in Eleven. She mentions something about younger siblings and I pounce on it, getting her to tell me about her life at home. She's very interested in my own family, especially in hearing stories about Willow and about Tilia's wedding. I explain that the wedding will be very simple, but that because Mum and Laina are so good with their needles and fabric, the dresses are the thing that Tilia is focusing on, because she knows it's achievable.

"I wore my bridesmaids dress to the Reaping," I admit, when she asks what my dress looks like, "But you probably don't remember it."

"No! I do! I remember it because I thought it was really pretty! I really liked the colour."

"Me too," I smile, "But I bet you'll get to wear a dress that is even more pretty for the interviews."

Rue's eyes light up and she nods eagerly, clearly very excited at the thought. She asks a few more questions about the wedding and then gets to a question that she's obviously very excited to hear the answer to, "What about the music? What music will you have?"

She seems so excited that I feel extremely guilty about not knowing the answer to her question. To be honest, I'm not sure Tilia has even thought about music and that's saying something considering that when she's not working or sleeping, she's planning her wedding. "What sort of music would you have if it was your wedding?" I ask Rue.

She thinks for a moment, "I'd like my siblings to sing for me," she says, "But I love all music, so I'd have lots and lots of it. Weddings are a good place for music, because people are so happy and you can use music to help everyone else understand how happy you are!"

I laugh slightly, her excitement making it impossible for me to not be happy. It amazes me that despite the situation she is in, Rue is able to keep smiling and laughing. She can still talk about what she wants as if it might happen and she hasn't let fear dull her love of life. It gives me hope that there's still some brightness left in the world.

"You're not going to flash the Gamemakers, are you?" Brinna murmurs to me after her district partner is called in for the private sessions.

I scoff and shoot her a sideways glance, "I'd rather they give me a zero than have to stoop so low."

She smirks and I can see that she's teasing me, rather than being serious as she innocently shrugs, "Just after that display at the spear's station yesterday, I wasn't sure what angle you were playing anymore."

Snorting I shake my head at her and sourly think about my conversations with my mentor, "Not the one I wanted to play, that's for sure."

Brinna just smirks, her eyes alight with intelligent amusement, "I'd tell you good luck, but I don't think you need it."

"And I'd tell you the same," I lean forward so I can lower my voice even more, "but I don't think you want it." Her eyebrow lifts slightly and her smirk widens. I wink at her as her name is called and she immediately wipes her face into one of nerves and darts for the door to the training centre. I can't help but smile slightly, pleased that I've definitely got the right idea about what she's up to. It's sad really, two conversations with the girl from Five and I already know we could have been good friends if we were in another situation.

"You've got a plan?" Linden asks me quietly as we watch the girl from Six leave the room, meaning Linden will be the next one called.

"Yes. What about you?"

He shrugs uncomfortably and I turn to eye him carefully. His skin is pale and sweaty and the bouncing of his knee and fiddling with the hem of his shirt have been annoying me for the last half hour. It's clear that he is incredibly nervous. "You'll do fine," I whisper, reaching out to purposefully touch his arm and smiling at him encouragingly, "You're good with the knives and you're pretty strong. Just do what you and Hiller worked out and you'll be great."
He reaches out to squeeze my hand, acknowledging the fact that I've willingly touched him, but doesn't verbally reply. His knee bouncing gets worse and his hand is almost slick with sweat by the time his name is called. I squeeze it again and then release it to touch him on the back, "Go get 'em Butcher-Boy," I murmur as he stands up, "And don't forget to breathe," I add, slightly louder as he stumbles towards the door.

I wince as he pauses and sways on the spot, fearing for a moment that he's going to pass out or be sick. He manages to clutch the frame of the door and keep going and when it slides shut behind him, he's still on his feet. I spare a quick moment to silently wish him well then concentrate on myself. Now Linden is gone, I'm up next and I want to be mentally ready. I start shaking out my arms and neck and focusing on running through my plan. If the Game Makers have been watching me at all, they'll have seen that I can feed myself, set a fire and have been learning snares and how to use a spear. I've proven that I have some survival skills, my private training is so I can show off my best assets. Stealth, agility and hand-to-hand combat. I plan on doing my best to enter the room and cross to the ropes course without being seen. I have to hit the big red button by the course to start the clock, so after that it'll be about completing it as fast as possible so I have plenty of time to show off my hand to hand combat.
My plan goes incredibly well, with a few weights lying around being perfect cover for me to dart between over to the start of the ropes course. I hit the button and determinedly focus on my task, ignoring my audience. When I finish I am exceptionally pleased to see it's me best time yet at three minutes and forty seven seconds. I'm out of breath as I jog over to the hand-to-hand combat, but I quickly regain it as I speak quickly to the trainers there and select out my opponent. I purposefully choose the one that is closest to Cato in size and confidently step into the marked out area to face him unarmed.

"Knives," I confirm and impatiently watch the muscular man choose two long, completely blunt daggers, that could be considered small swords if you ask me.

They're a lot bigger than the ones Fletcher and I practiced with, but I don't waste time doubting myself. Within twenty seconds of the trainer calling the start, I have disarmed the man and have him in a headlock with one knife pressed to his neck and the other against his stomach. The trainer looks incredibly surprised and doesn't call anything as I hold the position. I lift an eyebrow and release the man, shoving him away and throwing one of the knives down beside his foot.

"Give me four on one," I say, focusing on evening my breathing as the trainers faff about.

I get into a ready position and wait for them to make the first move. Sure enough, the same man I have just beaten comes hurtling at me, his blunt knife raised. I duck my head under his arm and grab it with both hands, wrenching it behind his back. My fingers find the pressure point in his wrist and he drops the knife at once with a cry of pain. I kick it as far away as I can, then bring my knee up into the small of the trainer's back. If I did it as hard as I could, he probably wouldn't be standing up anytime soon, but we're not actually supposed to hurt each other, so I do it just hard enough that it demonstrates the effectiveness. I go to spin him around to bring my knife into his heart, but am forced to release him as the other trainers start attacking. Within another few minutes, I've disarmed all of them and am the only one with a weapon. I get one in a headlock and pretend to cut his throat.

"Dead," I call loudly, shoving him aside and taking a running jump at one of the others.

I take a few hard punches, but soon the other men are also 'dead'. Without me having to prompt him, the head trainer himself steps into the area. He is weaponless, so I toss my knife aside and get ready. I have a feeling this will be more of a fist fight. I'm right and soon find myself having to rely heavily on what Fletcher calls "my secret weapon" when he's being protective and worrying and my "cheat tactics" when I'm beating him in a fight. It's thanks to Tilia and her medical apprenticeship that I know exactly where to hit someone so it'll hurt the most; that I know where to push to make the muscles in their hand relax so they drop their weapons; how to give someone a dead arm; how to break bones; how to knock someone out. Pressure points and areas of weakness that allow me to turn my opponents body against them. It's the only way I can win against bigger, stronger and faster opponents.
It's me who attacks first this time and I manage to get in a few punches to the kidney and to the jugular, before having to duck a wild punch for my head. The trainer has very good mental control or else an exceptionally high pain tolerance. Despite the amount of times I get him in places that I know really hurt, he keeps going until I have him pinned to the ground, my hand squeezing his neck.

"Dead."

I straighten up and glance once towards the Gamemakers. They don't immediately dismiss me, so I head for the axe station. After decapitating a few dummies - I can sort of see why Cato finds it satisfying - I select three and throw them all in quick succession at a line of three targets. The first splits the head, the second the neck and the third hits directly in the stomach region. Only my first has hit where I was aiming for, but the other two are lucky killing shots, so I simply smirk and move back towards the centre of the room. The Game Makers have been watching me closely, but they still don't say anything to dismiss me. I plant a hand on my hip and lift an eyebrow, "Would you like me to demonstrate my knife and spear throwing as well? Or will that be enough for you?"

I address Seneca Crane since I know he is the Head Game Maker and offer him a confident smirk. He doesn't need to know I'm terrible at throwing knives or that my heart is hammering with pure adrenaline and I feel as though I'm shaking like a leaf.

"I must say I was expecting big things from you Miss Aspen," he smirks lightly, "With all those rumours flying around, I've been looking forward to meeting you properly."

"I hope I haven't disappointed you then Mr Crane," I say with a hint of playfulness.

"You couldn't if you tried," he leans forward in his chair and lets his eyes leisurely stroll from the axes still in the target and then taking their time to trace down my body, "I think you've given us enough to work with Miss Aspen. While I'm sure we'd all love to see more of what you have to offer," he runs his tongue over his lips and I have to try and hide a shiver of disgust as his eyes linger on my legs, "that's all the time we have. Pity. I shall look forward to our next meeting."

I force a coy sort of smirk and turn to saunter from the room. I can feel eyes following me, but I ignore them, flicking my hair as I gratefully reach the door. The moment it shuts behind me I let a relieved sigh escape my lips and start to move for the elevator. I'm glad the training part is over, nothing I can do now except wait for my score and try to start mentally preparing for the invasive questions, personal spotlight and hundreds of thousands of eyes that will be fixed on me in a pretty and probably revealing dress. I've just hit the call button for the elevator when I hear heavy footsteps moving across the tile floor towards me. Turning, I'm surprised and nervous to see Cato, well aware that this is the first time I've been alone in his presence.

"Hello Aspen," he acknowledges with a smirk, "Good session?"

"I'd like to think so," I reply haughtily, "How about you? Decapitate any dummies today Two?"

"A few," he chuckles slightly, which surprises and unsettles me. I'd expected him to go back to the sadistic predator now we were one step closer to the deadly seriousness of the actual Games, instead he's still acting friendly and slightly playful, "Did you throw any spears?"

I didn't, but he doesn't have to know that. Instead of confirming or denying, I just smile mysteriously and cock my head to the side as I study him, "So do you think you got the first twelve to ever be awarded? Or are you not quite that confident?"

Cato hesitates and I can see that he'd definitely like a twelve, but in the end he simply crosses his arms with a casual shrug and smirks again, "I'm confident I did better than you Aspen and I think it's about time you dropped the Two business," his smirk widens into a smile as he makes a point of widening his eyes and studying me just as intently as I'm studying him, "I think we know each other well enough for you to call me by my name."

I lift my eyebrows in interest at the challenge and allow my tense shoulders to relax slightly at his playfulness, "I'm not so sure about that, Two. As for the scores, I suppose we'll have to wait and see, because I'm confident that I did just as well as you. And know what else I'm confident of?" I take a step forward, lifting my chin and lowering my voice as I hold his gaze, "I'm confident that I could beat you in a fight."

I smirk at him for a long moment, relishing the surprise on his face, then turn and saunter into the elevator. He can only blankly stare as I hit the button for the seventh floor and wave my fingers at him teasingly as the doors slide shut. I honestly have no idea what to think about Cato. He's been weirdly nice the last few interactions we've had and instead of the over aggressive and controlling attitude that deeply unsettles me, he seems to have stepped back into a friendlier role.
Careers from District Two are not supposed to be friendly.
I don't know what sort of game he and I are playing, but I feel like I'm walking along a rotting branch. I can't afford to let my guard down. One wrong move and I don't even want to think about what's going to happen. The problem is, I can't back down and act terrified of him now. I can't stand in silence and ignore him, because that would definitely make him angry. All I can do is try to keep our interactions from turning towards him physically assaulting me and hope that I can stay as far away as possible from him in the Games. I doubt he'd stay friendly for long.

So things are starting to heat up a little here! What do you think of this other side of Cato? Is it just a strategy or him being genuine? Do you think Rose is right to be suspicious, or should she have let her guard down a little more? Let me know what you think and I'll try and get the next chapter up in a few days! :) xx