Chapter 10

We sat alone, in a little corner at a table made for four. I stared at the empty two chairs and then looked at Peeta instead. He was eating the delicious, tender orange chicken dish with a dark, leafy, green and buttery pasta. I glanced around the room for the hundredth time and then looked back at my plate. The Careers were all at one big round table made for ten, only two chairs were empty. The others were all piled into one really big, long table. They weren't really talking just glancing around, mostly at us. I went back to watching Peeta while I took careful bites of my own food, which was similar to his. I had decided to take a little of everything at the table which added a green pasta to my plate as well as a small slice of a very flavorful fish.

"So what did you think about training?" he asked, between bites.

"Everybody has a talent."
"Or talents." he added.

"True." I said, cutting another piece of the chicken off.

"But we don't want to show people our talents. Remember what Haymitch said?"

"I understand. But I'm not sure our 'talents' are so great now. Watching them, I don't know what would happen in a real fight between any of us."
"I think you'd have a good chance."

"Why?"

"Because you have an air of ruthlessness about you."
"Ruthless?" I asked, a little shocked. I always thought I was just cold, not a person with no boundaries. But did I have any boundaries now?

"Yes. My own father even told me that I better try really hard to win, or else you would. And even my best probably wouldn't be enough."
I looked down at my plate, scooping up more food into my mouth to fill the silence that now was raining down on us.

"I think you have a chance." I said finally. He laughed dryly.

"Don't laugh. You do."

"Only if you die in the first few minutes of the Games."
"Who says I won't?"
He got really serious then. "Don't say that. Don't just die then."

I rolled my eyes. "Why not? What's the difference between dying then and dying later? No sponsors? Disgracing poor Haymitch?"

"Leaving me alone in the area with no one. That's why not."

"You're selfish now." I mocked.

"And leaving Brianna home with no one is pretty bad too."

I remained silent, then got up to get a big bowl of a rich, creamy ice cream. I took one scoop from each tub, loving each and every bite. Peeta got his own full bowl too, but we were pretty silent for the rest of lunch. We only talked to keep up the act, and most of the time it was about silly stuff, like the ice cream flavors.

Both of us were now saddened by the thought of our impeding deaths.

The rest of the day passed in an almost silent blur. I liked it that way, I could think then. Peeta and I went back to the climbing station, I found it peaceful there, and I was determined to teach him how to climb a tree at least. I'd be just plain disgraceful to die because he couldn't figure out how to climb. It took the better part of an hour, but eventually he could get to the top at a semi-decent speed. Afterward we went over to the sword fighting/ fencing station. The sword felt heavy in my hands, oddly brutal in my grip. I glanced over at the District Two male tribute, Cato. He was slicing the heads off a bunch of brightly colored blue dummies. That could be my head in a few days.

I looked down at the sword again and sighed. The instructor was giving Peeta a sword that was the right length at the moment and I took a few test swings, probably looking really stupid. I watched Cato for a few seconds and then tried to copy him. The sword clattered to the ground. I frowned and picked it back up, again feeling uncomfortable with the weight. I watched Cato again, and tried again. His steps were quick and his movements were defiant, almost as if he was fighting with the sword as well as against it. I looked over at the rack of swords again and placed the one I had back. I selected, instead, a dull colored one that was a plain almost tarnished colored.

When I picked it up it felt so much lighter and easier to use. After watching him for a few more moments, I tried to copy him again. And there it was. It all seemed to make sense. I was able to move just like him, my arms and legs moving almost in a dance, now that they weren't weighed down with the heavy sword. I saw the swords master glance up at me, a little surprised. I also saw a few of the other tributes look my way, then look away quickly again. I'd just made a horrible mistake. I'd revealed a strength, one I didn't even know I had. I walked back over to Peeta.

"When did you learn to do that?" he whispered.

"Just now." I whispered back.

"What?"

"Guess it's beginner's luck."

"There's no such thing as luck. Because if it existed, we wouldn't be here right now."

"Maybe it's luck that we're here and not some other poor soul."

"I'm as poor a soul as you can get." I looked at him in surprise.

"You're crazy." I hissed

"No, I'm a coward."

I couldn't disagree with that. He was always too soft.

"Maybe I should play up the whole sword thing." I whispered to him. I wasn't really paying attention to the instructor. He was going on and on about the types of swords and how to carry your weight, moving it from one foot to the other so you could be quick and agile.

"They've all seen you now. No point in acting dumb."
I nodded.

"Are you two ready?" the instructor asked, a little impatient.

We both nodded.

He showed us a few basic techniques. How to attack, how to parry, how to

pretty much not get chopped into little pieces. A girl from District Eight came over and the instructor left us alone with the dummies, telling us to practice attacks.

I walked over to one, keeping it a few yards away and then watched as Cato advanced on one dummy with quick shuffled steps and then slashed through it, stabbing the next one and bringing the sword down harshly through another's neck.

"You going to try that?" Peeta asked, nodding at Cato.

I shrugged and arranged the dummies in front of me in a similar arrangement. Then I repositioned myself as if they were circling me. I closed my eyes, calming myself a little. Then I imagined all the faces I could remember of the tributes that had looked lethal. I imagined each and everyone of them on a dummy. Then with a newfound rush of energy, I copied Cato's movements. They weren't exact, but they were pretty close to it. I was a bit more graceful than Cato. My slashes were more like one quick glide of my arm, a stab was more of a willowy point at the dummy. The only difference from the routine and a dance was that they were lethal.

Once I finished hacking all the dummies into little chunky blue pieces, I was sweating and huffing. I looked around me to see most of the tributes watching me, including Cato. He glared at me and looked at me for a long time, then in a lithe twist, he stabbed his sword through one of the remaining dummies. I got his message: that was me. I nodded once and then turned to look at Peeta and the instructor.

"Where did you learn that?" the instructor asked.

"From him." I said, jabbing my sword in Cato's general direction.

"Just now? From watching him?"

"Yep." I said, brushing a hair away from my face that was sticking on my face with sweat.

"Maybe I could teach two together."

I saw Cato raise his head and I looked over at him. Our eyes met and I saw pure hatred in his eyes, and my hatred reflected back.

"No. I'm training with Peeta." I said firmly.

"Peeta is not nearly as talented as you." He said it like Peeta wasn't even standing there. But I bet he was only interesting in training the tributes that had a good chance of winning. I wondered if he wanted to just brag or because he got a raise or something for helping that tribute win.

"I am training with Peeta." I said again, but this time I pointed the tip of the sword at his face, a few inches away. He stared at the tip, the nodded.

"Terra, you can train by yourself. I really don't mind." Peeta injected.

"I don't care." I spat at him. He actually flinched.

I decided to ignore it continue slashing the dummies. I don't know how long I spent there, but eventually I noticed that some of the other tributes had gathered around a little. They didn't do it obviously, but I could see them at the other stations that were closer to the station we were currently in. They're eyes were critical, I could see the beady black pupils. Peeta was next to me, continuing to practice, but I was simply copying the instructor now. He did something, then I mimicked it.

"Hey, Terra, you want a break?" Peeta asked. He was sweating now too, it reminded me of drying after a rainshower.

"I don't need one." I said. He frowned.

"Terra, you've got to be exhausted."

"I'm not!" I snapped. He flinched again. There was some little part of me that felt bad that I was doing this. I couldn't help it thought. I felt really fired up at the moment.

"We've only got a few more minutes in here anyway. Why don't you just rest now?"

I debated it for a moment before sighing and placing my sword back into the rack. My sword, that was how I was thinking of it now. I wondered if it had been smart of me to reveal my little talent. I hadn't told anyone about it before, but I couldn't help it. When I saw the swords I almost started crying and laughing at the same time.

I sat down next to Peeta on a bench, sipping water from a fancy stemmed glass. I didn't look at him, looked forward, watching Cato and then Rue.

It was winter, and the frosty snow was coming down lightly around us. I didn't really want to be out here, but Wren had said it was a great time to train. She said the snow would help, which I didn't really understand. When I asked, she said it would help me want to move more to keep warm. I'd sighed, but hadn't argued. She was beautiful. As beautiful as anyone could be when they were barely fed. Her brown hair was a chestnut color and her gray Seam eyes glistened in the snowy weather landscape. She was dressed almost identically to me. In a thin shirt and a slightly thicker tunic made out of rare leather to keep us warm. The long sleeves made me itch. And we both had on the same plain black pants with sturdy boots. I was wearing her previous pair because we could only afford one new pair.

"Wren, when did you learn to do this?" I asked timidly. I was only five. Just a few weeks from the reapings that would change my life forever.

Her eyes got distant. "From a very gold friend."
"Who?" I asked, struggling to keep up with her long, quick strides. I would develop the same walk unconsciously later on in my life.

She smiled sadly. "Maybe I'll tell you about him someday. He was a wonderful person. I really miss…" She stopped herself and kept looking forward.

"Wren, is he dead?" I asked.

She nodded, a tear streaming down her cheek, which she brushed away quickly, almost slapping herself.

I gripped her hand. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault." she choked out.

"I meant for bringing it up." I said and she laughed. I smiled.

"You're too grown up. You should still be playing with the other little girls with straw dolls."
"I don't mind." I said, holding my head up a little higher. "I don't fit in with them. They are all really, really girly. And I like playing with the boys better."
She laughed. "I was like that too."

We walked in silence for a few more minutes. I studied the tall oak trees that were covered in a thick ice with snow dragging their branches down. One clump fell down as a squirrel leaped up on the branch, making a funny dumping sound. The ice looked like crystals sticking to the branches, shiny, but they would disappear soon. They would just melt soon…

"We're here." Wren said, smiling down at me. I laughed instinctively.

Laid out before us was a beautiful frozen lake. We couldn't walk on it yet, the ice was too thin, but soon. Very soon we could walk on it, and then maybe skate a little too. My skates were too small, but Wren would out grow hers soon and I'd get them. We didn't really skate much in the Seam, but up near the village there was another lake that was even bigger than this one. We would go and skate there sometimes when Wren could spare a work day and mother allowed us to leave. The village kids were mean, but I didn't care. No one really messed with Wren so I stuck close to her.

"You want to gather the wood?" she asked.

I nodded and started to pick up the few dried branches that were littered around the trees. The snow was too cold and hadn't melted yet, so the branches weren't soaked. Just cold. I was glad Mother had found enough wool to make me a pair of cloves.

Wren was already walking off to the small cabin. It was a sturdy cabin, one that had been in our family for a while now. Wren and Father had constructed it a long time ago when she was still a little girl and our uncle had still been alive. He died of starvation and malaria a few years ago. I wished he was still around, he always used to be able to find some sort of sweet for us and he would sing beautiful songs.

Once I'd gathered enough fire wood, Wren made quick work of the fire and then placed the metal pot over it that I filled with water. We then added all the scraps we had from our past few meals and watched as it boiled into a fairly good stew. Mother didn't really care what we did with the scraps. She didn't like waste, but she didn't like serving us this concoction. We didn't really care. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Ready?" she asked.

I nodded. She went to the loose board in the floor and pulled it free, then untangled our two swords from the straw underneath. I stared at the two blades. I didn't really understand the story about the swords. One was Father's and the other was Uncle's, I don't know how they made them though. They had created them sometime with their father, but I'd never met him. He died before my time. I picked up mine, it was pretty big, but I was able to handle it well. I was big for my age.

"Start practicing." she said, picking her blade up as well. Both were very simple, a handle and blade. No carvings, not decoration.

I practiced the drills she had taught me. In the snow, it was harder to move as smoothly as I usually did. Wren was still a fairy, even in the snow. Her movements were strong and precise. I could see her watching me from the corner of her eye, so I worked harder to copy her. The sword was far too large for me, but she'd taught me to handle even this size of a sword. She said that when the time came that I would need to fight, I wouldn't have a choice over something like size.

After a few hours of drills and sparing, we walked back into the cabin, feasting on the stew. It never tasted better.

"What happened to your friend?" I asked.

She sighed, scraping the last of her stew out. "He was sent to the area."
"And he died?"
She nodded. "I couldn't believe it. He was one of the last seven, but still, not enough. He was poisoned by his ally. Don't trust anyone, ever, Terra. Just yourself."
"What about you?"
"I would never hurt you, Terra. But don't expect me to be here forever. I might just let you down someday."

"If you get married, you'll still be close by. And then I'll have nieces and nephews!" I said, giddy with the idea.

She smiled. "I'm not sure I want children. They're names will go into the reaping and then I'll have to deal with the fear for eighteen years. The fear of them being used in the Capital."

"Wren?"
"Hm?"
"What if you get reaped from the girls next month?"

She fingered her pendant, the mockingjay one. I loved that necklace. She was thinking her answer through. She was careful about what she said. She knew I wouldn't say anything, but I was still a child. Something might slip out.

"Then I promise you I will come home."
I smiled. "As long as they have a sword at the Cornucopia, you'll win."

I sighed, feeling the pain of her loss all over again. I glanced over at Peeta and nodded when I saw the question in his eyes. We both got up and walked out of the training center. A few of the other tributes had left as well. It was down to us, District Two, Eleven and the girls from District One and Five.

As we were walking out, I glanced back at Cato and his deadly sword swinging through the air. He reminded me of Wren.

"You broke your promise. You didn't come back." I whispered to no one. Maybe her ghost was hanging around me right now.

"Did you say something?" Peeta asked.

I shook my head. "Just talking to myself."

And the ghost of a girl that fought as hard as she could. And it still wasn't enough.