It is only now I realize just how prideful I am. And let's just say I found out the hard way.
Do you want to know what I mean? Trust me it's a long story, and you may not want to hear about it. Ah, what the heck.
The next morning I was woken up and immediately sent to the Training Center with barely any time to scarf down a muffin or two. I was rapidly slipped into a full body suit made of a sheer red and black material and practically shoved into the elevator before I could try to ask what time it was. Apparently, Gia was right next to me the whole time. I just didn't see her.
How could anyone expect me to? My vision was so blurry from sleep that I could barely see past my nose.
The other tributes were already present and stood in a semi-circle in front of a man with ebony black hair and grey skin. I believed they called him something along the lines of Branch. The deep frown carved into his young face made him seem years older when in reality he couldn't have been over twenty. He talked to us about how here we would prepare ourselves for the arena and that there were multiple stations that would help us do just that. Branch stressed that each one was just as important as the next, no matter how insignificant one may seem it could mean the difference between life and death.
It wasn't until I sat at the fire-starting station that I realized that Gia and I were wearing the exact same outfit. Everyone else was wearing what they pleased and the jaguar and I were twinning.
"Again with the pairing us together thing." I groaned to myself mentally. "Why is Megamind making us look like some kind of team? Is he expecting us to become allies in the arena when he knows full well that one of us will die in the end? Yeah, right. When pigs fly. And I say that with no means of offense to pigs, or anything."
We had a full three days to train before we enter the Games and I used them to my full advantage. Keeping in mind the promise I made to Marty, I intended to fulfill it as best as I could with becoming one with my survival instincts. I may have spent the past few years in the wilderness with someone who can not only fight but also wield a multitude of weapons, but if there's one thing I've gained from experience is that there's always something to learn.
I spent the first day becoming familiar with camouflage and food resources. This included cooking, fires, and obviously hiding in vegetation like shrubbery and trees. Gia tended to stick to my side as I learned how to roll in a pile of mud and leaves properly so that I could blend in. I also learned that Gia is phenomenal at camouflage. One minute she's dipping a small paintbrush made from blades of dried grass in a puddle of mud and the next her arms looked like the branches of a tree. Every groove, every shadow, everything was on point. She told me that back at the bakery she used to decorate the cakes.
"Yeah, but when did she learn to paint a freaking tree branch?" I thought to myself.
The next day was used up for learning how to set traps. I managed to impress Branch when I showed him a wire snare that strung the captive a few feet above the ground to prevent scavengers or predators from stealing the trapped animal. Tigress taught me that one.
I remember how she once told me that before she came to District 12, she didn't know much about trapping herself. As it turns out, an older man who had spent his a majority of his life poaching was willing to help her gain the knowledge she needed to become the hunting expert she is today. Her strong paws, paws that could crush stones and take punch after punch, hit after hit and still not feel a thing, could set the most delicate of snares in the most difficult places possible. I envy her paws. Although the trap I made was decent, there was no competition when compared to my striped friend's. My paws are large and clumsy. It took me months upon months to just shoot an arrow over ten feet. But she says to not envy but to be grateful. We are made the way we are to serve our purposes. Whatever that means.
As I tried to make a tight, reliable knot with a length of rope, Gia nudged me lightly and whispered, "I think you have a shadow." I spun around to see a small girl hiding behind a pillar. She ducked away when I caught sight of her. It was the girl from District 11, the one with creamy brown skin and shining black curls cascading over large green eyes. I simply dismissed it, but it was then that I noticed that she was always watching me. Eyes glued to my every movement. When I started a small fire made of leaves and bark, when I made a subtle broth from water and birch, even when I ate she was there looking at me. She was always there.
"What the hell is with this kid?" I asked myself as I nibbled on the crust of my sandwich.
The last day I decided to focus on fighting. Not the kind with swords and spears like the other tributes have occupied themselves with for the past few days. I was itching to get ahold of the single bow that hung next to other weapons. A handful had tried to shoot with it but failed miserably. I so wanted to show off in front of them. To make others feel intimidated by my superior skills. That I was to be feared. But the smarter, more logical part of me held me back. I needed to keep it a secret. It would be my element of surprise when they saw me in the arena with that bow and arrow in hand, or paw in this case. So I focused on holding my choke hold until I knew that my contestant had had enough.
After a light lunch, we were all quartered in the cafeteria for the Gamemakers to rank us. After every training session, the Gamemakers have us come in one by one and demonstrate our skills. They've already been watching us ever since training started through the second level of Training Center, speculating us from afar through the glass ceiling. When we see them privately, they use the tribute's performance to rank them on a scale from 1-12 so that the people of Panem have an idea of how well we will do in the arena. But for us tributes it's to see who are the biggest threats. If you're really good at surviving and/or fighting, you'll possibly get an 8 or 9, possibly a 10. The chance of anyone getting a 12 is astronomical. Never in the history of the Hunger Games has it happened to anyone.
Gia and I sit at our little round table in silence as name after name is called and the room slowly becomes empty. The anxiety building up inside my sternum became a concern to my senses. It felt that if I kept bouncing my leg and tapping my claws against the steel surface, the bubble in my chest cavity would swell and cause me to suddenly implode. I asked Gia about the basket of bread in the center of the table to take my mind off of what was to come when I was called and she told me how each one is related to a district. I didn't really listen as she went on about each piece of bread and their ingredients and everything she knew about the baked goods. Her calm demeanor was enough to still my racing heart.
Girls went before guys, so when Gia left I was the only one who remained in the wide room. It seamed like barely any time passed before I was being escorted into a dim-lit room where a rack of weapons were set on one side and numerous targets stood on the other. The group of Gamemakers lounged about at a long table with empty wine glasses and dirty dishes. By the glazed expressions they gave me, most of them were either tired or bored.
I finally got ahold of the bow I had been so longing to use and along with a quiver of bows and stood in place 30-feet away from a target. I put an arrow in place and steadily aimed and released. It struck the outer layer of the center. I tried again and that time it went right through the middle.
An uplifting spark of joy ignited within my chest and I turned to see how the gamemakers reacted only to realize that they hadn't been watching at me at all. They hadn't even looked my way. Instead, they all gathered around something large and steaming. A giant roasted pig on a spit had been placed down to eat when I had come in.
It was as if someone had turned the dial of a stove all the way on high the second I caught sight of the sow. I could feel my blood begin to boil beneath my fur, but of course I pushed it down and grabbed another arrow. This time I shot it at a lightbulb's case, shards of glass clattered to the floor like solid rain. Again, no one payed a attention. Their cups were being filled, platters were placed, and I had been forgotten.
You've probably seen a wild, rabid animal attack a human or your mother have a drastic change in her behavior and suddenly become what one could describe as Satin. Trust me when I say that whatever anger they had felt to go full on monster-mode was nothing compared to what had been cooking up in my body.
The Gamemakers practically picked a dead pig over me. A lion, a tribute, someone who had sacrificed their very life to save his friend from being the Hunger Games' next victim. Oh, how I wanted to just storm my way over there and tear that pig to shreds. Slash right through the stuffed stomach of the animal and spill its contents all over their designer clothes and pristine shoes.
But I had a better idea. This time when I shot my next arrow, I didn't aim for one of the multiple targets or any of the lights. That time, I shot it straight at the pig, or the pig's apple that had been lodged into its snout. The force of my projectile knocked the fruit out of its mouth and to the wall where it wobbled slightly and stilled. The gamemakers went completely silent and finally turned to me with flabbergasted expressions etched into their perfectly altered faces. A wildfire of emotions erupted within me. Victory, cockiness, shame, anger, a little nervousness. But it felt good to see their reactions. I bowed to them lowly as if greeting royalty as a form of mockery.
"Thank you for you time." I said blandly. I turned on my heel and walked out of there without another word. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to leave without their permission, but then again I really didn't give a damn.
The scolding I received from Tooth after I told everyone what had happened was enough to send a grown man running away with his tail between his legs. Gobbler, on the other hand, was rather excited that I had pulled such a stunt. He kept asking how they had reacted and what did they do. I honestly enjoyed giving him the extra details that I could've sworn a woman tripped and knocked into an ice sculpture, shattering it.
Later on, we watched our scores get advertised over the program. Most tributes had gotten 6s, 7s, a few 5s and a 9. Then came District 12. I clenched the arm of the chair I resided in as my picture popped up.
"And Alex Lyon's score is..." The announcer drew out.
Please be a good number, please be a good number, please be a good number!
"A 12!" The man nearly shouted in astonishment.
At first I thought that there must've been some sort of mistake, or maybe my eyes and ears were just playing tricks on me.
"I'm sorry. Minion can you turn up the volume because I can't hear. I thought he had said the number 12? Like as in 10 plus 2?" I asked as I rubbed my ears to get whatever was clogging them out.
"Alex, he did say 12." Gia answered.
"Wait! Really?" I asked. Everyone gave me a skeptical look as if they were worried about my health, but otherwise shrugged it off and substituted their doubts with the assumption that I was shocked at having such a high number for my score. Megamind stood to his leather boots and raised his glass of sparkling champagne.
"A toast! To the Lion of Fire , Alex." Everyone lifted their glasses and cheered before taking sips of the bubbling beverage. They all applauded lightly and clapped a hand on my back before they quieted down again for Gia's score. She got a 10.
Once again, Tooth led us to our bedrooms and raved on and on about getting enough sleep and that it was a big, big day tomorrow. When she left, I rolled my eyes and went to go to bed when Gia spoke through the thick mass of darkness that cloaked the hallway heavily.
"Congratulations on your score." She said meekly. I almost snapped my head around to stare at her in disbelief.
Why was she congratulating me? I really didn't do much? If anything I should've gotten at least a 5 for what I did.
And shouldn't she be, I don't know, jealous of my score. Sure, she got a nice score, better than most. How was I supposed to expect her to react? She wouldn't flip out and say something like, "You'll rue the day you ever stepped on that podium and became a tribute!", for two reasons. One, she's too kind-hearted for something of the like. And two, I'm pretty sure we all wished we hadn't been called to that stage back at District 12 to become contestants of the Hunger Games.
My back goes rigid and I stand there, stiff as a statue and gaze locked onto the door. I could feel the jaguar's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her caramel orbs. Those soft, forgiving brown jewels that penetrated through my very soul and saw everything processing through me.
"Thanks." I breathed and jumped into my room and slammed the door harder than I intended. I immediately flop onto my bed and scream into a nearby pillow until my throat is raw.
What is wrong with me? How did I go from having the audacity to literally shoot an arrow at a prestige group of people, who are as high and mighty as kings, and walk away as if it was nothing, then I get one compliment from my enemy and I crumble under pressure? I am so screwed!
I wasn't afraid of the Gamemakers coming after me for what had happened. They couldn't just get rid of a tribute and replace it like an old lightbulb. I'm already in the system and I'm too far in to get out. So there's nothing they can really do about it. Of course, they can make my life a living hell in the arena, but what more can they add to the Hunger Games that isn't going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life, that is if I survive. That's that. So then why did I go immobilized when Gia talked to me?
And now as I lay in my bed, I ask myself that very question for what has to be the thousandth time for the past three hours. And what's most befuddling of all is that I cannot come up with an answer. I cannot come up with a stupidly simple answer for this stupidly simple question that now plagues my thoughts. It deprives me of both rest and sleep.
And since I don't see an end to this ongoing inner battle, my mind goes back to the people I know and love back at District 12. What would they say to what I did? Marty would most likely pry me about how funny it was when the lady fell over. Melman would rant about the endless severe consequences of my decision to be so harsh towards the Gamemakers. Gloria would probably try to console the giraffe to calm him down and think of a more empathetic reason for why I had shot the arrow at them. My mom would say that it would be something my dad would've done. And Tigress would've most definitely encouraged me. Although she has her own beliefs for honor and respect, I could honestly see her lash out for their careless behavior.
The thought of it makes me smile. It's comforting to know that there are people who would stick by my side even after I made some stupid decision and help me get through it. Or at least I did. Here, I'm all alone. Excluding my little entourage of guidance that lead me to my ultimate battle in the Games and my companion who I struggle to define as either a friend or an enemy, I have no one. No one to go out and hunt with all day, no one to go home, no one to and tell stories to. All of that is gone.