If Berry had any doubts over what Sylvia would do in the arena, the first day of training dashed those doubts beyond question.
Sylvia had parked herself at the fire-starting station all day and hadn't moved. She was the last to go to lunch and the first to leave. She had no interest in any other station; she was perfectly content to watch the instructor demonstrate how to start a fire the old-fashioned way, and then try it out herself.
It was slow at first, but now that she had proper guidance and instructions, progress was quickly made. Just after she got back from lunch, she finally started a fire without the help of matches or lighters. The light bloomed in her eyes as she sat back, massaging her sore hands and admiring her effort.
"There you go," the instructor said, smiling wearily. "You've gotten the hang of it! Now why don't you go try some other stations?"
Sylvia shook her head and reached for more wood.
The instructor inwardly groaned. "Come on now, it's time to let others have a turn." Indeed, the instructor had overheard several tributes complaining about Sylvia hogging the station. "Why don't you go try the obstacle course?"
Again, Sylvia shook her head.
"It's a mandatory activity," the instructor's voice was gradually starting to sound more desperate and strained, "so you may as well go and get it over with. And there are many other stations more important than this one."
Why wouldn't this girl just leave?
Eventually the Peacekeepers had to intervene. They harshly told her that she'd better go find something else to do, or there'd be consequences.
Sylvia figured it would be better to obey them. As much as she would love to stay at the fire-starting station forever, she wasn't too keen on finding out first-hand what the consequences were. Besides, the day had been very productive. She'd learned so much. And there would only be a few short days until she could put her new-found skills to use. She could be patient. She could hold on until then.
She'd make the Fire Spirit happy.
She drifted around from station to station, before she finally stopped at the camouflage station. As her eyes flitted over the red, orange and yellow paints, the Fire Spirit curled itself over her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and reached for the paints.
Specifically, the red, orange, yellow and white paints.
She cleared a space on the table and began to paint.
Nearly an hour went by before Lord from District One passed by the table, idly glancing at it. He stopped abruptly, did a double take, and walked backwards back to the table and stared at it in confusion.
"What the hell is that?" he said loudly, pointing at Sylvia's handiwork.
Sylvia glanced at him proudly. "The Weatherman."
In the centre of the table's surface were several black smears in a vaguely human shape. Surrounding the figure was an expanse of red, orange, yellow and white tongues of acrylic flames.
Lord furrowed his brow. "The weatherman?"
Sylvia nodded. "He deserves this. He deserves to be burnt with the world." Her voice took on an angry edge as she continued. "He doesn't understand. What else are we supposed to do with him?"
"Okay…" Lord slowly turned around and walked back to the rest of the Careers. Then followed several minutes of hushed conversation as he shared what he had seen.
"The weatherman?" his District partner blinked in confusion. "What has she got against the weatherman?"