Chapter 11- Iry Coppersmith
I look up when I hear the commotion coming from the opposite side of the room. It's the Careers; making a mess of the shelter station and laughing about it. It's a little annoying, but I don't really care what they do; as long as they don't notice me. So far, I've been unnoticed, just like Terra told me to be.
"You're one of the youngest, and my sister, so you'll attract attention," she said yesterday morning. "Don't get in the way of the Careers."
I promised her I wouldn't.
The instructor helps guide my hands through the tricky snare I'm setting up. "It looks good, so shall we trip it?" he says, not unkindly. I nod. He pulls a little on the noose, and the trap flies upwards, disengaged.
"Well done," the instructor says. "If that had been an animal, you would have supper."
"Thank you!" I say, beaming at her.
"Would you like to try another kind of snare?"
I shake my head. "No thank you. I want to try another station now."
I'm going into the Games by myself. Terra doesn't want me to have allies; she says they'll slow me down, and I'm not to share the parachutes she's going to send me. "All you need is yourself; you're going to hide until the very end, and then you're going to win."
See, I don't think me not having allies is about them slowing me down. I think it's about Fletcher, Terra's partner in her Games, but I'm not going to say that to her. I'm alright going in by myself; there's nobody here that I would want to team up with anyway. And definitely not Azlon; he's decided to go solo too. Technically we're supposed to be coached separately, but when Woof is having his mentoring talks with Azlon, I make a point of being nearby to eavesdrop.
I've been eavesdropping all my life; how else would I get information? I've found out loads that way, like all about Terra's Games, and what happened to my father when he died. I don't think even Terra knows that, but I heard some workers talking one day, a few years ago. One of the foremen, who didn't like my dad, pushed him into a moving machine one day, and it killed him. I miss my dad so much. We visit him and my mother almost every week in the cemetery, but I'd rather have him alive and here. Not here as in the Capitol, but here as in watching me and cheering me on from back home.
The slingshot station has been deserted for most of the past two days, and it's deserted right now too. A perfect place for me to fly under the radar. Everyone else is doing something fancier; like the Careers, who are back at the tridents, Celosia from 12 who's doing the ropes course, or even Reaper from 9, who's practicing wrestling with an assistant. He scares me too, but I won't let him see it. I won't let any of them know I'm scared of them.
The instructor here hands me a plastic slingshot and a small bag of round projectiles, similar to the marbles I liked to play with at school when I was younger. Thinking about school makes me think about home, and my cat; I blink away tears when I think about Ribbons. At least Deecey is looking after her.
I stand sideways, the way the trainer is showing me, load the slingshot, and aim. When I let the marble go, it hits the top of the wall, nowhere near the target.
"Aim lower," the trainer says. I load the slingshot again, and again, and again, the repetition bringing my aim closer to the target each time.
My arm hurts, so I shake it out. "You're getting better," says the trainer, who isn't as cheerful as the one at the snare making station. Where do these instructors come from, anyway? A lot of them don't sound like they're from the Capitol at all.
"Thanks," I tell the man anyways, standing sideways and aiming again, this time taking extra care to aim. When I let the ball fly, it hits the very left of the target; the closest I've come today. I jump up and down; I did it! I came close to the target! But now my arm hurts from shooting so much.
"Okay, thank you!" I say, handing the slingshot and the remaining balls back to the trainer. He nods his head to me, and I walk away, surveying the gymnasium to see where to go next.
My breath catches in my throat when I see the boy from 4 send a trident through a practice dummy a good twenty feet away from him. Suddenly I don't feel so pleased with my slingshot accomplishments. I'm thirteen against his seventeen, and he's much taller and stronger than me. If he catches me, he will kill me.
My sister has been telling me that she'll make sure I'm safe in the arena, and that there's no doubt that I'm going to be the victor. But what if she's wrong? Seeing all of the other tributes that are so much more capable than I am scares me to death.
What if I can't hide well enough? And how is Terra going to keep me safe from them if they catch me? She can't stop them if she's in the Capitol. No, I can't think like that. I have an edge too; I'm Terra's sister. Surely there will be sponsors for me. Besides that, I'm better fed, and healthier than the majority of the kids here. Excepting the Careers, most of the tributes have had to scramble for food their whole lives, and it shows. Especially the tributes from 3, the pair from 5, and the kids from 11 and 12. They look thin and sick.
I, on the other hand, have been living in Victor's Village for the past five years, with the best food of District 8. That's my edge; I'm healthier than everyone here. Maybe I can outlast them too.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy from 7 on the obstacle course. That's something I haven't tried yet. So I head over there, avoiding the others as I go; particularly the rowdy duo that are Trestle from 6 and Nell from 11, who have been making mischief and all sorts of trouble all throughout Training.
"You want to hear the rules?" the instructor of the obstacle course says; she's an older woman with severely pulled back hair, holding a clipboard.
"Okay."
"You have to get through the course as quickly as possible; if you fall off, you have to start over. Your time will be displayed on the wall when you've finished." Her voice is a monotone, and hard to listen to. "If you're looking for a harder challenge, you can choose to be timed and get through the course in under two minutes. Understand?"
I nod. "Up you go."
I climb the steps up to the platform, and I wait. I can do this. I can do this.
A buzzer sounds and I start running, first over a balance beam that narrows near the end; I jump off with no difficulty. From there I grab onto a set of hanging rings, going hand over hand until I reach the other side. When I drop down onto the platform there, my palms burn.
"You're at 35 seconds!" the instructor calls; breathing heavily already, I launch myself onto the net that climbs upwards to a peak, then grows wider holes on the other side going down. Without warning, on the second side, the net spins around, and I almost lose my grip.
From a distance away, I hear laughing; is it directed at me? Gritting my teeth, I get myself down the net and onto steady ground again. The net was a big time waster; I'm over a minute in now.
The next obstacle I have to overcome are these mushroom shaped islands that I hop onto, all the way across. I'm so tired; I've never been this tired in my whole life, I swear. Still four or five more obstacles to go.
There're ropes I have to swing from to get the momentum to reach the next one, all the way across; after that the course takes a sharp turn, revealing poles stuck out of the ground that I have to maneuver across. On the second to last pole, I nearly slip and fall, making someone laugh again. I won't give whoever it is the satisfaction of me falling. So I make it to the opposite platform.
The next part is easier; walk along a narrow beam while balls swing back and forth, trying to knock the unlucky tribute off. Luckily, I have good timing and make it across without a problem. After that, it's three spinning wheels suspended from a frame that I have to go across to get to the other side. My hands hurt and my arms shake, but I love the feeling of flying that it gives me.
Two more.
Angled steps that I have to run across, each one getting higher as I go. Now my legs are shaking; I'm going to hurt tomorrow. That's okay. I can do this. One more.
The last is a wall that I have to run up. I'm quick, and I'm fairly light; taking a few steps backwards, I run up the wall and sit down, ringing the bell that's up there for everyone to hear. I did it! The time on the wall flashes at 4 minutes, but I'm just happy I did it!
The District 7 boy is watching me from the sidelines, eyes wide. He didn't make it past the ropes before he fell down on his face; a bruise is already starting on his cheek. I avoid his eyes, instead hopping down off the wall and going over to the instructor. My legs feel wobbly.
"Nicely done, miss," the instructor says, glancing at me. "Not a bad time."
I walk away trying not to show how tired I am now, and how shaky I feel. There're more than a few pairs of eyes watching me, and I can't let myself be made a target. I'm so tired, though. I want to curl up right here and take a nap. When Training is over for the day, then I can nap upstairs.
"Hey, that was really neat!" a girl says, running up to me with a shy smile. "I'm Tilling, by the way!"
"Iry," I say, eyeing the girl with the black braid. She's been going around to everyone but the Careers, obviously trying to make allies with somebody. She's desperate. But by doing this, this meet and greet everyone, she's only making herself a target. Better to blend in; don't make them notice you.
"I'm going to go over to edible plants; I'm really good at it so far, but maybe there's some plants that we don't have in 9 that I've missed!" Her voice is a high-pitched ramble of anxiety. More hysteria than anxiety, actually. She sounds like how Terra gets sometimes, when her flashbacks hit her unexpectedly. Terra talks a blue streak then, before usually bursting into tears. I used to run and get Shuttle when I was little, but these days I've been managing my sister by myself.
Tilling wrings her hands together, smiling hopefully. "Do- do you want to come with me?"
"No allies, Iry." Terra's voice rings in my head.
"No. No thank you." I smile at the girl anyway. "I work solo."
"Oh, okay," Tilling says, her face dropping. I feel bad about leaving her there, but I have to listen to Terra. Instead of edible plants, I go to fish hook making, which is also deserted.
For the last hour or so of Training, I sit and make fish hooks out of thorns, sticks, pins, wire, and bone. The trainer talks the whole time, and I think she's pleased to have someone come work with her at last. It's not the most popular station, that's for sure.
"You can never tell what the arena is going to look like," she says, handing me more supplies. "You know, there was one year where it was a desert that turned into a tundra!"
"My sister won that year," I say, fiddling with bending the wire into a proper shape.
"You're Terra Coppersmith's sister? I didn't know!" the trainer says, her face lighting up. "She's always been one of my favorite victors, and it's too bad she's never come to the Capitol before this year!"
"She's always stayed home to take care of me," I tell her, holding the fish hook out for inspection.
"Well that's very nice of her, isn't it?"
"It was." I wonder what would happen if I won this year, with Terra already being a victor. Would I get my own house, even though I'm only thirteen? Would I come to the Capitol every year with Terra? If I win, I'll be the youngest victor in history. Nobody under fifteen has ever won the Games.
"I'll see you tomorrow!" the trainer says as the bell rings, signifying the end of the training day. Tomorrow we just have the morning to train, and tomorrow afternoon, after lunch, we have our private sessions.
"What's your name?" I ask the instructor. She doesn't look or sound Capitol either. Are the instructors from the districts?
"Cossutia," she says with a smile. Her name could be Capitol or District 2; it's hard to tell.
"I'll see you," I say, smiling back at her, and I head for the elevators.
I don't get on the elevator with Azlon; he ends up going ahead of me with the tributes from 12 and 5. The Careers went up together, of course, before the rest of us had a chance to even reach the elevators.
The next time the doors open, I slip through the remaining tributes and get in, alongside Tilling and Reaper from 9, and the pair from District 10 that I don't know the names of. The ride up is uncomfortable; Tilling watches the wall with the buttons on it and hums all the way up, and the other three don't say anything. Luckily, I get off first, being from District 8.
Even though I turned Tilling down as an ally, she waves at me, still humming. I give a little wave back, then the doors shut and the elevator carries on up.
"So, you're back, are you?" I turn around to see Woof standing a few feet away.
"I'm back. Where's Terra?" I ask, swinging my arms back and forth, trying to get the soreness out of them.
"Out."
"Out? Where out?" I ask. Why isn't she here?
"She'll tell you later, I'm sure. Shuttle and Woven have gone as well; I figured I should stay behind and wait for the two of you to make your ways up."
"Thanks."
"And if you're wondering where the moron is, he's off with Terra and the others," Woof continues. I giggle a little when he calls Postumius that; nobody likes our escort.
Woof's hands are rarely still; one's picking at the seams of his pants, the other's running through his hair. His face is blank, but he's just one big ball of anxiety.
"You're not my mentor, so I can't tell you anything about what I did today, can I?" I say.
"You can if you want; you won't explode."
"I finished the obstacle course without falling," I tell him. Woof cracks a rare smile.
"Did you now? That's something for a girl as young as you." He motions for me to come closer, and when I do, he leans in to whisper something in my ear.
"I'm not supposed to pick a favorite that isn't my own tribute, but I think you have a chance. We'll get you home." With that, he pulls back and nods. "If you did as well as you say you did today, you won't be unnoticed for long. Give them all you got tomorrow, you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, sir," I say. Woof, who never smiles and never seems to show any kind of emotion towards his tributes, thinks I can win! Even though I'm tired, I feel like dancing around.
"Sir?" Woof chuckles deep in his throat. "I'm no sir. I hear that enough from the Capitol bobbleheads that I have to talk to every year. It's Woof, girl. You hear me? Woof."
"Yes sir- Woof."
"That's more like it. You go lie down now, girl. Your sister will come wake you up when she gets back."
"Okay."
I pass two red-clothed servants on my way to my room; Woven calls them Avoxes, and supposedly they're Capitol traitors that had their tongues cut out. I can't believe that somebody could be so horrible as to do that, but none of the servants have spoken yet. I'd hate to think it's true. If I did something bad enough while I'm here, would they turn me into an Avox? The idea is terrifying, even more terrifying than going into the arena.
How many days do I have left in the Capitol? Flopping down on my bed, the soft bed that rivals my own at home, I count them. There's tomorrow with the last day of training, then apparently, I get coached for my interviews (Terra told me), then it's the day of the interviews, and then… the arena.
Three days left.
The thought hangs over me even as I fall into a deeply exhausted sleep. Three days.
Terra Coppersmith
I force myself to laugh at the woman's jokes, even though they're not funny in the slightest. I hate standing up here on this rooftop, in one of the tallest buildings in the Capitol. Shuttle's off somewhere else, and the same goes for Woven. I see Postumius every once in a while, trying to convince skeptical guests that his tributes are the best this year, and they should sponsor them.
"And then I told him, what are you going to do with all those feathers?" the pink dyed woman says, taking a sip from her dainty champagne glass. "Do you want to know what he said?" Without waiting for an answer, she launches back into, "I'm going to decorate the whole apartment with them! And I told him, what about the cats? The cats will tear them to pieces!"
Other Capitol idiots laugh along with the story, dull as it is. Is this what they spend their times doing when the Games aren't on? Suddenly I'm glad I grew up in District 8. We may not be the richest district, or the most interesting district, but the majority of us have a brain in our heads.
Forcing myself to laugh, I turn the conversation to what I came here for in the first place. "Mrs. Mensa," I start, but she pats me on the arm.
"Please, call me Cordelia!" She chuckles and sips more of her champagne. "Server!" she calls, and a red-clothed Avox runs up with a bottle, refilling Cordelia's glass. The Avox avoids our eyes as she pours, before scurrying away.
"Now, what were you going to tell me?" Cordelia asks, sipping again.
"My sister is District 8's girl tribute this year," I say, trying to sound pleased. "It's a wonderful honor to my family, and I think she's going to have the best chance in the whole Games of winning."
"How old is she again?"
"Thirteen, and when she wins, she'll be the youngest victor in Hunger Games history," I say, taking a sip from my own glass. While I would like to see the woman drunk, I had a servant pour sparkling water into my own cup. I want to be sharp if I'm going to get sponsors for Iry.
"I understand that you sponsored me in my Games," I continue, "And I believe you saved my life with the gifts that you made possible." I smile at her sweetly. "I would love to see you have the ability to say you saved the lives of two victors."
"Oh, Terra, you're very sweet," Cordelia says, patting me on the cheek. "And I'd love to sponsor your sister, but she's so young. Nobody's won at thirteen yet." She hiccups.
"Iry's going to be the first," I say firmly. "Imagine, being able to say you sponsored two victors, sisters, and one of them the youngest in history." Whether I'm actually being persuasive, or if it's just the champagne making it easy to convince her, Cordelia pauses to think about it.
"And you're sure she'll win?"
"Nobody is better than my sister."
Cordelia breaks out in a huge, manic smile, revealing gem incrusted teeth. "Oh, of course I'll sponsor her, dear girl!" She grabs my hand and shakes it hard, beaming. "Let's go sign the papers right away. Where's that escort of yours?"
"My fellow victor has the papers, actually," I say. By lucky coincidence, Shuttle is making her way through the crowd towards me, a false smile plastered on her face.
"Shuttle!" I say, waving her over. Acting is making me tired, but we still have an hour before we can leave. I wish I was back home in District 8, with Iry. Safe.
Shuttle approaches, holding a champagne glass of her own. "Mrs. Mensa here has agreed to sponsor Iry," I say, as cheerfully as I can.
"How wonderful!" Shuttle says; I know her well, and that tone is false cheeriness. I know tonight she has an 'engagement' somewhere else in the Capitol, and she'd rather be anywhere but here.
Quickly, she takes out the sponsor papers. Drunkenly, Cordelia signs where she has to, then pats my cheek. "Do make sure she wins, won't you?" she says, then totters away.
"Iry's a tough one to sell," Shuttle mutters in my ear. "If she was a year or two older it would be easier, but her age is going against her."
I grip Shuttle's arm. "Iry's coming home, no matter what. I don't care what I have to do or who I have to kill," I say in a low voice. I came to terms a long time ago with who I killed in the arena. They haunt my dreams, and my flashbacks when I have them, but to save Iry I would kill them all again, and every person in the Capitol too.
"Let's not kill anyone," Shuttle says, loosening my grip on her arm. "Woven's getting sponsors for Azlon, since he's her tribute, and she's doing well. I got Elagabalus Creed to sign over a good deal of money, and now you have Cordelia's sponsorship. Once the scores come out, then the betting and sponsorship will really start. And after the interviews too."
"What are you talking about?" Postumius says, suddenly throwing his arms around us drunkenly. "Isn't this a great party?"
"Get off me," I say, shoving the escort off. He stumbles sideways before catching himself and going upright again.
"Go bother someone else," Shuttle says, walking away through the crowd of Capitolites, all chattering away in their high-pitched accents. Postumius makes a movement to come after me, which is when I duck out, moving quickly through the people to get as far away as possible from the idiot.
"Terra!" Who's calling me? Someone taps me on the shoulder and I'm face to face with a man who's about my height, with blue streaked hair pulled back into a ponytail. He's familiar, but where have I seen him before?
"Do you remember me?" he asks pleasantly. "We met at the ball in the President's Mansion, at the conclusion of your Tour." It clicks.
"Aero?" I ask, breaking out into a proper smile. He was the only sane one at that party, and he reminded me of Fletcher. He still does, actually, and it makes my heart ache.
"The very same," he says, taking my hand and kissing it gently. "Where is your beautiful mentor?"
"I'm afraid that Woof didn't join us today," I say slyly.
Aero laughs. "I wouldn't like to kiss him, I'm afraid."
I laugh too. "Shuttle just dodged an attack from Postumius, our demented escort. Shall I go find her?"
"No, she'll make her way to you eventually. Tell me, how have you been? It's been four years since anyone's seen anything of you, besides brief clips at the reapings."
My face falls as I try to find the proper words. "I-I've been doing better. Except now, it's my sister who's been reaped."
"I saw. Terra, I'm so sorry."
"She's going to be the victor," I say, straightening up. "There's no other option. I need her to win."
"Of course she's going to be the victor," Aero says reassuringly. "I wouldn't lie to you, Terra. I'm a man of my word. And, listen." He leans in further to me. "I'm not a rich man by any means, but I'd like to sponsor your sister. For you, and for Shuttle."
"Would you?" I ask. I start rubbing the fingers of my left hand against the stump that was once a finger on my right; it's the motion I make when I'm nervous or unsure. "Would you really?"
"I can't promise much, but it will help, I hope," Aero says.
"I-I can't thank you enough!" I say.
"Thank me by bringing your sister home," he says, smiling.
"I'll have to get the papers; Shuttle has them."
"Aero Carter, you rascal!" another man says, coming and slapping Aero on the shoulder. "Where's your drink at?"
"Julio Carsied, long time no see!" Aero says. "Nobody's given me a drink yet, and it's a pity!"
The man called Julio, who has tattoos snaking up his neck and curling around his eyebrows, calls for a server to bring drinks; within seconds an Avox has appeared with a tray.
Picking a glass up, Aero says, "I've just agreed to be the sponsor for Iry Coppersmith of District 8, did you know, Julio? A victor's sister!"
"That's betting dangerously," Julio says, sipping his drink. "Aren't you afraid you'll just waste your money?"
"Not at all," Aero says smoothly. "I have every confidence that Iry can win, aided by her mentor and sister, Terra." He gestures to me, and I smile at the older man who is now looking at me with interest. "In fact, Terra was just going to get the sponsorship papers now, weren't you?"
"I was," I say, backing up. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carsied." Before he has a chance to answer, I push through the crowd, looking for Shuttle.
I'm surrounded by cackling Capitolites, like a wall of garishly colored birds. I'd bet most of them are drunk by now, or at the very least tipsy. At one point I see Woven talking to a tall woman in blue, but someone else walks in front and I lose sight of her.
Finally, I find Shuttle, standing off to one side, looking through the papers in her hand. "Shuttle!" I say, pushing up close to her.
"Any luck?" she says without looking up.
"Aero Carter is here and he's going to sponsor Iry," I mutter in her ear. Shuttle's head jerks up and her cheeks flush pink.
"Aero, here?" I nod. "Take me to him then."
It's easier than I thought it would be to find Aero; he's still talking to Julio Carsied when Shuttle and I approach. A spark of something travels between Aero and Shuttle when they see each other, and my usually level-headed mentor is bright pink.
"Shuttle Caries," Aero says, taking her hand and kissing it as well. "I understand that you have the sponsorship papers?"
"I do." Shuttle's voice is surprisingly calm.
"You'll need two of them, as I've just convinced Julio here to sponsor your tribute as well." I look at Aero in surprise, and he winks at me.
"Don't let this be a waste of my money now," Julio says, wagging his finger at me.
"I won't sir, I won't at all," I tell him. Shuttle brings the papers out, and Aero and Julio sign them, one pledging a modest amount of money, the other an obscene amount.
"Good luck now!" Julio says before wandering away, just like Cordelia did. Once he's gone, Aero grabs Shuttle's hands in his.
"It's not safe here; there's too many people who know me," she says quietly.
"Then I will come to you," Aero says simply.
"I have an engagement tonight," Shuttle says, and she doesn't quite meet his eyes when she says it.
"I will come in the early hours," he says, clasping Shuttle's hand tighter. "And I shall be discreet, don't worry. The rooftop, five in the morning. I will see you then, I hope."
With that, he bows briefly to both of us and strides away, mixing in with the crowd. Almost as soon as he's gone, Woven appears at my elbow, scaring me.
"We can go," she says.
"Finally," I say, and follow her off the rooftop.
"It was a success today if I say so myself," Woven says as we step into the elevator of the Training Center. "I lined up several sponsors for Azlon. And for Iry?"
"Cordelia Mensa, Elagabalus Creed, Aero Carter, and Julio Caried all lined up," Shuttle says proudly.
"Oh, well done," Woven says. The doors open onto our floor, and the familiar surroundings both comfort me and bring back painful memories.
"How did you do?" Woof says, stepping around the corner.
"Sponsors lined up around the block," Woven says, kicking off her shoes.
"Good," Woof says. "Your sister is asleep in her room, but I told her you would see her when you got home, Terra."
Taking off my own shoes, I set them down and rush for Iry's room. This was the second day of training; how did she do? Is she still unnoticed by the Careers? Is she okay?
I push open the door and see my sister asleep on her bed, her face peaceful. She's so young. Three years younger than I was when I came here for the first time. She's going to be thrown into an arena, where everyone will want to see her dead. My sister!
Memories of her growing up flood my brain. I've been mother and sister to her my whole life. I touch the ring hanging on a chain that I've been wearing around my neck since my Games; it was my token in the arena. Iry gave it to me when I left District 8. The ring belonged to my mother, before she died. Leaving me and Iry motherless.
In my mind, I see Iry as a toddler, as a happy six-year old with braids, as the eight-year-old I left behind, and as the nine-year-old who played on the hill of the cemetery as I grieved; who was always so happy and good. If my sister is to win the Games, she's going to have to change. Who is she going to become when she comes out of the arena?
Iry stirs and I go to sit on her bed near her. "Terra?" she says sleepily.
"I'm back. How was training?"
"Really good!" Iry says, waking up properly. "I ran the obstacle course in four minutes, and I didn't even fall off!"
"Good job! What did the others have to say about that?"
Iry giggles a little. "Not much. The boy from 7 fell off before I ran it, and he was amazed I think."
"How about allies? Did anyone offer?" I ask. Iry's not a solitary girl, but I don't want her to have allies in the arena. I don't want her to be attached to them like I was; I want her solely focused on getting herself out alive.
I don't want her to have a Fletcher that haunts her every step.
"The girl from 9, Tilling, wanted to team up today, but she's wanted to team up with everyone," she says, rolling her eyes. "She's so desperate. Don't worry, I turned her down."
"You're a solo worker," I say, hugging my sister.
"Yup!" Iry laughs again. "Oh, and I did fish hooks and snares and slingshots; I'm getting good at some stuff."
"Good job! I'm proud of you!" I think back to my days in Training; how I learned to shoot a bow in just three days and got a 7 for it. I also remember how I dropped my bow in the arena once my hands were too cold to grip it- no! No flashbacks today, Terra. Not today.
"The Careers made a mess of the shelter station though," Iry says, leaning against me. "They're annoying."
"They'll get less annoying when it's a District 8 girl wearing the crown again," I tell her.
"Terra?" she asks, and her tone has suddenly changed.
"Yeah?"
"Am I going to have to kill them?"
"I don't want a weapon. I don't want to hurt anyone," Fletcher says.
"Are you saying you're not going to kill anyone?"
"If I can help it, no, I won't kill anyone. I'm not going to hurt my soul like that."
Fletcher's words from the Games come back to me now, and it's like I can hear him speaking them. I hold Iry tighter against me.
"I don't know," I say, breathing out. "I don't know. You're going to hide as long as you can, like I did. And maybe you can get away with not killing anyone. But I don't know."
"I don't want to kill them," Iry says, almost in a whisper. "They're nice, most of them. Some of the other tributes are younger than me."
"Hide. Hide and watch the faces in the sky until the last day. You can outwait them all," I say. "You're quick, and you're clever, and I'll take care of you."
"Promise?"
"I promise. I got some sponsors lined up for you today!" Iry looks at me, smiling wide.
"Really? Is that why you were out?"
"I was at a Capitol party, getting you some sponsors. Don't worry, everything will be just fine."
"And you promise?" Iry says, looking at me full in the face. I hug her tight again.
"I promise. I'll always take care of you. Always."