~Chapter Eight: Insomnia~

"A night full of nightmares is way better than a sleepless one." ―Mokokoma Mokhonoana

...

Sleep did not want to come.

My body was exhausted, and I truly thought that as soon as I collapsed onto the (ridiculously soft) bed it would claim me instantly. I was achy, and worn down, and felt like everything I had wanted to hold onto—my pride, my newfound sense of determination I'd found during the Parade, my sense of self-assurance—was slowly leaking out of the cracks.

But somehow, as I lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, my brain was still awake. It was still swirling with the day's events, with the revelations from the program after the Parade.

I supposed that the thing truly keeping me awake was the emotion that had never fully gone away: fear. Underneath my exhaustion, despite my ability to at least temporarily forget it or brush it aside, the fear remained. It was settled into my bones, clinging to me like a second skin. A parasite that had managed to burrow its way into the core of my being. In moments like this, when I lay alone in the quiet of my room, I was reminded of how poignant it was.

Last night, I had given into the grief and despair. I had cried myself to sleep and thought about my family. I had given into the sadness, the acceptance of my potential (likely) death. I couldn't let myself do that again. I couldn't afford to. But getting all of that emotion out hadn't truly rid me of the underlying current of my fear. I still had a survival instinct, and a desire to live, so of course being here—everything about the Games, really—still terrified me.

It was awful; a shadow constantly lurking at the edge of my vision. Of course, life back home had never been easy, and the threat of the Capitol always loomed over us. But this was different. This was living in constant, unrelenting fear of a specific upcoming event that I had no way out of.

I wasn't sure how long I lay there, tossing and turning. Hours. There was a clock next to my bed, displaying the time in bright numbers. After two hours of trying to sleep, it just stressed me out and I turned it to face the other direction. Physically I was beyond worn-out, but my brain was winning out over my exhausted body. I couldn't think of anything worse; I did not need to be fatigued for my first day of training tomorrow.

At some point, I began to tinker with the panel next to the window; I had realized that the view could be programmed into different scenes, so that I could pretend I was somewhere else. I cycled through a multitude of landscapes. City, desert, rolling plains, woods…

I stopped there, taking in the scene, pretending I could smell home. It even had sound effects, which I could turn up and down at my leisure. I listened to the quiet sound of birds chirping, wind in the leaves, animals in the distance. It didn't sound quite like 7, but it didn't sound like the Capitol, either. I closed my eyes for some time, hoping my brain would quiet. A wave of homesickness crashed over me, though, and the somewhat familiar scenery and sounds did not help me sleep.

Then I thought about turning on the television screen, but realized it would just be programs about the Games. That was the last thing I needed right now.

Eventually, at a time that was probably ridiculously late (or early?), I decided to order some warm tea. I'd had tea a few times back home. It was fairly expensive (though not quite as expensive as coffee), so we didn't have it often in 7. But sometimes, drinking the warm liquid would help soothe me and I had no doubt that Capitol's tea would be better than the tea we got back home.

The nearby menu had plenty of options to customize the piping hot beverage, and I could order it right to my room. I had no clue what most of the options were. But I spoke a few words into the nearby mouthpiece, making sure to choose the option that would "help with a good night's sleep", and—despite the hour—less than a minute later, a steaming cup of liquid had arrived. I was right –it was better than the tea back in 7.

I decided to go drink it elsewhere in the apartment, maybe in some nook or luxurious room I hadn't come across yet. It felt like there were a dozen rooms on our floor. Perhaps wandering around for a moment, drinking this, and then returning to try to sleep again would help. For some reason, this room was beginning to feel oppressive despite its size and luxury.

To my surprise, when I passed through the dining room I saw Blight outside, standing on a balcony that had a beautiful view of the city.

I hesitated. I wasn't sure he wanted to be disturbed. Probably not.

But then, something drew me to him. It was probably the realization that Blight had been through the exact same thing I had. He had felt this same misery, fear, and dread at some point. Maybe he'd even experienced insomnia like me. Maybe he'd have words of advice. He wasn't my mentor, but…he was still from my district. And the worst he could do was send me away.

He didn't turn as I approached, even though I made sure my bare footsteps were audible as to not sneak up on him.

I cleared my throat a bit nervously. "Is it okay if I join you?" I asked quietly.

Blight nodded assent, still not turning to look at me. I noticed absently that he'd trimmed up his beard and hair a bit, I guessed wanting to be a bit more presentable during his time in the Capitol.

"I couldn't sleep," I said quietly. He didn't respond, but I didn't expect him to. It was an obvious statement.

"I thought drinking some tea might help but…I just had to get out of that room for a bit. It's…" I fumbled for words. "Too big. Too fancy. Cold."

Blight made a sound that sounded like agreement. "It isn't home," was his only response.

We lapsed into silence then, staring out at the city. The silence wasn't awkward, though. It was almost reassuring. Blight wasn't forcing me into pointless conversation. He wasn't gossiping about the Capitol or singing its praises. He wasn't goading me or glaring at me.

I sipped my tea, gazing out upon the city. The Capitol really was enrapturing, though foreign. Every building was unique and there was always something different to look at. At 7 floors up, we had a lower perspective than some of the other nearby buildings, but it allowed for a pretty good view of all of the brightly-colored people milling about below. Apparently, the citizens didn't sleep either. I could hear faint cheers from up here, coming and going with the gusts of wind. The twinkle and glow of all of the lights disguised the seediness underneath.

"Johanna really can't stand working with me," I found myself saying after a few minutes. The thought had been worming around in my brain, until finally I had no choice but to voice it. "She almost seems to despise me."

Blight turned slightly, observing me, a neutral expression on his face. "I don't think so."

I sighed heavily. "I'm making her job a lot harder."

"True." He turned back out to face the city, contemplative. "But some part of her, deep down, is glad you are…spirited."

I snorted softly. Spirited was one word. "Because it means that she thinks I won't go down without a fight?"

Blight nodded.

"And what do you think?" I asked him then, curious, still sipping on my tea as I waited for his answer.

"I think you two have something in common, though she'd never admit it."

I smiled wryly, then. Johanna and I did both have sharp tongues, though she was a lot harsher in general than I was. She didn't care to make nice with anyone. She also wasn't intimidated by anyone.

Then again, she'd survived the Games. She'd been put through hell. She'd…killed, a lot. She had a vicious streak in her. That line of thinking sobered me up immediately. Who knew what I'd become if I survived the Games? It was a chilling thought. I took another sip of my tea.

"Maybe you're right," I finally said. "Though I think there would have been less shouting if you'd ended up mentoring me."

Blight turned to me again, raising an eyebrow appraisingly.

"For you, her method is probably the most effective one," he responded after a moment.

I thought about that while I took a few more drinks of the tea. By now, I did feel like I was growing slightly more tired than before; whatever had been put in the tea was helping.

He had a point. While I would have loved to be around Blight's calm demeanor instead of Johanna's jibes and constant scowls, I did appreciate her honesty, and I respected the fearless way she carried herself. Her shouting had definitely gotten through to me on some level today. Plus, the thought of Johanna mentoring Autumn or Rudd, instead…I couldn't mentally reconcile it.

"Well. I guess I could at least attempt to make it easier on her," I stated, remembering my thoughts from earlier after she had blown up on me. I knew she had a point, and my actions had only hurt my chances in the Arena, while Johanna was trying to make them better.

"You could," Blight responded neutrally.

I tilted my chin up a bit, gazing back over the city. "And she's right. I'm not going down without a fight, no matter how bad the odds are. No matter how…reckless I can be sometimes, I do want to…" I trailed off, then. There was no part in articulating it. I was sure Blight knew that I wanted to return home. That all of us did. He knew this, just as well as he knew that three of us wouldn't be coming back.

Blight turned to face me fully, then, eyes seeming more intent than usual as he examined me for a long moment. I felt self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Don't lose that fighting spirit. It's one of the most valuable things you can hold onto," he said quietly.

The thought of both mentors recognizing that in me helped push away the gathering darkness at the corners of my mind—at least a little bit.

I nodded. "I won't."

"Good. Finish that and get some sleep."

Then he was facing the city, again, and I suspected he would not be engaging in any more conversation.

As instructed, I sipped on my tea silently for another couple of minutes, before leaving the balcony and returning to my room.

Fortunately, the tea helped my mind quiet somewhat. The anxiety was still there, rattling against the inside of my brain, but it was no longer enough to outweigh my physical exhaustion from everything that had happened today. Less than thirty minutes after returning to my room, I felt myself starting to drift in and out.

Eventually, mercifully—at a time far too late for me to get anything close to a respectable amount of rest—sleep caught up to me.

…

Once again, I felt like death as I was woken far too soon by an annoying tapping at my door. Although I woke up early nearly every day back in District 7, I was still not a morning person, especially after only getting a few hours of sleep.

"Breakfast in twenty minutes!" was Minodora's shrill greeting. "Take a shower, and clothes will be left out for you!" I heard the clickety click of heels walking away. How did that woman find the energy to just be herself at all hours of the day?

The shower served to wake me up a bit, at least. The warm jets of water and the sensation of the sudsy soap on my skin helped. I did not like the way I looked in the mirror, though—the dark circles around my eyes were starting to become quite visible from multiple nights in a row of poor sleep.

Sure enough, the outfit I was supposed to wear for training was laid out on the bed for me: form-fitting pants and a sleeveless t-shirt with a neckline that scooped down in a U-shape. The number "7" was emblazoned on both the front and the back of the shirt. The fabric was remarkably light, and stretchy. There were comfortable shoes to match. Of course, all of it fit me perfectly—the Capitol (creepily) knew every detail about our exact size and measurements. The getup was mostly black with white accents, though the number 7 was a bright red. I guessed that most districts had a nearly identical outfit, which would be different (I assumed) from the Games, where the tributes usually wore Arena uniforms in the colors associated with their district.

I dressed quickly and threw my hair into a low ponytail using an elastic band that I found in a small box in one of the bathroom drawers. I then departed, hoping breakfast was already served.

The dining room table was already loaded with food this time – instead of serving us in courses, it was all spread out for us to serve ourselves. Apparently, breakfast was a less formal affair than dinner. Avoxes lurked nearby to help with any request. Rudd was already over there, heaping food on his plate. Minodora was seated near the middle of the table, watching Rudd with barely concealed displeasure, eyeing the way he was spilling food here and there. I sat at the end opposite Rudd.

I didn't really want to ask the Avoxes for any more help than was necessary, so I went ahead and reached for the food like Rudd was doing, putting it on my plate myself with an Avox standing uncomfortably close by but making no move to stop me. I piled lots of pork, eggs, and those delicious flat circles of bread called pancakes on my plate, followed by a few pieces of fruit and one of those thicker slices of bread with crumbles of sugar on top. It was probably more than I'd be able to eat but I still knew I needed to gain a few extra pounds before entering the Arena.

I had just started digging into my food when Johanna and Ben arrived. Ben tossed me an amiable smile, still looking half asleep as he sat next to me. His hair was a bit messy, and it was oddly endearing. Johanna gave me an inscrutable look before choosing a seat across the table.

To my surprise, Autumn joined us soon after, Blight walking alongside her. She looked much better than after the Parade last night; there was some color in her cheeks again.

The wonders of Capitol medicine, of course.

I wondered if she'd watched the Parade recap and the program from her own room, or if she'd slept the whole night away. I felt an unfair stab of jealousy at the thought of getting a good night's sleep.

Blight and Autumn sat down closer to Rudd near the other end of the table. Autumn glanced at me with a look that I couldn't quite decipher, but I tried to toss her a small smile that I hoped was encouraging. Her lips tilted slightly upwards in return before her attention was caught by an Avox coming to assist with her food.

"So. You two," Johanna said suddenly after a few minutes of silent eating. "I'm going to do some coaching with both of you together-because that's unavoidable with four tributes and only two mentors-but I'll also be doing some separate coaching over the next few days."

"Why?" Benjamin asked, puzzled.

Johanna popped a bite of egg in her mouth, not chewing particularly gracefully and ignoring Minodora's look, finishing it before she responded. "Different strengths. Different personalities. Different strategies in the Arena."

He still didn't look convinced. "I think that-"

"Also, you don't have an obvious death wish like Twiggy over here," she continued, pointing at me with her fork accusingly. "You should try to minimize your time with her during training so that a target isn't painted on your back, as well."

Great, I thought. She's putting all her money on Ben. Cutting her losses. That conversation with Blight last night was all but forgotten.

"Death wish?" His eyebrows rose as he looked at me quizzically.

"What, Twigster didn't tell you how she insulted the giant boy from 2 to his face in the elevator yesterday?"

"What?" He looked horrified.

I tried not to toss a scowl at Johanna. I knew this had been coming. Instead, I muttered, "He and the boy from 4 kept insulting me, got under my skin, and I spoke without thinking." I sounded the tiniest bit petulant.

"June," he said, sounding exasperated, and I felt some of the familiar frustration bubble up.

"Don't give me that look, Ben. I have already realized that I shouldn't have risen to the bait," I said, irritated.

"Regardless," Johanna cut in before Ben could reply, "I'm going to have to figure out how to do damage control after her little comment. Especially after the program from last night. Based on that, it's pretty likely that he already has it out for District 7. You should distance yourself from her."

Ben was shaking his head, clearly deep in thought, looking troubled. He didn't say anything, though. He probably knew Johanna had a point. I wondered if he was remembering the death glare I'd gotten from Cato yesterday. He'd been the recipient of a threatening stare, too, but it was obvious Cato was really projecting some of his issues on me.

"But since it's the first day of training, we can have this little pre-training chat as a group." Johanna took a few more aggressive bites of food, before beginning to launch into her plan for us for that day while Ben and I finished our breakfast. At the other end of the table, Blight was leaning towards Rudd and Autumn, and I assumed he would be doing the same.

I wondered if they would start trying to separate the four of us more when giving us advice over the coming days. It was an unsettling thought, but only one of us could survive this. I knew it was inevitable.

In short, she had a few rules for us (mostly for me).

Rule One—I was not, under any circumstances, to show off my "only useful" (as Johanna put it) skill during training. I was not to throw any axes until my private session with the Gamemakers.

Ben, however, was instructed to at least do one thing that showed off either his familiarity with axes or knives (I still didn't know his extent of capability with either of those things), or his strength. Apparently, there were weights in the Training Center, and plenty of areas to practice throwing weapons. Johanna didn't want him showing all of his cards, but he needed to seem strong.

Ben could never fly under the radar with his size and muscular build, so instead, perhaps he could make himself seem like a useful ally. She also wanted him to accept any offers to train with Caspian or any of the other Careers. It made sense, especially with Finnick and Johanna seemingly having discussed the possibility of him working with 4. It was rare that Careers would ally with non-Careers, but it had happened before, and this was an unusual year. We didn't know if the Career pack would really stick together, or even how our partners would be chosen for the Arena. Johanna wanted to do everything possible to give Ben a chance at being paired or allied with someone strong.

I could tell he did not like the idea, and he kept glancing at me as if he expected me to object. Personally, I hated the thought of him with the Careers. I was worried they'd turn on him. But that same tiny, rational part of me recognized the merit in what Johanna was saying. People in Career alliances tended to last longer – even the non-traditional allies, like the boy from 3 last year that had reconfigured the mines.

And I also knew better than to argue about training strategy with someone who had been here before, and trained tributes for years (and who might spear me with a fork if I spoke up in protest).

Rule Two—I was to spend my time in at least three or four survival skill areas today. That was an easier task, one I could handle. I agreed that I needed to learn some of the basics if I was mostly going to be staying out of sight in the Arena. She wanted Ben to spend his time at one or two survival stations as well, if possible.

Rule Three—she told Ben to try to limit his time around me. This time, he protested, telling her that he didn't want to "throw someone from his own district to the wolves". I actually found myself somewhat touched by his protestation. He suggested that perhaps the Careers would be less likely to paint me as a target if they knew he was defending me. Johanna had responded that the bigger risk was that they'd target him along with me, especially that "brute from 2."

In the end, she agreed that Ben and I could train together at a survival station, and eat lunch together if he weren't sitting with any potential allies, as some districts would be eating lunch together anyway. That was it.

I felt like a small child again, all of my actions dictated, but I understood why she did it. Despite Ben seeming like a genuinely decent person, I agreed with her that we shouldn't spend too much time together. It was like the thoughts I'd had on the train – forming too close of a bond, or a legitimate friendship, would only make the Games harder when one of us inevitably died. Plus, I didn't want the guilt that would accompany a target being placed on Ben's back just for extensively associating with me.

Rule Four—and the final rule—I was, under no circumstances, to antagonize District 2 or District 4 in any way. I was, under no circumstances, to be at the same station that any of the volunteers (particularly from 2 and 4) were at, and I had to disengage as soon as possible if we ended up in the same place. I was, under no circumstances, to do anything that would put me on anyone's "shit list". My entire job today, Johanna said (pointing at me with a knife this time) was to fly under the radar and go unnoticed by the Careers.

"Got it. I will be as non-existent as possible," I muttered under my breath when she was finally done with her lecture about what type of behavior would be acceptable. She scowled at my tone, but seemed to realize that I was at least listening to her.

Soon after, we were dismissed. Training started at 10:00 sharp, though we were encouraged to be there a few minutes early and she wanted us to meet Minodora at the elevator at 9:45.

My nerves had been building all the while during breakfast, and during Johanna's lecture. I excused myself and returned to my room to kill the short amount of time we had left before training. I didn't really want to sit and chat with Ben right now. Especially since we were going to be distancing from each other a bit during the day.

I took my hair down, ran a brush through it, and put it in a ponytail again. Then I cleaned my teeth with another one of those Capitol brushes. I returned to the main bedroom and idly turned the giant screen on again. I could have just changed it back to where the entire wall was a window looking out at the Capitol, but I had an idea. I fiddled with the button until the scene I was looking for showed up: the ocean. I had never seen the ocean. Well, only pictures in books and glimpses in some Capitol-endorsed vids.

This wasn't real, of course, but it had to be close. The forest scene had been pretty accurate.

The sound was soothing as the waves washed against the shore. It was massive. Incredible. A moving, living thing. It stretched as far as the eye could see, a lovely hue of blue. I heard the cries of unfamiliar birds in the distance. I wondered what they were. The ocean was clearly unchangeable, untamable, uncontrollable. I wished I could visit it someday. I knew I probably wouldn't get the chance.

I sat there on the bed, staring out over the imitation of an ocean I'd never see, until it was time to meet Minodora at the elevator.

…

I alternated between chewing on a fingernail and toying with the ring on my right finger as the elevator took us down to the training gymnasium, which was apparently at the very bottom of the Training Center, below the ground level. Minodora had squealed excitedly about all of the new features that had been added specifically for the Quarter Quell.

We stopped on floor 5 to pick up a group of tributes, and we all studiously (and awkwardly) ignored each other, except for the escorts greeting each other with false smiles, until we reached the basement of the Training Center. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Autumn was trembling again, clearly with nerves. I honestly didn't blame her.

We'd be forced to interact with the other tributes today, or at least some of them. We'd be forced to observe the Careers in their element. I hoped I didn't have any more hostile encounters. Johanna might just kill me before I got into the Arena.

Minodora directed us to the proper set of double doors as soon as we reached the basement, then wished us luck in a too-cheery voice before returning to whatever it was she'd be doing during the day (hopefully talking us up to Sponsors, I thought, though I was sure she'd advocate more for Ben than for me).

The room was massive. I mentally catalogued it, recognizing some of the stations that Johanna had referenced when she was addressing us this morning. I saw weapons stands, rows of dummies and stationary targets for practicing said weapons, areas with fancy and hi-tech panels that (I recalled Johanna mentioning) would create virtually simulated moving enemies, and a flat section near the middle of the arena with mats probably intended for hand-to-hand combat. Of course, there were also numerous survival stations stretching along one entire wall, a weightlifting section located next to the hand-to-hand combat area, and even various types of obstacle courses or climbing tests (which I fully intended on attempting at some point). There were probably even more stations that I couldn't see from here.

Most of the other tributes were already gathered when we arrived. They stood in a loose semi-circle, mostly grouped with people from their own districts. As expected, all of the outfits were identical save for the identifying district numbers.

The stark difference between the Careers and (most) of the other tributes was immediately evident. They were looked strong, healthy, and well-fed. I felt like the District 7 group (minus Autumn) was better off than at least some of the other thin, haunted-looking tributes from the other outer districts, but the difference between us and the Careers was still immediately evident. They looked like they'd never experienced a hungry day in their lives.

The four of us, still as a group, joined the rest. I resolutely stared ahead, refusing to stare at anyone (especially in the direction of the Careers) as the last few groups trickled in. I fully intended to abide by Johanna's rules.

Soon, a tall woman with long dark hair and imposing features stepped forward and began to address us. Her name was Atala, and she was the head trainer, though she told us there would be other trainers at every station to help us. She assured us these trainers were well-qualified and we could trust them to assist where necessary (as much as we could trust anyone here, I thought bitterly). She then launched into a speech about the importance of survival skills, throwing out some depressing statistics about how many tributes tended to die in non-combat situations, such as to heat, cold, poison, dehydration, or infection. Next, she instructed that fighting with other tributes was forbidden, as we'd have "plenty of time for that in the Arena."

At least if the Careers followed the rules, I wouldn't have my neck snapped before we even got there, I thought.

Atala then indicated that there would be additional Capitol trainers available for weapons instruction or sparring partners, where necessary. She pulled out a small device and begin reading off of the screen. I listened intently, fiddling with the ring again. There were a lot of stations…and no way I could get to them all. But I'd already tentatively started planning for what I wanted to do today. Hopefully I could get it all done.

I could sense some of the other tributes looking around, but I still felt my gaze fixed on Atala. No attracting any sort of attention, I thought. I was sure Caspian would jump at the chance to try to get under my skin again. I may have calmed down since yesterday and I had a better handle on myself, but I still didn't want to give him the opportunity.

Then, we are released to begin training.

Without any hesitation, pretty much the entire Career group—nearly a dozen of them—headed towards the group of weapons stations. I saw stations for swords, spears, tridents, knives, bows, maces, and various others, including a couple weapons I didn't recognize, with practice dummies and adjustable targets. There were the simulations with moving enemies, too. Trainers stood nearby, though a couple of them looked a bit uneasy as the pack of Careers advanced in their direction.

I would certainly not be going that way.

"June-" I heard Ben say to my left, looking at me a bit plaintively. I shook my head. "Remember our rules," I responded quietly. He sighed, looking frustrated, then wandered off in the general direction of the weapons stations, though changed his angle and made his way towards the hand-to-hand combat trainer. Rudd grunted and walked towards the weightlifting section.

Autumn stood next to me a bit awkwardly, like a pale shadow.

I knew I shouldn't stay with her. I knew I shouldn't spend time with her. It was a terrible idea.

But right now…the thought of being around someone else from my district, someone from home, was so tempting. I just didn't want to be alone. On top of that, as much as I hated myself for thinking it, Autumn was very frail and unimposing. She would definitely help me stay under the radar.

It was unusual, I thought. She was a few years older than me. But she was so quiet, and fragile, and nervous…and probably so unused to being out and public and around people, that she seemed like the more childlike out of the two of us. She didn't seem comfortable with socializing, or holding eye contact with others. She just seemed very young, even to me. I would never have guessed her actual age if I didn't know, especially with her stature.

"I was thinking about going to a survival station," I spoke. She glanced up at me in surprise, as if she expected me to just walk away as well. "Want to join?"

Autumn nodded, and I didn't miss the relief on her face.

We walked to the fire-starting station first, but there were several tributes already there, so then adjusted our trajectory to the edible plants station. Here, we'd learn which types of plants we could eat, and which were poisonous. We'd then be tested on what we learned. In my opinion, it was a highly valuable station. There was an edible insects station next to it, but I decided to save that for later (or not at all—I really hoped I wouldn't have to resort to eating insects in the Arena).

We arrived at the same time as a couple of other tributes, and the trainer began a sort of lecture. There was a large white screen and he would pull up different pictures of plants, explaining which plants were common to which climates, and general rules about distinguishing between the ones safe to eat versus the ones that would kill you. I honed in on him, trying to absorb as much information as possible. He pulled up picture after picture after picture, pointing out minute features of the plants that distinguished them from others that were similar looking. Luckily, I did recognize several of them from the forests back home. My father had taught me some basic first aid, and a few of these plants were used to help treat wounds. Others I recognized from my mother's cooking when I was little. She had taught me a couple of plants that added good flavor and heartiness to food.

Quite a few others I didn't recognize, though. Some of them were pretty obviously poisonous, as they'd have brightly colored flowers or strangely shaped leaves, but many others were dangerously innocuous-looking, like nightlock (which I recognized from the previous year's Games, and doubted the Gamemakers would feature prominently again).

After the lengthy lecture, each of us took the quiz. Pictures of plants filled the screen in rows, and we had to select which ones we were sure were edible. I was pleased to get quite a few right (I did better than the tributes from 6 and 8) and I overall scored pretty high, though I resolved to come back again tomorrow. Because "quite a few right" may not cut it in the Arena. There were some edible ones I failed to select, and a few poisonous ones I marked as edible. I could still improve.

It would be embarrassing to survive through days of torture in the Games only to die by eating a leaf.

Autumn was the only tribute at the station who outperformed me, to my surprise. Then I remembered that she said she knew a lot about first aid. She probably recognized even more than I had. At least she would have something going for her in the Arena. I shouldn't want her to have a chance, but the empathy was still present.

"Fire starting next?" I asked her, seeing the crowd had thinned a bit in that direction. Only a group of tributes from District 9 was there right now. She nodded, looking a bit less nervous than earlier.

As we made our way over, I had a realization that made me nervous: a couple dozen Gamemakers, clad in purple robes, had arrived at some point this morning while we were at the edible plants station. They were observing us—well, all of the tributes—from a viewing area immediately overlooking the gymnasium. There was a massive table of all types of food laid out in front of them, constantly being replenished by Avoxes. A lot of the Gamemakers appeared to be chatting amongst each other, but plenty of others were observing the goings on below, and some even appeared to be note-taking. I spotted Plutarch Heavensbee up there, and decided the best thing to do was just pretend like they didn't exist. They would only distract me and make me uneasy.

As Autumn and I arrived at the fire-starting station the District 9 group was still working, but it looked like there was plenty of room for us to join. I glanced at them as we approached, then did a cursory scan of other nearby stations. Plenty of tributes had separated from their districts and were doing things on their own, but some others had stayed in pairs with district partners, and there were three tributes from District 9 here. Maybe the two from 12 winning last year encouraged more district camaraderie, despite the rules of the Quell not allowing ictors from the same district.

The trainer directed both of us to kneel on soft pads on the ground in front of the slightly raised, designated area where we'd be building our fires. It was almost meant to look like a mini forest, with a somewhat bumpy, dirt-covered ground that I assumed would ensure any fire wouldn't get out of control. The trainer said she'd be with us shortly after she finished helping the District 9 tributes start their fires without using matches. The area was fairly large, big enough for a handful of tributes to practice at once.

I wasn't really sure how to make small talk with Autumn, so I decided this would be a good time to subtly observe how the other tributes were doing. Mainly the Careers and Ben.

Of course, the Careers were easy to spot. They were grouped in small clusters across the gymnasium from me, but there wasn't really much to obstruct the view of what they were doing. They clearly knew that a lot of other tributes were watching them from time to time-I could see several others staring at them right now-and were trying to show off their skills to intimidate and terrify us. Some of the Careers would shout raucously or cheer when another did something impressive; the sound had occasionally had carried over during our time at the previous stations. It was like they didn't have a care in the world. I knew they wanted us to see this, to unsettle us.

Unfortunately, it was working.

As much as I didn't want them to, my eyes found Cato first—he, as always, stood out even amongst the other Careers.

My stomach dropped as I observed him. He was standing a bit apart from the others, a sword clutched in his hand. A trainer had started up some sort of program that generated simulated, featureless, human-shaped enemies with swords of their own. These enemies rushed at Cato down a narrow tunnel, one at a time, a few seconds apart. He was viciously slashing and impaling at enemy after enemy as they approached. His movements were ferocious and powerful, but controlled and precise. Every strike hit exactly where he was aiming. He struck again and again, severing limbs and heads and landing fatal strikes that looked nearly effortless.

Cato bobbed and weaved as the simulations struck at him, fluidly dodging their blows despite his massive size and quickly counterattacking. Each time he "killed" one of the simulated enemies, they vanished into nothingness in a flash of color. Shortly after, some device inside the tunnel would blink and another simulated human shape would materialize, rushing at Cato until he quickly cut it down too. Over and over and over. There was zero hesitation, no wasted movements as he ran through his targets.

Despite my distance from Cato, I could tell the perfect amount of control he had over that sword. It looked easy for him, something he had been born to do. The weapon was like an extension of his arm. It was fascinating—yet horrifying—to watch.

Even the trainer looked impressed. A few Careers, among them Chiffon and the other boy from 2, had paused in training with their own weapons, instead just watching Cato and cheering him on. I was sure his ego loved that.

Of course, the other non-Career tributes watching looked horrified. I was sure I did too, thinking of how easily he could gut me with that sword, and how much he wanted to.

I tore my eyes away after a few more seconds. There were a few more of these tunnels adjacent to Cato's, intended for training against simulated enemies with various types of weapons. It was a clever way to train against multiple enemies without completely destroying a bunch of the practice dummies that stood against another wall of the gymnasium.

Lambent stood in front of the tunnel next to the one Cato was using, a knife in each hand. There was a confident smirk on his face as the nearby trainer pushed a few buttons. Instantly, two figures materialized but instead of running at him, they began dodging and weaving wildly in the hallway as if they were trying to avoid him. Lambent smoothly stepped forward, releasing one knife, then the other shortly after. Both figures vanished into nothingness as his blades hit.

A couple more Careers were practicing on targets, or with trainers, instead of simulated enemies. The red-haired girl from 2, the one that always looked bored (and still did) was at a station directly across from us. She hurled a spear from a distance that was probably equally as far as any axe throw I'd ever done. It sank deep into the bullseye of the target. She didn't even look triumphant at the perfect throw. Her face was as emotionless as ever.

Tatiana from 2 was sparring with a trainer (who was wearing some type of padding and helmet, thankfully), using some type of blunted weapon that appeared to be of similar size and weight to a sword. She looked nearly as deadly as Cato did, a snarl fixated on her face as she was easily getting the upper hand and pushing the trainer back with brutal, aggressive movements.

I couldn't see Ben, though the area that was designated for hand-to-hand combat was more in the center of the gymnasium and thus partially obscured by the weightlifting station from this angle, where several tributes currently stood, so perhaps he was just blocked from view.

My eyes settled on Caspian, then. He was a short distance from the redhead from 2, also nearly directly across from us, but he was using a dummy stationed a decent distance away for his weapons practice. Two of his district mates stood nearby, watching him.

The cocky look that appeared to be permanently affixed to his face was perfectly in place as he grabbed a trident. Of course. He turned to grin and say something to one of his district mates, who nodded and said something excitedly in return, before Caspian focused on his dummy target. His back was to us, but I could see the target clearly in the distance.

He barely took time to get into position, pulling back and hurling the trident—with great force—in one smooth, practiced motion. The prongs sunk cleanly into the dummy. A lethal blow to the chest.

Caspian reached over to grab a second trident from the stand nearby, then repeated the motion, launching it at the same exact dummy. This one sunk directly into its head. Another perfect throw.

Then Caspian leaned over and pressed the button on a nearby panel that moved the recently-skewered dummy out of the way to reveal a new one that was further away from where he stood. He grabbed another trident, and stepped into position.

Another throw, also lethal, right into the dummy's chest.

He pressed the button again, moving that dummy out of the way to reveal yet another, even further back from the first two. The dummy seemed impressively far, at least to me. I knew it would take incredible strength to throw the trident that distance…and all of this showed just how much practice Caspian must have had with it.

He took a bit more time on this one, smoothly adjusting his stance and winding up a bit more, before throwing.

Yet again, it sank directly into the dummy's chest. Caspian turned to his district mates then and I could see the smirk on his face had widened, as they were clearly egging him on.

I felt uneasy, annoyed, and sick to my stomach. I hated him, but pretty much all I'd done was mock Caspian since I met him. Johanna was right, I should've faked civility. It had just been next to impossible with his obnoxious and infuriating behavior. At the very least, I should have feigned indifference. He was just as lethal and frightening as any other Career, he just didn't behave the same way as the others.

A tiny thought entered my brain that he would be a really useful ally for Ben. I brushed it aside.

I briefly registered that Autumn had followed my gaze and was watching Caspian with wide, somewhat alarmed eyes as the trainer finally finished up with the District 9 tributes and was coming back over to us to teach us how to make fires.

And then—whether because he sensed someone watching him, or because he had seen me walking over to the fire-starting station earlier and was just waiting for the chance to get under my skin—Caspian turned slightly from his district mates to stare directly at me, amber eyes glimmering with amusement. Autumn shifted uncomfortably next to me.

Caspian grinned widely then, eyes locked on mine. I was sure whatever look on my face was highly amusing to him, though I tried my best to seem indifferent. A cold dread unfurled in my stomach, but at the same time I fought the instinct to scowl at him. I fortunately (barely) managed to force myself into what I hoped was an impassive expression, and then the trainer had started speaking, and I tore my eyes away from the boy from 4.

I could still feel his gaze burning into the back of my head as the trainer began the lecture.

…

"This is way harder than I thought it would be," I huffed out, after my latest attempt to start a fire without matches failed miserably. Autumn made a noise of agreement.

I'd known the basics of making a fire—clear an area, find flammable dry tinder, light the tinder in multiple places, add slowly to it so as to not smother it—but it was not that simple in practice; the fire-starting station had multiple tricks up its sleeve, such as the trainer providing some tinder that was half damp and a breeze being simulated that would snuff the match or tiny flame out before it really caught. Back home we'd always had perfectly dry kindling and no breeze inside the home when lighting the fire in our fireplace. The few times I'd seen it done outdoors, I hadn't been in charge of doing it.

After a bit of effort, I had been able to start one a couple of times in a row using matches, but I knew matches wouldn't be widely available in the Arena, so I wasn't overly pleased.

Next up, then, was to learn to build one without matches, either with flint, or just using friction and sticks. Great. The trainer had been very patient in explaining how to do it just with sticks and tinder and demonstrating how it worked, but actually doing it was another matter.

As Autumn and I were working on our own pitiful efforts for a while, me muttering some choice words under my breath as I was absolutely horrible at applying the proper friction in the proper direction to create even a hint of an ember, a new group of tributes showed up to the station and settled down to my left. I glanced up and my eyes widened slightly in surprise– it was Rory Hawthorne and one of his female district counterparts. The trainer, trying her best to help Autumn create enough friction to make a fire, told them she'd be with them shortly, then barked something over her shoulder about "needing more assistance over here."

Rory's gaze met mine. I noticed he had the same steely grey eyes as his cousin. Those eyes then trailed down to my pitiful attempt at making a fire with only sticks and friction, which I had temporarily paused.

"Looks like I'll be praying for some matches in the Arena," I said before I could help myself.

Rory's eyes widened slightly, as if he were surprised that I'd spoken to him. I turned back to my work, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. After a few moments, the trainer moved onto the pair from 12, showing them the basics of gathering proper tinder and then making a fire with matches.

It was pretty silent at the station for a while as I labored over my attempts, my muttered comments to Autumn the only real break in the monotony, and Rory and his partner had both successfully made a decent fire using matches before I had successfully made one with only sticks. I was a little bitter about it, but I had actually come very close and I wasn't about to give up yet. I knew this wasn't supposed to be easy.

I glanced over, seeing Rory's fire made using matches had grown much more easily than my first one.

"You're a natural at this," I said to him. I wasn't even really sure why I was making conversation. Maybe because he was so young, and I felt so awful for him. Maybe because I knew that Snow had chosen him to be Reaped just because of who his cousin was. Every time I saw Rory's small face, I felt a pang of sadness at the unfairness of it all.

"Thanks," he muttered quietly.

"Seriously. You'll make one with sticks before I do, and I'm going to be really embarrassed."

The tiniest hint of a smile pulled at his mouth.

"I'm Juniper, by the way. District 7. And this is Autumn, also from my district." Autumn said a soft hello.

"I'm Rory from 12, and she's Poppy."

"Nice to meet you both."

I returned to my attempts, really feeling like I was getting close; I was getting the hang of just how much friction was needed to generate the heat required. Rory was silent for a moment, but then he spoke up, sounding a bit suspicious.

"Why are you talking to us? I don't think we're supposed to really talk to people from other districts until our partners are chosen."

That must have been what the Girl on Fire told him. No doubt she was trying to protect him, and she had a point. I decided to be honest.

"You shouldn't really trust anyone besides yourself going into the Arena. But I don't see the harm in talking to other people a little bit, at least when we're thrown together like this."

"But we're all enemies," he responded a bit stubbornly.

"We will be in the Arena." Again, I didn't beat around the bush. He was already having to grow up fast...he probably wouldn't get to grow up at all. He didn't really need things sugar coated. "At least, by the end of it. But I don't want to treat every single person like an enemy, every second of every day until then. Especially when most people, like me, didn't choose to come here."

He was quiet, then, but I felt like he was contemplating my words.

A while later, I was able to create a brief hint of a fire, though it didn't last.

A few more minutes after that, I successfully made a fire using just friction and sticks. I grinned triumphantly, leaning back on my heels. The others were still working on theirs.

"Finally!" I pointed at my fire, feeling oddly buoyant, just for a few seconds while I celebrated my hard-sought victory. "See that? You're looking at the master of flame."

Rory glanced down at my fire, pausing in his efforts. "Are you sure a master of flame would've taken so long to make just one fire?"

I put my hand over my heart, pretending to be offended. "You dare insult my fire-making skills?" Rory looked up at me then, clearly unsure if I was serious before seeing the small smile on my face, and then he just shook his head, but he looked slightly more relaxed than before.

Sometime later (though less time than it had taken me before), I was able to re-create the fire after another round of vigorous effort. I was slightly exerted, which was embarrassing, but I knew I'd thank myself in the Arena.

I leaned back again, wiping my hand across my brow as I looked at Rory. "This is hard work," I said, causing him to roll his eyes.

"You know that's an easy way to get yourself killed, right?" A new voice broke in.

I spun around to see Caspian standing over us, eyes flickering with mirth and something like condescension as he watched our attempts to start fires. He was a few feet away, and seemed even more imposing than usual since we were all sitting, kneeling, or crouched around our attempts at fires.

I heard Autumn's sharp intake of breath as she dropped the sticks she was holding, startled by his appearance and nearness. His eyes flickered over to her and the amusement in them increased.

Rory and his partner had spun around as Caspian had spoken, too. Rory's mouth was in a straight line, but I could see his grey eyes were wary, nervous. Poppy's eyes were fixed on the ground as she avoided looking at the boy standing above us. They were afraid. Why wouldn't they be? They'd probably seen him impaling dummies from over thirty feet away effortlessly, and he was a Career. Why was he even over here? He didn't belong. He stood out like a sore thumb, imposing compared to all of us hunched over our fire-making attempts.

My eyes met Caspian's again, as I tried to keep an impassive expression. He'd go away if he didn't get a rise out of me, I thought. That was obviously the only reason he was here. None of the other Careers had glanced at the survival stations.

"And why is that?" I asked, keeping my voice level. I saw Rory glance at me almost incredulously.

"The smoke will draw attention, and if you make it after dark, it'll just be a beacon for whoever's nearby." He raised an eyebrow, as if I were incredibly stupid for not knowing this.

I sighed, fighting back the frustration that Caspian seemed to automatically cause. I then slowly stood up, turning partly to face him, my knees aching from all the time spent at the station. I didn't like the way it felt with him standing over me, superior, while I knelt.

Even though he was still at least a foot taller than me when I stood up.

"Why do you just assume I'd be making a fire at night?" I asked, pleased when yet again my voice was even.

"You don't seem to have the best sense of self-preservation," he smirked, eyes twinkling knowingly. The words confirmed what I'd already known—that he'd deliberately manipulated me into pissing Cato off.

It occurred to me then that Caspian was even more dangerous than I'd thought. Much more dangerous. Not just because of the trident-throwing, but because of his apparent ability and willingness to use manipulative tactics instead of outright strength. He was sly and unpredictable, which was almost worse than Cato's outright brutality.

I decided not to rise to the bait.

"Why are you here, 4?" I said instead, my tone neutral.

He pretended to be offended. "This again? Come on, Juniper, you know me better than that." Subtly, his eyes flicked down to where the other Tributes were still either watching our exchange with wide eyes or pretending to ignore him. Now he was trying to manipulate them, too. Ostracize them from me, make them think I had friends in the Careers, thus making me a threat.

"I don't know you at all," I replied. My newfound realization of the danger he posed, along with the recklessness of my actions from yesterday, were helping significantly with keeping a calm, indifferent demeanor.

"Well, you know I'm good with a trident. I saw you checking me out earlier." He grinned at me then, teeth white against his tanned skin.

I felt my jaw clench. Could be possibly be more irritating?

"I wasn't just watching you," I responded coolly.

"Oh? Trying to make me jealous?"

I sighed then, heavily, a long-suffering sound that only served to increase his amusement. "I'd like to get back to this," I responded, gesturing at the fire-starting station and glancing over at it. Autumn was paler than normal, alarm evident in her body language. Poppy had pretended to go back to fire-starting, but she was still watching us out of the corner of her eye. Rory was openly watching my exchange with Caspian, his grey eyes flicking back and forth.

Caspian took a step closer to me, then, to where he was less than a couple feet away. I tensed, but held my ground. I stared up at him, mentally willing my expression to be as blank as possible.

"Why waste your time." He said dismissively, then tilted his head to the side slightly in an almost appraising manner. "Why not learn how to throw a trident?"

I blinked then, feeling my impassive expression shift with surprise. "What?"

Caspian took another step towards me, until he was far, far too close and I was having to stare directly up at him. Every instinct wanted to back up, but I refused on principle. Was he offering to teach me to throw a trident? Why the hell would he do that? What was the game plan here?

"You heard me."

I was baffled, completely caught off guard. I had no clue what he was trying to pull.

Fortunately, for once, I was saved from responding, as an annoyed and (unfortunately) familiar voice broke into our conversation.

"4! Come on, we're going! Now."

It was Cato. He was a good distance away still, but he had barked the angry words across part of the gymnasium loudly and tersely. An order, not a request.

He must be in charge of the Career pack this year. Not surprising.

I realized then that it was lunch time, and plenty of tributes were already standing up and making their way to the attached dining area, Careers included. Apparently, the Careers would be sitting together. Or at least, Caspian was invited to sit with them.

And clearly, Cato did not appreciate the fact that Caspian was associating with his least favorite tribute, judging by the way those icy eyes slid over to stare at me coldly, just for a moment.

Once again, my blood froze in my veins, and my heartrate sped up in my chest as the nerves erupted. It was uncanny how one look from Cato made me feel like cornered prey. I knew Caspian was dangerous, but he just couldn't cause the immediate fight-or-flight response Cato could. But fortunately, I was relieved from the overwhelming stare almost immediately as Cato's eyes returned to glare at Caspian for another second, before he turned and strode off towards the dining area.

Caspian turned back to me, rolling his eyes in exaggerated fashion. "I have been summoned," he said sarcastically, then tossed me another grin. "But don't worry Juniper, we'll catch up later, I promise."

And with his eyes still glinting with suppressed laughter at my expense, like they always were, he turned and walked away.

…

I thought about inviting Rory and Poppy to lunch, but then immediately dismissed the thought. That would probably just be awkward. Especially with the nervous looks they were giving me after Caspian's appearance. I really hoped they didn't seriously interpret that interaction as me wanting to associate with the horrid boy.

There were carts piled with food all over the place, and we were in charge of getting our own. Again, I thought it was a nice change of pace from the Avoxes doing everything. Autumn and I settled down at the same table across from each other.

Some tributes sat alone in the dining area, but others sat with their district mates since there were so many of us. Nobody really knew what to do. The Careers sat in a large group, of course. I noticed that the girl from 4 that had been Reaped was with them, too, even though she hadn't volunteered. She sat slightly apart from her district fellows, though, looking rather small and uncomfortable. I wondered how long the others would let her sit there if she didn't have any sort of unique or exceptional skill.

The Careers were much louder than everyone else, some of them laughing rowdily at every single joke, as if they didn't have a care in the world. I'm sure part of it was to continue to try to intimidate the rest of us. I noticed that Caspian had his arm slung around the shoulders of the darker-haired girl from District 1 (Ruby, it came to me after a moment, standing out since the District 1 names were so flashy and odd). He was leaned in close to her, murmuring into her ear, and she was giggling in response. Apparently, someone found him charming, because the girl didn't look like she was about to blow up on him. Good. Maybe he'd be distracted and leave me alone. I found his presence completely repulsive and unsettling.

I was actually relieved when Ben came to join me and Autumn. To my surprise, Rudd had sat at our table too, though a few feet away, clearly not wanting to really participate in whatever conversations we were going to have.

"Well, I'm going to be sore tomorrow," Ben said, plopping down next to me rather unceremoniously and tearing into some bread.

"Having fun?" I asked him sarcastically.

"Loads." He took a large bite of bread, chewed, and swallowed almost noisily. "I was going to do some hand-to-hand combat. I stayed to observe the lesson, but I didn't get to spar yet. It was always packed so I guess I'll just try it later. I got to do the obstacle course, the rope one." He glanced at me, continuing. "You'll probably be pretty good at that one, at least the climbing bit. I tried out the swords, then…" he trailed off, grimacing. "Yeah, not really my weapon."

I didn't think I could use a sword, either. Too long and unwieldy.

"You sure Johanna would want you telling us all of your training strategies?" I asked then, raising an eyebrow, only half joking.

Ben huffed. "I get where she's coming from, but it's not like the stuff we're doing today is a secret. You could just, you know," He gestured wildly. "Look around and see what I'm up to." After a moment he turned to me, grinning slightly. "You know, if you're curious and want to be impressed, that is," he added, a bit of the charm seeping through.

"I'm sure I would just be enraptured watching you get your ass handed to you by the trainers," I smiled back sweetly.

He only chuckled, and I then gave him a (very abridged) version of what I had done. I didn't mention that Autumn had joined me, though I doubted she cared. Like Ben said, our activities during the training days weren't a secret. Anyone could watch us.

Our private sessions, though? The one I had tried not to think about too much just yet? That was a different story. I planned to keep my lips sealed about whatever I decided to show the Gamemakers.

…

…

After lunch I decided to try snares. The afternoon session was a bit longer than the morning session each day, so I wanted to try to fit in three survival skills this afternoon, if possible. Johanna might be impressed if I managed to fit so many survival skills in a day, even if I probably needed to have another go at a couple of them. Autumn followed me again, almost seeming like she was scared to be on her own. Ben tagged along, too, since Johanna had at least given him permission to accompany me to one survival station despite the fact that I was "Career-bait", as she had (rudely) put it.

Two tributes from District 3 were already there, one of them the young boy that I remembered because he had to be dragged on stage during his Reaping. The woman with him looked to be in her late forties. We made a bit of small talk with them; the woman was very nice, and there was something almost maternal about her. The way she smiled at us, the soft way she spoke to the young boy from her own district. It was almost off-putting, because I knew they'd both probably be dead in just a few more days.

Two more people that I didn't want to die. Great.

Learning the snares was actually fairly difficult. We started with a couple of basic ones, but even those were not intuitive to me. I'd never set up a snare or hunting trap before; hardly any wild animals worth snaring ever snuck inside the electrified inner fence, and it was illegal for people in my district to hunt, unless expressly permitted by the Capitol.

However, I did notice one good thing: while it took me awhile to learn the snare and initially set it up correctly, after I did it once it was pretty easy for me to replicate. I had small, deft hands from my years of work back in District 7 at the lumber yard and paper mill. The movements were unfamiliar so doing it the first time was slow going, but I could re-create the snare pretty quickly afterwards. The trainer smiled and nodded at me encouragingly after I got the second one down and replicated it a couple of times. These were basic snares, but I was still glad I was making progress.

The trainer began showing me a third snare, one that was slightly more complicated than the first two, but still not overly difficult. I was secretly a bit satisfied that Ben was still struggling with the second snare as I was learning the third. At least I was better than him at something.

…

Pleased with my time at the snare station, and smirking a bit at Ben's griping during the last half-hour (during which time I'd managed to pull off the third snare, though only once, while he'd just barely gotten the hang of the second one), I decided to try a similar station next. The knot-tying station, which was immediately next to the snare station. While the former was focused on trapping small to medium-sized animals, we quickly learned that the knot-tying was more focused on nets or elaborate traps that could be used on human competitors. Traps that would leave them helpless for us to finish off.

Ben had headed off back to hand-to-hand combat again, hoping for the chance to spar with the trainer if it was less crowded, while Autumn was still shadowing me. There was only one other tribute at this station, who looked at us nervously then pretended we didn't exist the rest of the time.

The trainer began to work with the ropes, manipulating them with ease into knots until he'd formed a basic net. Then he let us try, instructing us every step of the way. To me, this much harder than snares. My deft hands came in useful again, but the basic rope-tying seemed to be harder than the basic snares we'd learned, so it took me longer to get the hang of it. It was probably a full half hour before I'd made something that resembled his net, though I figured I would be able to replicate it.

Then the trainer got to work on showing us a rope trap that was a bit more complicated, the knots more complex than those we'd just learned. This was meant to be a net, as well, but a bigger one – one that, if set up properly using nearby trees, could be cleverly disguised and used to trap an unsuspecting tribute down for an easy kill.

That one took over an hour to learn and put together, but I had somewhat gotten the hang of it by the end. At least, I could probably make something to slow another tribute down if necessary, even if mine didn't look nearly as good as the trainer's. I was definitely better with the snares, though. I was worried I'd need a lot of rope and time to recreate the trap in the arena.

I stood up, stretching out my fingers, as they were beginning to cramp from the knots. I knew that the way the day was broken up, we had more time after lunch than before. So even after spending over an hour at the snare station and probably at least an hour and a half at the knot-tying station, I figured I had a bit of time left to swing by one more station before the training day would be over and we'd return upstairs. I ran through the mental list I had made earlier of the stations I wanted to try this week, before deciding I could make stop by the shelter station.

With Autumn still trailing after me (I had tried not to notice how much more she struggled than me at knot tying since didn't have a lot of strength or dexterity in her hands), we started to make our way over there. As we did so, I took another opportunity to glance around the gymnasium again, just to take stock of what the other tributes were doing. It made me sick to my stomach seeing all of the Careers excelling and putting their obvious dominance on display, but wasn't it better to know what people could do?

I noticed a couple of the Careers were currently attempting an obstacle course with moving platforms, with trainers swinging some sort of padded weapons at them here and there. I remembered Atala had called that course the "Gauntlets," and it seemed pretty popular.

Most of the Careers, though, were still at the various weapons stations. It seemed that a lot of them had a knack for multiple weapons. Cato and the other boy from District 2 had moved onto fixed targets and were throwing spears from a good distance away. Naturally, each one was hitting its mark. It almost seemed like the two boys were competing, a small crowd of nearby tributes watching them sink spears into target after target. They seemed to be barely breaking a sweat. Cato's face was nearly expressionless, only shifting into the barest hint of an arrogant smirk as his last throw—the furthest one yet—sank cleanly into his target, resulting in a couple excited cheers from other nearby Careers watching.

How is it fair that he's good at both ranged and close-combat weapons? I thought uneasily.

I deliberately did not take the time to focus on Caspian (who was equipped with knives at the simulation Lambent had been using earlier), instead seeking out Ben as we approached the shelter station. This station had a slightly better view of the hand-to-hand combat area.

But Ben wasn't at the hand-to-hand combat station anymore, apparently. I squinted, glancing around until I quickly spotted him – he was at the adjacent weightlifting station.

Damn, I thought as I watched him, equal parts impressed and wary. I knew he was strong, given the type of work he had to do every day, which involved a lot of heavy lifting and long hours. A lot of District 7 boys were strong, especially those that worked as lumberjacks, and Ben was pretty well-fed, at least for someone from my district (his family was a bit more well-off than mine, I'd realized).

But he was actually stronger than I anticipated. I didn't know much about weightlifting, obviously, but it seemed like he was lifting, well, a lot. Ben lay on his back, arms straining as he tightly gripped a bar with large weights piled on each end, pushing the bar away and then pulling it back towards his chest repeatedly. His face set in intense concentration, I felt like I could see the veins standing out in his arms even from over here as he repeated the movement several more times before he eventually rested the bar heavily on a rack above him. He then slid out from under the bar and sat up, wiping his brow, looking pleased with himself. A few of the nearby tributes looked impressed; I wondered if any of the Careers had noticed.

Brushing the unpleasant thought away, I turned back to the shelter station as the trainer began to address the small group of tributes gathered there.

…

Less than an hour later—now at least having a general idea of how to put the most basic shelter together, though I wouldn't say I had "excelled" at it by any means—we started making our way back to the elevator. I hadn't really done anything overly physical today outside of all of the rather tedious work with my hands at the survival stations, but I still felt drained.

It had been an odd experience having Autumn around all day. She was quiet, only really speaking when directly addressed. She hadn't done very well at most of the stations outside of the edible plants quiz, so I'd kept having the odd surges of sympathy throughout the day, which I really couldn't afford. But at the same time, some part of her presence was almost comforting. Because she was someone from back home, so I wasn't alone all day.

Ben was actually waiting for us outside of the elevator area, though we had to weave through the throng of tributes to get to him. He was coated in a sheen of sweat, though he looked almost content.

"Not sure I want to share an elevator right you right now," I commented dryly as we approached our fellow District 7 tribute, observing the way Ben was mopping at his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. "Maybe they should add a shower station down here."

"You only say that because you'd want to watch," he shot back cheekily, typical easy grin in place.

"Getting bold with our assumptions, are we?" I rolled my eyes.

"Don't lie—I can see it all over your face."

"I think you're confusing me with some of your fans in the Capitol," I retorted.

"Now you just sound jealous."

"Damn, you've just seen right through me." My words dripped with sarcasm.

"Don't worry. I can always give you a private show back on the District 7 floor," Ben responded, having the gall to grin even more widely as he said it.

That caught me off guard, and I couldn't help the started half-laugh, half-scoff that escaped me. "Really firing on all cylinders today, aren't you? Maybe you should save some of that wit and energy for your interview."

We bantered back and forth—even Autumn seemed at least slightly amused by the distraction—until it was our turn to get into the elevator and return to our floor, which would no doubt be followed up by an intense session of questioning by our dear, friendly mentor.

…

I was right. After showering and cleaning up after the day of training, it was time for dinner. Johanna asked general questions at dinner - which stations other tributes visited, how well they did, who stood out as the biggest threat, etc. etc. Blight similarly questioned Autumn and Rudd, though it seemed with less success. The stylists were not around tonight, but Minodora was, and she seemed to be paying rapt attention, even taking notes. I was surprised...she really had more involvement than I thought. Or maybe she wanted to learn insidious details about the other tributes so she could spread negative rumors around; that seemed more her style.

Regardless, every tiny little observation seemed to matter. Ben and I both had made some observations about the Careers and the weapons they seemed to prefer most, and Johanna asked for an unnecessary amount of detail about it. Some of her frustration seemed to return when I talked about how proficient Cato and Caspian were with their weapons, Cato in particular since he seemed to be able to work with weapons of vastly different styles.

After dessert, Johanna spent almost an hour with each of us separately, and that's where she really grilled us about the more personal aspects of the training day: what stations we visited, every little thing that happened at the station, how well we did at each of them, which we planned to visit tomorrow. We reviewed the merits and advantages of each survival station visited, how those could come into play in the Arena, and which ones might be worth another go (such as taking the edible plant quiz again). At the end of our private mentoring session, Johanna seemed fairly pleased (as much as Johanna could be) with the experience I'd gotten today, and we generally agreed on a plan for the next day.

One thing I decided not to tell her was a recounting of my interaction with Caspian, and his (more than likely insincere) offer to teach me to use a trident. I hadn't snapped at him or antagonized him, and he hadn't even talked to me the rest of the day. It would probably only infuriate Johanna if she knew I'd interacted with him at all, even though he'd approached me. Plus, our evening session had not been nearly as combative as expected. I didn't want to ruin the mood.

I also knew that Caspian was just toying with me, and his words meant nothing of substance. If it turned into more of an ordeal I'd ask Johanna how to approach it. For now, though, it was something well within my power to handle. If I couldn't even handle Caspian's efforts to get under my skin, how could I handle the Arena?

Once Johanna dismissed me for the evening, I wandered back towards the living area, unsure what to do. It was fairly late. I supposed I could head off to bed; I hadn't exactly gotten a good night's sleep the previous night. But the anxiety was crawling around under my skin, along with dark thoughts about the upcoming ordeal, and I was worried about tossing and turning for hours again. Perhaps I could get some more of that tea that seemed to help. I'd drink it out on the balcony or something again, observing the city, and once I felt the tiredness start to pull at me, I'd go to bed and hopefully fall asleep to the simulated sounds of the ocean.

…

I was gazing out over the city, alone on the balcony this time while I sipped my tea, but soon Ben came out to join me.

"Not tired yet?" He asked.

"I am, but…last night, despite how tired I was, it didn't help me fall asleep." I indicated the beverage in my hand. "This did, though. After a while."

He made a noncommittal noise and was silent for a moment before changing the subject. "This is a good view, but Minodora was just going on and on about the roof and how much prettier it is up there. Apparently, they did some incredible renovations this year." He made air quotes with his fingers as he emphasized "incredible renovations."

I vaguely remembered Minodora mentioning that. "Are you suggesting we check it out?" I was slightly curious, and maybe it would be nice to have a change of scenery that wasn't the gymnasium downstairs. Despite the size and luxury of our floor, it still felt somewhat claustrophobic at times.

Probably because I was thinking of it as the last place I'd ever shower in, the last bedroom I'd ever sleep in.

Ben shrugged. "I doubt it'll be crowded this late. And I'm not as tired as I hoped I'd be."

It probably wasn't a good idea to really spend more time with Ben, to get to know him better. As easy as he was to be around, the thought was constantly in the back of my head: at least one of us would have to die.

But, right now, the thought of returning to my room and trying to sleep was unpleasant. I could at least go up to the roof for a few minutes.

"Fine, let's go then."

…

The elevator took us up into a dome-shaped room containing both a set of stairs providing an alternate way back down, and a door leading to the outside. As Ben opened it, I realized that Minodora had been right, that it was a very pretty view up here—this high up, the city was laid out all around us in a beautiful array of lights and colors against the backdrop of the night sky. It was a bit windy, but I didn't mind even a little. It was refreshing. There was a railing all around the edge of the roof. Though, if someone wanted to hurl themselves off of it, I doubted that railing would do much.

On one side of the roof was a beautiful garden, with actual trees and flowers (though they all grew in unnatural pots). The sight of green was incredibly heartening. I heard the faint, musical sound of wind chimes – there were so many of them, dangling down from the tree branches. Small benches sat around the garden, and a circular fountain bubbled in the middle of it. There was a tiny, winding stone path that cut through the garden, with an archway stretching over the entrance.

On the other side of the roof was what was clearly meant to be a lounge area, with furniture designed for the outdoors. I quickly took in the scene. There were sets of couches and high-armed chairs strewn about, clustered into three separate sitting areas adjacent to each other. Each of the three sets of furniture was positioned around a table. The tables all had softly-glowing lamps placed on them, casting a dim glow onto the nearby furniture. The lamps and the backdrop of the glittering city lights contributed to an almost cozy ambiance. It was clearly intended for people in the Training Center to come up, watch the city, and socialize here; though, ironically, I couldn't imagine that many people using it for that purpose. Except for mentors, maybe...or stylists and prep teams when they needed to escape us outer-district "savages"…

Or Careers.

Because, of course, I just wasn't lucky enough to find any peace and quiet coming up here.

Unfortunately for the two of us, some of the Careers were currently occupying part of the lounge, sprawling about the nearest sitting area.

Lambent and both girls from 1 were there, along with Cato (to my great annoyance) and the other boy from 2, the one with the burn scar on his face. I noticed that Ruby, the brunette from 1 that Caspian had been flirting with earlier, seemed to be making an effort to sit very close to Cato. She was smiling at him as if he were the most interesting person in the world. I had to question her taste in men. Although, if Ruby's plan was to flirt with some of the biggest threats to try to buy herself more time in the Arena, I supposed I couldn't judge her for the strategy.

Thankfully, Caspian was not there. At least luck hadn't totally screwed me over tonight.

Ben and I had taken in the scene within a few seconds of reaching the roof. He turned to me with a questioning look, nervousness in his expression as if he almost wanted to turn around and go right back down.

But a couple of the Careers had noticed us; I had looked away almost as soon as I saw Cato and I'd turned to Ben, but not before a couple heads had swiveled to observe the two of us. I could feel their gazes on my back. I was sure they were just waiting for an opportunity to mock us. Of course, I wanted to just go back downstairs (my nerves had increased tenfold even being on the same roof as Cato), but the rational part of my brain knew we'd just look scared and pathetic.

"Garden?" I asked Ben quietly before he could speak. Because at least it was all the way across the roof, which would hopefully be far enough.

He nodded, and we both turned our back on the Careers and made our way over there.

I decided then that I wanted to spend more time here, if possible, when there weren't Careers around. It wasn't the woods back home, but it was the closest I could get. The trees were significantly smaller, far too small to realistically climb, but they were still trees.

"Sorry," Ben said quietly when we arrived. The good news was we were far enough away, and the wind was strong enough, we didn't have to whisper to avoid being heard.

"Why?"

"I didn't realize they'd be up here."

I scoffed. "How could you have? It's nice up here, anyway. I'm not going to let them ruin that." Hopefully my voice didn't betray my nerves. I pointed at the nearest potted tree as we sat down on a bench in front of the small, gurgling fountain. I was still clutching my warm cup of tea, nearly emptied. "Besides, look. Trees."

Ben smirked a bit, then. "Gonna try to climb one? I know that's a pastime of yours."

"Going to cut one down? I know that's a pastime of yours," I retorted snidely, which only caused him to chuckle.

"A tree this size? Wouldn't even be a challenge," he said, puffing up his chest in mock arrogance.

A thought occurred to me, then, and (unsurprisingly) I found myself voicing it before really thinking it through. "I believe it, actually. I saw you lifting weights today. Not like that," I added, seeing the smirking glint in his eye and cutting off the obvious comment before he could make it, "So don't even say what I know you were thinking- I'm being serious. You're strong. You really have a shot in this thing. You might be able to win, if you get some Sponsors—which I'm sure you will—and a decent partner."

Ben looked slightly uncomfortable, then, and didn't respond. I took the opportunity to sip the rest of my tea, setting the cup on the ground. I could feel it beginning to kick in.

The silence stretched on for a moment longer. It seemed almost tense, for some reason. I felt a slight twinge of annoyance, perhaps due to Ben still being uncomfortable on this topic, long after he should have faced it. Or maybe it was just some jealousy leaking over from when I'd observed him at the weightlifting station today. Regardless of the reason, I found myself continuing.

"Caspian is a total dick, it's true. But I saw him throw a trident. As much as you hate it, I can at least somewhat see Johanna's point about considering him as a potential ally—well for you, not me."

"June…" Ben muttered, a bit stiffly, but I ignored him. Ignored the warning note in his voice.

"Actually, Sponsors would really love the two of you together. They'd probably be scrambling over each other to send you gifts." Part of me truly wanted him to understand he had a decent shot at this, but another part of me felt bitter as the words escaped my mouth.

"Why do you keep doing that?" there was an edge to his voice.

"Doing what?" I asked, puzzled.

"Talking about how likely I am to get Sponsors, or how good my odds are in the Games."

I remembered back on the train, when Ben had first seemed uncomfortable when the situation was brought up. I'd thought it was false humility at the time before learning it was genuine discomfort. But that was Reaping Day, and I felt like we had to be pragmatic and move past it now. Back then Ben had turned the conversation into making a point about how he wouldn't try to come after me in the Arena—which I had appreciated—but I felt like boundless optimism was unrealistic right now.

And, if I admitted it to myself, it bothered me a little bit that he –the person with the best shot from our entire District –was the one trying to avoid the subject. If I had to face reality, so did he.

"I mean, what else is there to really think about over the next few days?"

He shook his head, frowning. "We're up here to relax. Not talk about the Games and our chances. That's for the Capitol programs and our mentors."

I was silent then, unsure what to say. On the one hand, he had a point. On the other, burying our heads in the sand wasn't really the best way to address our problems. Surely he'd had the same thoughts?

He shifted on the bench, turning towards me, though still a couple feet away. "But here you are, talking about all the advantages you think I have, and basically discounting yourself because of it."

I frowned. I'd never totally counted myself out or even implied it. "I'm not discounting myself. I'm just saying out of District 7, you have the best shot. The best odds. You're the strongest."

Ben shook his head, almost as if he was actually disagreeing with me, and then I felt a prickle of irritation again and I continued before he could speak, "You can't honestly disagree with that."

"I just don't understand how you can be so…so…callous towards yourself and the others like that." Ben's shoulders were slightly hunched, and he looked perturbed as he spoke.

"Callous? I'm not being callous," I replied a bit indignantly.

"Yes, you are," he bit back, frustrated.

"I'm just being pragmatic. And you should be too. Obviously, the odds aren't good for any specific tribute, but yours are a lot better than most, better than the rest of ours."

Ben was agitated now. "You're not being pragmatic, you're being…cold," he replied stonily.

"Cold? Ben, there's no way you haven't thought about this on your own."

He didn't respond at first and I felt the words continuing to emerge. Was he seriously living in denial? Did some part of him live in a fantasy world where both of us would come back?

"Look, the first night on the train, I accepted it, ok? I accepted that only one of us will come back from this. You should too," I said, a harder edge in my voice.

"You think I haven't realized that?" He demanded, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

I continued as if I hadn't heard him. "I accepted the likelihood of my death. I had to, to be able to process all of this. I'm still going to fight, obviously, but-"

"Stop," he cut me off loudly then, legitimate anger in his voice. I realized it was the first time I'd ever heard Ben angry. I felt my own irritation rise even more. I found that it angered me that he was finding this so hard to swallow. He had the best chance out of all of us; if he didn't want to hear about the realities of the situation, how did he think it felt for the rest of us from 7? For Autumn, and Rudd, who no doubt had taken Johanna's disparaging comments to heart to some extent? Who hadn't exactly made a great showing at the Tribute Parade, or stood out in any form or fashion?

"Stop what? Saying the truth?" I responded, my annoyance plain in my own voice, which was slightly raised now, though not enough to carry all the way across the roof.

His eyes met mine, then, his gaze steely. "The truth is that nobody knows what is going to happen in there. We all have a chance." His voice had gotten slightly louder too.

"I never said we didn't. We can't predict the future. But the point is, some of us have more of an advantage than others. It's naïve not to realize that." My tone matched his.

He barked out a laugh, then, but it was an angry sound. It didn't sound like him. "Oh, I'm naïve now? Just because I don't want to sit here and compare our chances of success?"

"You're naïve because the topic makes you this uncomfortable."

"It should make you uncomfortable too, talking about it so casually," Ben snapped.

I pressed on, unable to hold back the words and my frustration with him. "This could be the last few days of our lives, Ben. Living in denial won't do you any favors."

"I'm not living in denial," he grit out.

"Seems to me like that's why you're getting so upset right now," I bit back heatedly.

Ben stood up abruptly. His jaw was rigid. I tensed as he glared down at me. "Or maybe I don't want to just sit here and talk about our odds like some sort of Career? Or like some Capitol viewer, betting on whether we're going to live or die?"

"Don't you dare compare me to them," I hissed in response. "I'm nothing like them."

"I don't know. Seems to me like you're already losing your grip on some of your humanity," he snapped back, fists clenched at his sides.

That hurt. "Fuck you. What would you know? You don't really even know me," I spat back at him with as much venom as I could muster. The insult stung more than I cared to admit.

"You're right. I guess I don't," he said icily.

We stared at each other then, for a moment, both of us seething, Ben's fists still clenched. At that moment, that same small part of my brain—the pragmatic, survival-focused part that had first appeared at the Reaping when his name was called—awoke in the forefront of my mind as I realized just how threatening Ben looked in this moment. He stood over me, rigid, corded muscles bulging in his arms due to his aggressive posture. His green eyes burned with an anger I hadn't seen in them before. His teeth were gritted. The expression looked foreign on this face.

I had the brief, mental image of him reaching out, wrapping his hands around my neck. I knew it wouldn't be difficult for him. He wasn't Cato-sized, but he was far bigger than me, and I could see the strength in him from the way he towered over me.

That same survival-minded part of my brain had the thought that if I saw him like this in the Arena, he could easily break me.

Some part of my thought process must have showed on my face. My expression—always easily read—must have portrayed my abrupt wariness of him, maybe even some fear, because suddenly Ben's expression shifted to something almost like horror, then hurt. He knew what I was thinking, or part of it. He was still angry, but he almost looked like I had slapped him.

"The Games change everyone…but I guess it's easier for some to change than it is for others," Ben said then, coldly and quietly, sounding nothing like himself.

Then he turned, and was gone.

His words hurt. I almost felt like I'd been struck, because I had already been worried about that happening in the Arena, about changing for the worse once I was faced with the worst humanity had to offer…but I didn't think that accepting my reality meant I was turning into a monster now. It wasn't a fair jab, I thought. And I hated the way I felt pressure behind my eyes, the way I had to blink rapidly to avoid crying at the sudden coldness I felt inside me.

I still had empathy. The thought of dying or my district mates dying was still horrifying to me. I didn't want to see anyone die, and I didn't want to kill anyone. But…I was determined to fight my hardest to survive. And I knew the Arena experience would be worse than I could imagine. I wasn't an optimist, and I had accepted the worst possibility, the reality of my situation, because I didn't see the point in hiding from it. I needed to have as clear of a head as possible moving forward, and I was never the type of person to ignore my problems. I didn't think that meant I was losing humanity. Ben and I just had different ways of addressing this terrible situation.

And, as I sat there, fiddling with my ring in agitation, I realized that was the heart of it. Ben was more of an optimist than me. Clearly, he dealt with the stress of this situation differently than I did. My alternate way of thinking had struck at something within him. Maybe I'd forced him to think of all of this a different way, a less pleasant way, and now that I'd done that there was no going back for him. Maybe he resented me for that.

Or, maybe, I'd unearthed things Ben had been trying to avoid. Maybe I'd echoed his most innermost thoughts. Thoughts he didn't want to admit that he'd had, because he was worried those thoughts meant he was already losing his humanity, like he'd accused me. Maybe my words had resulted in him facing those thoughts, accepting that they'd always been there.

At the end of the day, who knew why he had reacted so strongly to my pragmatism about the reality of our situation. Who could guess all what went on in his head? We were very different people, with different ideas of how to handle impending death. All I knew was that I was still angry, and my chest hurt, and I didn't like how emotional I felt.

I really didn't think I was in the wrong, though. Perhaps for pushing the conversation initially after he was uncomfortable, but not for the way I was approaching our situation in general. And I felt like maybe Ben owed me an apology for comparing me to the Capitol and the Careers. That comparison had made the blood burn through my veins.

I sat there for several moments, replaying the conversation in my head a few times, my chest feeling constricted both from hurt and anger. The argument had cleared any of the creeping tiredness from the tea, and now I just felt frustration and adrenaline tugging at me every which way. I decided to wait a bit before going back downstairs, just to ensure I wouldn't run into Ben on our floor before heading to bed.

I then remembered that the Careers may still be up here, too. I couldn't see them from here because they were on the opposite side of the dome-shaped room that contained the elevator and stairs that led to the roof, and I was also sitting in front of the fountain, my back facing their direction. There was no way they'd heard our argument over the distance with the wind. But I decided to wait up here awhile longer to make sure they were gone by the time I left, too.

And if they weren't, I'd just have to sneak past as surreptitiously as possible. I hoped they had left before Ben and didn't see him storm off. Who knew what they would think?

Not like I should care what they thought. I wasn't like them at all, and I resented Ben's implication. I decided that I must have really struck at something at his core for him to say something like that. For him to get so angry. It just wasn't true. I was forced to be here just like Ben and the others. I hated it here. I wanted to go home, and I was scared. I didn't care about winning glory in the games, and I didn't want to kill anyone. I was just as much of a victim of this as they were, and being a realist didn't change that.

After a few more minutes, I was starting to feel a bit antsy being up here alone. I reluctantly stood up, grabbing my empty cup as I did so.

I left the garden, head down, already dreading what it would be like around Ben tomorrow. Hopefully I could sleep it off and think rationally by tomorrow. Hopefully he could too. I still felt like he owed me an apology.

I was focused on my own thoughts as I approached the dome-shaped room leading to the lower floors. Unfortunately, the door to the room was not facing the garden…and as I rounded the corner, I was brought up short.

Cato had not yet left the roof.

His massive figure was lounging against the outer railing just a short distance away from the door, half turned towards me. Either he'd heard my approach as I neared, had already been facing where I had come into his line of sight…or he had been waiting on me, thought the sinister part of my brain. The thought made my stomach clench uncomfortably.

Cato's eyes had shifted to meet mine, but right now it was impossible to fully read his expression.

His voice broke the silence, sending a trickle of fear down my spine.

"Wandering around by yourself, 7?" Cato asked coldly, an edge of mockery in his tone, icy eyes boring into me.

I abruptly realized that the lounge was completely empty, and the other Careers had left- whether before or after Ben, I wasn't sure.

I was alone on the roof with the whistling wind, the faintly tinkling chimes in the distance…

And Cato.

…

A/N: Dun dun dun. Guess we'll get to see how these two interact more! The next chap should be up sometime this weekend.

Sorry for the delay on this—I edited it twice, it was a lot harder than I thought to write this chapter. The next chapter will be shorter, but contain plenty of Cato.

Also I hope you guys like how I'm characterizing Rory! I want to make him canon-compliant but...he pretty much has 0 dialogue in the books, and not a ton of characterization. He's young, so I feel like he'd be softer than Gale in a lot of ways. Kinda like how Prim is so much softer than Katniss, though maybe not as drastic of a difference. Also my recollection is that Katniss and Gale didn't teach him hunting in the books, even though they planned on it, so Rory doesn't quite have that hard edge/experience. Despite all that, I can still see Rory being a sharp and wary kid. I tried to write him accordingly.

Thanks for the additional reviews and follows! 3