And I'm back, with another set of tributes and our second day of training! Sorry it took a little longer.
Reviews!
faceless eater aka slendergirl: It's okay, it happens. And I love Denny and Willow, I'm so excited to see them in the Arena! Thanks for the review!
The Fangirl in Pink Jeans: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for the review!
roses burning: It warms my heart to know that you like the story. These tributes are so fun to write for, I can't have asked for better.
dreams and desperation: Of course I'm obsessed with her, she's made it farther than any other tribute I've had! Thanks for the review!
JaymanRepublic: Alright, I'll put you down. Thanks for reviewing!
Clis2339: Yeah, I was kinda excited to write for Henry. He's going to be a really fun character to write for in the Games.
Mystical Pine Forest: Thanks! I really like Tulle, and I can't wait to see her in the Games!
Feedback helps me to improve my writing! Drop a review! I love hearing from new people!
Those who want to Sponsor, remember, you have to have your tribute selected by the PRIVATE SESSIONS! That means that you have this chapter, Training Day 3, and the training scores. Once the first Private Session is up, Sponsor changes will be CLOSED! You don't have to be a submitter to Sponsor, and you don't have to Sponsor your own tribute.
Next chapter will be training day 3, and then I will post the scores. I will write the Private Sessions between now and before the scores are up, but I'll post them 3 days after the scores chapter. That way, those who aren't Sponsoring yet won't be as biased from seeing their sessions, but will see their scores, as a normal sponsor would. Make sense?
In TranscendentElvenRanger's Forest of Death: The 54th Hunger Games, my District One female tribute, Atalanta Bliss, is a confirmed survivor of Day 10, with 2 kills. She's made the Top 12, and she has made me so proud!
Also, I have added a new section to my weebly site. It's still under construction, but let me know what you think! Link in my bio.
Also, I've realized that I've made chapters a bit long, pushing for 1,000 word POV's… I think I successfully did this one better.
Thorn Ashburry, Age 13, District 11
District Eleven Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
My fists are clenched as Eamon gives a speech nearly identical to the one from yesterday. His face attempts to show nothing, but I can see his sympathy etched into the creases around his eyes and mouth as he looks over the tributes who don't have a chance. In his mind at least.
I can tell he feels this way mostly for the younger tributes. The Tens, Twelves, the boy from Thirteen. Willow and I. He obviously wasn't too impressed with our performances yesterday, as his stare is filled with pity. I suppose I'll just have to show him, won't I?
He releases us to train, and I stand back for a moment, trying to remember where the knives trainer was yesterday. I spot him after only a moment, and I'm pained when I see the girls from Two and Five already there. Two's already combatting the trainer, but Five looks like she's going to stick around. Sighing in frustration, I walk over anyway.
I expect the girl from Five to try and engage me in conversation, but she barely spares me a sorrowful glance before looking back to Two's combat lesson. Her eyes are calculating every move, ears craned to every bit of advice the trainer presses upon the Career.
"Cassia, I know you know stronger pattern dances, but I'm the trainer and I'm near certain this one is better when defending against a bow staff."
"No. You keep leaving your left side slightly open. Don't look at me like that! You know that Mason can exploit that, no matter how much you believe he won't turn on you."
"Well now you're just being ridiculous!"
The tips and tricks seem to go on and on, until Cassia is finally finished, stalking off and muttering something about boys. I select a knife I recognize from a previous Games, known by its slight curve and wide blade. A kukri knife.
I'm about to step up when Five beats me to it, a long serrated dagger in hand. She looks slightly terrifying, and it's difficult to remember that she has a freaking child. I can't but help but wonder a little about to what lengths she'd go to get back.
To get back home. The word is so familiar, so comforting, yet twenty-five of the people in this very room, from the boy from Thirteen, the youngest and somehow boldest of the outer Districts, to the Careers, the skillful and cocky, will die in the coming days, weeks. Because the Capitol thinks they can do whatever the fludge they want!
My hands shake, and I roughly shove the kukri back onto the table, to rest among her equally destructive sisters. The blade cuts into my palm, but my vision's going blurry and everything's red. It's so flipping unfair! What did we do? The only people alive today from that stupid rebellion are a few of the mentors! Why must Panem's children continue to suffer?
My vision goes red, and I can feel my arms flailing around me, brief moments of pain and something warm running down my knuckles. A faint shout rings through the air, and it all goes dark.
I wake up in an infirmary, a dark shadow floating before my face. She seems familiar, but I'm not sure how. I blink under the gaze of the lighting, and I move my left hand to cover my face. It's heavily bandaged.
Vaguely, I hear the woman sing softly, and I think I recognize her voice. That song, something I had forgotten the words to all those years ago, is awakening a strange creature in the back of my mind.
A creature fed by the love of its mother.
Darius Line, Age 17, District 5
District Five Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
So far, something interesting has happened each training day, and I can't imagine how the Capitol will love the drama when the training footage is released after the Games. They'll see the fight between the girls from Four and Thirteen, Marcus' horrible throw yesterday, and now, Thorn from Eleven going on a rampage.
I don't know why I'm even caring slightly about my fellow tributes' names. Matt warned against it, saying it's harder to kill someone you can name. You should try to forget Devon's too. He had said. Less grief later.
But, in a way, these children are my allies. They're the enemies of the Capitol, and I would love nothing more than to see them burn. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Only they can't be my friends. If they were desperate enough, and had the proper opportunity, any one of them would kill me. I can't let that happen.
Which is why, despite what my mentor had told me, I'm training in a weapon that won't necessarily kill, but can leave broken bones and bruises. The bow staff, a weapon often in the Cornucopia but usually ignored, is one that I can easily channel my anger through, something even the idiot trainer has already pointed out.
"You don't usually expect someone from District Five to have the strength to throw so much force behind a five-foot rod." He said after I had swept his feet out from under him, "Most tributes won't expect that, and that kind of swing needs a lot of power to take down someone like Mason over there." He tries to gesture over to the man from Two as we spar, and I subconsciously add his name to the list of things I don't care about. Someone like Two, I can kill without much remorse. But not these children, the Tens, Elevens, Twelves and Thirteens. The girl from Nine. The boy from Eight.
They're all too young, and the likelihood of their survival is too slim to determine.
I'm not sure how long we've fought, but the trainer calls for a break after a while. I wipe the sweat from my forehead, suddenly aware of just how tired I am. I can feel the anger drain from me, allowing relief to overtake my wary arms. I hadn't realized it was so hard.
I stare around the room, contemplating. Somehow, I have been projected to place tenth, ahead of most of the tributes, before the Capitol has even seen my training score. Mason is the predicted Victor, but they usually fall around the final half, honestly. And the little boy from Thirteen is expected to die first, which honestly makes a little sense. But most of these other tributes, well, how can I beat them without becoming what the Capitol wants me to be?
How can I allow myself to even make the final ten, when I'd have to kill to get there?
Jetta Carter, Age 17, District 6
District Six Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
A small wheeze escapes my mouth, flowing through the metal tube between my hands. I can feel something scratch the inside of the tube, and a black dart flies down the range, landing itself in the dummy's shoulder. I remove my mouth from the weapon, placing it back on the rack. I really should practice more, but Railer suggested to try some more survival today, since it's likely I won't be going into the Bloodbath. I'm just too unwilling to risk losing my head, literally.
I wander around for a moment, looking for a station, (preferably with tributes I could ally with) that could ultimately save my life in the games. I decide on the poisons station, where the girls from Eight and Nine are. I remember seeing Eight there yesterday, but Nine was working with the boy from Seven in knot-tying.
Hesitating slightly, I walk over, not sure whether to speak or even make contact. It's strange, these girls are younger than me, but one seems to know what she's doing and the other is a Victor's sister. I wonder if she has any special skills…
My thoughts become slightly confused when Nine looks up, smiling at me shyly. I'm taken aback, and I look at her curiously. Her smile grows a little broader, and I give in. It's infectious.
I still stand myself a ways down the table, though, and her grin falters. She looks concerned, but goes back to extracting the nightlock juice from her berry. She's crushing it with the flat of her blade, and suddenly I see her, shoving a knife into my body over and over again, laughing as my screams choke the air and my blood soaks the earth…
Then I shake my head, forcing myself away from those horrible thoughts. She's only fourteen. I remind myself. Not a ruthless killer. Probably.
The trainer walks up to me, gesturing to the materials on the table in front of me. "Have you ever seen any of these?" His hand is bandaged, and I can't help but wonder what happened. I don't remember it being that way yesterday.
I look down at the table. I've seen many of these, whether in the Games or on my wanderings down the railroads. Poison ivy, nightlock, sneeze moss, yellow foxlilies. But there are some I can't name. A bright red flower, speckled in green and purple, something resembling a strawberry, only without seeds on the outside. I look back at the trainer, and reply, "Most of them. Not sure what these are though." I gesture toward the alien materials.
The man sighs slightly, seeming relieved to have to teach very little. "These are some of the basic poisons. Not all are lethal, of course, but they can be irritating to the point of losing your attention span. This flower," He carefully lifts the plant up, fingers touching only the stem, "is a tropical dragon daisy. The petals of this flower can cause hallucinations, mostly of what the victim wants to see, feel safe around. They lose all sense of reality for up to four hours. If consumed, a week at most.
"This dryberry is very lethal." He continues, "Moisture absorbing bodies in the outer skin make it feel very, well, dry and brittle to the touch. When broken open, it expels a toxic gas, though in small quantity. If inhaled, the affects can be immediate, the victim dead before he can complain about the smell." He touches it gingerly. "I haven't had these at my table since my first year, and these plants were all over the Arena. I'm not supposed to help you, Jetta, but if one falls from the bush when you're standing near it, you will die."
I nod my thanks, carefully examining the berry with my eyes. How could something so familiar-looking be so foreign and dangerous?
I don't want to find out.
Denny Rico, Age 14, District 10
District Ten Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
As I reach the top of the rock wall, my breath steadying at the relief, I take note of the training center below me. So many people, all of them hoping to cheat Death, trying to spend their last days alive to learn how. Like Cheyenne and I. Burdened breaths can be heard from below me. And Keola.
"Took you long enough!" A cheery voice calls from behind me. I turn, where Cheyenne is grinning broadly. Her athletic ability was renowned in District Ten, something the Capitol is loving her for. But the Careers see her as a threat, I can tell.
"I was only just behind you!" I argue, and she laughs, just as Keola breaches the top of the wall. She looks at us, her face drenched in sweat, knuckles white, arms shaking. I hurry over to help her up, and she allows me to pull her over. I look past her as I do, seeing the Twos pointing at us and jeering. Soot's looking away, his hand trying to cover his face.
I sit down next to Keola as Cheyenne whispers, "How do you think he even got into their alliance?"
I shake my head, and Keola does the same. "He told me last night about how amazing they thought he was." She pants, "How much they appreciate his abilities. I'm worried about him, though." She closes her eyes, whether thinking or resting I'm unsure. She's often doing both. "Why'd you make us come up here anyway, Chey?" She asks.
Cheyenne sits down across from us, inhaling deeply as she does so. "If we're going to be an alliance, we need to figure out how we're going to meet up in the Arena, right? And how we're going to survive." I nod, crossing my legs and listening attentively. I hadn't really thought about this before now, but it honestly makes sense. "Any ideas?" She asks.
I shake my head, but Keola pipes up. "The platforms are usually lined up in a semicircle, right? Since there's three of us, what if we met behind the middle person's pedestal, some x distance behind it? Then the other two will have to go roughly the same distance, and we don't run past the mouth of the Cornucopia?" She coughs, barely finishing her sentence.
Cheyenne and I both nod. "That could work." I say, seeing what she means. "It is less risky, and we can all potentially, um…" Make it all out alive. I almost say. The younger girls' shoulders sag slightly.
"Now we need to figure out what we'll do supply-wise." Cheyenne says, her voice flat. "Are we going to consider going all-in, or just grab what's closest and run? Weapons or sleeping bags?" She hesitates for a second. "I'm going in." She says, and as I open my mouth to protest, she continues, "Look, it's only logical, okay? I'm the fastest of us, and if I die, I'd want you two to be safe."
"Don't talk like that, Cheyenne! If I'm going to be part of this alliance, I want to pull my own weight. I'll run in too, we can grab bags or whatever, you and I. Keola can run for the woods or wherever we are, and you and I can watch for each other, warning each other to run. Chances are, we'll need those supplies. We can't afford to go without them."
"I can run in too!" Keola argues, "I'm not going to run while you two get yourselves killed! If we all go in, we can have more of the things we'll need to survive." She looks at us, and I raise my eyebrows. In the few days I've known her, she's never acted like this.
"How about this." Cheyenne starts, fingers splayed over her face, "If we all run in blindly, we all may die. So if we're near anyone that's a threat, that's the Ones, Twos, Fours, et cetera, then we just run to the meeting point, got it?" We both nod in affirmative, and Keola sighs deeply.
Somehow, I feel there's no way we're all getting through the first day alive.
Harvest Miller, Age 14, District 9
District Nine Female, Sixth Quarter Quell
Wheat had suggested that I try practicing with hatchets today, and, reluctantly, I took his suggestion. I've been sparring with this trainer for the past fifteen minutes, but it's felt like longer. The trainer is constantly stopping me to give me pointers on my form, and I'm grateful, but… I really shouldn't be here.
In all honesty, it should be another girl, someone chosen by bad chance instead of having her name on every single slip of paper in the stupid Reaping bowl.
Or, at least, that's the theory. My mother had told me how, before I was born, she had, alongside my father, fought in rebel movements. They both worked in acts of sabotage, screwing with the rails ahead of the Presidential train, little things really. They never killed anyone.
But they have reason to believe that that was why Wheat was Reaped five years ago. But they had stopped their acts before Wheat had even come home, to protect me. That's why my mother was confused at my being Reaped, she had thought the Capitol had already claimed their price.
But Wheat knows better. He began going against my mother's wishes, fighting against the Games and everything they stood for. He thought he was the only one who knew it was him, that they wouldn't hurt me, or anybody else he loved.
And look where that got me.
The bell for lunch rings, and the trainer bows to me slightly, bidding me farewell before leaving the station. I replace the hatchet and reluctantly head to lunch, standing in line behind the tributes from Eleven. After seeing me, they turn their backs, making sure to avoid any kind of contact with me. I get myself a turkey sandwich, chips, and a glass of some dark, fizzy liquid before leaving to find a seat. Nobody's looking at me, waving me over. Not that I'd expect that, I assume they've been told to steer clear from me in the Arena, their mentors unsure of whether I've got any skills or not.
But all the stupid tables have people sitting at them, and I decide to drop myself at the one with the girls from Three and Seven. I remember working with them at poisons yesterday, though I didn't work with them as much as near them. At least I got a small conversation from Tulle, the girl from Eight.
The girls, who I assume are allied, look over me for a moment before going back to their conversation. Something about traps and fires. I try to gather the courage to speak to them, but I know they won't pay me any attention. I'm at least two years younger than them anyway.
I let my eyes wander around the room. The Eights are sitting with the boy from Four, though the boys are the ones actually conversing. The Careers and the boy from Twelve are causing a ruckus, as they had yesterday. Thanatos is just glaring at everyone, as usual. As his eyes meet mine, I remember his words on the train only a few days ago.
You will be disemboweled, stinking of blood and urine on the Cornucopia plain!
Was that some sinister hint at his plans? Does he plan to take me down early on, giving the Capitol what they want: betrayal and pain? He was Reaped, how could he have possibly planned for this? He hasn't even gone to any of the weapons stations. How could he be so unafraid, a murderer?
But many tributes hide their skills until the Private Sessions, maybe even so far as the Arena. Might he come at me with a bloody knife? Send an arrow singing into my heart? Might he rip my hatchet from my hand and smash it into my head?
But it's not just him. Just about any tribute here can do that, in ways more horrid than they are imaginable.
I'm already losing the Game.
Cordin Bolt, Age 16, District 3
District Three Male, Sixth Quarter Quell
Shelter-making is something I'm surprisingly good at, something I can fly through and still do a decent job. Then again, I come from a District of creativity, of smarts. A place where you are allowed to build, to invent. We are honestly granted more freedoms then most of the other Districts, but they wouldn't know that.
In their own Districts, they might feel that they're better off. That Three's the unlucky one, where children fall subject to crazy experiments, where we come up with incredible ideas or face death. Where we are slaves in our own homes, the gears to the Capitol's political machine. They might think themselves lucky to not call District Three their home.
Home. Where my regular life is. Where my family is. Where Zela is. Where the memories of my crazy antics are. Home.
I enjoyed my home life, really. My parents were never rich by any means, but between their work and my stunts, we got bread on the table. Usually. Binary was always kind, willing to lend me a hand whenever I needed it. Little Tabby could light up anyone's day, just by giving her little giggle. Sure, even Gadge was nice from time to time, when he wasn't being a thorn in my side. The other members of the Bolt family make up for his little laugh in the Justice Building, though.
And of course, Zela Edge. I had known Zela forever, really, and I've never known a day where she wasn't smiling, ready to make the day worth living. She'd laugh after one of our exploits, and I'd know exactly which part she was thinking about. We were always funny that way. We seemed to always know what the other was thinking, always understand thoughts before they could be converted into words.
I wonder if she's thinking about me right now, about the great times we had before I entered the Hunger Games. Will she tell her future children about me? How she knew a former tribute from the Sixth Quarter Quell? If I were to somehow come back, would things still be the same?
I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. The materials I was supposed to use in my shelter lay in a crumpled mess on the floor, and I stoop to clean it up. I hear the shuffling of feet as I do, and a red-haired male avox appears, hurrying to clean up the twigs and leaves. He gives me a look, and jerks his head toward the weapons side of the room, the knives station specifically. I suppose he thinks I should get back to training.
I walk over, drawing a couple practice daggers from their sheathes on the table. I step onto the platform, and the trainer looks at me expectantly. "You ever used those before?" He asks.
I look down at the weapons in my hands. Each has a steel blade that zigzags back and forth for about eight inches, then coming to a point. I look back at him, shrugging. He nods apologetically, before guiding my arms into a stance where my right leg is behind me, supporting, and the left in front. He instructs me to hold the dagger in my right hand alongside my cheek, the left one extended in front of me.
He takes a similar stance in front of me, and, without speaking, moves.
Without pretense, he makes a stab for my throat, and I dodge back, my eyes widening. He follows me with his other weapon, and I act reflexively, using my own blade to knock his aside. He leaps forward, slashing at my neck again, but I smash his fingers with the butt of my dagger. He drops it, cradling his fingers.
"Not bad." He grins, "Now, let's work on a little more focus. I honestly could have-"
But he's cut off by the bell, signaling the end of training for the day. As the bell stops ringing, Eamon shouts, "Okay, tributes, your day is over. Proceed to the elevator and make your way back to your rooms. I will see you tomorrow, and remember, it's your last day." As he speaks, I look down at my weapon. I might not be able to fight as well, but I can probably steal from the Careers during the Games. And now's a good time to get back in the groove.
I've never stolen in such an open room, with so many people who could catch me. The trainers, the tributes, even the Gamemakers. Grinning slightly, I slip the daggers into my pockets, then make my way to the elevators.
I'm almost there when I hear a voice call from behind me.
"Mr. Bolt, would you kindly return those to the knives station?" Drat.
Here are the submitters who are Sponsors thus far. If I have your name down wrong, please let me know: (Remember. You can change who it is up until the Private Sessions, in three chapters)
ElvenRangerRysel: 132 (Aran Quade, District Six Male)
Mystical Pine Forest: 124 (Cheyenne Bruno, District Ten Female)
dreams and desperation: 121 (Cassia Lyra Maurise, District Two Female)
Jaybird8101: 107 (Rebelle Sunflower Rine, District Thirteen Female)
Clis2339: 81 (Henry Reynoso, District 8 Male)
JaymanRepublic: 75 (Logan Woodson, District Seven Male)
faceless eater aka slendergirl: 73
caitiebug007: 70 (Devon Cynthia Rose, District Five Female)
HufflePuffleJay: 68
The Fangirl in Pink Jeans: 65 (Infiniti Reagan, District Three Female)
Rina-The-Fangirl: 64
MeganCK: 56
Wolfie McCoy: 56
Here are the submitters, who have points, but haven't confirmed whether they want to Sponsor or not:
roses burning: 79
Jotunheim Storm: 59
InfiniteDespair: 56
CreativeAJL: 53
grimbutnotalways: 53
Alliances!:
Queens and a Pawn (111 points): Marcus (1), Malaya (1), Mason (2), Cassia (2) (111), Esmeralda (4), and Soot (12).
Reluctance (56 points) : Infiniti (3) (56), and Kenzi (7).
Sacrificial Lambs (110 points): Denny (10), Cheyenne (10) (110), and Keola (12).
Children of Amber: Thorn (11), and Willow (11).
Questions!:
Which of these POVs is your favorite? Why?
Least favorite?
Seeing any Bloodbaths yet?
Thoughts on alliances?
I've only one more day of training… any new alliances you want to run by?
Have you checked out the new stuffs on the website yet?
See you on Training Day 3,
John
