"Horizons"

A/N: Gonna be doing intros one character at a time to keep these chapters from getting absurdly long. So this one is a bit shorter because there's no mentor POV at the end, as I'll be saving that one for Arno's intro. Without further ado, here's Ainsley Maris Sims of District Four.

~Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep

Everybody's worried about me

In too deep

Say I'm in too deep (in too deep)~

Ainsley Maris Sims, 18
Four Years ago

The tides roll in, and cool water splashes against my ankles, while my toes wriggle and sink their way into the mud. It's a pretty sunset. There's oranges, purples, yellows, and a few bits of blue poking out, while a handful of clouds sail slowly across the painted sky. The sun is still hanging onto the horizon, caught in that moment prior to sinking away and taking the colors away with it. For now, though, it can hold on. It can cling to both of those worlds at once, and it can be beautiful because of it.

A few sailboats are still out on the water, the light breeze giving them a slight push out towards sea. There's no storm now, just the calm. I don't feel any peace, though. The quiet of the after-storm leaves too much emptiness in the air.

"I thought I'd find you here." I don't need to see the face to match the voice to that of Deirdre Kelly. I turn to face her anyways, though, and allow myself a hint of a smile.

"Good guess," I say. I try to broaden my smile, but forcing it only causes it to disappear completely. I bring my hands up to my exposed shoulders, and grip onto them.

"It's been a while," Deirdre offers. She takes a step towards me, bare feet leaving imprints in the sand.

"A couple of weeks, maybe," I say.

She shrugs, and stops a few paces away from me. "After seeing your determined butt every day for four whole years, it's hard to get used to not seeing you."

"Yeah." I turn to Deirdre and smile. "I've missed you, too."

There's an awkward pause, and the only sounds I can hear are the slurping of sea crashing onto sand and draining back into water, a few squawking seagulls, and the beating of my heart, pounding in my ears.

"So, how's training going?" She asks.

I twist my heel into the sand, gaze focused on the tide as it hits my feet. "Same as always. I'm doing well. Could be doing better. Carolina says I'm top of my class with swords. She thinks I'm on a good path to being the volunteer."

"Of course you are. You had a good teacher to give you a head start." She jokes, and I mimic the smile that I imagine she's flashing.

There's silence again, and I hate the feeling I get of where this conversation is going. It's a place I've been over and over again the past few weeks, and I'm tired of it. I know that I'm not going to change my mind. I'm staying here. I have to. But nothing I say ever seems to be enough to make that understood.

"Aria told me about your dad," Deirdre says, and the pin finally drops. She doesn't sound accusatory, though. Gentle, more like. Tip-toeing carefully around a beach littered with glass shards.

"I didn't realize she knew," is all that I say. I try to keep my voice free of any sort of emotion. My gaze switches to the horizon, somewhere further away from where I'm standing.

"Well, you know her parents aren't exactly the secretive type."

I nearly snort at that. "No, not really. They're nice though. And their house is pretty sweet," I add in after a moment.

Deirdre laughs. "Yeah, not the worst host family imaginable."

Her laughter dries up quickly, and then it's the silence overtaking us again. If it were anyone else I might just tell them to leave, or maybe I'd just walk away down the beach, closer to where the sun is falling. But this is Deirdre. Without her I wouldn't have ever gotten a head start training. I wouldn't be in the academy. I wouldn't be where I am now. If there's anyone I can trust enough to not completely push away, it's her.

Deirdre allows the silence to last this time. She shuffles closer to me, her eyes tracking mine and viewing the sunset, arms folded across her chest. "Seriously though," she says, her voice soft and fragile. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," I admit. A rock is dragged onto the beach by the tide, and I kick it back into the sea. "Maybe. I'm not really sure what I am, to be honest."

"I heard that it's serious," she says quietly, then dropping her voice even lower, "that he might not make it."

"I know," I say.

"Nobody would think less of you if you took a few weeks off to go back home and be with him." She places a hand on my shoulder. "You don't need to always do things by yourself."

"I'm not conflicted about seeing him." Another rock rolls in, and another rock is booted back. "I can't do anything to help him. Being there wouldn't do anything except set me back when I'm finally on track to get where I need to be." My voice picks up, and I turn to Deirdre, desperation seeping in, needing for somebody to understand me. "If I go now, I'll lose everything that I've worked so hard for. And for what? It's just sentimentality, right? Dad would understand, he'd want me to stay. I mean, if I was a victor, this wouldn't even be a problem. Dad wouldn't have to go out there on that tiny boat in the middle of a big storm and get himself hurt, just to put food on the table."

Deirdre says nothing for a moment. She takes a step forward, the water nearly up to her knees. I follow after her, and she turns to me, squinting as the sun flashes in her eyes. "So, what's eating away at you, then?"

My hands skim against the surface of the water, and I watch as a small grey fish wiggles past my fingertips. "My mom doesn't understand," I say. "She's being short-sighted, not understanding what this means for me. Or maybe she's just selfish, and just doesn't care about my dreams. She expects me to just throw everything away, and for what?" I cut off from saying more, a bitter taste left in my mouth. My hands are already trembling, and the rest of my body is starting to follow suit. I take hold of my shoulders, and hold myself steady. "I can't quit now, just because it isn't easy."

She hesitates for a moment, then places her hand on my shoulder again, and squeezes it as she gives me a reassuring smile. "Whatever you decide, you know I'll support you. Just. . . do what you need to do."

"Thank you." My arms drop down to my sides, my fists clenched as I tighten all of my anger, all the tears that wanted to be allowed to fall, and crumple it into determination.

"Nobody else seems to believe in me except for you. My mom, she just doesn't get it. She doesn't know what it's like to want something so bad that nothing else matters. To need something, and not know what else could possibly fill that hole if it was gone. I'm gonna make you proud, though. And when I finally do win, mom, she'll see too. She'll understand why I couldn't stop, not for anything. She will. She'll see."

Deirdre pats me on the back, and then backpedals away, a smile creeping onto her face as she opens up her arms. "If that's the case, then we better stop wasting time staring at the sunset and get working. Come on, it's been a while since anyone's given me a good spar, let's see what the academy's front-runner has to show me."

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and I mimic her stance. "I'm not the twelve-year-old that you used to beat up on."

"Of course not." She laughs. "You're fourteen, now."

I narrow my eyes at her, but can't help the laugh that escapes from me. We both take our stances, our feet dragging and leaving lines in the sand as we circle each other in a familiar pattern.

Forget going home, to some small rundown village, with a mom who just wants to hold me back. Forget all about the place that would have kept me content with staying where I am. I'm following in my trailblazing grandma's footsteps. I'll fight for every inch, and I won't stop until I earn my way up.

I leap into action, diving into her torso as I attempt to drive her to the ground, and one thought echoes in my head.

This right here is home.

~.~.~.~.~

My taped knuckles collide with her gut, and she keels over as I grab the back of her neck and slam her into the mat, grabbing her arm and pinning it behind her back. My knee rests on her spine, and she squirms for only a moment before tapping out.

"This is starting to get unfair," Deirdre groans as she crawls to her feet.

I roll my eyes and grab her by the hand, pulling her back up. "You beat me up every day for three years, and you never saw me complaining."

"You were a kid, kids are durable. I'm a married woman, I break more easily."

"And a year ago the excuse was that you were pregnant, and pregnant women break too easily to fight." I tease her.

"Also a valid point," she huffs. "I'm not eighteen anymore. Just you wait until you're in your twenties with a kid recently popped out of you and see how eager you are to get punched in the gut."

I dab at my forehead with a towel, though there's not much perspiration that needs drying. Deirdre isn't much of a fight at this point, she hasn't even officially been training for a handful of years. Still, I got my butt kicked by her too many times to not get in one last fight where I'm the one who comes out on top. It's just one more thing I can prove to myself. Deirdre helped me to get where I am, and I'll always be grateful to her for that. But she didn't give me everything. I've worked hard to push further than even she could. Nobody else can claim that success but me.

"How is the little squirt, anyways?" I ask, tossing her the towel that she needs much more than I do.

"Carina is a baby alright." She sighs. "Let's leave it at that."

"Ainsley!" One of the trainers pokes his head into the gym. "Arroyo wants to see you. He's in his office. Don't keep him waiting."

Deirdre raises an eyebrow at me. "Exciting. We'll have to finish catching up later, it shouldn't be so hard to snag a moment with you outside of this place. Come by and have dinner with Duccio sometime, we'd love to have you."

"Thanks, I'll see if I can find time," I say, but I already know that I most likely won't be able to. The Games are just a few short months away, and the competition has been trimmed, and every single moment counts. I won't lose out now, not when I've worked so hard to get to this point. That means I have to make my minutes matter. I'm here at the academy earning points from sunrise to sunset, and I go for runs in the early morning and night. Now is the time for no regrets. Now is the time where I'm going to earn my spot in the Games.

If she senses how empty those words are, Deirdre doesn't show it. She smiles, grabs her bag, and walks out, leaving me to make my way to the office of Dewey Arroyo.

Where there were once thirty-eight trainees in my age group fighting for two spots, there's now only ten. The other nine are all here at the academy now, rushing to earn enough points to be selected, while younger trainees watch and cheer on their friends. No posse of followers trails behind me, but that doesn't bother me. None of them have had to work like I have to get to this moment. Everything's been laid out on a silver platter, while I've scraped and crawled for everything I've gotten.

I worked during the day to put food on the table and trained at night to earn my scholarship before any of them had even started training here at twelve. Nobody here has had a path like mine, and that's why they're all going to fail. I've worked harder than anyone else has, even when it hasn't been easy.

Dewey Arroyo's office oversees the entire academy, a large glass window at the back of the room giving him a view of the gym below. It used to be Carolina Delta that ran the academy, but with her death it went on to the next oldest victor. Dewey isn't the type of victor I could see myself learning anything from, but without Carolina around none of them really are. At least Dewey is clever, surely smart enough to know that I'm the best choice to send into the arena. I've overheard some of the trainers' whisperings.

"District Four needs to send someone more. . . sultry if we want to see another victor."

"What do points matter anyways? Send in someone who the district will actually be rooting for."

"Or at least someone who uses a classic District Four weapon. Are we really going to send in some kid from the fishing villages who uses a flimsy little sword to fight with? District Four means something. One bad selection can sully that image."

I just ignore them. I don't have to pretend to not care, because I really don't. All my life people have doubted me. Nobody thought I could earn a scholarship, until I did. And then every year people waited for me to drop out and go running back home with my tail tucked between my legs. But I stuck around, and watched as everyone else who doubted me dropped below me. This is just one more thing they don't believe in. One more thing to prove the whole world wrong about.

This one will taste sweat, too. More than just getting selected for the Games. That's going to happen. I know it is. It has to. I've fought too hard for it to be anybody else. When I go into that arena and come out wearing a victor crown? Well, then what else could they possibly say to doubt me. Maybe even mom will finally see why I couldn't give up on this dream. Or maybe she won't. It doesn't matter to me. I can get along just fine by myself. Just like my grandmother before me.

I knock on the door, and it slides open as I do so. Dewey has his feet kicked up on his desk, a pile of crumpled up papers beside him that he's tossing into a garbage can with methodical precision.

"Ainsley Maris Sims, take a seat if it pleases you." He looks over at me, not even having to look as he drains another shot into the waste bin.

"Mr. Arroyo," I say courteously. I stay standing, hands folded behind my back as I hold myself as tall and firm as possible. That's something that I read in one of the dusty, rarely used modules on the mental aspect of the Games. Always stand tall, always be firm, always appear able to take charge, even if you aren't leading.

"Just call me Dewey, we're colleagues, after all." He lets out a heavy yawn, and I blink rapidly, attempting to process the information that's now hitting me.

"I'm not—"

"Or well, we will be soon, anyways, assuming you win. I do presume that you're confident that you'll be this year's victor, right?"

I suppress a smile, and nod my head assuredly. "That's correct. . . Dewey."

"I have high hopes for you, ya know?" He says. "Jensen, Troy, even Rivera — for whatever her opinion is worth — all think you're the wrong choice. That we should skip you and send second and third place on the scoreboard instead. Did you know that?"

"I could have guessed," I say, unfazed. "People have been trying to sabotage me and my accomplishments ever since I got here."

"And yet here you are," he offers up. Another ball sinks into the basket. "You don't seem too excited."

"I am," I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me that informs me he isn't convinced. "I'm excited to go into the arena and prove everyone who ever doubted me wrong. I'm excited, just not surprised."

"I like that," he says, and he nods his head as if he was rocking out to a funky song. "That's what I like in a volunteer, grit. Tell me, you got plans for what you'll do if you win?"

"When I win," I say. "I already know exactly what I'm gonna do with the spoils."

"And what is that?" He asks.

"To pay back the people who helped me. Mr. Gillian, the man who gave me my first job when I was ten. Deirdre for training me and preparing me for the academy. My host family for giving me an opportunity to do this." I pause, and move onto the part that's harder to say. Harder to actualize. "I'll go back to my mom and dad, give them the type of life they deserve. No more scraping by, hand-stitching clothes and stretching food out to last the week."

"Clearing the ledger, fair enough." Dewey shrugs. "That's all that I wanted to hear from you, Ainsley. I think it'll be a pleasure to work with you in a few months in the Capitol. Hopefully it won't be a single time occasion."

"It won't be," I respond automatically. He quirks a smile, and I nod, turn and walk out the door. Once I'm out of the academy, I turn south, away from the busy town center, and to the quiet beach that I've spent so many aimless nights wandering. The beach is empty, only a few distant sailboats crawling across the horizon.

Once I'm there, I step towards the sea, until it's up to my ankles. I drop to my knees, and let out a muffled scream as I pump my fist in the air. This is only one more step, and I won't slow down just because I got this far. I'll keep on fighting. Through training, through the arena, and all the way back home again. But for now, I can sit in the sand, let the waves crash against my body, and listen to my heart beating in my ears, unable to contain the goofy grin that spreads across my lips. Watching as the sun sets on the horizon, away from the comfortable sky and to somewhere unknown.

~.~.~.~.~

This place doesn't feel like home. The Weston's house is hardly even a house at all, it's so big. There's glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the floor is layered in patterned carpets instead of moist wood that creaks with every step. There's no breezes that creek through gaps in the walls, no bugs and mice making their homes inside, scurrying around past my feet. Deirdre warned me that the host family that accepted me would be a big change to what I'm used to. Still, this is more than I had imagined anyone in the district had.

"Oh, and here she is!" Aileen Weston fans herself as she descends the staircase to the entrance. I set down my bags, filled to the brim with everything that I deemed important enough to need to hold onto for the next six years away from home. That thought is a scary one. Six years without seeing mom and dad, or Mr. Gillian's farm, or the old beach that I spent my childhood running around and collecting seashells on. But I'm here now, and the queasy feeling in my stomach isn't going to send me running back.

"It's nice to meet you," I say. I'm unable to lax my shoulders, or drop my guarded gaze as I scan the inside of the house.

She takes me by the hand, and I'm only barely able to stop myself from yanking away as she clasps her hands on mine. "Oh, it will be so nice to have you here. Another girl in the house to go to training with Aria will just be lovely."

"Thank you for having me," I say, and I try to smile but it ends up like more of a grimace.

"You must be exhausted from that long bus ride, why don't I show you to your room and let you get situated before we go into all the introductions."

"That sounds nice," I tell her, truthfully. The bus ride wasn't that long. In fact, I spent the entire ride dreaming of this moment. Stepping into the center of District Four, finally making my dream happen, there's nothing I've wanted more. I've worked so hard to get here. So why won't that queasy feeling go away?

She takes me to my room, and smiles at me and tells me to take as much time as I need and that she'll be in the living room if I need her. Then the door is closed, and I'm alone again. The room is about as big as our entire house was back home. I sit down on the bed, and nearly fall off the mattress when it sinks instead of holding firm.

I toss my bags onto the bed, and open them up, sifting through for some sense of familiarity. The first bag is just clothes, old rags and patchwork jackets that my mom spent days meticulously putting together. All to avoid me from realizing the reality of our situation. To keep me from realizing that we could never have what other families had. But that's gonna change now. Once I'm a victor, they won't have to work to stay afloat anymore. It'll be my turn to take care of them. I'll even get dad his own boat, so he can go out and be on the sea the way that he's always wanted, a captain at the helm. That's why I'm here. I just have to remind myself of that.

The other bag has more personal items. It's seashells, mostly. I started collecting them when I was working at Mr. Gillian's clam and oyster farm, just something to stave off the monotony that came with the work. Aside from the shells, there weren't many more things for me to bring. The bag is mostly empty, aside from an item that draws my attention. Buried at the bottom of the pile of colorful shells is a sealed envelope that I don't remember putting in my bag.

The shells rustle as I dig through them, and take the envelope in my hands. The paper is stained with salty seawater, and the slimy smell reminds me of the ocean back home. Across the front of the envelope, my dad's name is scrawled across in sloppy handwriting.

I carefully peel open the envelope, take out the paper from inside of it, and take my time reading through the brief message neatly written on the page.

Ainsley Maris,

Today is the day you leave for the academy. It's still hard to believe my little girl is going out into the world all on her own. I still wish you had told us that you were working to get a scholarship for the academy. But I understand that sometimes, you feel like you need to do things on your own. I just hope that you don't always feel that way. Your mother and I are always a letter away.

No matter what happens, just know that I'm proud of you for fighting for your dream, even when it isn't easy. Especially when it isn't easy. If your grandma was here, I know that she would be proud of the young woman you've become.

Always with love,

-Dad

A tear drops from the tip of my nose, and lands on the parchment as I read through the last paragraph another time. I promise that I'll never stop fighting, no matter what, I want to say to him, instead of the goodbyes we actually had. The awkward, tense one where they still felt betrayed that I had never told them about how I had trained for the last three years. How I had earned my scholarship, and found a family willing to host me in the distant city. How I was ready to leave the safety of home, and make it on my own.

I close the letter and tuck it neatly back into the envelope, and slide it carefully into my bag. I lay down on my back, and look up at the ceiling, where a fan spins in a steady rotation, the artificial wind blowing my hair up against the mattress.

I won't quit, I promise to myself. Even if it isn't easy. I won't quit.

~.~.~.~.~

I lay down on the couch, my head leaning against my dad's shoulder as my eyelids get heavy. He leaves for the ocean tomorrow, and he doesn't know when he'll be back again. Mom says it won't be long, but she doesn't know that.

I let out a yawn, and I shift uncomfortably, stretching out my arms and legs. I force myself to widen my eyes and stay awake. Dad looks about ready to go to sleep too, and he mimics my yawn.

"Dad, why don't you take me with you when you go out on the ocean?" I ask him.

He looks over at me, and smiles knowingly. "Because your mother will take care of you here while I'm away."

"But when you were my age, grandma took you with her," I argue. "Grandma even went out by herself when she was a kid!"

"Grandma was eighteen when she got a job as a shipwright. So come back to me on that in ten years." He yawns again, leaning back onto the sofa. "And I only went with your grandmother because there was nobody else to watch over me. It was just her and me."

"I know," I huff. "I want to help, though."

He smiles at me, and ruffles his hand through my hair. "You got her fighting spirit in you, that's for sure." He sighs, and he pulls me closer to him. I nestle my head against his shoulder. "Someday soon you'll stake out on your own, and work to earn everything you get, just like her. For now, though, you're still my little Ainsley Maris, and I'm not going to let you go."

Another yawn comes from me, but my eyes aren't heavy anymore as I think back to the stories that I've heard all my life of grandma Gavina. Of how she raised dad all by herself, never earning enough to be able to relax, but always working hard enough to make sure they got by. Nobody gave her anything, but she worked for everything that her family needed.

I replay his words in my head, and I smile as I nudge closer to my dad, wrapping him up in a hug. Just like her. I'll prove him right. I'll make him proud. And I'll do it all on my own.

A/N: Thank you so much to Optimisms for Ainsley! There is just so much to this character, and even with this long intro I was only able to scratch the surface of this incredible character. So excited for my plans with her, and I can't wait to get to write her some more. There's a lot more that I wasn't able to get to here that I look forward to exploring in the rest of this story. Hopefully this was worth the wait, Opti!

Trivia (1 point): After years of writing the standard 2-POV intros, I've started experimenting a bit with style these past two chapters. Do you prefer having those two equal-length chronological POVs for intros (IE, what we say in May's intro), or do you prefer this style that jumps forward and backward in time throughout the chapter?