Chapter 2: Distances

True to her word, Venatrix readied herself at the crack of dawn to meet her father at the training center the following morning, and every morning until the 151st reaping ceremony, she assumed. While she was fairly used to waking early for training, this was another beast in itself.

Usually, as in before Bellara had volunteered, one of her parents would wake alongside the three siblings to accompany them to the Academy, as the Victors had the job of running it. Venatrix had expected to fall back into that routine, as she'd heard her father rummaging about downstairs when she woke. However, the sound of the garage door slamming shut and the revving of a car engine made her frown in confusion. By the time she'd made her way to the kitchen, the house was empty of the living, save for her mother and brother asleep in their rooms and the lingering ghost of Bellara's memory.

Venatrix shivered. It would be almost too easy to convince herself that Bellara was asleep like the others, nestled beneath the thick comforter on her bed.

Shaking the thought from her mind, Venatrix shoveled a quick breakfast down her throat and grabbed her backpack; as it was a weekend, she expected to be at the training center all day. Already wearing her exercise clothes, Venatrix decided to get a head start and jog the dozen or so kilometers separating Victor's Village from the Academy. At a steady pace, she knew she could make it in just under an hour. The watch on her wrist read 4:15, but she figured she could shave off a minute or two of her time if she ran a bit harder.

That turned out to be a mistake.

"You're late." Her father's sharp tone cut through the morning air like a knife as soon as she pushed through the door.

Out of breath from her workout, Venatrix took a moment to respond. "Sorry," she panted, pulling her arms over her head to stretch out her shoulders. "I ran all the way here."

"Well, you should've run faster, then."

Venatrix blinked in surprise. She thought he'd be pleased at her initiative, but apparently not. The harshness of his words stung more than she cared to admit, but Venatrix forced them to roll off her shoulders like water.

"Or, if you were so determined to be slow," her father continued unnecessarily, and Venatrix narrowed her eyes. "You should've woken up earlier."

"I said I'm sorry," Venatrix snapped. "I don't need to warm up now, so we can just start—"

Oberon cut her off as she started towards the weapons rack, intending to reach for her training sword. "Go home."

Venatrix stopped in her tracks, shooting him an incredulous glare. "What? I just got here!"

"If you're not back here by seven, you might as well not come back." Oberon's eyes were as hard as flint. Venatrix stared at him, uncomprehending. "I suggest you start running."

'Makers, what is his problem? So much for the helpful, encouraging persona he usually wore when working with the trainees, his children included. Yeah, he could be a hardass at times, but this was unprecedented. Venatrix suspected it had to do with his revelation from yesterday; that, combined with the usual leftover stress from mentoring, no doubt compounded tenfold by Bellara's death… Anyone would be in a bad mood, she supposed.

Well, now so was she. Without another word, Venatrix stormed out of the empty gym, figuring she might as well work out her frustrations through physical exercise, though she slammed the door on her way out in an attempt to be as petty as possible.

Rolling out her shoulders, Venatrix started on the long jog home, trying not to think about the uphill slope of the ground and the burning in her legs from earlier. Letting the cool morning air wash over her, she picked up her pace from last time, her gaze fixed absently on the sprawling mountain range that served as a backdrop for this sector of Two. Victor's Village lay just at the base; she thanked the architects of years past for not deciding to put it at the top of the snowy peaks.

Every couple of kilometers, she checked her watch, making sure she was on track. Admittedly, her father had given her a fair timeframe, at least, if she hadn't already run the distance beforehand.

Pushing thoughts of her father from her mind, Venatrix focused on the rhythm of her feet slapping against pavement, sidewalk, muddy trail, keeping her breathing even and regulated. To her relief, the wrought-iron gates of Victor's Village soon reared their spiked heads, and she sped through them, practically sprinting up the stairs to her house. Once inside, she made a beeline for the kitchen, snagging a bottle of water and chugging it furiously while she bounced on the balls of her feet.

As she drank, she registered a quick tread of footsteps that could only belong to her brother skipping down the stairs, most likely drawn out by the racket she'd been making. "Ew, what are you doing up?"

Ignoring him, Venatrix finished off the rest of her water. "Training," she said shortly, and Iago frowned.

"It's early," he pointed out.

Shrugging, she stuffed a protein bar into her mouth between panting breaths. She glanced at her watch, relieved to see she still had enough time to make it back. "They've decided I'm volunteering next year, so." She shrugged again.

Iago didn't say anything, but she didn't miss the look on his face, the brief flash of fear that plainly said Don't leave me, not now, before he could cover it up. "What about the Selection Tournament? That's not until January."

"Dunno," she said vaguely. "Unofficial still, I guess." Her father hadn't mentioned anything about it yet, though Venatrix couldn't imagine not being expected to compete anyways. She glanced at her watch again. "Look, I gotta go. Come with?"

"Where?"

"Training center."

"Is that where you came from?" Iago asked, raising an eyebrow.

She grimaced. "Yeah, Dad's being a prick today, so. Fair warning."

While her brother ran upstairs to change, Venatrix stopped inside the restroom and then headed back outside, jogging in place to keep her heart rate up while she waited. At this point, her legs felt as wobbly as gelatin, and she almost doubted their ability to carry her back to the Academy. Even the thought of another dozen kilometers made her want to melt back into the earth.

Oh well. She was getting low on time as it were.

Just then, Iago finally decided to make his reappearance, and Venatrix called out to him. "Come on, kiddo, let's go."

"I'm gonna deck you in the face if you call me that again."

Venatrix grinned at his irritation. "Well, then, kiddo, you'd better catch me."

He lunged towards her, and she bolted out of reach, turning tail in an all-out sprint down the street and out the gates of the Village, a breathless laugh in her lungs. She slowed down as the burning in her muscles threatened to knock her over, allowing Iago to catch up and nudge her in the shoulder, clearly too out-of-breath to make good on his promise. She stumbled, but kept on her feet, and they fell into a steady pace, slower than she would've liked, but fast enough to eliminate conversation. She knew Iago could go a little faster if he wanted, especially given the rate her fairly exhausted state demanded, but he remained at her side.

Periodically, Venatrix checked her watch, quickening her pace as the minutes climbed upwards. She heard Iago grunt at the effort; her own body had gone a bit numb, long past the point where stopping would feel unnatural.

However, by the time the training center came back into sight, Venatrix had begun severely lagging behind Iago, every muscle in her body straining from exertion. Still, she pushed herself to sprint the last couple of meters, bursting through the doors to the gym at the same time as her brother. Slowing to a brisk walk, Venatrix ignored the turned heads from the handful of early risers, shouldering past a group of younger trainees standing in the way of the water fountain.

The gymnasium itself was only a small fraction of the Academy; a few other gyms and a couple of dormitories were scattered across the sector, as well as the Peacekeeper training grounds. Those who didn't make it into the Games were quickly absorbed into their ranks, something colloquially dubbed as the Career-to-Peacekeeper pipeline; thanks to the proximity of the two facilities, new recruits and Career hopefuls alike often trained hand-in-hand at the Academy.

The trainees themselves tended to live in the Academy dorms for the majority of the year, beneficial for those whose families lived too far to make the drive every day. Venatrix was clearly not one of them, though she often made use of the Academy's cafeteria, snagging breakfast or lunch when she spent the day.

Venatrix made her way there now on increasingly-shaky legs, grabbing a muffin before heading back to the gym. She didn't eat it yet, her body still reeling from not being in constant motion like it had been for the past couple of hours. With a hefty exhale, she plopped herself at the edge of one of the mats to stretch the stiffness from her legs, which insisted on shaking more than a hairless dog in a snowstorm. She huffed a laugh at the analogy.

The clanging of dulled weapons drew her attention, and Venatrix glanced up to see her father and Iago sparring with a pair of training swords. She watched while she stretched, catching her breath; that would be her in a couple of minutes. If she could still stand, that was.

Venatrix's calculating eyes tracked their blows and parries, scanning for a misstep in Iago's footwork or a moment of hesitation in Oberon's blade. Her brother gripped a dagger in his offhand as usual; he generally excelled with knives, though Oberon had drilled swordsmanship into his routine, as he'd done with her. Venatrix has taken easily to the sword, eager to follow in her father's hallowed footsteps. She didn't know where Iago had picked up his knack for knives, as their mother had wielded a battleaxe in her day and, consequently, so had Bellara.

Shoving away the mental images of her twelve year-old sister slicing open the skulls of pitiful Bloodbath tributes, Venatrix massaged her sore muscles, grimacing at the dull burn. She settled for a round of deep breaths, feeling the stretch in her lungs as Oberon finally disarmed Iago, bringing their dance to an end.

"You're up," her father said, hardly glancing in her direction.

Venatrix gritted her teeth. "Can I have a minute? I just ran a damn marathon here." Thanks for that, bastard.

"Knock it off with the exaggeration, Venatrix," Oberon ordered, his mouth set in a hard line beneath his grey-tinged beard. "If you don't want to take this seriously anymore, then stop wasting everybody's time."

Oh, I'm not taking this seriously now? That had to be the biggest load of bullshit she'd ever heard. Exchanging an apprehensive glance with Iago, Venatrix dragged herself to her feet, resigning herself to speaking with her sword rather than her words.

Unfortunately, her legs still wobbled beneath her, and the familiar weight of her training sword nearly swept her off-balance just in picking it up. Grimacing, Venatrix slid into a weak dueling stance, her muscles barely reacting quickly enough to dodge the first blow of her father's sword. The next one sent her staggering, though at the last second, her legs found balance beneath her and she struck out with her weapon, just grazing the edge of her opponent's shirt.

In retaliation, Oberon swept a wide arc with his sword, a strike that would've surely hurt like a bitch if she hadn't ducked underneath. Instead of fighting the pull of gravity and the sting in her muscles, Venatrix allowed the momentum to carry her in a roll, rising to one knee to swipe at her father's backside. Expertly, he dodged, spinning around with a powerful two-handed strike.

Venatrix blocked with her sword, though she sank under the weight, the blow reverberating through her arms. Shit. Oberon didn't seem to be giving in any time soon.

Ideally, she would allow his sword to slide off the blade of hers while she quickly snapped to her feet, striking her opponent on the downward path of his momentum to win the match. But her legs refused to cooperate, unable to lift her from the ground in the time it took for Oberon to disengage his sword, the weapon swinging in a metallic arc to rest deliberately at the base of her throat.

"Is that your version of taking this seriously?" he said, a light sneer to his tone.

Venatrix scowled, wanting to retort, but she found the words dying on her tongue. If she'd been in the arena, that would've been her head on the ground, separated from her shoulders. Hell, for all she knew, she might be in a situation where she would have to run a marathon and then fight for her life at the very end. Or she'd be severely injured just before the final battle, and what would she do then? If she could only win a fight at the peak of her health, she might as well give up now.

Using her sword, Venatrix forced herself to her feet, ignoring the worried look on Iago's face in her peripheral. "Not exactly," she growled.

For the first time this morning, she caught a glimmer of satisfaction in Oberon's expression. "Good. Iago, put that damn dagger away and come fight your sister."

"Fine." Reluctantly, Iago pegged the dagger at a nearby target on the wall, effortlessly striking the bullseye. "I can go easy on you, if you want," he said to Venatrix, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

"Don't you fucking dare."

And so it went.

By the end of the morning, every muscle in Venatrix's body screamed in protest from even the smallest of motions, forcing her mouth into a permanent grimace. She looked back on the events of the training session with satisfaction, however. As her body had gotten into the rhythm of near-constant motion again, she'd been able to force it to her will, emerging victorious from a decent amount of sparring matches against her fellow trainees. She tried not to let the losses get to her head, though Alystra Drakos's elated grin and her father's ever-present judgemental glare did their damndest to hinder the effort.

Better to lose in the training room than in the arena. Best to not lose at all.

After lunch, she'd stealthily avoided her father's keen eye, disappearing to the target range situated outside the gym to give her poor legs a well-deserved break. While ranged weapons had never been her specialty, it never hurt to pick up a bow every once in a while. She found Agate and Percy, the two people she considered her closest friends at the Academy, already practicing when she arrived, with their respective spear and bow in hand.

In general, Venatrix got along fairly well with her peers, though a steel undercurrent of competition tended to run beneath every interaction. Some, like Alystra Drakos, didn't bother hiding their animosity, always eager for a chance to knock the Victors' kid flat on her ass; Venatrix was still bitter about handing her the opportunity.

Those on the other end of the spectrum were almost worse, bathing her and her siblings in endless flattery because of their parents' status, as if that might help their chances at being selected to volunteer. Venatrix found the admiration rather endearing when it came to the younger trainees, but entirely obnoxious when it came to the older ones. On the other hand, Iago and Bellara — when she'd been alive, at least — tended to soak up the attention like a dry sponge.

Around Agate and Percy, though, Venatrix felt like she could relax a bit.

"Hey, Trix, didn't expect to see you around so soon," Percy said, catching Agate's attention as he lowered his bow. A cluster of arrows peppered various target boards, all centered on the golden bullseye.

As far as she knew, Percy was the best archer in the Academy, though he hadn't always been. Venatrix had been there when he'd first picked up a bow; these things didn't happen overnight. Technically, he could be considered her ex-boyfriend, though that had only lasted long enough for them to realize that he was more interested in dudes and she'd been more interested in other people's expectations of her. Thankfully, the brief period of awkwardness following that particular affair had long since faded into a fond, if embarrassing, memory.

Briefly, she wondered how eagerly he'd be vying for the volunteer spot. While Percy had never been in competition with her for the female place, she hoped he wouldn't be selected as her district partner when the time came.

Venatrix shrugged nonchalantly, reaching for a bow of her own. "Yeah, well. Can't start slacking now." Iago had been wise to bring up the Selection Tournament; she couldn't exactly start bragging about her unofficial volunteer status without facing severe retribution from her fellow trainees.

Her two friends exchanged a glance; Venatrix caught the hint of worry in their expressions. Driving the point of her spear into the grass, Agate propped her elbow against the opposing end. "You look like shit."

"Bitch."

"'Ey, come on," Percy said, pointedly nudging Agate with his elbow.

"She's allowed to look like shit," Agate countered, yanking her spear from the ground.

Venatrix had known Agate long before they had started training, as the imposing blonde-haired girl lived in the neighborhood just outside of Victor's Village. Agate twirled her spear, sending it flying at one of the targets Percy hadn't been using. The girl could throw a spear just as far as Percy could shoot an arrow, and just as accurately, as she proved with her recent throw. Despite her skill and stature, however, Agate had other things in mind for her life than volunteering — she had a particular talent for stonemasonry — though she never mentioned it out loud for fear of disappointing her parents. Either way, Venatrix had nothing to fear from her competition.

Slinging a quiver of arrows over her shoulder, Venatrix took position next to Percy, aiming for his previous target. Her arrow landed within the first ring surrounding the center, closer than she usually got.

Percy's arrow flew directly into the wooden butt of Agate's spear, still impaled in its own target. The spear shaft wobbled from the impact, and Percy smirked in satisfaction.

"You bastard! That's my spear, not the Academy's!"

"All of the weapons belong to the Academy," Venatrix reminded her, sending another arrow into her target. The Academy, and the Capitol.

Agate growled as Percy sent another arrow into her spear. "I paid for it," she huffed.

Venatrix snickered, joining Percy in his mirth. The boy drew another from his quiver, poising to shoot again when the door to the training center flew open, a red-haired woman striding out into the grass. "Perseus Silverhorn, don't you dare break another weapon or it's coming out of your tuition!"

Percy quailed as Morwenna Stone, Victor of the 132nd Games and the head archery instructor, fixed him with a stern glare. "Ah, sorry, ma'am," he said sheepishly.

"Dumb kid." Morwenna shook her head. "Good shot, though," she said begrudgingly. Her gaze turned to pierce Venatrix. "What are you doing here, Pyke?"

As an answer, Venatrix waggled the bow in her hands.

Morwenna rolled her eyes. "Get back inside. Your father's looking for you."

With an audible groan, Venatrix replaced her bow on the nearby weapons rack. "See you in hell," she said to her friends' sympathetic expressions, jogging back into the building as Morwenna took her place at the target range.

Bracing her shoulders, Venatrix returned to the sparring mats where her father waited for her, overseeing a group of sixteens in partner duels. She allowed her mind to slip into a focused state as she picked up her sword, ignoring the soreness of her muscles and giving her father a short salute in greeting before taking stance. Oberon didn't let her stop until she'd beaten each one at least three times, an ordeal that took the rest of the day. At this rate, I won't be able to move tomorrow.

They finished before dinnertime, grabbing one of the high-protein meals from the cafeteria before leaving the center. Venatrix took the opportunity gratefully, eager for more time to commiserate with her friends before being trapped in a car with her father and Iago; at least Oberon hadn't ordered her to run home again.

Venatrix didn't pay attention to her brother's chatting on the drive home, her mind and body too busy aching for the long, hot shower she intended to take upon arriving at the mansion.

However, before she made it through the door, Oberon pulled her aside. Heat still ticked out of the car engine, stifling the air and mixing with the sound of an evening cricket trapped somewhere in the garage.

"Listen, Trixie," he began.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the childhood nickname, but she obliged him.

An almost-apologetic look crossed her father's familiar features. "I know I was a bit hard on you today, but it's not without reason, believe me. I know you have what it takes to win." His green eyes bored into hers, a mirror image. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think so."

Despite the frustration that had been building all day, a feeling of relief sprouted in her chest. The sincere confidence in his voice was almost infectious.

Venatrix nodded curtly, her expression heavy with understanding.

Her father smiled, patting her shoulder. "You did a good job today. Go on, get yourself cleaned up," he said, dismissing her, though not unkindly. Not needing to be told twice, Venatrix slipped through the door, heading straight for her room.

As she showered, she tried not to think about the implication underlying her father's words: whatever it took to win, Bellara hadn't had it.

A/N: So to anyone who thought I was gonna go ahead and skip to reaping day... Sorry. We've got some ground to cover with Career training first... I promise it will be fun (: That being said, I Do have some Fun ideas in mind for the arena here, but we're all just gonna have to wait.

If I had a nickel for every time I had a dark-haired female mc who's brother has a four-letter I name, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's kind of weird that it happened twice.. jokes aside, that's a weird little coincidence hjhj, I swear I didn't plan it.

Bad thing about posting these as I go, I don't have a set song picked out for each chapter like I had for my other ones ;-; Ah well, I'll just go back and add them later if I find ones that fit. Anyways, I Think I should be able to maintain a weekly schedule for this? It'll be nicer if/when I start to have a backlog of chapters, which. I would like to have. Will be even more interesting once I start posting the sequel to Widow though. It will 100% spoil the ending of this story unfortunately but. Alas.

I was gonna get your guy's opinions on a certain future decision, but in the time it took me to edit this, I decided to go with it so. Sorry lol :P Anyways, I've got some Thoughts for the next chapter, this'll be fun fhhj. See you then !

- Nell