Chapter 19: Know Your Enemy

March, 151 ADD

"Again!"

Ignoring the burn, Venatrix rose to her feet, eyeing her mother now pacing across the sparring mat. Her head spun from where Dagmara's axe had grazed the padded helmet at her ear; Venatrix shook it off.

Dagmara barely gave her a second to breathe before charging, never one to take it easy on her students, let alone her kids — a sentiment she clearly shared with her husband. Catching the blow on her sword, Venatrix twisted out of a bladelock before Dagmara could take advantage of it, keeping her focus on the fight rather than her father's acute presence, assessing their match from the sidelines with occasional pointers or comments.

Good thing; Dagmara struck again, relentless in her flurry of well-timed swings. Swiftly, Venatrix countered and dodged as best she could, turning would-be lethal blows into staggering but manageable hits.

A grunt slipped through her teeth as another hit reverberated through her sword; her mother's attacks left no room for Venatrix to strike, forcing her on the defensive — intentional, as Dagmara knew her opponent preferred offensive maneuvers. Pivoting to avoid another swing of Dagmara's axe, Venatrix followed through with her sword, managing to land a shallow stab at Dagmara's side and earning a scrape on the arm for her troubles. Taking a risk, she launched immediately into another attack, attempting to break Dagmara's offense.

"Venatrix, watch your—"

Catching the strike coming for her midsection, Venatrix twisted her blade harshly, the sudden torque ripping the axe from Dagmara's grip. This time, it was Venatrix who leveled her weapon at her defeated opponent, grinning through panting breath.

Dagmara matched her expression. "Nice one, honey," she said, retrieving her weapon and giving her daughter a congratulatory bump on the arm.

Nodding, Venatrix glanced between her parents. "Again?"

They'd been at this all day. Fridays were often reserved solely for physical training for the kids on the Volunteer track; the morning had them — Venatrix and Percy especially — drilling hand-to-hand with some of the Peacekeeper cadets, a difficult feat after yesterday's weight training, especially given the fact that the majority of cadets were former Career trainees themselves.

When the cadets broke for lunch, the Victors had swooped in to pick up the slack, Morwenna dragging Percy through the ringer at the archery range while Venatrix's parents nabbed the main gym for their practice, barely sparing a minute for her to grab a drink and scarf down a grainy energy bar so tasteless it could've been made of tesserae grain.

"One second," Oberon said, reaching for a fresh set of padded armor and picking up a sword; Venatrix's brief moment of pride at her win instantly deflated. "Let's switch it up a bit, hm? Two on one."

Two on one against her peers or the Peacekeeper cadets was hard enough. But Venatrix only squared her jaw, saluting her parents with her sword.

If I can take both of them now, I'll have no problem at the Bloodbath, or even the final fight. Maybe.

Oberon and Dagmara returned her salute; at the former's mark, they leapt into action, Venatrix immediately raising her weapon to parry the blow coming from Oberon's sword while narrowly dodging Dagmara's axe. She kept up her defense as best she could, but her parents moved seamlessly, fluid, one attacking while the other recovered and vice versa. Their flawless timing left no room for Venatrix to do anything but block and parry and dodge, let alone land a hit.

Years of running this dance had molded the two Victors into a perfect pair, and within seconds, Venatrix was knocked flat on her back, weaponless and cursing.

She started to get up, but Oberon cut her off. "While you're down there, give me twenty-five."

Venatrix huffed in disbelief. Did they really expect me not to lose that?

"Twenty-five push-ups, Trixie; we don't have all day. I know you've still got homework for Strategies."

Only 'cause you gave it to me, asshat. Of course, he'd given her the most impossible assignment, but that was a problem for Evening Venatrix.

Without letting a grumble or complaint slip through her teeth, Venatrix rolled onto her stomach, carefully counting out twenty-five solid, quality push-ups — he'd have her re-do them if they were anything less; she'd learned that the hard way. The remnants of yesterday's weight training burned in her arms for the last few, but she ignored it, finishing strong and pulling herself to her feet, sword in hand. "Again?"

"Again."

Again, unsurprisingly, Venatrix found herself defeated, with twenty-five push-ups to her name. The cycle persisted, her arms growing weary enough to be dragged down by the weight of her sword, creating a vicious positive feedback loop of push-ups and failure. Every now and then, she'd manage to throw a wedge into their pattern, landing a strike forceful enough to knock one from the match, but the other would be on top of her before she could even think about winning, sending her into another round of push-ups that took longer to complete with each loss.

When it took a second too long for her to get back up to her knees after catching the flat of Dagmara's axe on her helmet, her mother called a halt. "You alright, hon?"

Venatrix waved off her outstretched hand of assistance. "'M fine," she said, sinking back onto her heels.

Her parents exchanged a look. "Go get some water before we start again," Dagmara said, firm enough for Venatrix not to consider questioning her, though she forced herself through twenty-five more grueling push-ups before rising to her feet.

Only when she turned away towards where she'd placed her bag and water bottle did she realize she had an audience. The faces peering through the windows on the doors and hallway wall of the gym vanished when she looked over, not quickly enough for her to miss. Younger trainees, if she had to guess. Great, they just watched me get my ass beat over and over again.

For an unwitting half-second, she expected to see Bellara among them, her nose pressed against the window like a pig's. Instead, as she gulped down mouthfuls of water, another familiar head of curls turned to catch her eye, their owner raising an L-shaped hand to his forehead.

Asshole. Venatrix returned the sentiment with a rude gesture, and Iago grinned.

"Cut that out, Venatrix," Dagmara scolded sharply from across the gym.

"Mom—!" Venatrix glanced incredulously between her mother and brother, the latter of whom stuck his tongue out like a child before disappearing to wherever he was supposed to be.

"You can play around after you win the Games," Oberon said, drawing her attention back to where her parents stood, prepared for their next match. Dagmara gave her a pointed look; Venatrix, downing the rest of her water, stalked over to join them, pushing the pressure of the audience from her mind.

She wouldn't be able to do anything about it during the real Games; might as well get used to it now.

They kept at it until dinnertime; Venatrix assumed they'd keep going afterwards, but Oberon reminded her about the assignment he'd given for Games Strategies. "I'm a bit worried, honey; it's really important for you to get that done."

"I know, I'm gonna do it tomorrow morning," she brushed him off, a touch of mild irritation coloring her tone at the nagging.

Oberon frowned. "It's due tonight."

"What?" Venatrix's head snapped toward her father. "Why would you change it?"

"It's always been due tonight," he said matter-of-factly as they gathered their bags, heading towards the Academy's cafeteria down the hall.

"But…I've been training with you all day," Venatrix protested, unwilling to look either of her parents in the eye in light of her misjudgment. "I haven't had a chance to work on it."

"Well, there's still time, but I sincerely hope you've started."

"I did, but—"

He smiled, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Then you should be fine."

"I've told you, you've got to start writing these things down, honey," Dagmara chastised, ignoring Venatrix's groan of annoyance as she tucked a stray hair behind her daughter's ear.

When they reached the cafeteria doors, Venatrix sped up ahead of them, dropping her things at the table colloquially reserved for her and her friends. Agate was there already, having chosen to eat with her friends instead of going home to her parents as she often did now, along with — Venatrix forced herself not to grimace — Coquina, who gave her an awkward smile of acknowledgement. "Where's Percy?"

"Over there." Agate nodded to where he stood in line getting lunch. "But I think he's sitting with Lance."

Venatrix pursed her lips, glancing over to where Lancelot sat, currently alone. "Hey, Lance!" she called, waving him over. "Come sit with us, yeah?" He shrugged, joining them, and Venatrix exchanged places with him as he sat down, collecting her own meal from the assembly line buffet.

A shadow in the shape of her brother followed her back to the table, taking a seat uninvited. "Hey, losers."

"Die."

"I'm telling Mom."

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings?"

Iago chuffed, snatching the cookie from her plate. "Nah, I'm taking this though."

"Whatever." She didn't like stale, half-baked snickerdoodles anyways. "Did anyone else know the Strategies assignment was due tonight and not Monday?" Venatrix changed the subject, turning to the rest of the table's occupants.

Agate glanced between Lancelot and Percy, who'd just sat down. "Mmm, yeah, we talked about it last class."

The two boys and Coquina nodded in agreement, and Venatrix groaned. "Motherfuck."

"Ooh, sounds fun," Iago said, finishing off the rest of the cookie. "Is that the one you were complaining about the other day?"

"Dad gave me the fucking 9M," Venatrix grumbled, observing the sympathetic grimaces on her friends' faces. "Like, how the hell am I supposed to work with that? Nine won't be allowed to win the Games for at least a hundred years, or whatever."

Write a Games-winning strategy for each of the tributes I assign you as if you were their mentor, her father had said. It will be fun, he'd said. Right. Of course he gives me the most impossible one. I'd even take Thirteen over Nine at this rate. Given the constraints of the assignment, she was stuck working with whatever information could be gained during the pre-Games phase — which meant no details on the arena and how it might benefit or disadvantage her tributes.

Iago only shrugged. "Just say the Head Gamemaker's an idiot, that's how Teng won, wasn't it?"

"We're supposed to assume the current Gamemaking team though," Percy interjected. "They won't make that mistake twice."

"Who'd you get, Percy?" she asked.

He glanced upwards, reciting the list. "6M, fifteen years old, 12F, seventeen, and—" his eyes briefly flicked towards Venatrix— "2F, eighteen."

Venatrix shifted in her seat. "And you finished?"

"Yup."

"I thought you were supposed to focus on the outliers," Iago questioned.

"Well, that would be stupid," Venatrix said flatly. She shrugged at his glare. "I also got the 4M, eighteen, and 7F, sixteen. Those weren't bad, took me, like, thirty minutes tops, but…" She sighed in frustration, pulling the notebook for the class from her pack and flipping to the sparse scribbles she'd made for the 9M on the assignment page. 17 years old. Crafty. Determined. Observant. None of that would help him win, not at this point in time. Background: orphaned; parents executed due to suspected rebel activity.

Fucking 'Makers.

"Ouch," Iago said, hovering over her shoulder to read her notes. "Just have him jump off the plate."

"Thank you, very helpful." Venatrix raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have an essay due this weekend too?"

"Yeah, for literature."

"Oh, I forgot you still have to take that," Venatrix said distractedly, her eyes still skimming her notebook. "Lemme guess, you're doing it on one of Mom's books again?"

Iago grinned. "Well, duh. It was either that or Shakespeare, and Mom's a way better writer than him."

As part of her talent as a Victor, their mother had written a number of fantasy novels, a hobby she'd kept up long after most Victors dropped their government-regulated 'talents'. Dagmara's novels had been fairly well-received in the Capitol, as there'd been quite a few movie deals made over the years, though Venatrix had only seen a few of them. She'd read the books years ago, as they'd made it into Two's education curriculum, though it was Iago who absolutely adored them.

"You should do Othello next time," Venatrix said with a nudge, matching his smirk.

"Ha, fuck off."

"Anyways, District Nine?"

Iago blew a raspberry. "I got nothing."

"Sorry, Trix, you're on your own," Agate said with a sympathetic shake of her head, the others voicing their agreement.

Shoving her untouched plate of food away, Venatrix spread her notes out in front of her, forcing herself to focus. She turned out the conversations budding around the table, putting herself in place of the imaginary doomed Nine boy and his mentor. Judging by the profile she'd received, the kid wouldn't even have the physical strength necessary to take on someone like herself, let alone win. But would he need it?

Sascha Teng hadn't won due to her physical strength; neither had Jezephel Xoreen, for that matter.

Venatrix pushed the Eleven girl from her mind, focusing on the former. Teng's win had been bizarre, to say the least. Venatrix suspected that Gamemaker had only allowed her to win out of curiosity, to see if what the girl had been trying to accomplish was possible. Their mistake. Today's Gamemakers would never allow a fluke win like that; Venatrix couldn't rely on the bizarrely lucky for her assignment anyways.

Parents executed due to suspected rebel activity.

First things first, if this kid wanted to win, he'd need to distance himself from that as quickly as possible. Venatrix scribbled that down in her notebook, tapping the pen against the table.

Hell, it wasn't just his parents, he'd need to distance himself from District Nine as soon as possible.

Venatrix frowned at her papers again. Well, that just might be an idea…

With that basis in mind, the ideas began springing from Venatrix's brain into her notebook, the rough outline of a plan. The more she wrote, the deeper her grimace grew. I don't envy this fucker at all, she thought, half-amused. If this works, it works, but this level of ass-kissing might be worse for his health than the actual arena.

Around her, people began getting up to discard their plates as the meal hour concluded, dispersing to head home for the weekend or slink off to their bunks, common areas, or gyms to hang out anywhere but the cafeteria. Venatrix was only vaguely aware, offering Agate and Coquina half-hearted goodbyes, the majority of her attention spent re-copying the draft of her assignment into a more readable form.

It was Oberon's presence that drove the rest of her friends away, Iago having long-since disappeared with his own. "Looks like you've been busy," her father said, nodding to the spread of papers.

"I've got it," Venatrix said excitedly. "For the 9M, I think this could work." She handed Oberon the final draft, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for him to read it. "He'd have to start, like, as soon as he makes a public appearance."

"Hm…'Denouncing loyalty to his district as well as his dead family'…" Oberon read, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"Not just that," Venatrix cut in. "The regular flattery wouldn't be enough, not with Valorius. It would have to be personal."

Oberon read off the paper. "'Blame parents' allegiance for his current state', 'express anger towards them and loyalty to Capitol and specifically President'…" He glanced at Venatrix. "You want him to ally with the Career pack? They'd never—"

"Look," Venatrix interrupted, pointing to the following line she'd written. "They would if he convinced them that the government wouldn't let him win anyways, and go from there. And he'd have to play up the whole pro-Capitol thing in the arena, of course…"

"And his district partner?"

"She's the scapegoat," Venatrix said proudly.

Oberon raised an eyebrow, skimming the rest of the paper, his face twisting into a grimace at what he read. "Sheesh, the eye… Valorius would love that." Venatrix nodded eagerly, and he gave a huff of finality. "Well, I don't know what to say, I imagine the bastard would get hanged as soon as he stepped off the train in Nine."

"Hey, the instructions only said I had to get him out of the arena."

Given the circumstances, Oberon's laugh could've been considered cruel. "Remind me never to show this to old Barley."

Venatrix's smile flickered. "So, did I get it right?"

"Right?"

"Was that the right answer?"

He shrugged in a manner that made Venatrix seriously consider decking him. "Sure."

"What do you mean 'sure'?"

"It's an answer. There's not one specific right answer."

Venatrix's jaw clenched. "Why'd you give me Nine then?"

"I wanted to see what you'd come up with." At her furious sigh, his expression softened. "Trixie, everyone in that arena is going to be fighting just as hard as you to get out, even the Nines. If they think they have even a ghost of a chance, you need to know what they'll do before they know, and crush it before they start to believe it." He handed her back the assignment she'd written. "If your Nine boy catches wind of something like this, or any strategy that could help him win, you need to take care of it."

"No shit!" The paper crinkled in her grip. "They all need to die!"

All of them…

Her father remained silent, his expression infuriatingly calm but unyielding in her outburst.

Taking a breath, Venatrix steadied herself, imagining the useless anger in her nerves sizzling to a halt. "I've already decided," she stated. "No outliers in my pack, I'm not… dealing with that."

Oberon nodded in agreement with the decision. "We can spend tomorrow discussing your strategy more," he said, and she tried not to let her internal groan show on her face. "Before we go, though, I want you to do one loop around the mountain trail."

"What? Why?"

"You need to clear your head. Might help you stop mixing up due dates."

Venatrix shot him a dirty look, but he didn't budge. "It's almost dark," she protested, glancing out the cafeteria window where twilight was beginning to engulf the district.

"Get a headlight," Oberon countered, and Venatrix felt her shoulders sag in defeat. "Come on, we'll be waiting on you to go home."

Just leave me here for the weekend, part of her wanted to say, though she slunk back to her quarters to grab a headlight and an extra jacket without a word. The bitter March cold necessitated gloves and a head covering as well; Venatrix snagged them before heading out into the cold, nodding briefly to Percy and Lancelot heading inside as she passed.

From a hiker's perspective, the mountain trail behind the Academy was a piece of cake, about fifteen or so kilometers of straightforward slopes with no added rock climbing — thank the 'Makers for that. For Venatrix and her afternoon of literal sore losing, however, it promised to be a nightmare. Already, the slight upward incline beneath her feet wanted to drag her down, and she'd barely crossed out of Academy grounds. Sooner than she would've liked, the air cut painfully into her lungs; after years of her training here, Venatrix knew the trail by heart, and this wasn't a good sign.

Whatever. Just need to get this over with, and then I'll be home with a nice hot shower.

Though she stayed at the Academy during the week, the rest of her family hadn't been quite keen on giving her up so soon, and deep down, Venatrix was glad. The Volunteer bunk was tradition, but she wasn't ready to give up her time at home, nevermind how sure Iago was that she'd make it back from the Games. The weekends were a perfect compromise.

Venatrix huffed, irritated that the cold already turned her regulated breathing pattern into an uncomfortable sniffle. With every scuff of her shoes, the incline increased, alerting Venatrix to the beginning of the mountain itself.

Compared to the rest of those ringing Two, this peak was fairly small. Densely wooded, but not too steep; a far cry from the behemoth that housed the Nut, or even the one bordering Victor's Village. Had it been lighter out, Venatrix would've been able to see more than the silhouette of that one through the gaps between the trees over her shoulder, though she wouldn't be surprised if her father took her out on one of its steeper trails tomorrow morning. Ugh, don't think about that now.

Realizing the darkness had gotten thicker, Venatrix switched on the headlight, the beam bobbing in time with her steps. In a stroke of poor luck, the light illuminated what Venatrix realized were tiny snowflakes falling from above. Fuck, you're kidding. Even the thought dripped exhaustion into her muscles, her speed becoming pathetically sluggish. It'd better just be a flurry. Not an uncommon phenomenon, even at the tail end of winter. Perks of living this high into the mountains; as for any more blizzards, though, she'd seen none in the forecast.

An uncomfortable wave of dizziness rushed over her, amplifying the soreness in her muscles. Dammit, I should've grabbed some water, she thought, gritting her teeth as she slowed her pace even more.

Her beam traced the next red trail marker far later than it should have; another sign that Venatrix was moving at a goddamn snail's pace. Fuck. Go faster. With a huff of frustration, Venatrix forced her legs into a quicker pace, but a sudden stitch in her lungs had her wheezing for breath. The dark made it only more difficult for her to realize her narrowing vision; again, she slowed, shaking her head to clear away the numbness.

I should be almost done, right? The sooner I'm done the sooner I can fucking eat something. Only until now did she realize how starving she was, her stomach seeming intent on carving a void into itself. Fuck, I'll even take another shitty energy bar. The untouched plate of food from dinner — some sort of beef stew, now that she remembered; potatoes, gravy, buttery greens — seemed to haunt her mind, tantalizingly unreachable.

That oat bar from lunch; was that really the last thing she ate? God it's freezing. She couldn't figure out if she'd rather have food or water right now, despite neither being accessible.

Forget about that, she chided herself. Just finish this run — is that the halfway marker? Good. Solid.

The milestone lent a burst of energy to her exhausted limbs; ignoring her stitch and the slowly-encroaching dizziness, Venatrix picked up her pace again, determined to maintain it this time. Every now and then, she glanced upwards, scanning the heavens for more flurries and snow clouds. She caught glimpses of stars through the masses of tree limbs and somewhat spindly clouds, taking it as a sign that no sudden blizzard would catch her unawares.

Instead, it was some sort of root or stone that tripped her up — literally. Venatrix yelped, hands outstretched, but her feet managed to catch themselves just in time. Heart suddenly pounding in her ears, Venatrix shook it off, continuing on her way with a muttered curse, vowing to pay more attention to the path in front of her feet.

That worked for a while until she nearly ran into the trail marker, the tree bearing it coming out of nowhere with her gaze fixed on her feet.

Fuck, the trail curves here, Venatrix remembered, steadying herself on the stiff bark of the tree. She paused, waiting for the haziness to disappear from her vision again before kicking back into gear. Get it together, idiot.

Forcing herself to breathe evenly, Venatrix kept going, shuffling one foot in front of the other. Dammit, this is pathetic. Who cares how much it hurts, I— where even am I on this trail…?

Has to be almost done.

The snow flurries pricking at her face felt more real than her feet slapping on the ground. Running was such a weird sensation when you couldn't feel them; it almost tickled.

There's another marker, I think—Fuck!

Venatrix couldn't catch herself this time; the cold dirt stung against her face, even her reactionary gasp seeming sluggish. The sharp suddenness cut through the waves of numbing fatigue overtaking her body; she dragged a hand roughly — too rough, ow — down her face, relieved when her glove didn't glisten with blood under her headlight beam.

Head spinning, Venatrix pushed herself to her knees. Vaguely, she felt her hands trembling in front of her, shakily grasping at the dirt. Come on, come on. Chasing the fatigue away, Venatrix slowly stood to her feet on unsteady legs, her breath ringing in her ears.

Again, she forced herself to move, almost there, gotta be…

The dizziness reared its head again, and Venatrix squeezed her eyes shut, blinking quickly against the headache burrowing its way into her brain. Come on.

It took Venatrix a good couple of seconds to realize she was on the ground again, her breath melting the thin layer of snow in front of her face. Stupid. What..? Her attempt to stand was interrupted by a rude bout of retching, her shaky arms barely keeping her from face planting in the feeble amount of stomach acid that she'd tossed up. Gross. Disgusting. Go away. She scooted away from the puddle, using a nearby tree trunk to help herself stand.

Just… keep going, Venatrix thought with almost pathetic determination. This is nothing compared to—compared to the… the arena. Whatever that'll be.

If Venatrix could feel her feet where a tingling numbness now existed, she'd have been able to sense the declining slope of the trail. But she couldn't, and the unforgiving dirt rose again to slap her in the face. Huh? Haah… 'Makers. When did she switch off her headlight?

No, there it was… wait nevermind. Venatrix pushed herself into her elbows, blinking in darkness, dizzy, why am I shivering and sweating at the same time, that's weird— oh, a flash of starlight! God, I miss sleeping under the stars…

Dad and I used to do that when we were… camping, yeah. Should do that again.

Maybe now, that wouldn't be too bad.

So cold; at least, she knew it was supposed to be. Venatrix couldn't really tell anymore.

"Trixie!"

The call sounded like it was coming through a tunnel.

"Venatrix!"

But… She recognized the voice. Did she?

"Venatrix!"

Yeah, that's definitely…

"Trixie! Where—"

"Dad..?" she croaked, blinking open half-frozen eyelids.

"Oh, god, you're here…" Her father's face swam before her eyes, squinting in the light from her headband. His voice trickled in and out of her ears, though the concern in his tone was evident.

An unexpected force gripped her, the earth suddenly tilting beneath her feet, and Venatrix groaned. "Ahah, woah…" Stars, darkness, and green eyes bounced around her vision, and she felt her weight sag in Oberon's arms. "Hi Dad."

He righted her, reminding her of the feet she still had. "'Makers, honey, what are you doing? What happened?"

"Oh, 'm just. Taking a nap," she mumbled, blinking furiously. "I'm fine."

"Trixie…"

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"You're not," Oberon growled, his hands still firm on her shoulders. "What happened?"

Venatrix re-wracked her brain. "Guess I… didn't eat much today."

Her father's sigh sounded tinny to her ears; she shook her head to clear the persistent static. "Venatrix, you can't— you know how much physical labor you go through on the daily," Oberon said, his voice rising with frustration, disappointment. "You can't go around skipping meals, you know better than this!"

The rush of blood to her toes prickled painfully. "I wasn't, I just… forgot." Venatrix bit her lip. "Was busy."

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

Venatrix frowned.

"If you're having issues with how you look, or weigh, or how you see yourself, you know you can talk to me or Mom—"

"What—no, stop, I'm not!" She wrenched herself from his grip, swaying with frustrating unsteadiness until he reached for her again. "It was just a mistake, I didn't mean to forget," she said quietly, accepting the help but hating that she needed it, that every little slip-up was treated like a damn felony.

"Venatrix." She hated the severity he laced through her name. "You can't be this careless in the arena."

"I am not careless!"

The silence was as raw as her voice. She bit her lip again to keep it from trembling, though she really wanted to scream, the sudden frustration unbalancing her as much as her over-exhausted legs. Oberon sighed again — irritation and concern didn't blend well; he could probably hear the unsteadiness in her breath. "Come on, let's just get home, your mother and brother are still waiting." He paused, assessing her. "Can you walk? Or do I have to carry you—"

"I can walk," she snapped.

She couldn't think of anything more humiliating than being carried like an injured dog; she'd rather crawl. She did, however, accept the shoulder of support he offered, a better alternative than face-planting with a mouthful of dirt. Again, she thought irritably. Thankfully, her father kept his comments to himself for the rest of their trek — turns out, she had been fairly close to finishing the trail; wasn't that just peachy? — and it wasn't like she had the energy to walk and talk either.

Dagmara was waiting for them before they even got through the doors to the main Academy building. At least nobody else is around, Venatrix thought as her mother cupped her face, practically smothering her in warmth. "Oh, honey, what happened?"

Venatrix only grunted, the sudden ambiance and brightness of the building nearly overwhelming. She lowered herself onto the nearest bench in the lobby, tucking her head between her knees to keep it from spinning, not caring to listen while Oberon explained.

Someone handed her a water bottle; she was halfway through guzzling it when she noticed Iago, his brows creased with worry.

She groaned. Fuck, everyone is turning this into such a big deal when it doesn't need to be.

At least the car ride home went by fairly quickly, the lights of the town passing in a blur. She didn't bother trying to register her parents' murmured conversation, only perking her ears when Iago nudged her. "Here, I stole this from the cafeteria," he said, passing her a half-soggy snickerdoodle.

Venatrix huffed a laugh, taking a cautious nibble. "Fuck, that's disgusting," she muttered, forcing herself to swallow down the bite. "It's like… still raw."

Their mother had him make some sort of protein drink for her when they got home, refusing to let her sleep until she finished the entire glass, goop and all; at the swirling in her stomach, Venatrix staggered over to the bathroom as soon as she did, afraid it was about to come up. She was relieved when it didn't, spared of that particular torture as she stood from her kneeling position over the toilet, forcing even breaths through her nose.

Slowly, she picked her way back through the hall of the mansion to the kitchen in search of a glass of water. Water, and maybe some crackers. Bland, tasteless, non-vomit-inducing crackers—

"If she can't even manage this, how is she supposed to handle the Games?"

Venatrix paused. Her father, the voice coming from the near-closed door of the room designated as both his and Dagmara's at-home office; eavesdropping wasn't even a question.

"Training is harder than the Games for a reason, Oberon," Dagmara countered, stern and half-hushed. "She doesn't need to be doing this much—" Oberon huffed, but she kept going— "Hell, she's already in better physical condition than I was when I volunteered, we can decrease the regimen—"

"No."

Judging by the look on her father's face when she shoved open the door, Venatrix stole the word right out of his mouth. Dagmara, brows furrowed and looking slightly guilty at being caught, pressed her lips into a thin line.

Venatrix narrowed her eyes. "Dad's right."

"Honey…"

"I need to be better. Smarter." Ignoring the disquieted look on Dagmara's face, Venatrix met her father's eyes, steel to steel. "This won't happen again."

Oberon nodded. "Good. Get some sleep, then. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

A/N: Being smart but also an idiot at the same time is such a vibe.. anyways, don't mind me trying to shove as many little worldbuilding tidbits into this as possible ;-;

As I say like every other chapter.. this is the longest one yet so far, wild.. also we're so close to reaping day (aka the end of Part I), I can almost taste it… ;-; Also super not relevant but I got my teeth drilled today and my mouth is still numb :v it's been like 3 hours hdjdj

Yeah, this thing is like 5.4k long but just be glad I managed to fit all of March into one chapter hfhfhf. See you guys hopefully soon in April ! (Venatrix's April, not mine lol)

- Nell