Training Day Two
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Natural: an accidental which cancels previous accidentals and represents the unaltered pitch of a note.
Quint Delgado, 13
District Two
"Cousins?"
Quint leaned back, trying their best to keep a poker face, the way their uncle had taught them, as the boy from Twelve let the news sink in. The three of them – Octavia, Lyric, and Quint – had invited Lark and his mentor Prometheus to their quarters before training began for the day. "We're cousins?" Lark repeated.
Lyric nodded. "Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are, but it's true. Your adoptive parents are from Twelve, and your mother was from Eleven, but your father was a peacekeeper from District Two. They disappeared together – presumably, to avoid being separated when he was transferred to a different district. All these years, and I never knew what really happened to him. Never imagined he left behind any family…"
She trailed off into silence, and Octavia picked up seamlessly. "But now that we know, we felt you deserved to know, too. And we wanted you to know that a place in the pack is yours if you want it."
Lark blinked. "What? Just like that? Just because my father—"
Octavia cut him off. "Yes. We take district loyalty very seriously in Two. Half of your blood comes from our district, disgraced though it may be by your father's actions."
"He left so we could be together!" Lark blurted out.
"He abandoned his duty," Octavia corrected. "The Capitol doesn't take that lightly. But they do love a good redemption story. You are not your father, and this is your chance to prove it. To prove your loyalty to the Capitol, and to your family – your real family, in District Two."
"I'm not a Career."
Quint shrugged. "Do I look like I'm a Career?" They didn't wait for Lark to answer; the answer was obvious. "No. But Octavia invited me to join the pack, because training isn't everything. And I'd wager you could beat me in a fist fight."
"So could a number of the other tributes," Lark pointed out.
Octavia nodded. "True. But they aren't blood."
Lark's gaze shifted from Octavia to Lyric, and then back again. Finally, he glanced over at his mentor. "What do you think?"
Prometheus shrugged. "I think they're full of crap. District loyalty means squat when it comes right down to it, and all three of them know it. But," he added, shaking his head, "they're right about the Capitol. They love a good story, and you've got it all, kid. Forbidden love, mixed heritage, conflict about where you really belong. You play into that, and the sponsors will eat it up."
Lark nodded, then turned back to Octavia and Quint. "What's in it for you?"
Octavia chuckled. "Not buying the 'blood is blood' argument?"
Lark shook his head. "From my cousin … maybe. But not you two. I'm the competition. If it comes down to a fight between us, you won't hesitate just because I'm distantly related to your mentor. And I wouldn't expect you to. So … what's in it for you?"
Octavia shrugged. "I'm sure you noticed the pack this year is a bit … lackluster. I saw a chance to spice it up, and I figured, what the hell."
Lark turned to Quint. "And you?"
I think you'd be better off taking your chances on your own. Part of them wanted to say it. Outer-district tributes who joined up with the pack didn't tend to fare well. The pack saw them as disposable, while their fellow non-Careers saw them as traitors. They added drama, but when push came to shove, skill won out over flair almost every time.
But they didn't say it. Because they didn't have either – skill or flair. Adding Lark into the mix just meant that less attention would be focused on them, and that suited them just fine. Quint shrugged. "Not my call. I'm not exactly in a position to decide who's allowed in the pack, considering I got the same offer not that long ago." They smiled, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt. "And I think it's pretty clear which choice I made."
Lark Lucas, 18
District Twelve
He'd been expecting more resistance from the other Careers, maybe some argument about whether District Two was allowed to unilaterally invite him to join the pack. But everyone seemed surprisingly unbothered when Octavia introduced him. Sebastian gave him a friendly punch on the arm and a wink, maybe relieved to have another addition around his own age. Corin and Opal were friendly enough, as if they realized what Quint had – that they weren't in much of a position to comment on who was and wasn't allowed in the pack.
They'd agreed that it was best to keep the reason they'd allowed him in a secret until it would provide the most drama for the audience – and that meant waiting until the interviews to reveal his connection to Lyric. District Twelve went last, when the audience was usually zoning out, so anything that would jolt them awake with a surprise would play well.
Part of it still felt wrong – using his family like that. Whatever connection he had to District Two, his father had abandoned it when he'd run away. He'd clearly wanted no more part of that life. He'd chosen Lark's mother over his duty to his district and to the Capitol, so to claim any sort of connection to District Two based on that now felt like a lie. A trick. It didn't feel real.
None of it felt real.
But it was. For years, he'd told himself that he wanted answers, no matter what they were. That whatever the truth was, knowing it would be better than not knowing, that knowing everything would be better than knowing half the truth. Now…
Quint clapped him on the back as the pack began to head towards separate stations. "I saw you practicing at the axe station yesterday. Want to head back there, or find something else?"
Lark raised an eyebrow. Corin and Sebastian were headed off together, and Opal was heading for the swords station. Octavia was lingering nearby, as if waiting to see how Lark would respond to her district partner. Or maybe waiting to see how Quint would respond to him, whether Quint seemed particularly bothered by the way the Career pack was using him.
It was obvious, of course, that they were. Outer-district tributes were occasionally invited to join the pack, but it was never really because of their skill, or because the Careers thought they would bring an advantage to a fight. No, anyone the Careers really thought might be a threat, they would try to take out right away, not invite to join them. They didn't want him here because they thought he would be a good fighter; they wanted him for the drama, for the sponsors his story might attract. Once that reason was gone, he was nothing but a target.
Still, that bought him a little time, at least. No one else had approached him looking for an alliance, and plenty of groups were already starting to form. If the choice was between joining the Career pack and going it alone…
"Let's try something new," Lark suggested. "What do you know about spears?"
"Practically nothing," Quint admitted. "Let's go fix that."
Elemeno Pereira, 12
District Seven
"Are you sure we shouldn't be finding something smaller to fight with?" the boy from Six asked as he followed Elemeno towards the scythe station.
"With which to fight," Elemeno corrected, gripping his dictionary tightly as they passed a few of the Careers.
"What?"
"You should have said, 'Are you sure we shouldn't find something smaller with which to fight?'" Elemeno explained.
Percy rolled his eyes. "Who cares?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why do you care? We're about to be fighting for our lives, and you really want to pick a fight about grammar?"
Elemeno pushed his glasses back up along his nose. "I wasn't trying to pick a fight. I was just trying to help." Why did people always react like this? Why couldn't they just admit they had been wrong, correct themselves, and move on?
Percy shook his head and headed in the opposite direction. Elemeno sighed and kept heading for the scythe station, where the pair from Nine were already training. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. It had seemed like such an ideal weapon, though – something that could be used both for attacking and for defense. He'd spent the previous day learning the basics of some of the smaller swords and daggers, but that wouldn't do him much good if someone attacked him with a weapon that had better range, especially someone who had a better reach to begin with.
The trainer looked down as he approached. "You sure you wanna give this a try, kid?" he asked.
Elemeno nodded. "I'm sure I want to."
"It's just that someone your size … You might want to find something else to fight with."
Before Elemeno could open his mouth to correct the man, however, the boy from Nine stepped in. "You're kidding, right? Back home, we have kids working in the fields that're half his size."
"Who are," Elemeno corrected.
"The kids back home."
"No, I just meant … You have kids working in the fields who are half my size. 'Who' is for people; 'that' is for things."
The boy cocked his head. "Huh. Didn't know that. Thanks." He turned back to the trainer. "We have kids in the fields who are half his size. You're telling me that you don't have any scythes a bit smaller?"
The trainer looked flustered. "We have some sickles."
The boy shook his head. "Not the same thing. Got a saw?"
"What?"
"Do you have a saw?"
"I—"
"There's one over there," Elemeno offered, pointing to the spear-making station, where Ebony had settled down along with the pair from Ten.
"Perfect. Come on, kid. We're gonna make you a scythe the right size."
"We're going to."
"Right. We're going to make you one the right size."
Elemeno hurried to keep up as the older boy made his way towards the spear station. "Why?"
The boy shrugged. "Because you have as much right to learn how to use one as anyone else, and it's frankly a disgrace they don't already have ones that are different sizes. I mean, they know some of the tributes are going to be your age; you'd think they'd be more prepared, right?"
"Right," Elemeno agreed, at a loss for what else to say. That wasn't really the question he'd wanted an answer to. Why hadn't the boy snapped at him like everyone else did when he corrected them? Why was he being so kind? It didn't make any sense.
Malachi Thorne, 18
District Nine
Malachi could practically feel Squirrel's inquisitive gaze boring into him from behind as he worked, carefully sawing and sanding a length of wood into the right size and shape to make a scythe for the younger boy. He wasn't entirely sure what to do about the blade, but he would figure that out when he got there. "So what's your name?" he asked the younger boy.
"Elemeno."
"I'm Malachi, and this is Squirrel."
"I remember from the reaping."
Malachi nodded. "You've got a good memory."
Elemeno smiled. "I have this completely memorized." He held up the book he was carrying around. Now that Malachi got a closer look, he could tell that it was a dictionary.
Squirrel cocked her head. "If you have it memorized, why would you still want to carry it with you?"
Elemeno blinked. "It just … feels good to have it, I guess. I wanted to bring my bigger one, but they said I might knock someone out with it."
Malachi chuckled. The one the boy had was certainly big enough already. "I get it. It's nice to have something concrete with you, even if you know it's not really going to help you in a fight. Just something to hold onto, when everything else seems like it's falling apart. Something you can actually control."
"Exactly." He cocked his head. "That's why you're helping me, isn't it."
"What do you mean?"
"You can't control the fact that you got reaped for the Games, or that you might die soon, so you're trying to make a difference where you can. Making me a scythe now won't really help me in the Games, and you probably won't have the tools to make one in the arena. Helping me now, though … that's something you can control. It's one little thing you can fix. Am I right?"
Malachi twirled the scythe handle gently, getting a feel for the weight. The boy was right. He just couldn't help himself. He saw a problem, and he wanted to fix it – even if it wasn't his problem to fix. It was something he could do. It was why he was helping Squirrel. It was why he had immediately jumped to Elemeno's defense. And somewhere in some corner in the back of his mind, he knew he would eventually have to stop doing it if he wanted to survive this.
But not yet.
Malachi stood up, ignoring the question and passing the handle off to Elemeno. "How's it feel?"
Elemeno twirled it a few times, then shrugged. "It feels like a stick."
Malachi chuckled. "Fair enough. Let's see if we can find you a blade the right size. This many weapons getting used every year, there's got to be some sort of an armory somewhere."
"Yeah, but they probably won't let you in," came a voice from behind them. Malachi turned to see the pair from Four watching them. The boy took a step forward. "But they might let a Career have a look."
Sebastian Banks, 18
District Four
It didn't take long to find a blade the right size. Sebastian emerged from the armory and handed the blade over to Malachi. It wasn't very sharp, but the blades used during training were purposely blunted anyway. A few accidents during the early years of the Games had led to precautions being taken to keep the tributes safe – until the Games started, at least. Tributes who were particularly determined to injure each other could still do so, of course, but they all knew that was frowned upon by the Gamemakers, who could be quite harsh in their retaliation once the Games began.
Still, Malachi looked a bit surprised when Sebastian simply handed over the weapon. "Thanks, but … why are you helping us?"
Sebastian shrugged. "Why are you helping him?" he asked, gesturing to Elemeno. The fact that one of the older, stronger tributes was helping one of the youngest wasn't lost on him. He was helping Corin, of course, but at least Corin was part of the pack.
"I don't … I …" Malachi stumbled over his words for a moment before shaking his head and continuing. "I didn't think it was fair that they didn't have weapons his size. I'd always just sort of assumed that they would, since tributes could be practically any size."
Sebastian nodded. "Apparently, that's changed over the years. Used to be, they just had some very basic weapons – spears, daggers, that sort of thing. Once Career systems started becoming more popular, they had to expand, because Careers coming into the Games already knew the basics they'd been teaching the tributes. So when they added fancier weapons – scythes, tridents, bows and arrows, and that sort of thing – they only added them in larger sizes, because they were meant for the Careers who already knew their way around the standard weapons."
"Makes sense," Malachi agreed. "But that doesn't make it right."
Sebastian nodded. "Why do you think I helped you?"
Malachi held out his hand. "Thanks."
Sebastian shook it. "You're welcome." He watched as the three of them headed back to the scythe station, the older boy already showing the younger one how to properly handle the blade while the girl watched, amused. Sebastian turned back to Corin. "Now, where were we?"
Corin shook her head. "You do know they're the competition, right?"
Sebastian shrugged. "Not yet. No harm in humoring them a little."
Corin cocked her head. "Is that what you've been doing? Humoring me?"
"No, that's different. We're allies. The better trained you are, the better things are for the whole pack."
"You could have invited them to join the pack," Corin pointed out. "Octavia invited the boy from Twelve."
Sebastian shook his head. "Inviting one's a bit different from inviting three. Nine would make the pack a bit too large, don't you think?" He'd thought about it, briefly. Maybe if it was just the older boy, or even the pair of them, but they both seemed to have latched onto the boy from Seven. Asking all three of them to join the pack would probably be a bit of a stretch, even if the idea was tempting. But if the pack's numbers started to dwindle, or the older boy ended up on his own … well, it was something to keep in mind for later.
Ebony Timberough, 18
District Seven
At least Elemeno had found someone to work with, even if it wasn't quite who she'd been expecting. Then again, everyone else he'd approached had quickly become annoyed with him nit-picking everything they said, so maybe it made sense. If anyone was going to be able to tolerate him, it would have to be someone with a bit more maturity. She was just glad he hadn't asked her, because she wasn't entirely sure what she would have said. He was just a kid, and clearly needed someone to look after him, but…
But she couldn't be that someone if she wanted to focus on her own survival. If she wanted to make it home to her mother and grandmother, she didn't need allies who needed her. She needed allies who also brought something to the table – something besides perfect grammer and a full-size dictionary.
Which was what had led her to the pair from Ten. She'd caught up with the pair of them – Arti and Whisper – at the plant-sorting station the first day. They'd spent the morning at the survival stations, and the afternoon learning the basics of knives and daggers. So far, they'd spent this morning practicing making and using spears. What she really wanted was to get her hands on an axe, but there wasn't much point in practicing with something she was already familiar with. She'd been using an axe for years, after all.
But trees didn't hit back.
Ebony shook the thought from her head as the whistle blew for lunch. She hurled her spear at the target one last time. It whizzed by a few inches from the target and clattered to the floor. "It's a lot harder than it looks, huh?" Whisper asked as the three of them headed for the lunch tables.
Ebony nodded. Neither of the others had been able to hit the target consistently, either. They'd all had better luck trying to use their spears to fight rather than to throw. "A lot different than a bow," Arti muttered as they settled down at a table in the corner.
Ebony brightened up. "You know how to use a bow?"
"Yeah, I…" Arti started, but something stopped her. "I know a thing or two."
"You'll have to show us after lunch," Ebony suggested. "I mean, it'll probably be harder to find something to make a bow out of than a spear, but at least it's something you already know how to use." She cocked her head. "I wouldn't be too worried about them finding out, you know. A lot of people do it."
Arti froze. "Do what?"
"Poaching. Illegal hunting. In Seven, it's mostly people trapping animals in the woods, but you'd find a few who know how to use a bow. Probably the same thing going on in Ten. Oh, I'm sure they wouldn't be happy if they caught you back in the district, but now that you're here, if they know you know how to use a bow, all they care about is making sure you get a chance to show the audience how good you are with it. They won't care how you learned."
Arti relaxed a little. "So what you're saying is, you could show us how to make a pretty good trap?"
Ebony chuckled. "I know a thing or two."
Arti Aveneuro, 16
District Ten
Arti tried her best to mask her relief as the three of them finished their lunch. For a moment, she'd thought that maybe Ebony had picked up on something. Admitting that she knew how to shoot a bow might have been a mistake, but at least the other two thought she was just admitting to poaching rather than … well, rather than the truth. Because the truth was a lot more serious than that.
What would the Capitol do if they found out the truth? It wasn't the first time she'd wondered, of course, but this was the closest she'd come to anyone finding out. Well, anyone except for Hector, of course. If they found out before the Games – or during them – they could certainly make sure that she didn't come out alive. But if they found out after…
If she won, how long would she have to keep up the act? Would she have to spend the rest of her life pretending she didn't know her own mother? How long could it be before someone figured it out? All it would take was one person suspecting something was going on, and they could test her blood, and…
And what would they do?
If she was a Victor, what could they do?
Arti shook the thought from her head as the three of them headed for the archery station. She couldn't afford to get cocky. Her mother was a Victor. Her grandfather was a Victor. That hadn't stopped them from losing her father to the Games. Just because Victors had it better than most didn't mean they were untouchable. If she won, she would have to figure out what to do next.
But first she had to win. First she had to survive. Then she could worry about the rest. Because if she didn't win, none of the rest mattered.
Arti reached for a bow that looked about the right size. It was lighter than she was used to, more professional. Would that make it harder to shoot? She glanced at Ebony and Whisper. Chances were, if she even managed to hit the target, they would be impressed. She took a deep breath, took aim, and let the arrow fly.
Ebony whistled as the arrow struck the dummy in the head. "Nice."
Arti bit her lip. She'd been aiming for the chest, but the bow was balanced differently from what she was used to. Still, at least she'd managed to shoot straight. She shot a couple more arrows, then passed the bow to Whisper. "Want a try?"
Whisper took it carefully, as if he was afraid he might accidentally shoot one of the other tributes. What would happen if he did that? Arti brushed the thought away as he took aim. "There. Raise your elbow a little more. Right, just like that. Now take a deep breath and just … let go."
Whisper let the arrow fly, but it clattered to the floor a few feet short of the target. "Hey, not bad for your first try," Arti pointed out. "Try pulling it back a little farther this time. Okay, maybe not quite that much. There. Just like that. Perfect. Now let go."
Nirel Jackson, 17
District Eleven
The other two were getting at least a little better at shooting by the time they decided to move on to the next station. What the three of them probably hadn't realized was that they'd been attracting some attention. The Careers, at least, had noticed that the girl from Ten seemed to know what she was doing with a bow. And a few of the other tributes had glanced over to see how they were doing.
"Bad idea," mumbled the boy beside Nirel. "Showing off like that. Their mentor should've told 'em not to do anything that would attract the Careers' attention."
Nirel shrugged. "Probably would have, if they'd known. But what's bad for them helps the rest of us, right?" When he didn't get an answer, he decided to venture a little farther. "Is that why you decided not to try to join the pack? Didn't want the attention?"
The boy from One shook his head. "Do I look like a Career?"
"No, but neither does half the pack this year. Didn't stop the others from trying. Hell, they even let the boy from Twelve join them. I could probably get into the pack if I wanted to."
"But you didn't try, either."
"No."
"So you've got some sense, at least."
Nirel nodded and turned his attention back to the shelter he was building. Maybe that was what it was – sense.
The boy from One shook his head. "He was looking for his family. Wouldn't stop bugging me after the parade, after I told him that ring of his was silver."
Nirel nodded. "I remember. He wanted to know if it looked familiar to me, or my district partner. But there are thousands of people in Eleven. What're the chances we'd know anyone from his family?"
"Don't know. But I told him I'd ask Phoenix to look into it. Just wanted to get him off my back, you know? Next day, he's part of the pack."
"You think Phoenix found something?"
"Don't know what they could've found that would make them want to include him in the pack, but it seems a bit much for a coincidence." He shook his head. "Not my business, really. At least he stopped bugging me instead."
"Yeah," Nirel agreed. "Thought he was going to ask if I wanted to be his ally for a while there."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But he came over with his district partner, and she wanted to work with my district partner, and that just seemed like too big a group."
The other boy nodded. "Like the Careers."
"Exactly. Large groups are a target. But maybe one other person…" He trailed off.
"Yeah," the other boy agreed. "One other person sounds just about right." He held out his hand. "Baoba."
"Nirel." He shook it. He hadn't exactly been planning on looking for allies, but the other boy had the right idea. The longer they could mind their own business, stay away from the larger groups, avoid attracting attention … the better their odds would be. He wasn't looking to get attached, but … well, maybe some company for a little while wasn't such a bad thing.
Of Course We're (Mostly) Careers: Opal, Octavia, Quint, Corin, Sebastian, Lark
Fixing Grammar and Scythes: Squirrel, Malachi, Elemeno
Let's See What Happens: Arti, Whisper, Ebony
(Maybe) I'll Save You For Last: Fermi, Hyde
Strength in Numbers and All That: Rose, Aloe, Lucinda
Maybe You Do Understand: Aurora, Vicarys
One Other Person Sounds Just About Right: Baoba, Nirel
