The Unexpected Tribute

Chapter Eight

by Technomad

Katniss Everdeen

Like all the rest of us, I knew what to expect in the training room. Atala, the Chief Trainer, was old enough to be my mother, but I would not have wanted to tangle with her. She was fit and lean, without an ounce of extra fat on her. She quirked a bitter sort of grin as we filed on in, and I thought she was yet another Capitol citizen who wasn't happy at all about the new rule for this Quarter Quell.

I wondered about the possibility of unrest among the Capitol's own citizens. Could it get to the point of forcing Snow to call off this Hunger Game, or at least to cancel us veterans' return to the arena? During the rebellion against the Capitol that had been the excuse for the institution of the Hunger Games, the Capitol's citizens had been solidly behind their leaders. Or had they? I wished I had access to uncensored records of that time.

Haymitch was right at home. He smiled and nodded to Atala, and greeted all our fellow-unfortunates. He'd known most of them for years, of course. I noticed that tart Johanna Mason giving him a sultry look, and I scowled at her. Then I was surprised at myself. I'm with Peeta, after all. What right have I to be jealous of Haymitch?

As she had the year before, Atala laid out the rules. No fighting with each other. There'd be plenty of time for that in the Arena. Make sure you work on things other than weapons skills, since more tributes are killed by the Arena environments than by other tributes, at least in some years. Then she left us to it. She knew that we knew the drill.

The couple from District 4, Finnick and Mags, came over to say hello. I'd met Finnick, of course, and while he turned his hundred-watt charm on me, I was braced for it. Mags was a surprise, though. She was one tough, sharp old lady, and I took to her instantly.

"Good to meet you at last, Katniss," she said. "I was very impressed with all you did last year."

"So was President Snow," I replied, a little bitterly. "I think that was part of why he rigged things up for us to go back into the Arena. He probably thought that it'd be me and Peeta. Too bad for him that he forgot Haymitch."

"There's a lot more to Haymitch Abernathy than most people realize, dear," Mags said. "I've known him ever since his victory in the last Quarter Quell. He tries to hide what he is, but he can't fool me. When you've spent as much time at sea as we do, you learn how to read people. And Haymitch Abernathy, if he were younger, would be one person I'd trust in my crew any time."

That hadn't occurred to me. We went over to some of the stations, and I started running through the various knots that were being taught. The person in charge of that station was glad to see me; most of the trainees were more interested in weapons. I was already a far better archer than anybody there, and I didn't have time to become proficient with other weapons, so I figured that learning the non-violent survival skills was a better use of my time.

Mags watched me, a gentle smile playing across her face. "Dear, don't take this wrong, but anybody could tell you've never been to sea." She took a length of cord and started doing things with it that made my eyes pop, and the trainer in charge of that station all but applauded. "This is an essential skill for us in District 4. We learn knots and cordwork from the time we're able to walk."

"Well, District 12 is almost all inland, and the area we're confined to doesn't have much if any open water." We paused for a moment, and I looked around the room. The siblings from District 1, Gloss and Cashmere, were working with some weighted weapons. Even though I knew that they probably couldn't be trusted, I had to admit that they were beautiful specimens. If I were an artist, I'd want them to pose for me.

Nearby, that skanky bitch, Johanna Mason, had stripped down again, and was about to wrestle the female tribute from District 2, Enobaria, who was just as naked. While I disliked Johanna for her forward behavior, I had to admire her courage. Enobaria looked savage and feral, and when she smiled, her filed teeth made her look downright bestial. I hoped that I wouldn't have to tangle with her in the Arena. At a distance, with a bow, I could take her down. But up close…if she got her hands on me, there'd be one less Tribute from District 12.

Johanna Mason may have been the sort of woman that the women in District 12 despised, but she was no coward. I had to grant her that. She and Enobaria launched themselves at each other, snarling and spitting, and soon they were rolling around on the wrestling mat. I couldn't follow just what they were doing. I wished we'd had a chance to learn wrestling, but I was the only woman Victor in District 12, and neither Peeta nor Haymitch would have done anything of the sort with me. Peeta'd never lay violent hands on me, even in training, and Haymitch would probably have been shocked senseless at the very idea.

Reminded of his existence, I looked around to see what my partner was doing. He was at the identification-of-plants station, and talking in an earnest, low voice to Finnick Odare. Mags nudged me. "Haymitch and my Finnick are thick as thieves," she muttered. "When Finnick was first here as a Mentor, Haymitch was one of the people who showed him the ropes. He told Finnick what to expect, and how to deal with it." Her expression turned very sad. "It made things a little easier on Finnick…"

"You and Finnick really care about each other, don't you?" I said.

She gave me a warm smile. I was reminded of the way my mother had looked at me and Prim, back when things were good. Back when my father was still alive. "His parents were lost at sea when he was very little. I took him into my home in Victors' Village, and raised him myself. It broke my heart when he volunteered for the Games, as young as he was, but the boy whose name the Reaper had picked was crippled and wouldn't have lasted a minute in the Arena." Mags winked at me. "You and Finnick have more in common than you likely were aware of."

I took a second to digest this information. I'd heard that Finnick Odare was a man-slut, who went through lover after lover in the Capitol. Based on that bit of information, and the way he'd acted when we met face-to-face, I'd dismissed him as a shallow, egotistical creep. Finding that he'd originally agreed to come into the Arena for reasons very similar to my own made me re-evaluate him. And Mags obviously cared a great deal about him.

"How did he feel about you volunteering?" I asked. I was half-prepared to be slapped down hard. This was getting into personal territory.

"Oh, he was horrified! In public, of course, he didn't say anything, but once we were alone on the train, he practically broke down. He knew why I did it, but even so, it broke his heart to see me coming along." Mags gave me a grim look. "I had my own reasons for volunteering, dear. Maybe one day you'll find out what they are." She paused for a second. "That is, unless you get lucky somehow."

I found myself pulling Mags into a hug. I wished I could take her back to District 12 and introduce her to my mother. Mom and Mags would have got along real well, and soon been talking like old friends.

Just then, Haymitch came over, with a bow and some arrows. "Katniss?" I looked up at him, with what he calls my "deer-in-the-spotlight" look. "The others want to see how good you are with these. Could you come over to the archery range?"

I followed my partner-cum-mentor over to the range. Most of the other Tributes stopped what they were doing and came over to see me show my stuff. Only the morphlings ignored what was going on. They were lost in their own little worlds. As I got there, Cashmere whispered in my ear: "I saw what you did to the roasted pig last year! It served them right! My brother and I couldn't stop laughing!" I was startled enough to stare at her for a second before remembering what I was there for.

As I strung the bow and made myself ready, I got into the zone. All that there was was me, the bow, the arrows, and whatever targets they were going to throw at me. I wondered what they'd be.

I found out quickly. A holographic image of a Tribute, waving a spear, came running at me, and almost without thinking, I put an arrow through its middle, sending it dissolving in a shower of sparks. Then another came, and another and another. I shot and shot, hitting each of the targets before they could come close enough to have hurt me, had they been real enemy Tributes in the Arena.

Finally, I was out of arrows, and the targets stopped coming at me. I lowered my bow, feeling a few twinges in my arms. When I'm hunting, I don't have to shoot that much, that fast. Then I noticed that the other Tributes were applauding me. Gloss, the male tribute from District 1, stepped forward. "That was impressive!" The others all clearly agreed with him.

When my little show was over, we went back to what we'd been doing. At least Johanna and Enobaria were dressed again. I'm no prude, but as far as I'm concerned, there's a time and a place for undressing, and in public is not the time nor the place. However, I have gathered, largely from talking with Haymitch since my return from the Capitol last year, that customs vary widely among the Districts. For all I know to the contrary, people in District 7 are fairly casual about nudity and think it's no big deal.

I noticed Cashmere was throwing knives at man-shaped targets, and doing it very well indeed. I'd never thought much of throwing knives as a tactic. Not only do you risk making your target angry, but you're giving him a weapon to use on you if he so desires. Even so, Cashmere's speed and accuracy was beautiful to watch. Not a motion was wasted.

When she paused for a moment, I asked her: "How do you do that, anyway? That looks a lot more difficult than my archery. And why do you do it?"

Cashmere gestured me close. When I was close enough, she leaned forward and said, in a low tone to avoid the microphones that were almost certainly trying to pick up every word we said: "All I have to do is imagine Snow's face, or the faces of the Gamemakers, on these targets, and it's easy. As for why…I know it's very hard to kill someone with a thrown knife, but it makes a dandy distraction tactic to let me get in close and deal with them in a more decisive way."

I gave Cashmere a very long look. She may have been every guy's ideal of what he'd like to find in his bed (and I'd bet that a lot of other women resented her bitterly for that, no matter that it wasn't her fault) but there was clearly nothing wrong with her brain.

Cashmere winked at me. "As for how I learned…all it takes is practice, practice, and more practice. Were you able to always hit your targets whenever you shot,when you first picked up a bow?"

She had a point, I had to admit. It had taken years of practice, both at my father's side and, later, alone, to become as proficient as I had become with my bow and arrows. I nodded at her. "You have a point, Cashmere…and not just on the tips of your knives!" I saw the morphlings coming over, so I left to see what Haymitch was doing.

Haymitch was undergoing strength testing, under Gloss' critical eye. When he was done, he sat up, panting, and Gloss threw him a towel. As he mopped sweat from his face and upper body, Gloss shook his head. "You've got what could've been a fine physique, Haymitch, but all those years of self-neglect haven't helped any. At least you haven't run to fat!"

I'd never seen Haymitch with his shirt off, and my eyes went wide. I'd expected him to be flabby, but instead, he was lean and thin. The clothes he favored tended to mask that and make him look less skinny than he was. With his masking whiskers off (he shaved, but usually once a week at most, when we were back home) his face was chiseled and, I had to admit, rather handsome. I'd have expected him to be puffy and bloated.

Haymitch saw what I was looking at. "Benefits of being a Victor, sweetheart," he drawled. "Access to Capitol Citizen-level medicine, whenever I need it!" That explained a lot, including how he'd managed to live so long while apparently neglecting himself as badly as he seemed to. The Capitol medicos could do amazing things. I was in awe of how well they'd made Peeta's artificial leg work. It was as though he'd never lost his foot.

Gloss and Cashmere both nodded in agreement. "You know it, Haymitch!" I looked at them more closely, and for the first time, I could see very faint scars on their bodies. I made a mental note to myself to watch the videos of their Games, and see how badly, if at all, they had been injured before their victories. One thing that is guaranteed in the Hunger Games is pain. I thought about all that Haymitch had endured, and shuddered slightly at the sight of a surgical scar across his abdomen. I wondered if the memory of that was part of why he drank so much.

Haymitch gave Cashmere and Gloss a significant look, and they moved off, leaving us together for a little while. Haymitch leaned close, and muttered: "Caesar Flickerman's interviews are coming up, don't forget!" I nodded, and he went on: "There'll be some surprises for the audience during the interviews. Whatever you do, don't act startled!"

My eyes went wide. I had seen various little clues that something was going on, something that the Gamemakers and President Snow would almost certainly not approve of, but nobody had said anything to me. Haymitch nodded. "That's right, sweetheart. We're keeping you in the dark about this for your own protection. I wouldn't put it past Snow to see that you're grabbed and made to talk."

I shivered. The thought of being an Avox terrified me, and I knew that was probably by no means the worst thing that could happen. If ignorance of whatever was being planned was safer for me, I was perfectly happy to be kept in the dark. Haymitch was smart, and, I had found, very sneaky. I was much the more straightforward of us two, and I was content to let Haymitch handle as much of the networking and other behind-the-scenes scheming as he could. He'd have had a better opportunity to do so as a Mentor, instead of as a Tribute, but he'd chosen to sacrifice himself to save Peeta.

As we were escorted out and back to our quarters, I found myself sniffling a bit. Haymitch had once remarked that I could live a hundred years and still not deserve a guy like Peeta, and I thought that held true for Haymitch, as well. I wanted Peeta to live, but I made a vow to myself that I would do all I could to see that Haymitch lived, too. And if that meant my death, so what? From the moment I had yelled "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" I could have described myself as a dead woman walking. I'd had a good run…better, I could have said, than I really deserved…and laying down my life so that the men who loved me could live wasn't the worst thing I could do with it, at all.

We got back up to our quarters, thankfully without any further assaults on decency by Johanna. I was grateful for small mercies, and did not ask the men's opinons about it. I thought that I was better off not knowing. I will admit, though, that although I am Peeta's, I wouldn't have minded having Gloss, or Brutus, the male Tribute from District 2, show up in the elevator and strip down to his skivvies. Since that was so, I couldn't really blame the men for their reactions to Johanna's little stunt.

Once we were safely in our quarters, with no one about but our Avox servants (I was surprised at how rapidly I had come to accept their presence, and when I thought about it, I was slightly shocked at myself. Was I becoming as callous as a Capitol citizen?) I went to the video player and turned on the Game that Cashmere had won. From some of the things she had said, I thought she sympathized with me, and I wanted to know more about her.

The Game where Cashmere had competed was set in a cold, bleak environment. As a Career, Cashmere did have some advantages, but there were others there nearly as good as she was, and the Career Pack that year made the ones I'd been up against look like prize bunglers. They mowed through the non-Careers, taking them down effectively and dispassionately, one by one. The other Tributes didn't have the sense to form packs, and most of them were no good at hiding.

When it was down to the Career Pack and a few straggling non-Careers, Cashmere made her move. When the Career Pack was sleeping, she got up, and began slitting their throats, one after another. Unfortunately for her, the last of them, a boy from District 2, was awakened by the cannon firing repeatedly. Or maybe he hadn't been as "asleep" as he'd been letting on. I wondered if he'd been planning something along the lines that Cashmere had apparently worked out. They both knew the cruel rule of the Hunger Games. Only one survives.

The boy from District 2 had a hatchet, but Cashmere had a hunting knife, and the fight between them was brutal and bloody. By the time Cashmere was staggering away, trying to staunch the blood from several deep cuts, the District 2 boy was lying dead on the ground, his abdomen ripped open and his throat cut nearly to the spine. A cannon fired, signalling his death.

The rest was actually rather simple. Cashmere turned out to have a real flair for trapping, and managed to snag the tribute girl from District 11 in a snare. The girl stared at her, wild-eyed, as Cashmere swiftly cut her throat. I was reminded of watching goats be slaughtered back home. And at least, I told myself, Cashmere did not go out of her way to inflict pain, even when she could have. I knew there were Tributes...and not all of them Careers...who got to the point where they enjoyed inflicting pain.

The last fight was between Cashmere and a big, strong boy from District 10. All the boy had was a club he'd made from a fallen branch, and he was hurt from having been caught in an avalanche the Gamemakers had set off. However, there wasn't an ounce of quit in him, and he and Cashmere got into a screaming hairball. While he was stronger than Cashmere, up close he couldn't use his club to best advantage. While he was trying to strangle the life out of her, Cashmere got in stab after stab after stab to his torso, finally winning when his eyes rolled up and he slumped sideways from where he'd been straddling her. Cashmere stood up, spreading her arms in triumph as the cannon sounded and her victory was announced, before she fell over in a dead faint.

"Good idea, sweetheart," I turned to see that Haymitch had come in, and was watching from behind me. "Analyzing how our fellow Tributes won their Games is a real smart idea."

We watched a few more videos for a while, before I decided that it was time to head for bed. "And you get some sleep too, Haymitch!" I admonished him. "You're going to need all your wits about you for Caesar Flickerman's interview!"

Haymitch laughed, but I could tell that he wasn't offended. The women of District 12 often do have to be strong, managing types, and he was well used to the concept.

End Chapter