Since my last chapter, season three has been released! I saw the perfect opportunity to switch Jeden's name to Kasef because they are quite alike. So from now on, Rayla's brother tribute Jeden will now be called Kasef. When I get the chance, I will change it in previous chapters, but until then, I hope this clears up some future confusion.
Also, a big thanks to Film Theory on YouTube because without the videos "How to Survive the Hunger Games" parts one and two, Callum wouldn't be nearly as tactical in this story.
And a big thanks to all of you for the views, comments, and favorites on this story! It truly makes me ecstatic to see that people are liking this crossover. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!
To Rayla, the world had always been black and white. Black or white. Good or bad. Just or unjust.
(After her eighth birthday, Rayla recognized the world to be unjust.)
Now though, gray was everywhere. Callum was gray. Rayla herself was gray, because she wanted to live, which meant that she needed Callum to die. It meant that she wanted every one of her fellow tributes to die in one of the worst ways possible.
In turn, it would mean that Runaan would get help. He would live. Dhara's Kin would be blessed with food and medicine; her family could be happy again.
But at what cost?
"Hey, Rayla."
District 12's volunteer turned around to see Callum strolling towards her, smiling softly. After a quick glance at one of the multiple digital clocks, Rayla realized her ally was early. It was only 6:23 in the morning.
Then again, Rayla had arrived at the survival stand twenty-three minutes earlier.
"Callum," Rayla greeted him.
He looked . . . happy-ish. Not quite carefree, but definitely not like a tribute about to train for the Games.
"Claudia told me something," he began merrily. "There aren't any secret cameras or microphones on the third floor and training level. I'm not sure about our quarters, but still, isn't that great? We don't have to hide things here."
"You're not jokin'?" Rayla crossed her arms.
"Honest! Um, I never knew Amaya was a Victor. See?"
Rayla faltered. "What?"
"Gamemakers would use it against me that I didn't know about Amaya's victory. But they can't listen in on this level of the Center." District 9's volunteer grinned. "Get it?"
"Alright . . . but who's Amaya?"
This time it was Callum's turn to falter. "Victor Amaya," he stammered. Somehow the words felt anomalous on his tongue. "You don't know about her? She's - she's my aunt."
Dismay swept across Rayla's features. She abandoned her rigid stance and took a step back. "Yer aunt was a Victor?"
Looking just as distraught as Rayla, Callum followed her. "Yes, but I didn't know! She told me after I volunteered. I never knew about it."
Rayla thought for a moment. She furrowed her brow and darted her eyes back and forth, putting the pieces together. When she looked back up at her ally, Callum saw dread and remorse in her expression.
"They can use that against ye?"
Callum tried to reach out so he could lay a hand on her shoulder, or maybe grab her hand, but the fear in her eyes stopped him instantly. He readjusted his stance.
"If they knew, they could. That's why I'm telling you this, Rayla. These levels aren't bugged. They won't find out what you know."
Rayla's mind was still whirling. She wanted to sit down. "What are ye sayin'?"
"I'm saying that we can plan something here. Claudia told me that she would allow me to watch Amaya's clips from her Game. That could help us a lot."
It was still taking Rayla a while to adapt to the Games. She had to get used to the idea of her fellow tributes dying. Of Callum getting killed.
Far back in her mind, she had begun to wonder who would kill him. If he would try to kill her before she was forced to-
"Rayla?"
His hand was on her shoulder now, bolstering and grounding.
Rayla nodded her head.
"Aye, tha'll help us a lot. Did ye know her strategy for winnin'?"
Callum turned around, feigning interest in the survival stand. Unconsciously, or perhaps more consciously than she'd like to admit, Rayla grew lonely without her ally's hand reassuring her.
"No. It was an underdog strategy, I'm guessing. She was really young when she was reaped. She's deaf too, so I don't think people had high hopes for her."
"That's a strategy in itself," Rayla commented. "She taught ye to sign, then?"
Callum faced Rayla, a hint of a smile buried within his face.
Yes.
Rayla's grin only broadened. "If ye teach me some, we could communicate without alertin' the others. We could speak in the open wi'out bein' heard."
"Yes!" Callum said and signed at the same time. "I don't really think anyone else in our Game would know how." He tapped his fingers against his leg insipidly. "How about I teach you the alphabet? You could sign anything you want, then."
"Alright!"
"You should learn some simple phrases though, in case there's an emergency. Like 'danger' and 'watch out' and 'stop' and 'go.'"
Ambition was bursting inside Rayla at the rate of the bullet train that had transported her here. "Smart, aye." Her eyes gleamed. "Thank ye, Callum."
Maybe it was their abrupt chance at survival or the elation he was seeing in Rayla for the first time. Maybe it was the way she was exposing her trust in him or even the way she had said his name. Either way, Callum felt his heart fumble a beat, as if it were mounted in his throat for a millisecond, only to come hurtling down to resume hammering against his chest.
He forced his hand flat, palm facing himself, and moved four extended fingers from his chin downward. Rayla copied the motion wordlessly.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Somewhere deep within his consciousness, Callum desperately hoped that he wouldn't be there to see her die in the arena.
Family was everything. This was just another thing Rayla had learned at a young age.
Rayla wouldn't be here if she didn't want to save her uncles.
Callum wouldn't be here if he didn't want to save his brother.
Claudia and Soren wouldn't be here if their father hadn't fostered them the desire.
Perhaps.
These two Victors were forged for the Games. They were primed for them. Before they were Victors, they were Careers, and before that, Rayla didn't know. Had they had a lavish childhood in their upper district home? Had they ever had the chance of continuing that life?
Claudia was bright and deceitful. Being the Victor of last year's Game, she was new, too. Though not unversed, for Soren had won his Game three years before.
And immediately after Soren earned his title of Victor, Viren earned his title of President.
Earned isn't the right word, Rayla reminded herself. They took those titles. There is no earning here, only taking.
Watching Claudia train Callum was enlightening. She was truly working with him, advising him and demonstrating to him what she knew. Currently, she appeared to be quizzing him on throwing knives, presenting the most effective way to use them against the other tributes and then allowing him to give it a go.
Soren wasn't as patient as his sister. The first thing he did as mentor was demand that Rayla tell him every one of her weaknesses (which wasn't something that she felt like sharing with a stranger).
Currently, he was striving to see which Careers would best benefit her in the arena.
"Yer no' listenin'," Rayla grumbled to him. "I don't want to join the Career pack."
"You're not listening to me," Soren shot back. He pointed a finger in the Careers' direction. "You won't make it without them. You need them."
"I've already-"
"Look, no offense to Claudia, but this is only her first year being a mentor. Nobody raises a Victor their first time, and she's already told me that you and her tribute allied." He glared. "That tribute isn't going to get far. Why would you want to ally with him?"
Rayla clenched her jaw. "He's smart. Winnin' is in his blood."
"Winning isn't about blood," Soren countered. When he saw the look Rayla was giving him, he glowered. "It's about odds. You've heard that presage, right? May the odds be ever in your favor?"
"That's just somethin' they say to-"
"No, Rayla, they're telling you how to win. Focus on your odds and go from there."
"The odds of Careers turnin' on me are greater if I'm always with them," Rayla spat.
"Your odds of survival are better in a pack."
"Then I've already got a few odds because I've allied with Callum, right?"
Soren's fingers curled into fists.
"Not enough, Untamed."
That evening, dinner was strained for everyone but the Careers. With their mentors belatedly gone, the remaining tributes ate without speaking, trying to ignore the Careers' anticipated gloating.
Kasef's elbow kept clouting against Rayla's arm, but she knew it was no accident. Every time she lifted her head, he focused his glare on her and clenched his jaw until a vein lining his neck became visible. How Rayla wished she could have shown him his place, shown him how much more experience she had in this crisis than he did.
But fighting was not permitted until the Games commenced. Then, and only then, would they truly have something to fight about.
(Rayla was ashamed to want to win against her brother tribute. She was terrified that winning would soon be synonymous with killing.)
On their way back to their quarters, Callum pointed something out to her.
Food in the Capitol was far too lavish to enjoy. If anything, Rayla had lost weight since she'd left her home.
"You should eat more," he whispered.
When Rayla dared to glance at him, she saw him redden.
"Not like, in an offensive way, I just mean that it'll help you if you eat."
"Really?" Sarcasm laced her voice; Rayla shook her head. "I have been eatin', it's just not the same here. Nothin' feels right anymore."
"We aren't eating for taste anymore, we're eating to survive. We have to prepare for the arena."
If impending threats hadn't been surrounding them, Rayla would have snapped at Callum. Her Kin had never wasted any part of a plant or animal - they couldn't afford to squander what finite food they could provide for themselves. How could he think that she'd ever eaten just for taste?
"We don't know what this arena will be like, but we do know that in the previous arenas, it's been hard to get food," Callum said.
"Aye, everyone knows that."
"So you know that before that, you have to eat a lot. I think it's called carbo-loading. For every day that we're in the arena, we'll be burning thousands of calories just to stay alive. Any fighting that ensues will burn more. Plus, we don't know what the weather will be like. If it's cold, we'll need to eat even more just to maintain healthy circulation."
Despite her frustration towards Callum for his earlier comments, Rayla was abruptly reminded why she chose him as an ally. Everything he was saying ought to have been common knowledge, but not common enough to force Rayla to sincerely think about it.
While she was busy focusing on the Careers and self-defense and combat, Callum had been preparing for the few things that they could control.
He seemed to be spiraling now, unaware of the stray hairs that had fallen to cover his narrowed gaze.
"We've got thirteen more days here and that's a good amount of time, right? If I remember correctly, we can go three weeks without food, but once you reach ten days, your body really starts to feel the effects of starvation. So if you were going to put on just five pounds before the arena, that's an extra seventeen thousand calories, which takes about eight days to break down. There's never a guarantee on how long a Game will last, but eight days could easily take us half of the way." Callum's smile faded when he jerked his head, looking up at Rayla. "A majority of the tributes die the first day, at the cornucopia. They're trying to get supplies and food and . . . it kills them. It would be better if we only had to worry about supplies."
Rayla stared at him, wishing she could think the way he did. She relented. "Aye. When the time comes, we'll only worry about supplies. That's a good plan, Callum."
As if he wasn't expecting the praise, Callum's cheeks flushed again. He dipped his head. "Well, thanks, Rayla. I just want to make things easy."
"Ye make things very easy, Callum," Rayla said with a grin. Thank you, she signed.
Callum smiled again, signing what Rayla guessed meant, "You're welcome."
Days melded together after that.
Meals were spent with fleeting eye contact and quick grins passed between Callum and Rayla. While everyone else was struggling to make small talk, they only worried about how many servings of seconds they could receive within the designated mealtime.
Soren leisurely proved to be useful, as well. When Rayla told him of her and Callum's plan to carbo-load, he agreed instantly. He even gave her instructions on which groups of foods to evade and which groups to gravitate towards.
On the training level of the building, Rayla's mentor advised her to focus only on building skills that derived the highest survival rates. She was to focus solely on increasing her odds.
"Knives never fail," Soren stated a few days into training. "Single-sided knives, daggers, and throwing blades are abundant in most Games."
"If I learn how to master them, that could triple my odds," Rayla discerned.
Soren nodded. "Exactly. They can be used as tools too, not just defense or offense."
"Of course. They can be used to hunt and trap, to fight back and . . . kill."
"And kill," Soren repeated in a voice far stronger than Rayla's.
Later, when Rayla was staring at two Careers grappling, Soren guided her away from them altogether.
"Don't. Wrestling, heavy weapon training, axe throwing - those kinds of drills only increase your metabolism. Besides," Soren went on, looking away from his tribute. "I've seen you spar before - you've got nothing to worry about."
In response, Rayla's eyes revealed the smile that her mouth could not form.
Eventually Callum and Rayla had united practices. Tribute worked with tribute, brother with sister, instead of against each other like Rayla had initially imagined.
Claudia was a perfect mentor for Callum, although she was even more wary of Rayla than Soren was. It was clear that she didn't trust her. (Soren didn't trust her either, but he viewed Rayla as a job instead of a person, which made it easier to deal with. Keeping her alive was all Soren needed to be concerned with. Claudia, on the other hand, appeared to care about Callum as if he had been her friend forever. She was far too sharp and secretive. Rayla wouldn't have been surprised if she was trying to pin Callum against her.)
Meanwhile, the more Rayla thought she was learning about Soren, the harder her mentor was to figure out. With her, Soren was reserved and serious, focusing only on mentoring. Rayla was his tribute and that was it. While Claudia and Callum formed a true bond, a sincere sense of trust between each other, Rayla and Soren remained a safe distance from each other.
When Soren interacted with his sister, though, Rayla saw a side of him that hadn't been aired to the districts. He was rather egotistical and badgering and yet . . . eager to prove himself.
Claudia's run in the districts had been her true self. She didn't seem to have the need to prove herself, for whatever reason.
Rayla wished that she could have known what had happened to these Victors beyond the cameras.
Nonetheless, when they all put their minds together, they succeeded in ways a single person couldn't have anticipated by themself. When Callum suggested that they need more survival skills, Soren recommended hunting methods and Claudia recommended learning how to identify edible (and non-edible) plants. Rayla taught Callum on how to build a fire and Callum ran through different scenarios with Rayla so they could calculate when it was appropriate to hide, run, and fight back. Together, they all set aside two days to practice running through rope courses, tree climbing, and camouflage.
They were a good team, and both volunteers apprehended the day they would all be split apart.
No other tributes showed interest in allying with Callum or Rayla, though. They had scared them off.
Meanwhile, three groups were cultivating: the Careers (made up of nine people, somehow including timidly-young Hunter and boondock-hailing Kasef), those who were admirable threats but not good enough to be Careers (their numbers varied by the day), and those who were too kindhearted for the Games (about six people).
Marie, a fourteen-year-old volunteer, and Rusto, a thirteen-year-old tribute, were both from District 11 and seemed to have the same idea as Callum and Rayla. They didn't socialize outside of their mentors and stylists. Marie and Rusto had allied with only each other, which proved to be enough.
For now.
Rayla wondered if the other tributes saw Marie and Rusto as the same as her and Callum. District 11's female volunteer committed herself to protecting Rusto, a young boy whom she had no relation to. There was nothing but a fierce sibling-esque loyalty between them, although Rayla knew that she couldn't say the same for her and Callum. In that way they were different.
Since Callum and Rayla's reunion, twelve days had passed. Tomorrow the interviews would commence. Tomorrow would mark the last chance to gain sponsors before the tributes were cast into the arena.
Claudia, of all people, insisted that she prepare Rayla for her interview.
"I'm doing this for Callum," Claudia told Rayla evenly. "Soren has a natural charm with the people - a charm that he doesn't know how to drill into his tributes. You're his first girl, too. Girls are harder to train than boys, when it comes to the interview."
"I don't remember watching your interview. Can I see it before we start trainin' for mine?"
"My interview was a joke," Claudia recalled. "I came across as too bellicose." She lowered her gaze to Rayla. "But I proved myself in the arena, and I won."
With that, training began.
Curfew was a strict eleven o'clock the night before the interviews and Rayla welcomed it, after her myriad of hours with Claudia.
A day before the Games, Rayla roused herself from her lightweight slumber due to a noise outside of her quarters. It was two in the morning. Dreams and reality blended together for her.
Did I really hear someone knocking?
Part of the girl violently longed to see Runaan and Tide. When she opened her door, she imagined she was seeing her uncles. Runaan was telling her that his limp was fading and his mind was strengthening to what it once was. Tide was beside him, nodding and informing Rayla that she could return home. Two of their hands were clasped together, the remaining two were outstretched to Rayla, inviting her home.
Indeed a familiar face peeked through that crack in her door, but it wasn't who she'd been dreaming of.
"Cal-"
Her ally put a finger to his lips.
Rayla opened the door a bit wider, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes.
"Come with me."
Callum vanished into the hallway, forcing Rayla to sneak after him on bare feet.
When he turned around to confirm that Rayla was following him, Callum smiled mildly, taking her hand and leading her to the rarely-used stairway.
Within minutes, Rayla lost count of how many floors they had ascended. Soon Callum pushed open a lone, heavy door, and guided her after him while he disappeared beyond it.
"The roof?"
Rayla's accent was thick with fatigue, Callum noticed. She had rolled her tongue between the two syllables and for whatever reason, it seemed to wake him up.
"I've been coming up here in my spare time," he waved his hand to the building behind them as he spoke, "To get away from it all."
"I do miss my alone time," Rayla grieved humorously, giving Callum's hand a squeeze.
Everything was colder that night (principally because the two were at the top of a skyscraper). The wind was a little bit louder, the sky a little bit darker despite the city's artificial illumination. Both allies shuffled towards the edge of the roof, sitting down on the ledge with their feet dangling and their hands still interlocked.
Callum appeared to be weary, though. His head was hanging low and his gaze had dropped from Rayla.
"I thought ye were afraid of heights," Rayla teased gently.
Callum shrugged. "I thought so too, but tonight heights aren't at the top of my list of fears."
"Me, too."
Silence developed between them for a short time. No tribute was allowed outside of the Training Center, so this was one of the rare instances that either of them was able to see the city for what it truly was.
(They silently concluded that they weren't very fond of it.)
"It's been weeks since I last saw the moon. I didn't know I would miss it this much," Rayla said.
"I think I've just missed the sky as a whole," Callum said after a moment.
"Well, the moon is part of the sky," Rayla said with a smile.
Callum grinned back at her. "Yeah. It's its home."
As their grip on each other's hands intensified, Rayla couldn't help but frown.
"The moon and sky we'll see in the arena won't be real." Her expression altered into annoyance. "Tonight could be the last time I see the moon and I cannae even see it!"
Callum's grip slackened. "I'm sorry, Rayla."
"It's not your fault," she seethed.
Again, it was quiet.
Then Callum began speaking, although it appeared that he was simply talking to his ally, not at her - his face was directed towards the city beneath their feet. Blaring traffic, spiraling lights, and unprompted winds threatened to drown out his voice, so Rayla crept closer.
"I still don't regret it." Callum glanced at Rayla, his expression softening for half a second. "Despite everything, I don't regret volunteering, but I wish it hadn't come to this. Ezran . . . I knew he didn't have the heart for battle and I couldn't stand by again to watch someone I love die." His last words were nearly swept away by the wind. "So I made him take my place by taking his."
"Callum," Rayla murmured, laying her other hand on his shoulder. Callum veered into her touch, unable to meet her saddened gaze.
"I need this to be worth something, Rayla. I need our suffering to be worth something."
"Ezran's safe," Rayla reminded him. "And if I don't make it out of this," she went on, perhaps too quietly and too slowly for him to hear, "I will do everythin' in my power to make sure you become Victor."
Her ally blinked up at her, grateful and horrified, before hugging her tightly.
"I think I know a way we can win," he whispered.
Rayla backed away from him, raising an eyebrow. "What's your definition of winnin'?"
"Being Victor."
"Ye see, that was singular. There's only one Victor. There's no such thing as Victors from the same Game."
Callum's expression was pleading, his hand in hers was damp.
"I want you to trust me, Rayla. If you trust me, we can both be Victors."
Reticence echoed behind Callum's declaration.
"I thought we did trust each other," she said quietly.
"I trust you with my life. If you trust me with yours . . ."
Rayla jerked her hands back, cradling her elbows against herself and looking hurt.
"I just, I can't tell you. You're smart though, Rayla, I know you'll understand. If we ever talked about it, we could be discovered and I can't let that happen. The people need to believe in us."
No part of what he was saying was making sense to Rayla.
"Please," Callum went on. "Trust me."
"I hate how easily I do," Rayla admitted after a long moment.
A smile tweaked Callum's face, although Rayla didn't mirror the action. When Callum leaned in for another hug, she remained still.
"Rayla, I promise that if I don't make it out of this, I will leave only after I've made you Victor. For Runaan," he mumbled, muffled against her shoulder.
When Rayla felt his eyelashes fold down against her neck, she realized that he'd closed his eyes.
"For your Kin."
Rayla combed her fingers through Callum's hair. "For Ezran." Her voice shook with enmity for the whole situation, clutching him tighter. "For your Coalition."