Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: And here's the first half of Day Three of training, and our next batch of tributes.

Training Day Three – Morning
Weak

Baylor Alanis, 14
District Eight

"I just don't want them to think we're weak."

Baylor glanced up at Kit, who said nothing, but nodded as Baylor continued. "There are only two of us, and … well, so many of the other groups are bigger. I'm just … not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. No one seems to be paying attention to us."

Kit cocked an eyebrow, confused. Baylor shook his head. "It's not like I expected them all to be staring at me or anything. I just…" Carolina's words still echoed in his mind. People notice. They notice everything. Everyone's watching you. Everyone. They're going to see everything. So make it count. "I just feel like I haven't done anything noticeable yet."

When that got only a blank look, as well, Baylor continued. "I don't mean that I haven't done anything. I just feel like I haven't given them a reason to think I'm … special. Anything other than a little boy from District Eight. You know what I mean?"

Kit nodded, laid a hand on Baylor's shoulder, then pointed to his own chest. Baylor nodded a little. Just two years ago, Kit had been the one sitting here, the small, skinny boy from Eight who no one had bothered to pay attention to. He'd scored a two in training. His allies had been just as young, just as weak. No one had thought they stood a chance.

Until the Games began.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Kit and his allies had been able to use the arena – an old, abandoned library – to their advantage. Fictional armies and monsters shielded them from both Careers and other, stronger tributes until only three of them remained.

And, even then, Kit hadn't really stood out – not to most people. Throughout the Games, the announcers had referred to the three young tributes as a group. A team. There had been nothing that made Kit stand out above the other two.

Except that maybe he was the most frightened. Frightened up to kill both of his allies in a moment of panic.

Baylor looked away, trying to imagine himself in the same position. Trying to imagine watching Melody, soundly asleep. Trying to imagine taking a knife and…

Only when Kit laid a hand his shoulder did Baylor realize he was shaking. "I'm sorry," Baylor said quietly. "I'm just … I'm just so scared."

Kit wrapped his arms around Baylor, who returned the gesture without a second thought. "Good," came a voice from the doorway. "If it's the third day of training and you're still not scared, you're doing something wrong."

Baylor looked up, surprised, to see Lander standing there, watching them. "Were you scared?" Baylor asked quietly. Lander and Carolina's Games were so long ago, he had a hard time imagining either of them as a frightened young tribute.

But Lander simply nodded. "Sure was. Everyone is. And that's good. Fear is good. Without fear, you'd rush right into the bloodbath, grab a weapon, and try to take on the Careers. Without fear, you'd run right into a trap instead of thinking through what the other tributes are doing. Without fear, you'd try to befriend a pair of lion mutts instead of running away from them."

"But—"

Lander shook his head, holding up a hand. "There's an exception to everything. Fear works both ways. It can keep you alive, but it can also keep you from taking advantage of a situation that might work in your favor. The trick is to be afraid of the right things. Kit wasn't afraid of the armies and monsters in the library because he realized the truth – that they were under the Gamemakers' control." He took a seat beside the two of them. "And you don't want to be afraid of the Gamemakers."

Baylor shook his head, confused. "What?"

Lander smiled a little. "Do you know how Carolina lost her eye?"

"Another tribute tore it out."

Lander nodded. "Do you know why?"

"Why?" Baylor shook his head. "No, I don't."

Lander smirked. "Ask her sometime."

Cordelia Astier, 15
District Six

Their alliance was getting weaker.

Cordelia watched, silent, as Nadine took a place beside Delvin at one end of the breakfast table. At the other end of the table, Cordelia, Paget, Presley, and Alexi sat together, with Nicodemus between the two groups. Paget was drumming his fingers, clearly upset. Cordelia watched Nadine and Delvin silently. They hadn't allied with each other, but it felt almost as if they had joined forces against the rest of them.

What had she done wrong?

She'd tried to be friendly. Tried to strike up discussions with the other members of the group, even though what she really wanted to do was run away and hide. Maybe she should have been used to it by now – people not wanting to associate themselves with her – but she had begun to hope that maybe … maybe this group, these people, would be different.

But maybe they weren't. Maybe they were just like everyone else. Alexi seemed more and more uncomfortable around them, and even Presley was watching the two groups from the other side of the table, as if trying to decide which one she truly wanted to side with. The only one she was really sure of was Paget.

And maybe that was better. She hadn't really expected anything else at the start. She had assumed that she and Paget would be alone in the arena. And maybe it would be better that way. Maybe it would be better if the others left them.

Maybe some people were just meant to be alone.

Finally, Cordelia got up and headed out into the hallway. Training wouldn't start for another half hour or so, but she needed to get out. Away from the tension. Away from their stares.

She just wanted to be alone.

Silently, Cordelia sank to the floor, her back against the wall. She tucked her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, blocking it out. Blocking out everything. The Games. The Capitol. Her district partners.

Maybe even her brother.

After a few minutes, however, Cordelia felt a hand on her shoulder. She glanced up, expecting Paget. But the hand belonged to Nicodemus. "If you want to be alone, that's fine," her mentor assured her. "I spent more time alone during my Games than I did with other tributes. There's nothing wrong with that. But if you want to talk … that's fine, too, Cordelia."

Cordelia swallowed hard. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Wrong?" Nicodemus gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "What makes you think you're doing anything wrong?"

Cordelia shook her head. "Nadine left our alliance. Alexi doesn't really want to be there. Even Presley … I don't know what she's thinking."

Nicodemus nodded. "Fair enough. I would say something is definitely wrong with the alliance. But what makes you think it's you?"

"I … it has to be either me or Paget. And this whole alliance was his idea. They all said yes at the start – and they said yes to him. Maybe they just don't want to be in an alliance with me."

Nicodemus was silent for a moment. "Do you want them as allies?"

"What?"

"If your brother weren't here – if it was just you in the Games – would you still want them as allies? Are they people you would have picked? Or did you just go along with it because Paget thought it was a good idea?"

"I…" Cordelia looked away. "If I were alone, I don't think I would have picked anyone. I don't think I would have wanted allies at all."

Nicodemus nodded. "Then what's the problem?"

"The problem?"

"If you wouldn't want them as allies, anyway, then who cares whether they want you or not?"

"Paget wants them as allies."

"So let Paget worry about that. You've got enough to worry about." He gave her shoulder another squeeze. "Eventually, Cordelia, you might have to make a choice."

"A choice?"

"I hope you don't – honestly, I do. I hope that you're never in the position, but … you might have to choose between your life or your brother's."

Cordelia shook her head. "And if I can't choose?"

"Then the Games choose for you."

Beckett Furlan, 16
District Ten

He already felt like the weak link.

Beckett watched from the edge of the sword station as Indira and Shale stood back to back, defending each other as the trainer struck again and again with a blunted blade, trying to catch them off guard. They moved so naturally together. They made such a perfect team.

What if they decided they didn't need him anymore?

Beckett clenched his fists. It wasn't that he minded having another ally – not really. Everyone knew that there was strength in numbers, at least to some extent. What really annoyed him was that Indira hadn't asked him first. She'd simply extended an offer to Shale, assuming Beckett would be okay with it if Shale accepted.

When Shale accepted. Shale had turned down an offer from the Careers to join them, instead. Did that make them the Careers' next targets – after they went after each other?

But what if that was a good thing?

There were two groups of Careers, after all – three if he counted the pack that the boy from Two and the girl from Five had formed. By the time one Career group or another came out on top, how many of them would be left? Two? Three?

Enough for the three of them to take on together?

Beckett reached for a sword, still watching Shale and Indira. They were defending each other fairly well. And two was a good number for that – for defense. They could watch each other's backs, keep each other safe.

But three…

Beckett fingered the sword for a moment, but then charged into the fight. The trainer saw him coming and turned to meet his charge head-on. But, as he did, Indira struck a blow from behind – a blow the trainer barely had time to dodge while still countering Beckett's. The trainer smiled a little as the three of them advanced – steadily but clumsily – until they had backed him into a corner. "That's more like it," he nodded. "What you were doing before – that was protection. This is a fight."

But, just as Beckett raised his sword to strike again, he felt something ram into the back of his legs. A blunted blade knocked him to the floor, and he looked up, startled, into the face of a second trainer. The first trainer smiled as he and his fellow trainer quickly disarmed Shale and Indira, as well. "And what have we learned?"

Beckett slowly climbed to his feet. "Don't get so focused on one enemy that you forget about the others."

The trainer nodded. "Good. What else?"

"Numbers aren't everything," Shale offered. "There were three of us and only two of you, but you beat us easily."

"Defending isn't everything, but neither is attacking," Indira added. "You need to do both."

"Right, right, and right," the trainer agreed. "What does that tell you?" When he received only silence, he answered his own question. "That there are different lessons to be learned from any given situation. Different ways of seeing it. Different perspectives. And that's good. Two heads are better than one – and three are better than two – but only if you use all of them. It's going to take everything all three of you have learned if even one of you wants to survive."

One of you. But only one of them could survive, in the end. Maybe three heads were better than two, but, in the end, those other two heads were competition. How many times had the Games come down to a group of allies?

Usually it was the Careers – hunting the other tributes down until only a few, if any, remained, and then turning on each other. Jasper. Harriet. Bierce. All had been forced to turn on their allies, in the end. But non-Careers weren't exempt. Kit had done the same thing only two years ago, when the Games were down to the three of them and he had no other choice.

Beckett glanced at Indira and Shale, trying to imagine himself in that situation. Trying to imagine the three of them sitting alone in the arena for three days, as Kit and his allies had, not wanting to turn on each other.

He had a feeling his allies wouldn't be so generous.

Imalia Grenier, 17
District Four

She wasn't used to feeling weak.

Imalia clenched her fists as she followed Jarlan over to where Shale, Indira, and Beckett were practicing at the sword station. Zach and Mavina were hanging back, but she had insisted on joining Jarlan. It had been her idea, after all – inviting all three of them into the pack instead of just Shale. She should see it through.

But she was starting to like it less and less.

Not because she didn't want them as allies – not particularly. She'd been watching them at the weapons stations since they'd arrived this morning. All three were fairly strong and capable. They were still untrained, of course. Unskilled. But that wasn't their fault. If they'd had access to the training she had…

But they hadn't. She'd been fortunate enough to be born in District Four, where training for the Games had been an appealing alternative to the drudgery of her family's fishing business. When Kalpyso had taken her aside four years ago and said she had potential, Imalia had been grateful for the opportunity.

Now, watching these three, she saw the same potential. The same drive. They were learning – and learning well. If they'd had three years to practice instead of three days, they might be among the strongest contenders.

But they hadn't. They wouldn't. This was the last day of training. They weren't ready. Not really. But they were strong enough – and determined enough – to be valuable allies. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was having to ask them.

If Shale had accepted their first offer and then asked that the other two be brought in, as well, that would have been one thing. But he had said no – or, at least, it certainly seemed like he had. Now it would look like they were desperate – desperate enough to take his two allies into their group, as well, if it meant having enough people to take on the other Career pack.

Careers weren't supposed to look desperate.

Then again, nothing else so far had gone the way it was 'supposed to.' The chariot outfits, the ridiculous clothes they were wearing, their collars, their hair – none of that was supposed to happen. But, once they were in the Games, none of it would matter.

And neither would this. If the three of them accepted now, it wouldn't really matter – once they were in the Games – who had been the first to extend the offer. And if they said no, then it really wouldn't matter one way or the other. Other tributes would notice, of course, that they had been rejected, but the four of them had already been labeled the weaker of the two Career groups.

What did they have to lose?

Imalia slowly unclenched her fists as she and Jarlan approached the other group. Shale, Indira, and Beckett immediately stopped sparring with the trainer and formed a group facing Jarlan and Imalia. Beckett took a step forward. He didn't say anything, but his expression did. What do you want?

Jarlan was undeterred. "We just wanted to let you know that you're still welcome to join us – all three of you."

Indira cocked an eyebrow. "All three of us?"

Beckett crossed his arms. "What's the catch?"

Jarlan shook his head. "No catch. It's an honest offer. We'd be the biggest group in the arena. We want—"

Beckett shook his head. "This isn't about being the biggest group in the arena. You don't want all of us; you want Shale. But you're willing to let the two of us tag along in order to get him."

Imalia was about to object, but thought better of it. He wasn't wrong. If it weren't for their interest in Shale, they probably wouldn't have given Indira and Beckett much thought. But now…

"Think what you want to," Jarlan shrugged. "The offer stands." With that, he and Imalia turned to go.

She just hoped they hadn't made a big mistake.

Myrah Lanhart, 14
District Nine

They didn't think she was weak.

Myrah smiled a little as she settled down with Adelia at the knot-tying station. The six of them had spent the morning – and most of the previous afternoon – flitting from station to station in pairs, learning as much as they could. Every hour or two, they would switch up who was partnered with whom, so that they could get to know each other's capabilities individually.

And none of them had complained about being paired with her.

Crispin had tried to warn her that it might be difficult finding allies. She was one of the younger tributes, after all. Her own district partners, Sariya and Thane, had avoided her since the train ride. Melody was nice enough, but she hadn't seemed interested in an alliance. She had been starting to worry that she wouldn't find anyone who wanted her.

But then Nadine had come along, and everything had fallen into place. With this group, she didn't feel like "one of the younger tributes" anymore. They treated her like an equal. They were all friendly, in their own way. But not an overbearing kind of friendly. For the most part, they didn't ask questions. They didn't pry. They were just there. They were just … nice.

They didn't deserve this.

Not that anyone in the room did – not really. But her alliance … they were different. All six of them were 'replacement' tributes. All six of them could have been safe – would have been safe – if last year's tributes had only played by the rules. They didn't deserve to be here. They didn't deserve what was about to happen.

What was about to happen. Myrah gripped the rope a little tighter. It was getting closer and closer – the arena. This was the last day of training. Tomorrow, they would have their private sessions with the Gamemakers. Then interviews the next day.

And then the Games.

"Are you all right?"

Myrah looked up. Adelia was sitting beside her, her knot an almost perfect replica of the trainer's. Myrah's was still frustratingly loose. Myrah shook her head. She didn't want to sound frightened. Weak. "I'm fine."

Adelia nodded a little. "As fine as any of us can be, I suppose. It's weird, isn't it – how much more real it seems now. How close it all is. Just one last day of training, and then … that's it. No more practice. Then the Games really begin."

Myrah looked away. "Maybe. But, really, if you think about it, the Games started a while ago. So much has happened already that's going to affect how they play out. All these alliances, all this training – it makes things in the Games very different."

Adelia picked up another rope and started a new knot. "I wonder whose idea this was."

"The Games?"

"No – the idea of letting us train first. When someone suggested pitting kids from the districts against each other in a fight to the death, was there someone who spoke up and said, "Sure, let's do that – but let's train them a little bit first'? What's the point? Sure, I know how to tie a few knots now. But what are the chances – the real chances – that this is actually going to save my life in the Games? Why pretend to want to give us an advantage?"

Myrah shrugged. "Maybe they like the anticipation. The idea of making us wait. Taking us from our homes, our families, making us kill each other – yeah, that hurts. But the worst part is, we can't just get it over with. They have to drag it out, make it a celebration, make sure we all pretend we're enjoying ourselves. That's worse … and there's not a thing we can do about it. Especially this year."

"Especially this year," Adelia agreed. Myrah nodded. This year. The chariots. Their clothes. Their hair. There wasn't a thing they could do about any of it – because any sign of resistance could have repercussions for their families back home.

And she wasn't about to let them die for her.

Ivira Spielreyn, 16
District Eight

Maybe she wasn't so weak, after all.

Ivira smiled a little as the bell rang for lunch. She, Gadget, Calantha, and Domingo had spent the morning drifting from one survival station to another. But everywhere they went, it seemed, they ran into Adelia and one of her allies. And never, it seemed, the same one twice. She was spending a little time with each of the bald-headed, raggedy-clothed tributes she'd decided to surround herself with.

And Ivira was beginning to wonder which of them had the right idea.

Her own strategy had seemed straightforward enough. The Gamemakers were showing preference to the tributes who weren't 'replacements.' It only made sense that the special treatment would continue once they were actually in the Games. There was nothing she could do about her own status, of course, but she had been certain to surround herself with the right tributes. Gadget, Calantha, Domingo – people she could mold. People she could use.

Adelia, on the other hand, had taken the opposite approach. None of her allies were ones the Capitol would favor. What was she hoping to gain by choosing the five of them as her allies? Had she noticed something Ivira hadn't? Had she picked up on something?

Or was she simply soft?

Probably the second one, Ivira reasoned as the tributes slowly gathered in groups for lunch. She probably just felt sorry for them. Probably just wanted to be with people who were like herself.

Probably.

Ivira dug her fork into a slice of turkey. It would eat at her, she knew, until the Games began. Until she had some sort of proof that she was right.

But that would come soon enough. She would have her proof. She was right. Her district partners – Adelia and Jediah, at least – were wrong. It was that simple.

Gadget was wrong, too, of course – in her own way. Wrong about what had brought their alliance together. Gadget was convinced it was simply fate that everything had worked out perfectly. But it had never been fate.

It had been her. The whole time. Waiting until the right tribute caught Gadget's eye, then drawing attention to them. People who wouldn't be able to say no. People who would be useful, but people who wouldn't get attached – or, at least, who would pretend not to.

Then there was Louis, who had been wandering from station to station the past couple days, learning as much as he could about the other tributes. He was wrong, too, if he thought that was really going to help him in the Games. For a while, it might – but not for long. He might not be the other tributes' first target. But, sooner or later, everyone was a target. Everyone. Even the friendly little boy who would sit down and talk with anyone. After a few days of hunger and thirst and sleep deprivation, the other tributes would be more than ready to attack him, regardless of anything they'd said to each other during training.

And then there was Baylor. Her last little district partner had teamed up with one of the girls from Nine. The girl was a year older than him, which wasn't a bad move, but she didn't seem like a killer.

Then again, neither did Baylor. So they were probably a good match for each other. And at least they'd had the sense not to draw any unwanted attention by forming a larger group. Despite their efforts to split up and not be noticed, Adelia's alliance was drawing attention.

So was her own, of course. Mostly thanks to Gadget, who seemed incapable of being quiet for more than a few seconds. But if putting up with her incessant yammering was the price for having the taller, burlier girl as an ally, then it was a price she was willing to pay. After all, it wasn't as if she would have to put up with her forever.

It was only a matter of time.

Alexi Merista, 16
District Six

He wished he didn't feel so weak.

Alexi picked at his food as he and his allies sat down for lunch. Without meaning to, he glanced over at Nadine, sitting a few tables away with her new allies. They were smiling. Occasionally laughing. Alexi shook his head. Part of him wished Nadine would come back to their group.

But the other part wished he could go join her.

She hadn't asked. Hadn't told anyone she was leaving their alliance. She had just gotten up and done it. Maybe it was selfish. They'd made an agreement, after all, on the train. They'd agreed to be allies. To work together, to help each other.

But she seemed so happy.

Well, maybe not happy. No one – except maybe the Careers – seemed happy that they were almost done with training. Almost ready for the Games. But Nadine seemed more … content, maybe. Less out of place. Part of him wanted to join her.

But they hadn't asked him.

Nadine had only left their group because she'd gotten another offer. If he left now – with only half a day of training left – he had nowhere else to go. None of the other alliances seemed to be looking for another member. There were still a few tributes sitting by themselves – a boy and a girl from Three, a girl from Seven, one of the younger boys from Eight – but none of them seemed to want allies.

Maybe he could try to join Nadine's alliance. But they already had six tributes. Would they really want any more? And what if they said no?

Of course, that was the worst they could do: say no. But, if they did, then where would he be? If he tried to leave and was rejected, would Paget, Cordelia, and Presley take him back? Probably. But would they still trust him? Or would he simply become their first target, once they knew that he didn't really want to be there?

Because the simple fact was that he didn't. Not any more. An alliance – any alliance – had seemed like a good idea at the start. And Alexi had always prided himself on being able to get along with anyone. Be friends with anyone.

And the worst part was that none of the other three had really done anything wrong. They weren't terrible allies. But they were all younger than him. And none of them seemed particularly interested in him. Paget was too sullen. Cordelia was too timid. And Presley … He still wasn't quite sure what to make of her. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Maybe they weren't the worst allies he could ask for, but they certainly weren't the best.

But they were all he had.

Alexi glanced over at Nadine's alliance again. Would they really be any better? Sure, they looked happier now, but, once they were in the Games, was it really going to matter which group would make him happier? No. No, the point of having allies was to stay alive.

And, out of the six of them from District Six, Delvin seemed to have the right idea on that front. His group included two Careers, a girl from Seven, and a pair from Nine. All older, all stronger, than either Nadine's group or Alexi's.

Alexi's group, on the other hand, was all younger than him.

And maybe that shouldn't have bothered him, but, now that he thought about it, it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Delvin's allies were stronger than most of the non-Careers in the room. Alexi's allies were a pair of fifteen-year-olds and a little thirteen-year-old. Even Nadine's alliance, based on sheer numbers, could probably beat his in a fight to the death.

And, unfortunately, this was a fight to the death.

But it was too late now. Too late to change his mind. They'd made a deal – a pact – and he had no choice but to stick to it.

He just hoped it wouldn't end up getting him killed.

"You see this little hole? This moth's just about to emerge. It's in there right now, struggling. It's digging its way through the thick hide of the cocoon. Now, I could help it, take my knife, gently widen the opening, and the moth would be free. But it would be too weak to survive."