With thanks to Glassgift and Katrace for their reviews of the last chapter.
The cool of the water settled her, flowed in time with the blood in her veins. Her eyes were shut to avoid the salt water, but when she felt a wash of current that had not been there before, she opened them.
A boat sped by her on a rusting propellor, made of more driftwood than anything else; it could only be termed a boat loosely. She watched it lower a net to the seabed, dragging it across the ground and pushing up clouds of dust in its wake.
She watched seven fish dragged against the back of the net. Her lungs burned.
Three strong kicks to the surface, and Emma Kjaergaard burst into the bright sky, breathing in the cool air rolling over the water's surface. The sun was rising in the sky, the water warming- Emma felt her chestnut hair heat at the sensation of the sun on her head.
She swam to a pebbled shore, rising from the water to walk onto drier ground. Unwinding a length of cord from around her wrist, she wound it instead around wet hair, tying it in a loose ponytail.
"Hey, Odyssea!" Emma did not turn around- she didn't respond to that name anymore.
"No, wait, uh- what's the name- Ermintrude?" She didn't respond to her middle name either. "Uh- shortened- Emma!"
Emma breathed out a short sigh. She turned, a smile pulled onto her features forcibly.
"Hey, Ralph," she said as the middle-aged man puffed up to her. "How's business?"
Ralph grinned, reflexively stroking his large, dark brown beard. "Booming, kid. It's Games season! More Peacekeepers means more customers."
Emma nodded vaguely. "Well, if you don't mind, it's the weekend, so I'm helping my dad toda-"
"That's fine, I'll walk with you. The restaurant won't miss me for a few moments."
Emma gritted a smile out. "Sure, Ralph." She slung her dry pack over her shoulders, and started to set a fast pace through Fishery Zone 7. Ralph followed her on more unsteady feet.
"So, I was wondering-"
"Yeah?"
"Your marriage to my boy-"
"What about it, Ralph?"
"I was thinking of doing it after Reaping. Make it a big one, celebrate us all being here together, joined as a family." Ralph cut himself off for a moment, gasping for air as he tried to keep to Emma's pace. Emma did not interrupt him this time- she didn't particularly want to get into the conversation.
"You good with that?"
You're asking my opinion on this shit now? Emma mused.
"Sure, Ralph."
Emma dodged into the merchant warehouse, moving expertly through the stalls and wares. Behind her, she heard heavy footfall and clattering- she didn't look back.
"Hey- Emma!"
She heaved a larger sigh, turning and waiting for Ralph to catch up. He placed heavy hands on her shoulders.
"I know you're worried about marrying Harry."
What was your first clue?
"But you're young, and you'll understand when you're older. I mean, you're what- sixteen?"
"Fifteen."
"You'll understand when you're a bit older, kid. It's just the way."
The way. Emma hated it when people said that.
"Gotcha, Ralph." Emma pulled free of his hands, turning to continue through the merchant warehouse.
The District 4 Training Center was, according to the Peacekeepers she heard frequenting the restaurant, no match for the ones in Districts 1 and 2. District 2 had placed theirs in a complex of caves, that faced the skies around them with glass walls; District 1's Training Center shone, with every surface inside rippling in stones that glowed in the night. By comparison, District 4 was a rusty shack.
In Emma's opinion, looks didn't matter. She had seen her parents take the Training Center to new heights and new victors; what it looked like wouldn't save them in the Games.
It was huge, an entire block taken up by an old warehouse that had since been repurposed. Its outside was the same as it had been when it was abandoned, but its interior was vastly different.
Concrete walls held racks of weaponry, old and new- the training floor at the entrance was an open floor, easy to evacuate in case the Peacekeepers ever rescinded their non-aggression pact with the technically illegal practice. Concrete floor was covered by meagre rubber mats; Emma had asked her father once why they were there if they provided no padding from the floor. His response was that they were easier to clean.
The sounds of exertion filled the room as Emma creaked open the door. The training recruits were using ranged weapons against melee weapons; an exercise she had seen often, and participated in almost as much as the recruits.
Her brother Andreas was amongst them, holding a trident with ease as he swung it- too high, as the recruit ducked under the swing and went under his defences, holding his knife to Andreas' throat.
Silence fell in the training room. Eyes fell on Andreas and the recruit.
Finally, slowly, a tall man with greying brown hair turned to observe the frozen recruits.
"Andreas."
"...Dad." Andreas flicked his eyes between his father and the knife at his throat.
"Instructor." The tall man said with a stern tone that turned out less stern than intended. His chin raised a tiny fraction. "Ronan, at ease."
The recruit raised his eyebrow slightly. "But I have him at my mercy."
"Ronan. At ease."
The recruit paused a moment longer, but smoothly retreated back, knife returned carefully to his side. Andreas stumbled upright, rubbing his neck sheepishly. A quiet, violent murmur came from the rest of the recruits. Andreas was known to be one of the clumsier recruits to stand in the center, and rumours abounded that he was only permitted by virtue of his father's leadership within its walls.
"Odyssea."
Emma looked up sharply at her father, who gestured to Ronan carefully.
"Show them how disarming with a ranged weapon is done."
Emma nodded swiftly, eyes alight with excitement at the challenge. Swiftly making a pick from the weapons rack, she opted for a sword instead of a trident, then stood opposite Ronan, swaying gently, holding the sword firmly in one hand. The weight felt familiar.
Without further provocation, Ronan gave a tight nod to Emma then struck, knife swinging in muscled arms. Emma sidestepped and swung the sword with ease, pulling it above Ronan's head and prompting him to go low, move the knife towards a major artery in her thigh, as expected. Emma immediately matched him, kicking him away, sinking down and bringing the sword down to the ground. The knife flew from Ronan's fingers and Emma swiftly picked it up before rising, stepping and pivoting, raising the sword. Before Ronan could move, which was quickly, Emma had laid the sword on the back of his neck.
The recruits froze again.
Then, a soft laugh elicited itself from the tall, greying instructor.
"Very good, Odyssea; very good! At ease, the two of you." Emma retracted her sword, and the two split apart. Hesitantly, Ronan nodded at her, a faint respectful smile on his face. Emma nodded back, surprised at the tentative respect she was recieving.
Her father walked between them; placed a hand on Ronan's shoulder. "A good thing you won't have to face her in the arena, or she'd have you down before the first day!"
Emma knew it was a compliment, but something about it made her want to raise the sword again.
"Now, back to the exercise- but this time, Andreas, remember how to use your weapon!"
Andreas shook his head lightly, springing into action against a recruit. Emma stood at a loss as her father walked past her, towards the man standing at the door. The two embraced.
"Ralph!"
"Dirk." They separated, equal smiles on each other's face. Ralph slapped Dirk's back.
"How's training? Not long 'till the Games, you know!"
Dirk laughed, looking back at the steadily training recruits. "They're shaky, but they'll pull through."
"Odds on your son, though!"
Dirk grinned at the compliment to his family, but his eyes were slightly hollow. "We'll see on Reaping day- depends who volunteers first, you know that."
"Oh, sure," Ralph grinned, not sure at all. "Anyway, I actually came to discuss your other kiddy."
"Odyssea?"
Emma, she thought. Her fingers tightened on the sword.
"Yeah, I just told her- I was thinking of making the wedding after the Reaping. A celebration, you know. Does that sound good to you?"
"Yeah."
No. Emma noticed her knuckles turning white on the sword, and loosened her grip.
Dirk turned to look at Emma, and swung his arm across her shoulders. "And then our families will be together, properly."
Emma did not respond. Dirk's face changed, just slightly.
"Harry's a lovely boy-" A man, he's eighteen, he's too old- "-And you'll be a lovely wife. You'll be happy together-" -No, you'll be happy- "-And we'll be together."
No we won't.
Emma grits her teeth and smiles. The sword is still in her hand.
Odyssea "Emma" Kjaergaard was submitted by akuhilangditelanbumi- with thanks to them.
As ever, thank you for reading thus far.