Beneath the Crystal Sky

by laptop246

Fawn Dogwood is 16. She lives in District 7. She is part of a prosperous scouting troop. She has two little sisters. She is learning a trade. She is being courted. She was never meant to be Reaped. "Scout. Sister. Performer. Tribute. What am I, now? Staring into my own brown eyes, I find that I can't tell anymore." High quality. Works very closely with the original series.

12. II CAREER

PART II. PREPARING.
CHAPTER 12. CAREER.

Sorry for the delay, guys. Kinda bogged down with work :( well, I finally managed to compose this, anyway. I really wanted to perfect the feel of the Carreer alliance's attitudes. I mean, they're completely different from all the other tributes because they prepared and volunteered. So their reaction to being in the Games is completely different, right? I wanted to redefine the way that we look at Careers, and I do that in this chapter.

~BTCS~

Maze suggests splitting up today, to allow us chances to try what we are good at alone. I agree, thinking that it will be a good chance to observe some other tributes' strengths. "I'm going to slingshots," Maze adds.

"Knives," I say quickly, eyes flashing in excitement. It has been two weeks since I threw knives, and a savage part of me cannot wait for my hands to touch the smooth hilts of knives again. I've been eyeing the Knives Station with longing, as though a magnet is driving me closer to the weapon that I will kill tributes with. This thought makes me slightly nervous, but I push back the nausea with difficulty.

Raven is glancing at the wrestling station. I remember that Blight had hoped that Raven will be good at that particular station. "I'll go to Wrestling," he says.

October frowns slightly, assessing the stations that we have not visited yet. "I'll go to Hand-to-Hand Combat, I guess." He hesitates before adding, "We should try to visit all of the weapon stations before lunch."

"That's a lot of stations," Maze sounds dubious. I nod in agreement. We would have to visit Crossbows, Axes, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Knives, Slingshots, Tridents, and Wrestling.

Raven muses, "That would leave us with the afternoon for Fires, Knots, Shelters, Weightlifting, and Concealment." He glances at me, meeting my eyes, and shrugs. "That could work."

"We get tomorrow morning for training, too." I remind them. "If we get all of the stations done today, we could use that time for reviewing."

My allies nod in agreement. "So..." October glances at his first station, Hand-to-Hand Combat. "See you all at lunch." We disperse without another word, heading to our respective stations. My eyes lock on the unoccupied Knives Station. Though I have no memory of consciously making my legs move faster, I reach the station in a matter of seconds.

The instructor smiles at me. I smile back. "Fawn Dogwood, District 7." I extend my hand, and he shakes it.

"Paxton," he replies. I study him, memorizing his features, though I haven't bothered to do this for any other instructor. His brown hair and eyes appear to be in their natural state. His features are smooth and young, though not artificially. I've noticed similar traits between the other instructors, too, now that I think about it. I wonder if trainers are required to look natural. Does Paxton transform to look like the typical monstrous Capitol citizen after the Training Sessions?

I glance at the knives, and Paxton quickly encourages me to try them out. Heart beating in anticipation and excitement, I grab one of the belts lining the wall and clip it around my waist. The belts are lined with sheaths for knives. As I place the knives in their sheaths, I count until I reach twenty-three. I straighten slowly, feeling their weight. Back home, we received only five knives every person, with no sheaths. What a luxury to have this belt, and these knives ...

A belt snaps behind me. Startled, I pivot to face the sound. Shyne Luxor, blond hair carefully pulled into a bun, gives me a nod. I nod back and turn around, shocked that I didn't hear her approach. I glance over at Hand-to-Hand Combat to see that October is being followed by Mason Flint. Maze at Slingshots and Raven at Wrestling are not being followed. My shoulders stiffen. The Careers are keeping October and I specifically watched.

As Shyne loads her belt with knives, Paxton leads me to the basic targets, insisting that I start with the basics. However, he soon realizes that I am not new at knife throwing. He quickly has me before moving targets. Some targets light up randomly, and I have to throw on a whim. By the time Shyne joins me, I have worked up a comfortable sweat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I observe the Career. It is immediately obvious that she is almost as good as me. She can hit the targets eight times out of ten, while I seldom miss the center. I am contemplating the flaws in her form when Paxton directs me to an open space. "Try this." he beams. "We use it mostly for long-range Careers, but you're good enough to try."

I nod in thanks and agreement, and Paxton walks to a large box that reaches his chest. He begins tapping on it like it is a device of some sort. I stiffen, unsure of what to do next. I remove a knife slowly from my belt, turning it over in my hands, and crouch, ready.

A clay bird shoots out from the ground as though a real bird in sudden, startled flight. The knife is spinning towards the bird before a thought occurs in my mind. The bird falls to the ground with a satisfying thud. Even from twenty meters away, I can see that it was struck in the eye. A clean kill.

Two more birds shoot out. Two knives fly from my hands, and both birds fall slowly. I can feel myself slowing down time as though magic, and a sly smile spreads across my face as I remove another knife from my belt. I am looking forward to the physical exertion that is surely about to occur.

Suddenly, birds are shot out from the ceiling, the walls, the floor, in all different directions. Like real birds, they fly in flocks, long triangular shapes. I lose myself in the activity, my life becoming the movement of the birds and the knives in my belt. It is so nice to throw again - it reminds me of the woods and freedom. Life in District 7 is a constant test of survival. Here in the Capitol, one could live without even trying. I have been living without trying. Throwing makes me feel a liveliness that I haven't felt since leaving District 7.

I realize subconsciously that I'm beaming. My laughter echos in my ears, a swirling melody playing in my brain. My hair has fallen from its poneytail, and the same elation that falling from the hanging course this morning fills me.

Suddenly, all the motion stops. I grip one last knife in my hand, and glance around quickly, looking for the last bird. It never appears. I straighten, and my vision, having acquainted itself with targeting the birds, goes fuzzy for a moment. I blink quickly, glancing around until it clears. My eyes fall first on the Gamemakers, who are nodding their approval of me. I give them a bow-salute in the fashion of District 7 - right hand on the heart, left extended to the sky - and receive more nods.

I wonder if they think my manner of bowing to be odd. I've seen their version - feet placed stiffly together, arms to the side, and a rigid move of the torso to face the ground.

My eyes fall on Paxton, who smiles in his way of congratulating me. I give him the bow as well, and he returns it in the fashion of the Capitol. Then I turn, eager to get more knives and try it again, but, instead, I find Shyne standing shockingly close to me. Again, I am surprised that I didn't hear her approach. She must be incredibly stealthy.

Shyne tilts her fair head slightly, studying me. "That was very good, Fawn," she said, and I am reminded of my mother congratulating me for reciting my numbers when I was young. "Very impressive."

"Thanks." I give her a curt nod, moving to pass her, but she blocks my way again. Silently, I curse. I knew that she had more to say.

"You have thought about joining the Career's alliance?" it isn't really a question, but I nod in answer anyway, but throat clogged. "What do you think to do?"

My breath catches in my throat. Surprise fills me. Shyne expects me to answer now? My eyes seek out October, and I see that Mason has confronted him as well. October's lips form words I cannot make out, and I wait for Mason to become angry. However, Mason's face breaks into a smile and the boys shake hands.

I understand our ruse immediately. I return my eyes to Shyne's waiting face. "I ... I have decided to join you."

Shyne's face breaks into a grin. She sticks her hand out, and I shake it. "Welcome to the Career alliance." she says. I nod to her, feeling as though something is stuck in my throat. What will I tell Raven and Maze? Oh stars, what will I tell Blight?

"I..." I clear my throat, struggling to find my voice. "I was about to head to the Axes Station." My head is tilted questioningly, and Shyne understands what I am implying immediately.

"Syren, Gneiss, and I will accompany you," she offers, though I am not fooled into thinking this to be generous. There is still a false note to her voice, and stiffness in her gaze. I am not a traditional Career. I must be watched.

Shyne leads me to the Axes Station like I am a young child. Gneiss materializes on my right side, and Syren on my left seconds later. I am, again, startled by how quickly they move. With the three female Careers around me, I have a complete guarded escort. I swallow tightly, nervous sweat covering my body. Gneiss's muscles seem larger than ever. How easily she could crush my skull...

I notice that the tributes are looking at me differently. Cabel Atom's eyes grow icy as he spots me. I quickly look away, and my eyes find Barley Harvester as he scrambles out of our way. Pixel Atom seems surprised. Rye seems murderous, but that isn't a change from her normal demeanor. Are their reactions simply because of my presence with the Careers? Or is it because of the guilty look I must be leaking?

I immediately clear my face of all emotion, focusing my eyes on Shyne's bun. Her hair must be rather long when it's done, because I can now see that the blond strands have been tightly braided and then pulled back. The knot on the back of her head is three times the size of my fist, and I am contemplating how it stands to Gneiss's fists when we reach the Axes Station.

The Careers wordlessly grab axes and approach the same lighting targets I used at the Knives Station. I, however, take an axe into my hands and slowly access it. The handle is very smooth and easy to grip at the same time. The entire body of the axe is made of smooth, cool metal that has a deadly glint to it. It is much heavier than those from home, and has no imperfections. I hold it out, admiring it for a long moment. Then, I glance up at the Gamemakers, several of whom are glancing at me. This is the weapon of my district. They expect me to use it well.

I walk away from the Careers, to the thick beams that are set up, gripping my axe tightly with both hands, though I can easily manage its weight with one loose hand. An instructor hurries over, smiling slightly. "District 7 ... I was wondering when you'd make your way over."

I smile easily, the feel of the axe as reassuring as the movement of throwing knives. "It seemed like a good time to show off." The instructor's eyes flicker to the Careers, and flood in understanding. She prompts me to try to cut this pole as I would a tree. I move my narrowed eyes from her to the 'tree', raising the axe. Without the imperfections all trees naturally have, it is hard to determine the best place to cut it. After a brief moment of deliberation, I simply swing.

The axe cleanly cuts through the pole. I wait for it to fall, mouth open to call a warning. Instead, the pole re-seals itself. The instructor laughs at my shock, leading me to larger poles. They are all easier to cut through than I expect, but soon it takes several swings to sever them completely. When I finally cut down the last 'tree', I am covered in sweat.

I move on to the targets. I have rarely thrown axes, but I can still hit the center circle more often than any of the Careers, and the knowledge fills me with pleasure. I find a sort of savage pleasure in seeing the dummies skewered, and I briefly imagine that, with each axe, I throw away a bit more of my stress. When I grow tired of the motion, and am too exhausted to continue, the Careers escort me to Crossbows.

~~BTCS~~

I manage well with crossbows, and Syren identifies me as a long-range fighter. I do surprisingly well with tridents, but cannot compare to Syren's superior skill to the rest of us in this station. Gneiss is the best with hand-to-hand combat, but that doesn't surprise me. The trainer tells me a few quick ways to end fights besides strength using a dagger, and advises me to keep one hidden on me at all times. Of course, I'm with the Careers now. I'll definetly have a dagger to spare and hide. The instructor at Wrestling suggests something similar, teaching me the pressure points of the body, and I prove to be competent with the slingshot.

The Careers, I discover, actually aren't that bad. Once I begin to talk to them, they give information surprisingly easily. I suppose they aren't scared of loosing what they've left behind, so why should they be hesitant to speak about it? Shyne has ten siblings, soon to be eleven. She tells me proudly that they are all training for the Hunger Games. Even one year old Gem is being trained to run. Gneiss is very close to her older brother. They do everything together. Syren has a family of six at home and a larger family at the docks.

It occurs to me that we all have so much to loose, yet all three of these volunteered for the Games. It helps me to understand them and their Districts. In the Career Districts, life isn't about survival like it is in 7. You have to work to survive, but living to old age isn't the highest honor. The highest honor is to live in their booming Victor's Villages, and have lots of money. Those who live there look down on everyone else. To live there is to be granted heaven on Earth. And Gneiss, Syren, and Shyne are willing to die for the chance to go there.

"Dying in the Games is the most honorable death there is," Shyne explains to me. "My family won't mourn me if I pass. They'll celebrate my opportunity and curse the one that stole victory from me. No tears shall be spread. It's the only happy death."

As they begin to get a feel for my personality, the Careers stop walking around my in formation. Jokes begin to be tossed around, and soon I am laughing with them. As I crack a joke on Syren's behalf, I get a start. I like them, I realize. Syren's joking demeanor and Shyne's carefree attitude mix well with my own. Gneiss is the most reserved of us, but she even cracks a few jokes and laughs as we talk.

It feels odd to sit at the Career table, I reflect. As October, Mason, Tide, and Luster join us (how quickly 'they' has become 'us'!), I notice that they have similar interactions with each other that us girls have. October's eyes dart from me to where Maze and Raven sit, firmly looking away from our table. My heart aches with apologies for them, but I know that I cannot approach them now. I look away before one of my fellow Careers catch me looking.

"So," Tide's clear blue eyes move from October's face to my own. "Welcome, October and Fawn. You made the right choice." His eyes glint for an instant with such malice that for an instant, I believe that he would have killed us simply for refusing him. Of course, this is the Hunger Games, I remind myself. But the Careers have been so nice that I can easily forget that we are tributes.

I incline by head to the District 4 tribute. "Thank you." October does likewise.

Syren folds her fingers together, leaning forward. "We need to formulate our Cornucopia plan." She glances at October and me. "That's why we needed your answers today," she explains. I nod, glancing at October. What are we going to do? Our ruse can only hold for so long..

"Obviously, we rush in to get supplies," Luster states, messing with a ring on his finger. I gaze at it, curious, and realize that it must be his approved token. Is it a promise ring? My hands fly to my own token, pine tingling in my nostrils and a pang of homesickness in my heart.

"I say that half of us stay at the Cornucopia to take out those stupid enough to try for supplies," Shyne smirks. "and the other half track the fleeing ones." This is greeted with general consent, as well as compliments to Shyne. I remember seeing this tactic done only once in the Games, and that was years ago. I don't know why the Careers haven't tried it since.

Mason suggests the groups. He keeps October and I at the Cornucopia (no doubt thinking that we'll run if given the opportunity) with himself and Shyne. Luster, Gneiss, Tide, and Shyne he suggests track down the fleeing tributes. This, too, is immediately accepted without dispute. Despite myself, I am surprised at how easily the Careers accept that they are not in charge of the group. In the arena, the Careers always seem to be arguing. I wonder if they always act courteous in the pre-game. I wouldn't know - I have never paid attention. I never cared about the Careers, never thought of them as anything but savage beasts until now.

We then begin to reserve weapons at the Cornucopia. Tide states the average statistics of available weapons at the Cornucopia. "There will be five swords, one axe, three slingshots, a bow, two maces, six spears, a crossbow, eighteen knives, and six daggers, with the occasional appearance of throwing stars and tridents." We count that the supply of weapons will average this year, and the rights to swords are immediately given out. The shortest goes to Shyne, the heaviest to Luster. Tide claims a flat sword, and Syren a two-handed one (Seeing my confusion, she explains that she is ambidextrous). October takes the remaining sword.

Tide quickly claims any trident present in the Cornucopia, eyeing Syren as though he had raced to beat her to it. Syren, face impassive, doesn't look at him as she claims any throwing stars and knives.

A well of protest rises in me. "I throw knives." Once the words are out, I realize that my voice was too sharp, my tone too demanding. All of the Careers' eyes slowly turn to me. Suddenly, the realization of what we are doing hits me. We are arguing over the weapons we will use to kill children. The people before me suddenly look much more dangerous.

I take a shaky breath, trying to stiffen my resolve. I glance at October. We will never be able to escape by force or survive afterwords if I don't have my knives. With them, I can kill tributes and get food. I can cut rope, and climb trees without branches. I can even make amputations if necessary. Once, back home, the troop's eldest member at the time, Flake, required an amputation. I'll never forget the blood on the snow, and the way she screamed. Remembering Flake, I speak again, my voice firm. "I want a portion of the knives."

Syren studies me momentarily, something shifting in her gaze. I sense that it is cold, but it isn't exactly hateful. There's something like respect, and maybe fear in those bright green orbs as well. I sit taller, meeting her eyes, trying to convey through my posture that I am not willing to back down. Syren's posture tells the same story. Slowly, Syren opens her mouth and forms the words, "Can you throw?"

Shyne speaks before I can, muttering so that only Syren and I can hear. "She throws well. Very well. Better than you do, Syren. Better than anyone I've ever seen." There it is - that flash of fear in her eyes, as well, as she remembers me throwing. After a flash, the look is gone, and Shyne's fair face is as impassive as ever. It is silly to think that these people should be scared of me. After so many nights turning in my sleep, picturing them killing me in horrible ways, how can they be scared of me? I'm sure that I just imagined their expressions. I can't be right.

I can sense the waiting atmosphere of the table, unaware of what Shyne said, waiting for Syren's reply. Every part of me is shrieking a warning of danger, waiting for Syren to leap up and try to strangle me. I force myself to look into Syren's eyes, keeping my expression as firm as possible, removing all signs of fear from my eyes. I know that this is what two predators look like when they meet. A fight may not occur immediately, but only a short time passes before one is dead, and the other stands alone.

Finally, Syren nods to me. "Very well."

The table regains its lighthearted atmosphere immediately. I look away from Syren, at October again, who gives me a smile and a sort of encouraging nod. I wish that I could speak to him - really speak to him, with no one listening. Will there ever be another time, without the Careers around? We will have to pass messages through Maze and Raven, I realize. Maybe I can tell him about the rooftop garden in this manner.

Mason asks for the daggers, which surprises me. With his thick frame, a mace might better fit him. I ask him timidly, and he doesn't hesitate to answer that they are useful to him in Hand-to-Hand Combat. If he keeps them up his sleeve, he says, he can surprise his opponent and end their lives quickly.

I ask if anyone is suited for the axe, trying to feign nonchalance. Now that I have gotten my share of the knives, I want the axe. It is obvious that the Careers understand this immediately. They look at me a moment, and Luster simply says, "None more so than you, District 7." And that settles it. The axe (axes, if there are several in the arena) is mine. This fills me with satisfaction and pleasure. I wonder if I am a true Career now that the though of weapons brings me such pleasure.

Luster and Mason agree to split the spears. There is no repeat of the stare down that Syren and I underwent. They simply both state that they want spears, and agree to split them. I glance sideways at Syren, and she gives me a small smile before looking at Luster. I assume that this means to forget our dispute - we are to act like friends again.

Gneiss claims one of the maces, which isn't surprising. Shyne claims the other, which is. When I shoot her a questioning look, she shrugs. "It's not that difficult to manage," she explains to me. "and it counts a lot for intimidation." October, Gneiss, and Syren take the slingshots. I'm glad that October managed to get another weapon, and one that can be powered by simple stones found in the arena.

"That leaves the crossbow and the bow," Mason observes. He shoots a sideways look at Syren and I, and realization hits me as though I've run into a tree. Syren is the only Career that attempts long-distance weapons besides me. And, if Shyne's words can be trusted, I am better than her. If I do not claim the bow and the crossbow, Syren will.

A surprisingly strong well of protest rises in me at the thought. My head is spinning, and I remember Tide and Syren's attitudes to Raven only two nights ago. Syren had smirked, saying, "Look at the scrawny things District 7 has to offer this year," and Tide had pushed Raven into the elevator's glass wall. That was before they had seen me run. That was before they saw me throw. That was before they realized how useful I could be to them. It seems like years since that moment, like the Training Days have taken months to occur. I have heard that time flies when you get older, when you realize you will die soon. But my days are dragging.

Yet, even if years truly had passed since that night, how could I forget? How is it possible to remember how angry I had been on Raven's behalf; how he had tried to calm me down, but failed? How is it possible to forget how scared I know Raven is, behind his mask? How could I forget how they had enjoyed terrifying and haunting him - me - us?

"I want them." My words are determined, and my fists are clenched in my lap. I hope no one will notice how much I truly hate and love them at the same time. I still need them to believe that I'm one of them, even if part of me wants to laugh and stay with them forever, and the other, more Career-like side, wants to drive my knives through their throats. "I want the crossbow and the bow and arrows."

Syren's face is impassive as she nods in agreement with the others. She doesn't want to be my enemy. She wants to use me. She wants to have me right under her belt, where she can watch me and kill me when the going gets tough. I glance at Maze and Raven, and then to October. They are my real friends - they are the ones that I can trust.

But the Careers aren't bad people. They are just survivors. It is evident in the thick jaw of Tide, the quick eyes of Gneiss. They intend to make it home for the honor of winning the Games. It isn't just a test of survival for them. It is a test of worth. With a sinking heart, I realize that they have more to loose than anyone else in the Games.

~~~BTCS~~~

You also got some info on the very passable instructors in this chapter via Paxton. I will probably give you more info on them later.

The lighting targets for knives was actually in the movie. Want to see a cool example of what Fawn was rocking this chapter? Look up Hunger Games Training Scene and look for Clove throwing :)

Oh, and some good news. I am nearly complete with the plot line for this book! That was part of the delay, but it's good to know where I am heading. I'm debating adding another book to BTCS, but I know where I'm ending this one. We'll have to see how the ending flows, and if I'm bored with the few ideas I have for a new BTCS book.