A/N- miss me? Probably not. I had no idea how to approach this, since I clearly have no experience with weapons (aside from one archery class in 7th grade. Needless to say, it didn't go too well). So after much google and YouTube searching, and reading up on an unauthorized hunger games guide, here goes nothing.
"Alright guys, today we're going to learn sword fighting basics", announces Riley. It had been a week since the previous meeting. I had asked her to show us some sword fighting techniques, since I had spent most of my time in the training center learning survival skills. The Room of Requirement again looks similar to the training center, with dummies standing against one wall, and a supply of both real and wooden swords.
I hear an impatient sigh from the back of the group. "Sword fightin' fer dummies, eh?" Jared comments in his best Scottish accent. Don't get me wrong, Jared's a nice guy and all, but sometimes he's a bit arrogant. Just because he's been trained to use various sharp weapons, and descends from some ancient assassin, he thinks he could kill a hundred armored peacekeepers with a single swing of his sword.
"No," I reply. "Sword fighting for those of us who weren't born with a sword in hand."
"Anyway," interrupts Riley "dummy or not, everyone grab a wooden sword."
After everyone is armed, Riley shows us some tecniques: keep your feet apart, don't tense up, be mindful of your surroundings, but still don't take your eye off your opponent. We also learned ways to attack and block, which we practiced in pairs. We soon learned that the swords were charmed to go straight through a person, without harming them. Good, considering that by the end of our meeting, everyone would have been killed a dozen times over.
That night, I dreamed about the games, again.
I was walking through the woods of the arena at night. Suddenly a dark figure flew down from the canopy of trees: a dementor. My attempts at the Patronus charm were in vain; it was coming closer, and closer...
When I was sure it was about to suck out my soul, it changed into something equally terrifying: Cato, wielding a wickedly sharp sword, blood oozing from a gash on the left side of his face, nightlock berry juice dripping from his lips. His eyes were dark in hollowed sockets, dead looking. He pressed the tip of his blade to my throat, a wicked smile on his lips.
"Tell me, Finch," he snarls "how does revenge taste?" It's only then that I notice the handful of dark, toxic berries, before he roughly shoves them into my mouth. His horrifying image darkens as I collapse, and then the world goes black.
So this chapter is pretty much filler *sigh* I'm re-reading catching fire, so I can write the quarter quell. I'm also having a bit of trouble with a one shot I've been trying to write. Turns out I can't write a kissing scene. Awkward. But anyway, your comments would make my day!