Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Training Day Two
A Captain Men Would Follow

Abstract Calls, 18
District One Female

"Abstract! Hey, Abstract! Look what I can do!"

Abstract rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the little boy. Maybe he and that silly Capitol girl would decide that pestering her wasn't worth their time. The pair sat beside Abstract at the first aid station. They seemed joined at the hip now – always together, always smiling, always loud.

Good. Loud was good. It would make it easier to find them in the arena. And kill them.

Eventually, the pair left, quickly replaced by the boy from Ten, who sat quietly for a while, working on a sling. "They admire you, you know," he said at last.

Abstract shook her head. "I don't need their admiration. I need them to die."

Unfortunately, the bluntness didn't make the boy shut up. He just shrugged. "We all do. We're all thinking the same thing: 'Everyone else needs to die in order for me to make it home.'" He gave her a wry, lopsided smile. "But not you. If you'd wanted to be home so badly, you could've just stayed there. You and that girl – Prius, is it? You both wanted to be here. No wonder she looks up to you."

"I am nothing like her!" Abstract insisted. That was ridiculous. The girl was everything she despised about the Capitol – ignorant, clueless, in love with the Games. They were nothing alike. Abstract didn't love the Games. She hated them. And that was why she had to win.

The boy shook his head. "You're right; she's much funnier. But my point is, both of you chose to be here, and most of us wish we'd had the choice. Because most of us, given the option, would rather be safe and snug in our districts. Well, relatively safe – except from starvation and Peacekeepers and all that. And sort of snug – except for the cold and the bugs and the rats." He smiled a little. "Actually, if not for the whole having-to-kill-each-other thing, it'd be rather nice here." He shrugged. "But, then, I suppose the killing part is what you're here for."

Abstract glared. He made it sound so repulsive. Like she enjoyed it. She didn't enjoy killing people.

At least, she didn't think she did. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would actually be like – her first kill. Would it be quick or slow? Would her victim fight back or beg for mercy? Would it be a boy or girl? Twelve or eighteen?

Maybe the boy in front of her now.

"Numb," the boy said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Abstract asked.

"Whatever you feel at first – whether it's accomplishment or satisfaction or disgust or horror – it'll go away. Eventually, you'll just feel numb every time you see more blood, every time your knife cuts through skin and bone. You won't feel anything. And you'll wonder if maybe there's something wrong with you, because everyone else looks at you with either disgust or confusion or a strange sort of respect. But you won't feel any of it."

Abstract cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

The boy shrugged. "Even in Ten, working in a slaughterhouse isn't considered the best of jobs. Some people treat us like we're disgusting, like we're always covered in blood. Other people – the ones who realize how much they benefit from the work we do – treat us with more respect, but still keep their distance. People seem either fascinated or disgusted by what we do, but, to us, it's just a job. We don't even see animals any more – just parts. Just food. Just results."

Abstract nodded. That made sense. When she looked around at the other tributes, she didn't see children. Just numbers. Twenty-three of them who had to die. Just one more thing she had to do. Just a job.

And it was a job she intended to finish.

Wulfric Harding, 18
District Ten Male

Wulfric kept working on his sling after the girl left. What was someone like her doing at a first aid station, anyway?

Then again, what was he doing at a first aid station? He'd spent the previous day trying to lie low, not give away his skills. Trying to keep an eye on the other tributes. But his hands were restless. He needed to do something.

And tying pieces of cloth into a sorry excuse for a sling didn't count.

Finally, he got up and wandered over to one of the weapons stations. Most of them had a common theme – there were swords, axes, spears, knives, bows, and so on. But this one, instead, contained a random assortment of could-be weapons that were really nobody's specialty, but could be handy in a pinch: chains, slingshots, whips, and an assortment of oddly-balanced knives, small hatchets, and cleavers.

Wulfric hesitated for a moment. He hadn't intended to show off. But he needed to clear his head. He grabbed a long chain and swung. It quickly wrapped around a dummy's waist. He gave a sharp tug, and the dummy came careening towards him. Just before it would have struck him, he sidestepped, grabbed a cleaver, and drove it through the dummy's neck.

Wulfric didn't even bother untangling the dummy; he just reached for another chain, lassoed another dummy, and finished it off. Then another. And another. By the tenth or so, he wasn't simply decapitating the dummies. He split their stomachs, spilled their intestines, cut into their chests, ripping through where their hearts would be.

He only stopped when he realized there weren't any dummies left.

Only then did he notice the crowd. Not all of the tributes, but a good number of them, watching him. Looking around, he could see the different expressions he expected: disgust, confusion, admiration. Libby stared, wide-eyed and frightened, looking like she was about to faint. The boy from One was grinning; the girl from Six clapped her hands. The girl from One was pretending to ignore him, but he caught her glancing in his direction.

And the boy from Eleven sat nearby, meticulously untangling each of the dummies from the chains, tossing each of the heads into a pile and the bodies into another. The chains he discarded back in Wulfric's general direction. Weird.

Wulfric shrugged and was about to leave when a boy blocked his path. Wulfric immediately tensed up; the boy was from Nine. He was tall, strong, with a fierce look in his eyes, and there was a rumor going around that he had killed his mentor. From the look of him, Wulfric didn't doubt it.

Behind him were two other boys – a tall, lean one from Two and a small, pale one from Five. It was the small one, though, who spoke first. "That was pretty impressive, Wulfric. We have a proposal we'd like to—"

"Not interested." But the voice wasn't Wulfric's. Wulfric turned; the boy from Eleven was still untangling dummies. "Just saving you the trouble of an actual conversation. He's not interested in allying with anyone who would kill their mentor – an innocent person who wasn't even part of the Games. He knows that means none of you would hesitate to turn on him the moment it became convenient for you. Oh, and he has a shred of common sense."

The large boy – Husk, Wulfric was pretty sure – took a threatening step towards the boy, but Wulfric stepped in the way. "He's right. Thanks, but no thanks."

Husk glared at him, but a few trainers were moving in their direction, ready to stop a fight if it broke out. So Husk, still scowling, turned and headed in the opposite direction. Wulfric turned back to the boy from Eleven, not sure whether to be angry with him for speaking for him or thank him for saving him the trouble of finding a good way to refuse. "Thanks," he said at last.

The boy shrugged as he finished sorting the last of the dummies. "You're welcome."

Brie Fallyn, 17
District Five Female

Brie was almost starting to have fun.

She still felt a bit out of practice, but the thrill was the same as it had been years ago, sparring with her father. Before he was always ill. Before her mother's death. Back when the Hunger Games were only a distant thought in her mind, only a vague possibility, not a deadly certainty.

At first, she could tell, the trainer had been going easy on her. But not any more. His blows came quickly, one after the other, and she blocked them all.

"You're good," came a voice, and Brie glanced over long enough to see the boy from Eight watching her. But that split second cost her; the trainer cut through her defenses and struck her in the side with the blunt edge of his blade. The boy smiled a little. "You're good, but you spend too much time defending. You're never going to win a fight if you don't strike back."

Brie nodded. The thought had crossed her mind occasionally. But it was so much easier to think defensively. So much easier to think about killing someone if they were the one doing the attacking. "It's a habit," Brie admitted.

"And not necessarily a bad one," the boy agreed. "Being able to defend yourself, being able to protect others – that's a fine thing. But sometimes you need a bit more than that. Sometimes the enemy isn't going to come to you."

"The enemy," Brie repeated. "This isn't a war. There aren't sides. We're all enemies here."

The boy nodded. "Maybe so – eventually. But there are also tributes who are a bit more … eager to become enemies."

Brie nodded. She knew who he was talking about. The boys who had started a fight. The one who had killed his mentor. Maybe a few of the others. The ones who seemed a bit too eager. A bit too happy to be here.

The boy continued. "There are a few of us who think we'd last a bit longer if we worked together – if we helped each other, protected each other. We'd stand a better chance – not just against the other tributes, but against mutts and other things. Hunting for food is easier as a group. Taking turns sleeping. Spreading out to find food and water. That sort of thing."

Brie nodded. "Who's 'we'?"

"Me. Kiona, the girl from Two. Hopefully a few others. Kiona's talking to Sterling, the boy from Seven, at the moment." He nodded towards the axe station, where, sure enough, Sterling and the girl from Two were having what was probably a very similar discussion. "And we were hoping you might be interested, as well."

"I'll need to think about it."

The boy nodded. "Of course. I wasn't expecting an answer right away. Might have been a little suspicious, to be honest, if you'd seemed too enthusiastic about it. Give it some thought, talk it over with your mentor if you like, and let me know. Just know that the offer stands until … well, I guess if the Games start and you come at us with that sword, we'll know the answer's no." He smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Zione, by the way."

"Brie." She hesitated, but then shook his hand. It felt firm and strong, almost like her father's, when they would shake hands after sparring. The boy smiled and left.

It was an odd feeling – thinking about trusting someone in the Games. And not just someone. A group. A pack. But Zione was right; it made sense.

Finally, she wandered over to where Sterling was still standing at the ax station. "I take it he just gave you the same pitch?" he asked.

Brie nodded. "What did you tell them?"

"That I'd think about it," Sterling shrugged. "But I think … well, I think it makes sense."

"A little too much sense," Brie agreed. "They have to know it can't last. What happens if we're the only ones left – the group of us?"

Sterling nodded. "You're right. But we stand a better chance of at least getting to that point together. And if we don't get to that point … if I do die … protecting someone else, taking care of a group – that seems like a pretty good way to go. If someone has to tell Bailey that I died, it might be easier if they could say that I died saving someone else."

Brie nodded. She understood that. But she couldn't start thinking about how she would prefer to die. If she died in the Games, it wouldn't matter whose life she died to save.

Because then there would be no one left to save Jai.

Harakuise Swallot, 14
District Five Male

"Looks like they decided to say yes," Equinox noted, nodding towards the group in the center of the lunch room. The boys from Eight and Seven, the girl from Two and Five. Zione, Sterling, Kiona, and Brie, Harakuise reminded himself.

Not that he cared what their names were, really, but interacting with people was always more effective when you knew their names. It gave the impression, the illusion, that you cared – at least a little – about what happened to them.

His allies, for example. Husk and Equinox. They had been fighting just twenty-four hours ago, in this same room. But Harakuise had stopped the fight. Used their names. Introduced them to each other. And now they sat together, allies.

Uneasy allies, but allies, nonetheless.

Husk was still fuming. "He said no! Just like that! That smug little—"

Harakuise let him rant. Never mind that he had told Husk exactly how that discussion with Wulfric was going to play out. Well, except for the interruption from the boy from Eleven. That had surprised even Harakuise. The boy was smart. Observant. And more than a little … off. And that was dangerous.

Then again, everyone was dangerous in their own way. Fast or strong. Wise or angry. Experienced or observant. Everyone posed a threat, in the end. It was simply a matter of choosing which threats to focus on. Which to defend against. And which to turn into assets.

"Who should we try next?" Equinox asked, trying to change the conversation.

Harakuise shrugged. He knew what the result would be. Anyone else was likely to say no to them. The ones with skill or experience – Abstract, perhaps, or Mars – weren't likely to be interested in an alliance, and those looking for allies had either found one already or weren't likely to trust their particular group.

But Husk and Equinox seemed rather oblivious to the fact that no one trusted them. That no one liked them. Harakuise knew no one liked him, either, but he knew enough to use that to his advantage. He didn't need to be liked. Or trusted. He needed to be either feared or underestimated. And his allies were doing a marvelous job of the latter.

So, in an attempt to appease their bruised egos, he threw out the one viable suggestion left. "How about Aldo?"

Equinox raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Twelve," Harakuise corrected. "Over there, in the corner, talking to the girl from Four. He's pretty strong. He's good with a pickaxe." And he might be stupid enough to trust you. Maybe. But probably not.

Husk nodded, and, with his usual lack of subtlety, lumbered over to talk to the boy. Idiot. Immediately, the girl from Four abandoned the conversation and joined the girls from Seven and Twelve. Husk sat down in her place, much to Aldo's annoyance.

The conversation lasted about two minutes before Husk came storming back. "He said he'd have to talk to his mentor, see what he thought. The nerve!"

Equinox shrugged. "Well, it's not a no."

It may as well have been. No mentor was going to be stupid enough to tell Aldo to accept the offer. Harakuise turned his attention back to his lunch. Almost certainly, it would only be the three of them together in the arena. And, eventually, Equinox and Husk would turn on each other again, and it would just be one.

Perfect.

Lordez Miller, 17
District Eleven Female

"Did you talk to him?" Sher asked, munching on a piece of chicken.

Lordez nodded. "He seemed … reluctant." Well, that was half the truth. Zione had seemed pretty happy about the idea of accepting her into their group, once she had shown how good she was with a sickle. It was Sher that he seemed more reluctant about.

Sher nodded, as if he understood what she was trying to avoid saying. "Of course. Makes sense. They only want tributes who are going to be useful. So I just have to prove that I will be."

"And how are you going to do that?" The more she thought about it, the less convinced she was that Sher was going to be useful. Sure, he was intelligent, and observant, but he was startlingly oblivious about the most common things. He was a wild card. And wild cards were dangerous.

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Sher assured her, undeterred. "You just worry about yourself. By the time I'm through talking to him, he'll be begging me to join your little group. Now go on, get to know our new friends." He motioned towards the larger group.

Lordez hesitated, but then took her tray and joined Zione, Kiona, Sterling, and Brie in the center of the room. Brie smiled and moved over a little bit to let her in. "Lordez, right?"

Lordez nodded, then turned to Zione. "Does the offer still stand?"

Zione nodded. "Absolutely."

"I'm in."

Zione smiled. "Excellent. And now that we're allies, may I say that that was a very brave thing you did – volunteering for your friend. That took a lot of courage." The rest of the group nodded their agreement.

Lordez smiled a little. She'd had a hunch that was why Zione had been so receptive towards her. He was looking for people he could trust. Brave, but also kind. He had volunteered for a little girl's brother. Brie was in this to save her brother. Sterling wanted to get back to his daughter. They saw her as one of them. A kindred spirit.

In the back of her mind, she wondered how much of that was true.

And then there was Kiona. Kiona, who seemed a bit of an oddball in this group. Cold. Distant. But Zione had never had any question about including her. It had been a given, right from the start. Why?

"You really don't know?" Sher asked later, smiling. Almost giggling with a strange, giddy delight. "Oh, that's even better. You really haven't figured it out, have you."

"Okay, tell me."

Sher shook his head. "Oh, no. I don't think so, eager woodchuck."

"Beaver."

"What?"

"Eager beaver."

"What's the difference?"

"Between a woodchuck and a beaver?"

"Between one small, furry animal and another? Not much, probably."

Lordez sighed. He wasn't going to tell her. But she'd find out eventually. She always did. Enough time with these people, and she would figure out exactly what made them tick.

The only thing that annoyed her was that Sher seemed to have figured it out first.

Zione Brink, 18
District Eight Male

Zione was waiting his turn at the crossbow station.

It felt good – taking turns. Giving them tips. They were starting to trust him – as much as he could expect anyone to trust someone during the Games. Kiona was giving Sterling a few tips with a crossbow. Lordez and Brie were sparring with three trainers at once, doing much better than either of them would have done alone. Everything was going perfectly.

Except for the fact that the boy from Eleven was still watching them like a hawk.

But just watching. Making no attempt to show any skills. Not demonstrating how good he was with any sort of weapon. Not doing anything that would prompt Zione to extend an invitation into the group. So what was he expecting?

At last, the boy headed over to the camouflage station and began drawing. But not any sort of design that would help him blend in. No, he was painting the floor. Zione sighed. The trainers would ignore it; the boy had been behaving strangely all day. He'd stacked some spears into a perfect pyramid, made pinwheels out of the fishing supplies and set them all up in front of a fan, and taken the dummies that the boy from Ten had torn apart and put them all back together in the wrong order – one with two heads, another with a few too many arms. What was one more strange project?

But Zione knew better. The boy was leaving him a message. Something he didn't want the trainers to notice. Had he planned it all – all of the morning's odd activities – so that they wouldn't notice this?

Zione wandered closer, trying not to draw attention to himself. Which was easy enough; most of the tributes were pretty engrossed in whatever they were doing, and the rest were watching the others with either admiration or terror. Or both.

The boy was drawing a waterfall, set between two cliffs, flowing into a river. A sunset behind it. Some stars overhead. Nothing abnormal to an outside eye – except that he had labeled everything wrong. The sun had been labeled "moon." A few birds had been labeled "fish." The cliffs had been labeled "brinks."

Brinks.

Zione froze.

The boy nodded, and looked up, a huge grin on his face. "Like my drawing? I especially enjoy the birds." He drew another fish in the river.

It was all an act. The goofy, clueless tribute who thought fish were birds and turned dummies into Frankenstein's monsters. Shocked though he was, Zione couldn't help but be impressed; after all, he was pulling a similar act himself. He was playing the hero. Sher was playing the crazy fool.

But now they could start being honest – at least with each other.

Zione reluctantly sat down next to Sher. "Lordez seems to believe you would make an excellent addition to our group. She thinks you're rather smart." And I hope anyone listening believes this is a good enough reason for what I'm about to say. "How would you feel about joining us?"

Sher laughed. "That sounds marvelous. Sounds just like one big happy … what's the word? Oh, yes. Family."

With that, he dumped black paint over his entire drawing.

Ella Halliwell, 17
District Four Female

For the first time since her name was called at the reaping, Ella felt a little safer.

It didn't really make a lot of sense. Cahra and Heloise were both quite a bit younger than her. She should be protecting them. Their presence definitely shouldn't make her feel safer. But they were both so confident. So fearless. For a moment, standing with them at the knife-throwing station, she almost forgot how afraid she was.

Almost.

"I suppose it makes sense," came a voice from behind her. "The girls who aren't afraid of anything – and the one who's afraid of herself."

Ella whirled around, glaring. The boy seemed to be everywhere, as if he couldn't stand to be in one place for more than a few minutes. Even now that he'd apparently joined the larger group that was forming, he still seemed determined to wander around every inch of the training center. But he never did anything. Never practiced with a single weapon. Just stood there, watching, an almost bored look plastered on his face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ella lied. But not very convincingly.

The boy smiled. "Of course not. You have no idea whatsoever what it's like to be scared of your own shadow, scared of losing control and doing something stupid like … oh, I don't know, like cutting off your own finger."

Ella glared. "What do you want?"

"From you? Nothing. Just bored."

"Just showing off, you mean."

The boy shrugged. "Isn't everybody? That boy over there – Mars – showing off with a sword because he doesn't care if anybody knows what he's capable of. That boy there – Sterling – showing off with an axe because he's still not convinced he's been accepted into the group and wants to prove that he's worth it. And your two friends here, Cahra and Heloise, showing off because they don't know any better, because it makes them feel like they have a chance."

"And you're showing off because…"

Sher's expression grew strangely serious. "Look at me, Ella. Do you see a fighter? A warrior? Do you see someone who stands a chance in a fair fight?"

"No."

"You're honest; that's good. Of course you don't. Oh, I could take on one or two of the younger or slower tributes, but I'm never going to be good enough with a weapon in a few days to take on Wulfric or Kiona or even you with those knives." He shook his head. "My mind is my weapon, Ella. I'm just keeping it sharp."

"Putting together Wulfric's dummies into monsters keeps your mind sharp?"

Sher laughed. "Touche. No, that was just to keep my hands busy. And so people would notice me. Remember me."

Ella nodded. She had to admit it had worked. Most of the tributes probably knew who Sher was by now. Knew he was a bit strange. "And so they wouldn't think you're a threat," Ella added.

Sher nodded. "Exactly."

"So why be honest with me?"

Sher shrugged. "Curiosity. I wanted to see what you'd do. And what you'll do when I tell you your allies are even crazier than I'm acting."

Ella smiled a little. "I know."

"You know?" Sher looked genuinely shocked.

Ella rolled her eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out. Cahra thought the Capitol was out to get her for setting fire to the Justice Building. Heloise thought her parents were part of some secret group planning a second rebellion. "Of course," she nodded. "But that just means I fit right in, right?"

Sher thought that one over for a moment. "I suppose so. See you around, Ella."

Ella watched as he left, then returned to throwing knives with Cahra and Heloise. Maybe they were a little crazy. Maybe she was.

And maybe, if she managed to survive the Games, maybe then she could worry about sanity.

Aldo Retchwood, 16
District Twelve Male

"District Nine? Are you insane?" Pardeck demanded. "You do know he killed his mentor, right? Is that really the sort of ally you want?"

Aldo shrugged. "One who won't hesitate to kill someone who attacks us? Yeah. That's exactly the sort of ally I want. I'm not stupid. I'll know enough to watch my back, and I'll split before he decides to kill me, too. But, let's face it, I stand a better chance with a few allies."

"Yes, but not crazy ones!" Pardeck fumed. "Why can't you have some sense, like Heloise here? Districts Seven and Four. Good choices. Four can help you with fishing and all sorts of water-oriented terrain. Seven can help with starting fires and will be very useful if there are woods."

Heloise grinned, thrilled by their mentor's praise. "Exactly. You should join us, Aldo. I'm sure they'd love to have you."

Aldo sighed. She still didn't get it. This was the Hunger Games. He didn't want allies who would love to have him around. He wanted allies who were useful, who were dangerous, who were less likely to be attacked. Heloise was twelve. Cahra was fourteen. Perfect targets. Why didn't she see that?

For that matter, why didn't Pardeck see it? Why was he encouraging her? And why was he so dead-set against Aldo teaming up with Husk, Equinox, and Harakuise? They were strong, aggressive, older. Well, except Harakuise, but there was something about the smaller boy that was intimidating, nonetheless. They would be perfect allies – for a while. But any alliance could only be temporary, so where was the disadvantage?

"There's another possibility," Pardeck offered. "You said there was another group forming – some of the older tributes. Six of them, you said?"

Aldo nodded. He'd thought about that. But the thought of joining a group that large made him a little uneasy. Three allies, he could keep track of. Predict. Anticipate. But six? How long before they decided that the boy from Twelve wasn't all that useful, after all, compared to them? And how could he hope to escape from six of them?

And Pardeck's support only made it sound like a worse idea.

Aldo shook his head. "I've made up my mind. I'm joining Husk's group."

At least, he was pretty sure it was Husk's group. Husk was the one who had come to talk to him at lunch. Husk was the biggest, the strongest.

But it was Harakuise who had broken up their fight the day before. It was Harakuise who had calmed Husk down when he had returned to the lunch table earlier. Husk was stronger, but he had a temper. The younger boy seemed colder, more calculating, as if he was manipulating the group behind the scenes.

Aldo shook the thought away. It didn't matter whose group it was. And if there was inner tension, struggle for power, all the better. It would make it easier to get them to turn on each other when the time came. And then, if he was lucky – if he was very, very lucky – they might eliminate each other, and he would be left.

It was a long shot, but, at the moment, it seemed like his best chance.

"He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings."