Olive watched through her room's window as dawn broke in the distance. She had barely slept anything all night. Between the nightmares in which her little brother was thrown into the arena and the embarrassment she felt from her conversation with her mentor, there was no way to sleep for too long. All night, it felt as if she had only been tossing and turning on the bed.
At least it was the first day of training. She could let out all her worries and embarrassment while shooting with a bow, or simply throwing a few knives at whatever dummies the training grounds would have. In fact, she just wanted to do anything that would remind her of home.
"Don't go anywhere near weapons," Librae told her during breakfast, causing her to involuntarily let go of the fork, which Piscia had been stubbornly trying to get her to learn to use.
"But I need to practise," Olive tried to argue, although she quickly opted not to continue after a warning look from her mentor.
"Survival is just as or even more important than weapons, Olive. I'm guessing you already have some knowledge, but it wouldn't be bad to learn more," Ron advised her in a soft tone.
"All right, I'll do that," she muttered, knowing perfectly well she had to listen to her mentors despite all possible objections she could have. With an apologetic look, Mags smiled at her, mumbling some encouraging words that she took a bit to figure out. "Thanks, Mags."
"What exactly are you good at?" Finnick asked, sitting right next to her while she tried to compose herself, retrieving the fork that had fallen next to her plate.
"I'm good with knives, bows and arrows, and I learned a few snares from my father. My twin is a berry-lover, so I ended up knowing some of them as well," she stated, laughing slightly at the memory of Annie telling her all types of berries they could find around the meadow. "I once almost died stupidly because I picked the wrong kind. She nagged me for days after I got better from the poisoning until I learned the most basic poisonous berries and plants."
"Good, then try to learn more about berries, but without making everyone notice that you already have great knowledge about it. If you see you're doing extremely well in something, try to fail from time to time, so the others will blame it on pure luck." Librae explained rapidly, not looking up from her plate, as if it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.
"However, during your private session with the Gamemakers, you should make sure they know how good you can be with those weapons. Knives are always there, but not so much about bows and arrows. That's why you have to give them a reason to put them there," Ron told her, watching as her district partner arrived to eat breakfast just twenty minutes before they had to go to training.
"Finnick, could you give me the earring back, please?" Olive asked, looking at her mentor for the first time since he had sat next to her.
"Oh, I don't have it. Cario and I gave it for inspection, so it could become your token in the arena. It has to go through some tests before you can wear it," he said, meeting her eyes as he looked up from his dish. "Sorry, I should have told you sooner."
"No, that's all right. Thanks," she muttered, looking back at her plate, only to find it completely empty. She had already eaten everything, despite not being hungry.
As her mentors began to explain her partner's strategy for the training, Olive got up from her seat and went to her room, where she brushed her teeth before following Piscia until the lift.
The training rooms were below ground level, which was revealed to be an enormous gymnasium filled with weapons and obstacle courses. Just as she and her district partner walked through the doors, someone pinned the number four on their backs. They weren't the last ones to get there, but it was close. Only District Eight and Eleven were left to arrive.
Atala, the head trainer, made all tributes stand in a circle while waiting for the tributes that were left to arrive. When everyone had finally arrived and joined the circle, she began explaining the training schedule.
There were experts in each skill station. And they would be free to go around them while they followed their mentors' instructions. There were stations to train survival skills and others for fighting techniques. All tributes were ultimately prohibited from engaging in any combat exercise with another. There would be assistants around to practise with in case they wanted to have a partner.
As Atala began reading every station in the training room, Olive's eyes looked around at her fellow tributes, acknowledging them for the first time. Districts One and Two were, per usual, volunteers. Actually, Four normally fell in that group of volunteers prepared for the Games, but it wasn't an annual thing as it was in those districts.
Careers, that's how a tribute from Twelve had called them some years ago. That was the nickname people from District Twelve had given people from One, Two, and Four. That was why it weirded her that her mentors hadn't made her show her abilities.
Wouldn't it be best to prove herself in front of them so she could join the alliance? Or was it too risky to be in an alliance with people way stronger than her? After all, Olive had said it herself. She had been trained to survive, not to kill.
When Atala finally released them, Olive watched as her district partner joined the other careers in the deadliest-looking weapon training. Wait. Why are you not going survival mode, too? Am I missing something? She thought, trying hard not to think too much about it before walking to the first survival training she found.
For the following hours, whenever Olive began to be good at the skill she was learning, she would change to another. Some Gamemakers, who only appeared to oversee the tributes on the first day of training, seemed to have picked up on this. But it didn't face Olive, as she ignored them completely.
Minutes before the dinner call, which tributes were forced to eat on the training grounds, she found herself in front of the edible plants' station. The trainee gave her two options, either she read a book about the plants or she took a test until she learnt it all. Of course, any other tribute would pick the test since it would be faster, but not her. She had enough time to spend, and a burning necessity to be reminded of home. Of her siblings. Of her twin, Annie. She picked up the book and leaned her back against the wall, sitting down on the floor and letting time pass by as she read the notes.
At dinner, everyone except the Careers, as Olive had decided to nickname them as well, sat alone at different tables, while the group sat together. The trainee had insisted that she couldn't take the book with her, which somewhat saddened Olive. The notes were extremely similar to Annie's brief explanation of all the plants she knew. It was fascinating to read it. Her first thought had been right, it reminded her of home.
During the last hours of training, Olive kept being in her spot by the plant station, reading the book until she had memorised every name and plant. Within the last hour, she did the test, which she excelled rapidly and moved on to try slingshots during the last minutes.
Later, while eating supper on her district's floor, her mentors asked all types of questions to their two tributes. From the stations, they were in, to who they were with. Of course, her partner said she had been with One and Two all day long, which seemed to actually have been their mentors' idea.
"I was alone all day," Olive stated. "Mostly at the edible plant station. The book they have is fascinating."
She didn't intervene many times after that. Not even to listen to her district partner talk. Her mind was in another world, thinking of finishing her meal rapidly to go to the roof. This time, reminding herself to take a jacket with her.
Up on the roof, the breeze became wind in no time. What once was a peaceful breeze that engulfed her as she watched the sunset, almost knocked her to the ground minutes later. Trying to get away from there, she accidentally ended up in a place with potted trees and flowers.
"Such a beautiful garden, right?" A voice, which by now she could distinguish without turning around, said behind her.
"Indeed it is, Finnick," Olive laughed slightly, turning around to see her mentor, who was closer than she had expected him to be. "What can I do for you? Since you always seem to come find me."
"Oh, nothing like that, Olive. I was just bored and felt like coming to see if the damsel in distress needed my help again." He joked, walking past her to show her a place under a tree, which was loud enough for no one else to be able to hear them.
"I thought you didn't consider me a damsel. I wonder if I should be flattered or not," she said, sitting beside him under the tree. "Days are passing by way too quickly for my liking."
"It happens. Don't worry, though. You'll do fine," he promised, causing Olive to let out a bitter chuckle. "You don't trust me? I thought we were past that stage, Olive."
"It's not that I don't trust you. It's that you have no actual way to know that. What if I'm killed by a mutt that appears out of nowhere? Or if the arena is one I have no idea of how to work with? Or if the Gamemakers decide I'm not providing enough show, so they kill me themselves with an earthquake or something similar? It wouldn't be the first time that happens. Also―" she mumbled, speaking more and more quickly until Finnick had to stop her.
"All right. First of all, when that happened it was because that tribute was literally eating the corpses' hearts, not because he wasn't providing a good show," he tried to reason, only to be interjected by her.
"Yeah, but the audience was displeased with him. If they had loved his cannibalism, he would have become the victor," she pointed out, running her fingers through her hair in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.
"And you think the audience will be displeased with you? Olive, you have a compelling story, the skills, and the character to pull it off. You don't even have to sell anything to the Capitol like the others. Everything you have to tell them is just the truth," Finnick said, hugging his knees before asking. "What's the matter? What are you really worried about?"
Olive sighed, ruffling her own hair out of pure stress. "I'm not good at storytelling. Not with strangers, at least. I'm afraid I'll say something stupid during the interview with Caesar. Heck, I'm capable of even insulting everyone in their faces . . . Oh, God. What if I fuck up during the private session with the Gamemakers?"
"OK, let's start with the private session since it's closer than the interview," he muttered with a soft chuckle. "How do you think you would fuck up? Because I think you'll amaze them. Actually, I think they would even give you a ten if it weren't because you have to get a low score."
"I have to get a low score?" She asked, turning her head to look at him, perplexed. It was the first time she had heard of it.
"Did Librae not tell you yet? Since you have been hiding your abilities, it would be best for you not to get an extremely high score. We can work with a six or seven just fine. No need for a nine or ten. That will only get you higher on One and Two's killing list." He explained, causing Olive to nod. It made sense. If an average person suddenly pulled a score of ten, everyone would be suspicious and, therefore, the person would become a target.
"I guess you're right," she uttered, keeping her eyes low as her hands fidgeted on her knees. She felt cold. Even though she had brought a jacket expecting a slight breeze, she hadn't expected such wind. Just as she brought her hands in front of her mouth to blow on them to get them from being freezing cold, another jacket was laid over her shoulders. "Thank you very much. But at this rate, you'll get a cold yourself. We wouldn't want you ending up sick while I'm battling to keep my life, would we? I need all my mentors at their finest."
"I won't get sick from this much. If you're so worried about me, let's go to the stairs. The wind won't knock you down there," he said, a mocking grin plastered on his face as he helped her up.
"You saw that?" She questioned, perplexed. "How long have you been here?"
"More or less a minute before that happened. I actually called your name, and you didn't even hear me," he laughed, remembering how she had stumbled out of nowhere, having to grip onto the first thing she could grab a hold of to not fall. "Grab my hand. We wouldn't want you to be blown away by the wind."
Olive chuckled slightly while shaking her head, though she still grabbed a hold of his hand until they closed the door to the stairs behind them. On the way, she had indeed almost fallen again. "Am I that light, or is it the wind that's too strong?"
"Both," he answered briefly while taking a seat at the top of the stairs. "What? Don't tell me you'll run away from me again today, too. Let me remind you that you're still wearing my jacket. So if you want to run, at least give it to me properly. Don't throw it, all right?"
"Shut up," she snickered, taking his jacket off her shoulders to leave it over his head. "Happy? Or is this too improper for Mr Crescentia?"
"Excuse you, Miss Cresta, but I'm a single man. Therefore, the rightful title would be 'Mister Odair'," he argued playfully, taking the jacket off his head to leave it on his lap.
"God, you sounded just like Piscia right there. Are you sure you're not married to her?" Olive joked, laughing softly at Finnick's playful annoyed face. "OK. OK. You're a single man. Jeez, Finnick, you can't take a joke."
They stared at each other, trying to hold back their laughter until they couldn't control them any longer, and burst out laughing. Feeling more comfortable than before, Olive sat next to him, trying to stop laughing.
After a couple of minutes of comfortable silence, Finnick spoke while getting up. "Let's go back. You'll need all the energy you can keep from now on. And believe me, putting up with Caesar during the interview is not simple."
"Don't say that," she whined, letting out a sigh as she got up to follow him towards the fourth floor. "If it was difficult for you, I can't even imagine how bad it'll be for me. I might even insult him."
"Oh, yeah. That might happen," he laughed, imagining how the crowd would react to such a scenario. "Don't worry. Just replace Caesar in your mind with someone you trust and reply as if you were talking to them. It's that simple."
"The people I trust already know everything about me," Olive stated, looking down as they passed the seventh floor.
"I don't think I know everything about you. Or Librae. Ron. Mags. Use any of us," he said. "I mean, I hope you trust us. We're your mentors, after all."
"I trust Mags," she admitted, waiting for him to do any kind of playful pouting to make fun of him. However, it strangely never came. "I also trust you, idiot. Why would I cry in front of you if I didn't? Contrary to what you might think, I still have some pride left."
"Yeah . . . get ready to let go of that little pride you have left," he muttered, although this time it didn't sound like one of his usual jokes. It was almost like an actual warning.
"Will it help me survive?" She asked, trying to understand Finnick's sudden change of behaviour, just as they reached their floor, where their rooms were completely in opposite directions.
"No, it will help you keep your family," he mumbled and then left. Without further words. He just left after that brief statement that Olive was still trying to comprehend.
What the hell does he mean, 'keep your family'? Will they go anywhere if I keep my pride? But how will I lose it? Olive thought on the way to her room. Just as she opened the door, she encountered the room that could easily be bigger than her entire house. Deathly luxury. Is it the same for Victors? Once you're a tribute, whether you die or not, this luxury becomes your restriction? But how? And how could it possibly involve their families?
How ironic that some of her questions would be answered by no other than her nightmares themselves. All night long, whenever she slept anything, her brother appeared in her dreams. Sweet, innocent Theo. Her cherished brother, whom she had volunteered for . . . being murdered in front of her without being able to do anything about it.
When she woke up, the first thing she saw was always the same. The pure white roses by the bed. So beautiful and well-preserved. The same roses President Snow wore in every recording they saw from Four, even when he received them to the Training Centre from his balcony. He was so high and mighty. With all the power one could receive in Panem. If someone could hurt her family, even after becoming a victor, wouldn't that be him?
However, although some questions had indeed been answered, new ones popped up. Why would he threaten the victor's families? What could he get from that? The victors already did all he wanted. They went to the annual visits. Mentored during the Hunger Games. And even were ready to be intruded on by everyone in their lives.
I always wondered why they would put up with all that. I thought they liked it. But it was far from that, huh? Wait, now that I think about it. Weren't Finnick, Librae, and Ron rumoured to have hundreds of lovers in the Capitol? But their attitudes don't seem as if they would enjoy any Capitol person's company. I think they even struggle to put up with Piscia sometimes. She thought, staring at the ceiling as if this held all the answers to her questions.
Looking through the window, Olive could tell it wasn't even close to the break of dawn, which meant there were still long hours until training. "I better go clear my head," she mumbled to herself, getting up from her bed to walk around her district's floor. There wasn't anyone awake apart from a couple of guards, who probably were there to ensure the tributes didn't escape or commit suicide.
As she passed the mentor's hallway to go to the balcony, a few mumbles coming from one of the doors startled her. She didn't know who it was, but it seemed as if they were battling their way out of a nightmare. Just like she had been doing for hours, or how Annie sometimes did before the reapings.
She tried to ignore it and walk faster towards the balcony, but deep down she knew she couldn't leave that person suffering. If roles were reversed, she would like for someone to shake her awake out of the nightmare. With a sigh, she turned around and listened in closely, trying to decide which door the mumbles came from.
The last door on the right, that was it. Quietly, she opened the door, encountering the unsettling sight of Finnick tossing and turning around on his bed while trying to call for someone. The name was completely unintelligible. However, Olive didn't pay much attention to it either. It wasn't something she should pry in when she barely knew him.
"Finnick, it's OK. It's just a nightmare," she whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder carefully to make sure he wouldn't jump at the contact. His mumbles continued, although this time they were quieter. "It's just a nightmare. You'll be fine. But you have to wake up first. Finnick, wake up."
In the span of a second, Finnick's eyes shot open, panting slightly before noticing Olive's presence. Still breathing rapidly, he sat up on the bed and looked at her. Perhaps trying to make sure she wasn't part of his nightmare. "Olive?"
"Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?" she questioned, letting go of his shoulder to sit near him by the side of the bed. "It was just a nightmare, Finnick."
He stayed silent, glancing at the covers before muttering. "No, it wasn't just a nightmare. It was a reminder."