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❝ you may think you're winning ❞
❝ but checkmate. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
I CAN'T HELP BUT feel extremely nervous about the training. For three consecutive days, all tributes practise together in a gymnasium, showing off their skills. Or not. The fact I'm going to have to face all my enemies in a crowded room makes me queasy all over.
Haymitch tells us to keep low profile. I am forbidden from even looking at the display of knives or doing anything that might turn me into a potential threat.
The actual training rooms are below the ground of our building. With these elevators, the ride is less than a minute. The doors open into an enormous space filled with weapons, obstacle courses and more.
In the centre of the room is the head trainer, a tall and athletic woman named Atala that explains the different rules we have to follow.
"In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead. One of you will be alive." she starts, placing her hands onto her hips.
Looking around, my eyes meet Cato's. He gives me another smug smile, which this time I fail to return.
Instead, I dedicate my whole attention to the coach, failing to ignore my hammering heart. I appear emotionless, while the boy from District 2 looks at me with a predatory and chilling gaze.
Anger bubbles at my chest as I still feel his burning gaze imprinting itself on me. Who did he think he was?
Cato Hadley didn't intimidate me, not even for a second.
"Who survives depends on how well you pay attention on the following days, particularly to what I'm about to say."
"First, no fighting with the other tributes. You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. There are four compulsory exercises, the next will be individual training. My advice is don't ignore the survival skills: everybody wants to grab a sword but most of you will die from natural causes, 10% from infection, 20% from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife" the trainer goes on, eyeing every single one of us.
After Atala's finished her speech, I directly head to an empty station where the trainer seems pleased to finally have a student. I come to the evident conclusion that learning knot-tying isn't top priority for the tributes here.
Nevertheless, I stay there for about an hour until I have completely mastered the skill. Then, I join Peeta in his camouflage class, where he mixes all colours in a swirl to match the leaves' and trees'. To my surprise, he's pretty good at it.
"I do the cakes" he admits to me.
"The cakes?" I ask, confused.
Truthfully, I was preoccupied carefully watching the boy from 2 cut off about five dummies' heads with his sword. He swung it around with perfect precision and dangerous talent.
