𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝟎𝟏. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐥

— 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

I narrowly avoided the blow meant for my neck, rolling along the ground to my right. The sword clanged against the rock wall overhead and for a brief second I caught a glimpse of my life flash in the reflected light of the steel blade.

I scrambled backward, trying to find my footing before my opponent could take advantage of my momentary weakness. I snatched my own sword which had clattered to the ground a few inches to the left following my last minute dive. I was more familiar with the weapon than I cared to admit, and why shouldn't I be since I'd spent the last three weeks training with it.

I brushed a few stray hair out of my eyes, loosely tucking them behind my ears since they refused to remain with the rest of my braid. I focused on my breath, and slowing down just enough to act and think at the same time.

Romulus slowly turned to face me. His eyes shining two separate colors in the light as they looked at me with disappointment. Without the need to utter a word, I knew our sparring session was over.

Frustrated, I huffed and a few of those stubborn red strands flopped back into my eyes. I swore the corner of his lip twitched almost like he wanted to smile, but he masked the action well. He leaned his sword against the wall then approached, physically correcting one or two flaws with my form before stepping back to observe further back.

"Let's go over your swing technique again."

"My technique is fine," I corrected. "You said it was practically perfect this morning. I'm just tired."

"Is that why you hesitated?" he asked, finally addressing the unspoken elephant. "I was vulnerable and you didn't take advantage of an opportunity to make a killing strike."

"Which doesn't mean there's anything wrong with my technique," I agreed.

"There's still enough room between perfect and practically perfect to get you killed," he countered.

"Alright, we'll go again," I said, lifting my sword to enter a ready position.

Romulus shook his head. "You're tired. You need rest. You've been at this for the past twenty-four hours. Meaning I've been awake for the past twenty-four hours."

"I need to be ready," I insisted. "I can do this."

"Swing a sword? Hold your own in a fight?" Romulus questioned rhetorically. "That I have no doubt you can do. It's what happens at the end of all this that has me worried."

I slowly lowered my sword. My expression of confidence fell, revealing the cracks of insecurity beneath. "You don't think I have what it takes."

"Honestly. No." He didn't hesitate to agree. "I don't think you have the ability to take someone's life."

"Then you don't know me very well," I contradicted. My tone was bitter as I crossed my arms, keeping my sword pointed at the ground.

"You're right," he agreed again. "I don't know everything about you. But today marks the start of the ninth week we've spent trapped in this frozen wasteland, and three weeks since you rescued me from the brink of death. How many tributes have you taken out yourself?"