A Victor's Ally - The 73rd Hunger Games (Fanfiction)

four

Waking up was near impossible. It's not because I wasn't a morning person - which I'm not, by the way - but because I had woken up multiple times during the night, each time harder to fall back to sleep than the previous.

"Get up! It's almost nine o'clock! Are you trying to get me fired?" Hilda tore the blankets away from my body, ushering me up out of bed and into the shower.

The shower was a whole other story in itself - a mass of buttons and handles that I didn't even attempt to use. Once I had exited the bathroom, I was practically shoved into my training suit, a tight, flexible number made for vigorous training.

I studied myself in the mirror, scrutinizing my body. The skin-tight material showed off my athletic body, something I normally would have hated. Most of the girls in my district were tall and thin, only some with strong arms that worked in the fields. Perhaps, instead of being weak and easily breakable, I would be taken as a serious contender. I didn't want to be dismissed as a bloodbath tribute.

I wouldn't go down that easy.

My thoughts were interrupted by Hilda's noisy chatter, which lasted the entire way to the training room. I barely had time to grab breakfast on my way out. The small loaf of bread I held in my hand reminded me of home, and I felt a sharp pang in my chest. I paused briefly to wonder where Atlas was, but I figured he was already down there.

The room was pretty similar to how I imagined it: wide, open, and filled to the brim with obstacle courses, weaponry, and survival stations. The career pack was already in the center of the room, looking intimidating with the giant number ones, twos, and fours labeled on the back of their body suits. I spotted the District Seven and Eleven tributes, my gaze lingering a bit longer on the muscular eighteen-year-old from Seven. Something in his gaze reminded me of Atlas, as if he had his sight set on a prize, and would get it no matter what the cost. That thought alone was enough for me to turn away, taking in the remaining tributes.

My eyes landed on Atlas, studying the other tributes as well from across the room. I followed his sights toward the lanky tributes from district five. They were some of the younger tributes, and I was sick to my stomach when I realized Atlas was looking at them as if they were his prey. I decided I would wait until lunch to analyze the other tributes, since it was only making the feeling of dread grow stronger.

I tuned out the instructor who was explaining the stations, which probably wasn't a wise idea. I looked around at the weapons, deciding which I would be best with. The axe caught my eye, but I didn't have the willpower to pull it off. I would leave that to District Seven. It seemed almost inhuman, chopping a human like you would a tree, but I supposed all weapons would end up with the same result.

I tried my hand at throwing knives a few times before when Luke would teach me fighting skills out in the fields, but most of it was just joking around. Still, it was something I was familiar with. I wasn't weak, but my small stature wouldn't do much against the larger tributes in hand to hand combat. Throwing knives were long range weapons, which would be the best option.

Neither Luke nor Barrick had bothered to discuss strategy with me, so I was left to my own judgment. I liked to consider myself a gymnast, as I always had a knack for contorting my body in weird ways. There was a smattering of trees that lined the grain fields near my house, and I loved to swing around the sorry excuse of a forest. I decided to avoid the obstacle courses for the moment, seeing as it probably wouldn't be too wise to show my strengths right away.

After a few tries with the throwing knives, I learned that I wasn't terrible with them. Not career material, but definitely not nearly as bad as the poor boy from District 6.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the District 10 tributes in deep conversation, sending pointed looks my way. I shifted my body in order to view the tributes better, trying to pretend like I wasn't paying attention to them. The boy, around 17, had his hand placed on his district partner's back, who looked to be no older than 16. They both shared similar hair color, a fair, light brown, but strikingly different faces. While the female had rosy, full cheeks and plump lips, the older boy had a tight smile and a thinner face. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, causing her to nod vigorously. I made eye contact with the male and he turned away abruptly, but not before his eyes flashed with something I couldn't quite catch.