Promises of a Sacrificial Lamb |Destiel x The Hunger Games|

-12-

I'm not sure why, but I'm not nearly as unnerved about stepping foot in the training gymnasium as I was yesterday.  Maybe it's because Cas and I have a detailed plan for the day.  Maybe it's because the initial meeting of the other tributes is done and over with.  Maybe it's because I've unintentionally branded myself as a feisty bruiser from my fight with the District 1 boy, and now everyone who isn't a Career is looking at me with a strange mix of admiration and unbridled fear.  Whatever the reason for my burst of confidence, I'm not complaining.

Cas hasn't forgotten a single thing from the edible plants and insects station.  My knowledge is improving, slowly but surely.  The two of us manage to start a fire from scratch in half the time it took us yesterday.  Our snares and knot-tying skills are coming along, too, as well as our subpar camouflage abilities.  We briefly visit the shelter-making station to gather a few tips and tricks, and then we're ready to tackle the weapon stations.

Most of the Careers have exhausted the weapons and moved onto some of the intimidating obstacle courses in the corners of the gymnasium, leaving the two of us—along with a handful of tributes from the other outlying districts—plenty of breathing room to get started.  I can tell Cas is nervous, but he assures me he's ready and still wants to follow through with our plan, so that's exactly what we do.

We start at the axe station but quickly realize that neither of us is built to wield such a thing.  The axe is far too large and cumbersome for me to swing around effectively, and Cas doesn't have enough body weight to keep himself balanced during the swings.  We cross axes off our list of potential weapons.

We try the spear station next.  It goes swimmingly compared to the axe station, but I don't feel like I'm in total control with a spear in my hand.  It's awkwardly long and light, and precision is an absolute must.  I'm fairly strong and have a decent throwing arm, but something about the extensive, streamline body of it and how accurate I have to be with my throws just doesn't sit well with me.  Cas throws well, too, but when I mention my concerns, he agrees wholeheartedly.  Spears are an option, but they will not be our go-to.

The archery station is our next stop.  It takes the two of us a few rounds to get a feel for the tightness of the string, but overall, our performance isn't half bad.  After the initial first-time misses, we actually start to hit the targets in satisfactory locations, places that could cause some serious damage to someone.  It isn't an overly pleasant thought, but we're just shooting at targets.  That's what I try to focus on.

With our spirits lifted from our success at the archery station, we wander over to the sword station, and my hopes only continue to skyrocket.  The sword feels perfectly balanced in my grasp.  It isn't too light.  It isn't too heavy or bulky or difficult to wield.  It's just right, and in a way, it reminds me of the sickles back home, and I've worked with those for years.  I have an amazing feeling about this station.

My hunch turns out to be correct.  I excel at this station.  After learning the basics of postures and wielding techniques from the trainer, I practice on the dummies with gratifying ease.  It's almost like I've been practicing for months, maybe even years.  Cas doesn't do half bad at this station, either, but after a while, he simply stops to watch me, eyes wide and brows raised with surprise and wonder.  That's how I feel on the inside, because I'm even surprising myself.  I'm no expert, of course, but I show decent prowess with this weapon, and I'm more excited about that fact than I ever thought I'd be.  I just might have to try sparring with a trainer now to really test it out.

Finally, we reach the knife-throwing station.  Part of me, deep down, has been dreading this station all day, and one look at the expression on Cas' face tells me he is, too.  His brother was killed by a girl who probably practiced her deadly skills at this exact same station six years ago.  I want to tell Cas we can skip this, that we can find something else for him to work on, but he doesn't let me.  He takes a deep, unsteady breath, and he approaches the empty knife-throwing station head-on.  Once again, I admire his courage and tenacity.