The First Annual Hunger Games Contest Book Entries

Training: Day III

The following morning started off the same: getting dressed, grabbing some fruit as I rushed out the door, and racing as quietly as I could down the stairs to the training center.

Denver was already by the sword fighting station when I got to the training center. He had his sword out and ready.

I jog over and say happily, "Hey there, Ten."
He turns and looks at me, "How's it going, princess?"
"Oh, the usual." I reply, grabbing a sword from the rack.
"Snapping necks and breaking hearts?"
"Nothing less."
"That's what I like to hear." He says, smiling.
"Well, I hate to disappoint but I've come to collect. I do believe we have a date set?" I question, holding my sword up.

Denver laughs and says, "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Well, are you going to stand there picking at technicalities or are we going to actually get to work?" I ask, disregarding his comment.
"Lead the way then, princess." He says, smiling.

I smile at him and go to the padded floor, getting into stance as he was. "Let's see what you've got then." He tells me, smiling wickedly.

"You ready?" I ask, boredom in my voice, getting out of stance.
"I dunno, are you ready to have your ass handed to you?"

I make a face and exclaim, "Quilliam, that's disgusting!"

Denver laughs and says defensively, "You take things too literally, Cher."

I get just as defensive and retort, "Oh, come on! I know you're kidding, but manners! That's no way to talk to a lady. Especially one with a sword who's about ready to slice you into little pieces." I smirk at him and get back into a fighting stance.

"You talk a big game, princess but I think you're stalling." Denver says, raising an eyebrow.
"Princesses don't start fights, they end them." I tell him, giving him my reasoning.

"I'll do the honors then," he says, narrowing his eyes and positing his sword, "En garde!"

I laugh and show off a counter move I learned from Nerias. That's a bit old, don't you think?" I question him.
Denver blocks my strikes as I move forward with my sword directing the way. "With everything new around us, I say we could use some of the old ways."

"Whatever you say, Denver," I laugh and bat my lashes at him flirtatiously, saying in an overwhelmingly sweet voice, "Come on, you call this fighting? I would think the king of sword fighting could do better."

Denver smirks and counters," Oh darlin' I'm just warming you up."

The sound of the two swords clanging against each other filled the loud room, tributes left and right would steal glances at Denver and I fighting and taunting each other with our words.

"For what?" I ask him, getting cocky with my newfound skills,"To show you how it's done?"
"No," Denver starts, "To show you how it's done."
Denver slips his sword into my guard and cuts his sword against my hand.

"Ow, hey!" I exclaim, dropping my sword and holding my palm.

"Oh, I'm sorry, princess," Denver says sarcastically, "I must have overestimated your capabilities."
I roll my eyes and look at my palm, a thin red line rises to the surface of my broken skin. "Go fuck yourself, Quilliam." I mutter, trying to hide my pain. It hurt like a little bitch, damn.

Denver laughs and expresses, "I have people for that, Lovelock."
I don't bother looking up at him. Instead I focus on the spilling blood and biting my tongue to keep from lashing out.

"The least you could do is ask if she's alright, you ass." A new, but familiar voice cuts through the air. Atlas.

"Are you alright, Cherokee?" Denver asks flatly.