peeta mellark ༄

4. you're the sun

lyrics, your best american girl by mitski

"in two weeks, 23 of you will be dead."

"one of you will be alive. who that is depends how well you pay attention over the next four 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."

you grimaced at your instructor, your arms crossed and tense. all 23 of you were dressed in light athletic outfits, convenient for what your objective was today. which was, basically, to prepare.

weapons of all sorts were put out for your use, from swords and knives, to bows and weights. no more smiling and waving, now it was really time to get ready for the arena.

"there are four compulsory exercises, the rest 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."

with that, you were dismissed. you lingered for a moment, picking apart who went for what. you noticed the district one and two tributes head for the weapons and physical exercises, which was expected. most headed for the physical exercises, while some trickled toward the survival based skills. the red-haired girl immediately headed for the exercises involving intelligence, or quick wit.

there were dozens of things to do. there were climbing nets and bars, dummies to practice on, shooting and throwing targets. spears, bows, weights, traps, knives, swords, you name it. cautiously, you picked up a knife from one of the tables, twisting the blade in your hand and watching the light bend over it.

"you gonna use that?" a voice sounded. turning, you recognized once again the girl from two. you blinked at her for a moment, before handing the knife forwards, palm up. she took it, not breaking eye contact. her eyes were cold and serious. "stick to your stuff, twelve. leave the heavy lifting to us," she jeered before backing away.

you internally sighed. she was trying to intimidate you, by looking like once of the big kids. "exposure can kill, sweetheart!" you called out as her back was turned. you smiled to yourself as you saw her shoulders tense, but she kept walking. you turned away, feeling an extra pump of determination. you weren't going to let anyone think that they were better than you.

you inhaled as you approached the forest replicas. on it, there were survival stations, involving making a fire and setting traps. you paused for a moment as you noticed the station was occupied by two young boys, trying to start up a fire with no luck. standing straight, you pressed on.

one boy nudged the other as he realized you were coming up to them. they straightened themselves, staring up at you with anxious eyes.

you swallowed. "need help?"

visibly they relaxed. "okay," the younger one replied.

you kneeled down beside them, placing your hands over the stick used to start the fire. "what districts are you from?" you wondered, trying to make this encounter less awkward.

"three," one replied. he looked to be the older of the two, with brown hair and eyes and ashen skin. "he's from nine," he answered for the younger boy.

"thats technology and grain, right? you've probably never had to start a fire before," you pointed out.

the nine boy nodded. "my parents always lit the fireplace for us."

your heart banged in your chest, and for a moment you felt grief for this dead boy walking. so young, too young.

"well, basically, you have to spin it downwards like this," you demonstrated. "and after a while you'll get a spark. try it," you leaned back, letting the district three boy try it out as the other kid watched intently.