𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐒𝐈𝐗.

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

Steel and concrete surrounded the Tributes. Steel doors, concrete walls, steel weapons, concrete floors. Everywhere she turned there was something designed to kill her, swords, axes, tridents, throwing knives. All steel and sharp.

The room was both dim and had harsh lighting that made the weapons glint ominously. The thin clothes Rosie was dressed in did little to conserve her heat, something the room without a shred of sunlight lacked. Thankfully the goosebumps that blanketed her skin were mostly covered in the material that hugged her body tightly.

"In two weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead." The woman walking the Tributes through the training room explained bluntly. "One of you will be alive. Who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next four days, particularly to what I'm about to say." The dark-skinned, completely normal-looking woman, glanced at the Tributes. She used her years of experience watching Tributes train and seeing who came out victorious to put her own bet on who was going to win. It wasn't hard to weed out the people who had no hope, the tiny children, but when it came to the older teenagers it became more ambiguous.

Rosie looked at the people surrounding her. So far she'd only spoken to one other Tribute—that being Toby. And she'd thought overnight that she'd probably keep it that way, if he wanted to she'd ally herself with him and stay away from everyone else. If she couldn't have Toby she didn't want anyone.

Wren stared blatantly at Rosie, standing next to her District partner, Jett. When Wren delivered a swift blow to her partner's ribs, the boy also turned and looked at Rosie. It's clear neither District 2 Tribute wanted anything to do with Rosie. Whether the glaring was for intimidation's sake or if it was genuine, Rosie didn't know. She thought it was perhaps due to the extensive coverage in her direction, where it so often highlighted the Career Districts.

"First, no fighting with the other Tributes. You'll have plenty of time for that in 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."

After the explanation everyone split up, Rosie watched as the Tributes from 1 and 2 walked away with each other. She didn't miss the glare over the shoulder Jett gave her.

"Rosie," Toby broke her from her trance. "Are we allies?"

Rosie looked at Toby, realising the plan she'd put together in her head hadn't been said out loud to Toby. "I hoped so, I need some brawn." She joked.

The new allies walked through the expansive training centre, every possible weapon and more Rosie didn't know were a thing, was scattered across the room. Half of them looked like torture devices—they were, she guessed. There were also stands where you could make your own traps to catch food, Rosie stopped at that one.

"Do you know how to set traps?" She asked Toby who was running a finger over the handle of a sword.

He shook his head, "Do you?"

She nodded and began explaining a few simple traps to him, then going over a few knots. She thought it'd be good in the Arena if they both knew how to catch food, it would double the opportunity for fresh food. As Toby caught on quickly to some things, Rosie watched a fight break out between two Tributes—she recognised them as the girl from 7 and the boy from 10. The Peacekeepers tore them apart, the first blood had already been drawn, days before the countdown even began. The boy from 10 now was sporting a bloody nose.