After The Storm (A Hunger Games Fanfic)

Training Day 1: Snow was a Vampire

"Good morning tributes, and welcome to the first day of training!"

A few of the tributes yawn. They haven't been able to sleep, despite the excitement of the parade and the fact that they didn't get back to the building until midnight. Flora is more tired than anybody; she barely closed her eyes, thinking that soon she might close them for good. Instead, she wandered around her room, marvelling at the space and touching every surface, just to see what it felt like. Now she looks around the training room, intimidated by the gleaming surfaces and bright lights.

The woman talking to them looks surprisingly...normal. Her hair isn't her natural colour, but it's mercifully plain, just simple jet black. She wears the same outfit as the tributes; black combats and beige shirts. After all, this isn't a fashion parade anymore.

"Now, many of you may have heard about this place from your victors, but for those who haven't I am going to explain, so be patient, please," she says sternly, shooting a no-nonsense glance at the Careers. Savannah nods, sat bolt upright like she's drinking everything in, though Jax flops backwards onto the floor with a sigh and exclaims, "Can we please get on with it? I want to slash some dummies!"

He doesn't realise, but he automatically adopts a faint Capitol accent, which doesn't do him any favours with the other tributes, who usually only put on the accent for the fun of it.

"As I was saying," the woman continues, relieved that Trey and Jewel, even though they aren't listening, aren't interrupting either, "Here you will have the chance to practice with different weapons, as well as skills that could be useful in the arena such as camouflage, knot tying and plant identification. Although it may be tempting to prioritise the use of weapons, I would recommend not doing so. Statistically, around fifteen percent of tributes die of natural causes, and that figures rises to twenty percent when you include injuries that were not necessarily fatal, had they paid attention to some of the less popular stations. This is your life. Don't leave it to chance."

Rain wants to point out that with the reapings, it has essentially been left to chance anyway. Sat next to her, Gavin senses the heavy irony and, knowing that an intelligent girl like Rain will notice it too, gives her a smile. In the simple and unpadded training clothes, she looks smaller than yesterday, and decidedly more vulnerable. But this way she looks more like the girl from home, and he prefers it. 

Every time Rain looks at Gavin, she remembers staring through a cracked window, watching a lonely figure in the fields desperately sprinkling his water ration over the baked ground.

"Now, it is essential that you remember this, because there have been some incidents in the last few years. Under no circumstances are you allowed to test your skills against the other tributes. You must not fight each other. Expert instructors are provided for you to practice combat skills. Try not to break them. It costs a lot in compensation."

The 'expert instructors' smirk, knowing that it is nearly impossible for the tributes to even get close to causing them damage.

"The next two days will follow the same pattern; three hour's morning training, followed by an hour for lunch, followed by three hours in the afternoon. After that, you will retire to your floors for interview training. However, in two days time there will be a morning session only. After lunch, you will undergo individual assessments. Then the room will be all yours to show off to the Gamemakers any skills that might convince them that you can win. This will decide your tribute score, essential because many potential sponsors use tribute scores as the base for their decisions. Whether you want to aim for a lower score and surprise people, or go all out, is for you to discuss with your mentors."

The Careers all smirk at each other. They look different this year; the District One and Two tributes are accompanied by Boo - sorry, Beau - of District Three and Jemma hangs around the edges, twiddling absently with a strand of pale golden hair and basically trying her best to look useless. Neither of the Four tributes are sat with the group. Apollo isn't even sat and instead lounges on one of the pull-up frames, gazing around at everybody with a critical eye. Avery sits on her own in a corner, looking remarkably like she is sulking and snapping at anybody who goes near her.