1 - Uncharted Waters [Hunger Games]

15 - Target Locked

Chapter 15

"Rise" by Katy Perry

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"What if I miss?"

Mira's voice wavered as she watched Destan weigh the spear in his hands, testing its heft. The trainer stationed nearby observed silently, clearly assessing the pair. Though he had offered guidance, Destan had politely declined, his focus unwavering.

"What if you don't?" Destan replied coolly, his eyes fixed on the target ahead. With one swift motion, he hurled the spear. It sailed through the air with force, striking the dummy dead center. The thud of impact turned heads, and the other tributes paused, momentarily captivated.

He handed the spear to Mira, who stared at it, her uncertainty evident. "Here, you try," he said, holding it out to her.

Mira hesitated. "But the ones back home are heavier... and the stakes weren't like this. I've speared fish, not dummies—and definitely not people." Her voice softened on the last part, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Destan stepped closer, his voice steady. "That's exactly why you've got an advantage. If you can spear something as small as a fish, imagine what you can do to a larger target." He gestured toward the dummy. Mira tensed at his proximity, her grip tightening on the spear she hadn't realized she'd taken.

"But it's different," she protested. "You've trained in the academy your whole life—"

"And you've been fishing your whole life," he interrupted, stepping back. "You know what to do Jelly. Now try it—there's no harm in practicing."

Mira bit her lip, glancing at him. Destan stood a few paces away, arms crossed, his expectant gaze locked on hers. With a sigh, she positioned herself, mimicking the stance she used back home.

Just as she raised the spear to throw, Destan moved swiftly, grabbing the blunt end. Mira staggered slightly, shooting him a confused look.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Not wrong," Destan replied, stepping behind her. His hands adjusted her arm and stance with precise movements. "You're fine if your target's below you. But if it's straight ahead..." He gestured to the dummy, his fingers pointing slightly upward. "You need to aim higher. Unless, of course, you're aiming for its feet." He smirked, stepping back to let her try again.

Mira nodded, absorbing his advice. She eyed the dummy, took a steadying breath, and released the spear. It soared through the air, hitting the target's shoulder.

"Not bad," Destan commented, his grin faint. But his tone shifted as his eyes met hers, serious now. "Again."

Lunch had finally arrived after a grueling morning of training, and Mira's hands were sore and red from relentless spear-throwing. The dining room was divided—most districts sat quietly, eating in hushed tones. The careers, however, gathered at their own table, their lively banter and loud laughs echoing across the room.

Destan sat silently, keeping to himself, his focus on his plate as if uninterested in the antics around him. Mira, in contrast, politely joined the conversation when necessary, answering questions but steering clear of the cruel teasing that often surfaced.

As she nibbled on fish-shaped bread—its familiar flavor transporting her momentarily back to District 4—her gaze wandered across the room. Most of the tributes avoided the careers' table entirely, but one stood out: the boy from District 7. Again, he was staring, his unblinking eyes fixed on Mira. The intensity of his gaze made her skin crawl.