'Sometimes I wish I died that day. It would have spared me all this trauma.'
In which Calla Forte wishes she wouldn't have made it through her games. A girl who never forgets, faces her worst memories every day.
She can't sleep at night without see...
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------- five ------
The next day came in a hurry. One could smell the changes it brought. It smelled much more grave and severe. After all, every one of the tributes came a little closer to death. The grim reaper wouldn't wait long until he struck.
That day training began. It was much different from three years ago once again. Most of the tributes didn't care enough to arrive on time. None of them had the patience to listen to the same monologue that they had to hear years before.
------ five ------
"In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead. 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," started the woman.
Everyone knew she was lying. She herself knew. The odds were highly against the lot of them. It was acknowledged by all, that it was the careers who were most likely to get out of there alive. They were trained for that very moment since they were six years old. And if their training had been more varied - like Calla assumed at first - it would surely have been one of them making it out alive.
"First no fighting with the other tributes. You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena," was the rule being broken first. Looking back Calla had not the slightest idea why, but the brute from District 1 attacked the boy from District 4 only an hour after the speech. It must have been something silly though. Nevertheless, the poor boy made it onto the other one's list.
"There are four compulsory exercises, the rest will be individual training. My advise is, don't ignore the survival skills. Everyone 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."
The brunette took that advise she knew that she wouldn't develop into a master of any weapon within that short amount of time, but she could freshen up her survival skills. It didn't take her long to differentiate all the lethal from the harmless plants. How to make a fire was a skill she quickly acquired. Within the next days she learned to cleanse wounds, to find and purify water from germs, to build snares and the basics of knife throwing (the one thing she didn't master).
------ five ------
This time Calla changed her strategy and went directly towards the knives station. This time she would be competing against tributes even deadlier than last time. They were intellectual, strong, skilled and as lethal as nightlock berries.
She knew she wouldn't be so lucky this time. She hoped Johanna would be though. The girl was great with an axe, but that didn't mean she'd make it to the end. Brutus was great with the spear, Enobaria with her teeth, Finnick with the trident and fire girl with her bow. Calla knew for sure that Finnick wouldn't hurt Johanna, but she didn't count out the rest of them.
Then there were Wiress and Beetee - or "nuts and volts" how Johanna liked to call the two of them - both genies that could easily outsmart Calla if they tried. Yet they failed at making a simple fire. Ironically it was the girl on fire helping them while all Calla Forte did was stare at the scene.
Something about Katniss Everdeen was off. It wasn't that she knew so much about the forest and survival, more so how well-fed she had been for a girl from the poorest part of the poorest District. Next to that, she had strong muscles and knew how to use the bow and arrow during her games, even though it is forbidden to own any weapons in 12.
There was no way the girl on fire didn't break that rule and there was no way President Snow would let this go without punishing the girl for her rebellion in some way. He just had to do it discreetly to not anger the crowd that loved her and her family. Thus, Snow couldn't punish her like Johanna back then.
"You know it's impolite to stare," spoke a voice from behind her. Quickly the brunette turned around, hearing the familiar voice. There she stood, dressed in just leggings and a sports bra, sweat dripping down her forehead from all the exercise she had already done. And once again Calla stared before speaking what has been on her mind for too long.
"It's her fault that we're here, isn't it?" her glum voice but a whisper. Johanna did not even dare to stir before finally shaking her head. She gently took Calla by her shoulders and turned her around. They were now looking directly at the Game Makers. "It's all their fault," she whispered into Calla's ear.
------ five ------
Bentley felt helpless. He knew nothing. He could do nothing. He knew he'd die. All his hope had vanished after the first training session.
Bentley Forte had been a sickly child. The boy was much smaller than his peers and weighed as little as a feather. The littlest virus already knocked him out off his socks. He was easy game. Every other tribute could have taken him out, if it weren't for the fact that he was a tremendously fast runner.
"I'm hard to catch. If they can't catch me they can't kill me," said Rue, the little girl from District 11, during her interview, the day before the 74th Hunger Games began. That reminded Calla of Bentley. Rue reminded her of Bentley. Both so young, both so innocent and of course both didn't make it. Both killed by the Capitol.
------ five ------
"Now why don't you just imagine that the target you're aiming at is Snow," continued the girl from 7. Most of the knives Calla threw hit the target's arms or shoulders and some didn't even come close to it.
"Is this how you do it when you swing your axe?" asked Calla amused. It earned her a chuckle.
"Every time sweetheart." The brunette huffed before turning all her attention back to the target. It wasn't bullseye this time either, but at least her knife his the target, this time it was its right side.
"You seriously have to up your game. I can't keep an eye on you all the time," spoke Johanna, after seeing that the girl still didn't improve. It was her mission to protect her friend or at least to teach her how to protect herself.
"Oh, like you're an expert at knife throwing. I bet you aren't any better than I. And anyhow, you don't need to protect me"
Johanna Mason loved a good challenge. So she picked up one of the light throwing knives. And of course she was better than Calla Forte. Although, the knife didn't hit the heart, it was only centimetres away from it. Quite impressive if one considers that she barely ever used a throwing knife. The victor gave Calla a big smirk.
"Okay, maybe I'll find some highly poisonous berries, again, drain my knives with them, once again, and you know, let the poison do the job for me. Again?" she sighed. Her strategy was getting old, she knew it. In addition, it wouldn't help her much during combat, and she highly doubted that she already make use of it during the Cornucopia, the bloodbath.
"Seriously 6, you have to be a bit more creative this time. I don't think, the shit you did last time will bring you far. You'll be dealing with experienced killers - like myself - this year. Just that different from me, many of them won't be on your side. So let's face it, if you don't get any better at what you are doing, you wouldn't make it through the first day without my help. And I really don't want you to die."
