In Peeta's Eyes CF 15: Allies

During the lunch break our first day of training, I catch up with Katniss as she ladles stew into a bowl.  “How’s it going?” I ask since we have been at different stations all morning.  I’ve spent most of my time throwing knives with Brutus from District 2, painting camouflage with the tributes from District 6, and talking with Johanna Mason as she pummeled the wrestling instructor into the floor.

     Katniss avoids my eyes.  “Good,” she says evasively.  “Fine.  I like the District 3 victors.”

     “Really?  They’re something of a joke to the others.”

     She scowls at me, as if it’s my fault the other victors make fun of them.  “Why does that not surprise me?” she asks sarcastically.

     “Johanna’s nicknamed them Nuts and Volts,” I say unhelpfully.  “I think she’s Nuts and he’s Volts.”

     “And so I’m stupid for thinking they might be useful.”  She’s putting words in my mouth that weren’t even anywhere in my head, and she steamrolls me as I try to reply.  “Because of something Johanna Mason said while she was oiling up her breasts for wrestling.”

     I jump in before she can say anything else.  “Actually, I think the nicknames have been around for years.  And I didn’t mean that as an insult,” I say a bit icily.  We really need to stop fighting pettily like this, but she can be so aggravating and hard-headed.  “I’m just sharing information.”

     “Well, Wiress and Beetee are smart,” Katniss snaps.  She acting like I’ve brought offense against her family and not two people she met only a few hours ago.  And I didn’t even mean for this to be offensive!  “They invent things.  They could tell by sight that a force field had been put up between us and the Gamemakers.  And if we have to have allies, I want them.”  She throws the ladle back into the pot, and the stew spews out and hits us in the shirts.

     “What are you so angry about?” I ask bluntly, trying to wipe the gravy off my training shirt.  “Because I teased you in the elevator?  I’m sorry.  I thought you would just laugh about it.”

     “Forget it.”  She shakes her head.  “It’s a lot of things.

     “Darius?”

     “Darius,” she confirms, “The Games.  Haymitch making us team up with the others.”

     I pause, understanding her wariness.  The last thing I want is to have to kill these people after getting to know them.  “It can just be you and me, you know,” I offer, my voice gentler and not so upset because I get it.

     “I know.”  Her tone is wistful, slightly sad.  “But maybe Haymitch is right.  Don’t tell him I said so, but he usually is, where the Games are concerned.”

     “Well, you can have the final say about our allies,” I promise her.  “But right now, I’m leaning towards Chaff and Seeder.”

     “I’m okay with Seeder, not Chaff,” she says immediately.  “Not yet, anyway.”

     I cock my head towards the mass of tables, where there are empty spots near Seeder and Chaff.  “Come on and eat with him,” I say, and smile.  “I promise, I won’t let him kiss you again.”

     She rolls her eyes at me, but she follows as I sit down across from Chaff.  When we go back into the Training Center, we split up again and I head over to the knot-tying station, where I’m by myself until the tributes from District 9 – Farro and Emmer - join me.  We talk and I follow them to the knife station, where I work with the instructor to teach them how to skin a small animal.  Farro explains to me that since their district is made mostly of grain factories and fields, they don’t know anything about fighting or surviving; he says that he has never had to worry about feeding himself because he comes from one of the well-to-do families of the District.  Emmer, on the other hand, lives on the outskirts of the district, on the edges of the grain fields; she grew up running through them and her lean body shows that.  I figure she isn’t easy to find amongst the grains since her hair is the exact color of the wheat I sometimes use to make bread.

     “Maybe the arena will be a massive wheat field this year, Emmer,” I joke with her.  “No one will ever be able to see you coming.”

     She cracks a pretty smile and laughs along with Farro.  “That’s about as likely as it being a giant cake.”

     I chuckle.  I once said the same basic thing.

     After Farro has successfully skinned a squirrel carcass, he looks up at something over my head.  He stands as his mouth drops open.  “Wow,” he breathes.  “Emmer, look at this.  Look at what she can do…”

     As Emmer stands to get a better look at whatever Farro is staring at, I turn awkwardly in my crouched position.  Then I rise too when I see that they are watching Katniss.

     She is at the archery station, a silver bow gripped in her left hand.  She and the trainer have abandoned the stationary targets and now the man throws little clay circles up into the air.  Without hesitating, Katniss shoots them down.  Realizing that even this is not enough of a challenge for Katniss, he begins tossing multiple circles, moving from one to four in a matter of minutes.  Before each one can hit the ground, Katniss sends an arrow through it and it explodes in a shower of dust.

     Katniss takes out five targets before they come even close to crashing on the floor, and she pauses to look around.  Every single victor is staring at her, watching in fascination, envy, or hatred.  I make a mental note of which ones look hateful and remind myself to avoid them, especially when I’m with Katniss.

     “She’s phenomenal,” Emmer says in awe.  She turns to me and smiles.

     “You’re lucky to have her,” says Farro.

     “I know,” I say honestly.

     After training, Katniss and I spend some time alone together in the living room of our penthouse, talking easily.  Our spat from earlier is forgotten.  Dinner is called eventually, and we make our way into the dining room, where Haymitch is waiting to ambush us.

     “So at least half the victors have instructed their mentors to request you as an ally,” he says to Katniss.  She looks stunned, her mouth open as if she can’t fathom why these victors would want her.  “I know it can’t be your sunny personality.”

     “They saw her shoot,” I explain with a wide smile, tucking my hand into Katniss’.  “Actually, I saw her shoot, for real, for the first time.  I’m about to put in a formal request myself.”

     It’s true.  The only times have I seen Katniss in action with her bow were during our Games, when I was either dying or too busy trying not to die that I didn’t really watch her.  Until now, I haven’t had a chance to watch the graceful and quick pull of her arm, the spot on her nose where she touches the bow’s drawstring, the way she stands perfectly erect and proud when she’s shooting.  I can’t believe I missed it up until today.  I feel like I’ve missed out on something precious.

     “You’re that good?” Haymitch asks Katniss.  “So good that Brutus wants you?”

     Ugh.  I certainly don’t want Brutus, but I promised Katniss that she could choose our allies.  If she chooses Brutus – which would be logical; he’s strong and vicious enough that he’d make a better ally than enemy – I will go along with it.

     “But I don’t want Brutus,” Katniss replies with a shrug.  “I want Mags and District 3.”

     “Of course you do.”  Haymitch sighs loudly and cracks open a bottle of wine.  I decide not to protest.  We’re close enough to the Games and we know enough that it doesn’t really matter right now.  “I’ll tell everybody you’re still making up your mind.”

     For the next two days of training, everyone tries to make friends with Katniss.  Most of them forget about me, but I don’t mind.  She’s the one making the final decision, so they should be paying attention to her.  I’m just here to watch her back and keep her safe and alive.