To Save a Victor

Chapter 20

Finnick cleared his throat, "And I'll be the male." I looked up at him, those sad green eyes staring me down, "Sage and I together, we can keep Katniss alive."

"What?"

Finnick tapped his fingers on the table, "Katniss Everdeen is a symbol of the rebellion, keep her alive, keep the rebellion alive."

I twisted the ring on my finger, "She won't be willing to stay alive unless Peeta is alive."

"So we keep them both alive and well, unless of course Haymitch goes in."

"I doubt that's going to happen, unless he volunteers for Peeta."

Ash let out a long breath, "I guess that's all we can hope for."

"So we keep Katniss Everdeen alive. We die like martyrs and pray that whoever is left alive carries on the rebellion?" I said and Finnick nodded. "Well then," I looked around the table, at the ragged group of terrified people, then back to Finnick, who had risen from his own chair. Annie looked so small without the bulk of him at her back. "We have two weeks til reaping day Odair. Let's get cracking."

✧✧✧

The trident on my wall glared down at me like it had a soul. I had drug a chair over and was standing on it as I removed the weapon from above my front door. There was still a dent in the handle from where it had been bent, but it was still intact and sharp. Finnick stood there watching me.

"So we're going to train huh?"

I nodded, "Yup." I grasped the handle, relishing the feel of the cool metal against my hot skin.

"How?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, however they train the careers. Hank might know."

Hopping down from the chair, I clutched the trident in my hand. "I was really hoping I was never going to have to use one of these again." I said and Finnick took the weapon from me as I pushed the chair back to its palace at the dining table.

He swung it experimentally and looked up at me, "It's a lot smaller than something I would use, mine was bigger." He said, handing it back to me,

"It's because I'm smaller than you, I have another one in the shed behind your house. It's bigger."

Slinging the trident over my shoulders, I led him through the house and down the beach. There was an assortment of knives in the gardening shed, and I said a little thank you prayer to every fisherman who had left his knives unattended in their boats. We worked in silence, me passing the knives to him, and him piling them on the sand. "

Start with knife work then?" he asked. It was all I could do to nod.

Thump.

Crack.

Thump.

Crack.

Thump.

Breath in.

Breath out.

In.

And out.

The sound became a rhythm that we worked too day in and day out. Accented by the pounding of the waves on the sand as we fought. Somedays Hank joined us, some days it was just Finnick and I, sparring, running, throwing knives and axes. Slowly, my body stopped its deterioration and gained muscle. My skin tanned from long hours in the sun, and when I looked into the mirror, the girl who looked back at me was starting to look familiar. She even smiled sometimes.

At night Hank would hold me, hold me against the nightmares that got worse the closer the reaping came. He never complained about the screams, the thrashing as I awoke in a cold sweat with tears running down my face. No, Hank would never complain about it. It was the first taste of comfort anyone had offered me in the longest time, and I drank in every moment that I had with him, surrounded by his heavy warmth in the dark hours of the morning.