Fluid Heart, Firey Soul (Peeta Mellark x Reader)

Chapter 10 - Improvement

"Now that (Y/N) is here, let's go over how today is going to go," Finnick says. I nod but I'm still focused on the plate in front of me. I divide my attention between taking bites and listening. "Yesterday, you focused on survival skills, which is great. Today, make sure you master those and move on to using weapons. Be adaptable; practice with everything they have. You never know what may end up in the arena. And during your private session, make sure you showcase the weapon you feel more comfortable with."

"Fletcher," he continues, turning to the boy beside me. "Yesterday, you concentrated on weapons training. Today, (Y/N) will walk you through some survival skills. In return, share any weapon knowledge you've picked up. Remember, your odds are better if you stick together."

Finnick dismisses us to prepare for the day's training. I make my way back to my room when I feel a familiar hand grip my shoulder and spin me around. It was the same move he pulled yesterday when he talked to me about Peeta. "Where were you, really?" Fletcher demands. It's clear he didn't buy my explanation earlier. "There's no way you were training this early."

I meet his gaze head-on, considering my options as I teeter between truth and secrecy. On one hand, being honest could build trust between us, but it also risks unsettling Fletcher and jeopardizing our relationship. On the other hand, keeping my whereabouts to myself seems like the path of least resistance. After all, Peeta's done nothing to Fletcher and he's already on his bad side.

"I was," I finally mutter. "I need to stand a chance in the arena." Without waiting for his response or lingering on the topic any longer, I continue to my room and deliberately close the door behind me. I lean against it, trying to catch my breath and steady my racing thoughts. I know that leaving Fletcher with unanswered questions and undisclosed motives may come back to haunt me, but for now, it's a risk I have to take.

I retreat to the shower. Hot water beats down on my skin, washing away the sticky layer of sweat and grime that has built up. I feel fresh and renewed when I step out, wrapping a fluffy robe around my body and brushing the tangles out of my hair. I change into my training gear— the same outfit as yesterday, but now clean and ironed out. I add a touch of makeup and pull my hair back into a ponytail. I want to present a composed image for both my tributes and the Gamemakers. I am under constant observation; I don't know when, where, or by whom, but I know eyes are always on me.

Both fresh and changed, Fletcher and I set out to meet Victoria as we had done the day before and begin the descent down to the gymnasium. "Survival skills first, yeah?" I turn to Fletcher to confirm. He nods and lets me take him to the knot-tying station. The trainer welcomes us with a smile, seemingly pleased by my return. I take the lead, explaining to Fletcher the significance of crafting snares and demonstrating a few basic techniques. Once he grasps the fundamentals, the trainer delves deeper into more intricate traps that even I hadn't yet explored.

I feel confident in my abilities tying snares and it seems that Fletcher feels the same way. He's a bit slower than I am, but he's able to do everything correctly. Fletcher tells me he's proficient in making fires, so we move on to the edible plant test. I know I need more practice in this area, so taking him here will benefit both of us. I share what Finch told me about the indicators a plant gives off— their shapes, scents, colors, textures. By the end of the hour, we both pass with flying colors.

"Which weapon do you want to try out?" Fletcher asks me, guiding me to an array of weapons laid out before us. My eyes fall upon the trident— stereotypically perfect for someone from District 4. Many tributes from District 4 have played the Games with a trident dating back to the eleventh Games. It's just easier since most of us have actually had some practice using one. It feels natural in my grip and though I had a relatively successful practice session with the trident yesterday, I have more to work on. My main focus for today is to refine my speed and strength, particularly with long-range attacks. I need to know everything if I hope to have a chance against the Careers.

Fletcher and I transition to a station adorned with human silhouettes marked with targets on both their chest and head— each bullseye marking a fatal hit. I grip my weapon tightly and take aim, hurling it as hard as I can through the air. It sticks into the black board surrounding the silhouette, but it's nowhere near either of the targets. I mutter obscenities to myself and walk over to extract my trident from the board to try again.

I take a step back to watch Fletcher take his turn. He readies his aim and hits the target right on the red marker in the middle of the target. I wonder if he's trained before today, back in District 4. He has remarkable skill and precision and I don't know if I'll be able to reach that sort of level. I think Fletcher notices my frustration because he walks over and adjusts my arm, giving me tips on how to aim higher and account for the weight and curve of the weapon. I throw the trident again, this time hitting the ring around the bullseye. I laugh quietly and pull the trident out of the board.

"Hey, thanks," I tell him. "I think I'm getting the hang of it now."

"Not a problem, keep that up and you'll be a force to be reckoned with," he replies.

I continue practicing until lunchtime, moving onto dummies and hitting them in the head and chest with precision each time. It seemed that both Fletcher and I benefitted from training together today. And I enjoyed his company, too.

We're released for lunch and I practically run to the food station, piling my plate with a roast smothered in brown gravy, carrots, potatoes, and some kind of pudding for dessert. I purposely avoid the clamor of the Career table. Though they had invited me into their alliance, their intensity is just a bit too much for me to handle. Instead, I settle by Fletcher and start conversation. We're talking about District 4 when a voice interrupts from behind me. "Mind if I sit here?" And just by the expression on Fletcher's face I can tell that it's Peeta standing behind me.

"I don't think—" Fletcher starts before I interrupt him.

"Of course, there's plenty of room next to me."