"Guinevere, the phantom, won her games at the age of 12, the only to have ever done it"
Guinevere St James was a child, a child that was turned into a weapon far too early.
"the odds have never been in our favour, its time we all realised that."
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training meant an early wake up.
like- a 5am wake up.
who wants to wake up that early?
not Evie. that's for sure.
but she does so without complaining, eats the breakfast feast the capitol sends up, and changes into the suit that the capitol provided.
all tributes are supposedly given an even playing field.
but how is 12 year old Evie from district 4 supposed to compete with 18 year old Apollo from district 1.
truthfully? she wasn't.
she wouldn't be surprised if he killed her in the bloodbath.
when all 24 tributes were in the room, the lady in charge of training spoke. "in 2 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. first, no fighting with the other tributes. you'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. there are four compulsory exercises. the rest will be individual training. my advice is, don't ignore the survival skills. everybody wants to grab a sword, but most of you will die from natural causes. 10 percent from infection. 20 percent from dehydration. exposure can kill as easily as a knife."
she took that warning deeply. she knew she probably wouldn't survive the older kids, but she wouldn't die to a couple of berries.
so the first thing she did was go to the survival skills.
she knew how to do things like make a fish hook, a fishing line. she knew how to fish, with both a rod and a spear.
she knew how to survive off of little food. how to ration it.
what she didn't know was what berries were poisonous, and what ones weren't. so that's where she went first.
what made that even more worth it, was that Forest was at the table by himself.
by that she meant without Johanna.
she smiled shyly at him from across the table as she began to sort the cards, the man in charge of the table telling her what was what, and if she was right or not when she placed it in its pile.
once she was done with that, she decided that she'd move onto a more physical thing.
so she picked up the spear on the rack and went to the target practice.
she threw it as if it was nothing, watching as it landed straight in the centre of the target.
she felt everybody's eyes on her.
"what?" she asked sternly. she might be 12, but she certainly isn't a pushover.
everybody went back to what they were doing, even if some of the older kids grumbled that a kid doesn't have the right to speak to them that way.
