Breakfast on our second day at the Capitol, Haymitch outlined our strategy for the training days.
"The next three days are about two things," he explained, spreading jam on a piece of toast with surprising delicacy. "Learning survival skills you don't already have, and sizing up the competition."
"What about weapons training?" Madge asked, picking at her food. She'd chosen a simple outfit today—dark pants and a fitted burgundy tunic—but even these Capitol-provided basics made her look more polished than anyone from District 12 had a right to be.
"Save it for your private session with the Gamemakers," Haymitch advised. "No sense showing the other tributes your strengths before you have to."
"But if I don't train with weapons, I won't have any strengths to show," she pointed out.
Haymitch considered this. "Spend some time at different weapons stations, then. Just don't show exceptional skill at any one thing."
He turned to me. "You, hammer boy. What's your weapon of choice?"
I thought of my baseball experience, the hours spent in batting cages perfecting my swing. "Anything with a handle and a weighted end," I said. "Hammer, mace, axe. I'm used to the motion from the forge."
Haymitch nodded approvingly. "Good, but same rule applies. Learn the basics of everything, excel at nothing—at least not where others can see."
"Should we train together or separately?" I asked, glancing at Madge.
"Mix it up," Haymitch suggested. "Some together, some apart. For now, you want the other tributes guessing about your relationship. Uncertainty makes them cautious."
After breakfast, we rode the elevator down to the underground training area. We were among the first to arrive, with only the tributes from Districts 1 and 2 already present. The Careers, as expected, were gathered in a tight group, evaluating the weapons displayed around the large gymnasium-like space.
They turned to watch as we entered, their assessment predatory and calculating. I recognized them from my memories of the books and films—Glimmer and Marvel from District 1, Cato and Clove from District 2. Each was physically imposing in their own way, from Glimmer's deadly beauty to Cato's brute strength.
"The fire twins," Marvel called mockingly. "Not so impressive without the special effects, are you?"
I felt Madge tense beside me but gave her a subtle head shake. Engaging with the Careers now would only make us targets during training.
"Ignore them," I murmured. "Let's check out the stations."
We wandered the perimeter, getting a sense of what was available. The training area held dozens of stations—weapons of every type, survival skills, obstacle courses, and combat training areas where assistants stood ready to spar with tributes.
Other district pairs began arriving, each eyeing the competition with varying degrees of fear and determination.
I spotted Rue entering with Thresh, the tiny girl dwarfed by her district partner's massive frame. She caught my gaze briefly, her dark eyes assessing before she looked away. Cute.
At ten o'clock, the head trainer, Atala, called everyone to gather in a circle. She explained the training schedule, emphasized that fighting with other tributes was forbidden, and encouraged us to not ignore the survival skills stations.
"Exposure, dehydration, and infection kill as many tributes as weapons," she reminded us. "Sometimes more."
When she dismissed us to begin training, the Careers immediately headed for the most lethal-looking weapons. Most other tributes drifted toward survival stations, clearly heeding Atala's advice.
"Where should we start?" Madge asked quietly.
I scanned the room, considering. "Fire-starting," I decided. "I know the theory from the forge, but practical skills in the wild might be different."
She nodded, and we made our way to the station where an instructor waited to teach us how to make flames without matches.
For the next hour, we worked together, learning to create sparks using flint, steel, and various tinders. I picked up the technique quickly, my hands already familiar with similar motions from the forge. Madge struggled at first but persisted with quiet determination until she could reliably create a small flame.
"Not bad for a mayor's daughter," I teased gently.
She smiled, her first genuine expression that day. "I'm a quick study. And I have a good teacher." She nodded toward the edible plants station. "My turn to teach you something?"
We moved to the plant identification area, where Madge immediately impressed both me and the trainer with her extensive knowledge.
"My mother used to grow herbs for headache remedies," she explained as she correctly sorted poisonous berries from safe ones. "I've been helping her since I was little."
"You never mentioned that to Haymitch," I said.
She only shrugged. And I feel like there's more between their relationship of a mentor and tribute than meets the eye. It's most likely because of her aunt. But I don't press. It's not really my business. At least, not yet.
I watched her confidently identify plants that could mean the difference between survival and painful death in the arena.
By lunchtime, we'd visited four stations—fire-starting, plant identification, basic snare construction, and water purification. As Haymitch had suggested, we were focusing on survival skills rather than weapons.
The dining area was set up with multiple tables, but the tributes naturally segregated themselves—Careers at one table, most others eating alone or with their district partners. Madge and I found a table in the corner, away from the main group.
"You should eat more," I noted, watching her push food around her plate. "Keeping up your strength is important."
"I know," she sighed. "I just can't seem to work up an appetite with twenty-three people in the room who might be trying to kill me in a few days."
I couldn't argue with that logic, but still nudged the bread basket toward her. "At least eat this. Carbs for energy."
She took a roll, tearing it into small pieces. "You sound like my father. Always trying to make sure I eat properly."
"Just being a good ally," I said, keeping my voice light.
A shadow fell across our table, and I looked up to find Rue standing there, her tray clutched tightly in her small hands.
"Can I sit with you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Madge and I exchanged surprised glances. Cross-district socialization during training was unusual, especially initiated by someone shy as Rue.
"Of course," Madge said, sliding over to make room.
Rue sat down, her movements careful and precise. Up close, she looked even younger than twelve—tiny and bird-like, with delicate features and watchful eyes.
"Thank you," she said politely. "Thresh is talking to the boy from Ten about something, and I didn't want to sit alone."
"I'm Jake," I offered. "And this is Madge."
"I know," Rue replied with unexpected directness. "Everyone knows the Fire Pair from Twelve."
"Is that what they're calling us?" Madge asked.
Rue nodded. "The Career pack was talking about you this morning. They're not happy that you got all the attention at the ceremony."
"Great," Madge muttered. "More reasons for them to target us."
"They would have targeted you anyway," Rue said matter-of-factly. "They always go after the outer districts first."
Her pragmatism was jarring coming from someone so young, a reminder of how the Games forced children to think about strategy and survival in ways no child should.
"What have you been training in?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Climbing, mostly," she said, relaxing slightly. "And plants. I know a lot about crops from working in the orchards back home."
"Madge is excellent with plants too," I said, trying to build a connection. "She identified everything at that station within minutes."
Rue turned to Madge with new interest. "Really? Even the night-blooming variants?"
Madge nodded, and the two quickly fell into a detailed discussion of medicinal plants. I used the opportunity to observe the other tributes, particularly the Careers.
Cato, in particular, seemed fixated on our table, his expression calculating as he watched Rue interact with us.
His murderous look strengthened my resolve to protect both Madge and Rue if possible, though I knew the odds of all three of us surviving were nonexistent in the traditional Games format.
After lunch, we returned to training. Following Haymitch's advice to separate occasionally, Madge went to the camouflage station while I headed for the knot-tying area.
The instructor there was demonstrating a complex snare that could leave an opponent dangling by one leg when I sensed someone beside me.
"That won't work on Cato," a deep voice observed.
I turned to find Thresh standing next to me, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Up close, he was even more intimidating—well over six feet tall, with shoulders that strained against his training uniform.
"Too heavy?" I guessed, nodding toward the snare.
"Too smart," Thresh corrected. "He's been watching for traps all morning. Won't go near anything that looks suspicious."
I studied the District 11 tribute, surprised by his willingness to share this observation. "Why tell me this?"
Thresh shrugged his massive shoulders. "You were decent to Rue. Not many would let a little girl sit with them."
"She seems smart," I said honestly. "And brave, coming over like that."
"She is," he agreed, a hint of pride in his voice. "Too smart and brave for her own good sometimes." He glanced toward where Rue was now at the climbing station, scaling a rope net with effortless grace. "She likes you two."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "We like her too."
Thresh's dark eyes studied me intently. "You planning an alliance?"
The direct question caught me off guard.
Thresh had been a loner, refusing alliances and surviving through sheer strength and knowledge of the grain fields that resembled his home district.
"We haven't discussed it," I said carefully. "Madge and I are still figuring out our own strategy."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer. "If you do decide on allies, consider us. Rue's small but smart. Knows plants that can heal and plants that can kill. And I'm good in a fight."
With that, he moved away, leaving me awed by the interaction. An alliance with Thresh and Rue would be a significant deviation from the original timeline, but potentially advantageous for all of us.
I filed the information away to discuss with Madge later and moved to the next station, where an instructor was demonstrating how to find north using the sun. As I worked through the exercise, I became aware of being watched and looked up to find Clove, the deadly knife-thrower from District 2, studying me from her position at the adjacent weapons station.
Unlike Cato's open hostility, her assessment was coolly professional—analyzing a potential target's weaknesses. When our eyes met, she didn't look away but instead offered a predatory smile before returning to her knife practice, hitting the center of a human-shaped target with terrifying accuracy.
The message was clear: I was on her list.
By mid-afternoon, I decided it was time to visit at least one weapons station, as Haymitch had suggested. I chose the hammer and mace section, where various weighted implements were displayed on racks.
The instructor, a muscular woman with close-cropped hair, raised an eyebrow as I approached. "Don't get many takers for these," she said. "Most prefer swords or spears."
"I'm used to hammers," I explained. "Blacksmith's son."
She nodded in understanding. "Let's see your grip, then."
I selected a medium-weight hammer, similar to what I'd used in the forge. The balance was different—this was designed for combat rather than crafting—but the fundamental principles were the same. I adjusted my hold, feeling the weight distribute through my arm.
"Not bad," the instructor commented. "But you're holding it like a tool, not a weapon. Try this." She adjusted my grip slightly, changing the angle of my wrist. "Now swing at the target."
I did as instructed, bringing the hammer in a controlled arc toward a padded post. The impact was solid, and I felt the satisfying resonance up my arm—the same feeling I got from a perfect baseball swing or a well-struck piece of metal in the forge.
"Good power," she noted. "But your follow-through needs work. In combat, you can't afford to be off-balance after a strike."
For the next twenty minutes, she drilled me on basic techniques—how to hold the hammer for different strikes, how to recover quickly after a swing, how to use the momentum of the weapon to my advantage. I was careful not to show too much aptitude, following Haymitch's advice, but even so, I could tell the instructor was impressed with my natural affinity for the weapon.
"You've got a good foundation," she said finally. "With some refinement, you could be quite effective with this."
I thanked her and moved on, aware that my session had attracted attention. The Careers had paused in their own training to watch, their expressions calculating. More surprisingly, so had several other tributes, including the boy from District 3 and both tributes from District 10.
Clearly, my choice of weapon had made an impression. Few tributes gravitated toward hammers or maces, preferring blades or distance weapons like spears and bows. My unconventional selection marked me as different—potentially unpredictable.
I rejoined Madge at the shelter-building station, where she was constructing a surprisingly effective lean-to from branches and leaves.
"Making yourself at home?" I teased quietly.
She smiled, which didn't reach her eyes. "Just trying to ensure I don't die of exposure before someone can stab me."
"Such optimism," I remarked dryly.
"Realism," she corrected, securing another branch to her structure. "How was weapons training?"
"Educational," I said, glancing around to ensure we weren't overheard. "I think I found my arena weapon of choice. And had an interesting conversation with Thresh."
Her hands paused in their work. "The giant from Eleven? What did he want?"
I relayed our brief exchange, including his suggestion of a potential alliance. Madge listened attentively, her expression thoughtful.
"What do you think?" I asked when I'd finished.
She considered for a moment. "Rue is clearly resourceful, and Thresh would be a powerful ally against the Careers. But alliances mean eventually having to turn on each other."
"Not necessarily," I said, thinking of the rule change that would allow district partners to win together. "Things can change in the arena."
"That's very cryptic," she observed, studying my face. "Do you know something I don't?"
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. I couldn't tell her about my knowledge of the future without sounding insane, but I needed her to trust my instincts.
"Just a feeling," I said finally. "The Gamemakers sometimes introduce twists to keep things interesting. And the Capitol audience seems to like us as a pair—the 'Fire Pair,' as Rue called us. They might not want to break that up too quickly."
Madge was too intelligent to accept this vague explanation at face value, but she didn't press further. "So you think an alliance with Eleven could be beneficial?"
"I think it's worth considering," I said cautiously. "Especially given the alternative of facing Thresh as an opponent."
She nodded slowly. "We should discuss it with Haymitch tonight."
The training day concluded with a demonstration of hand-to-hand combat techniques by the instructors. We gathered to watch as they showed basic defensive moves and strikes, emphasizing vulnerable points on the human body.
"Remember," the lead combat instructor said as they finished, "weapons fail. Supplies run out. Your body is the one tool you'll always have in the arena. Know how to use it."
As we filed out toward the elevators, I noticed Rue slipping through the crowd with almost supernatural stealth, seemingly invisible despite her distinctive District 11 uniform. Her ability to move undetected would be invaluable in the arena—another reason an alliance might benefit us all.
On the elevator ride up to the twelfth floor, Madge and I were joined by the tributes from District 3, a thin boy with wire-rimmed glasses and a serious-looking girl with dark hair. They stood silently in the corner, avoiding eye contact, but I could feel them watching us when they thought we weren't looking.
"Good day?" the boy finally asked, his voice surprisingly deep for his small frame.
"Informative," I replied neutrally.
He nodded as if I'd confirmed something. "You're handy with that hammer. District Twelve must have good metalworkers."
"The best," I agreed, wondering where this conversation was heading.
"I'm good with wires," he continued. "Electronics. Circuits." He glanced at his district partner, who gave him a subtle head shake. "Just an observation," he added hastily as the elevator reached the third floor and they exited.
"What was that about?" Madge asked as the doors closed.
"I think he was feeling us out for an alliance," I said. "Or at least trying to establish some connection."
"With electronics expertise?" she mused. "That could be useful, depending on the arena."
I nodded, remembering how, the District 3 boy had helped the Careers rewire the mines around their supply pyramid. His technical knowledge had been valuable—until they'd no longer needed him.
Back in our quarters, we found Haymitch and Effie waiting to debrief us on the day's training. Over dinner, we recounted our experiences, the skills we'd practiced, and the interactions with other tributes.
"An alliance with Eleven is worth considering," Haymitch said when we mentioned Thresh's offer. "The girl's small but resourceful, based on what I've heard from their mentor. And the boy is one of the few who could go toe-to-toe with the District Two brute."
"But?" Madge prompted, sensing his reservation.
"But alliances are temporary in the arena," he reminded us. "Eventually, you'd have to split—or worse."
"Cross that bridge when we come to it," I suggested. "For now, having allies against the Career pack seems smart."
Haymitch studied me curiously. "You seem very strategic for someone who's never thought about the Games before, hammer boy."
I met his gaze steadily. "Survival brings clarity."
He chuckled at that. "Right. Just remember, in the arena, trust no one completely except each other. District partners have the only genuine incentive to keep each other alive—the glory of bringing victory to your home."