Caged | The Hunger Games AU ✓

vi ½. cultivation

six and a half - cultivation

- - - ➳

i decide to go for the memory tests since it will definitely help me in the games– the last thing i want to die from is mistaking poison berries for safe ones. certain leaves and plants will also help with injuries and possible illness. it's better to be safe than sorry.

i take a chance and step up to the electronic board that lists a number of various plants' pictures on the screen. i quickly memorize which ones are safe and which ones aren't as best as i can before beginning the actual test. the first few i get right, but my memory is failing me by the sixth and i struggle to remember what i learned. when i choose the wrong berry, the sensor makes a sound and shocks my hand, making me yank it away and shake it to reduce the pain. glaring at the system, i finish the test with more good results than bad before moving on to something else.

i touch up on my fire and snare-making skills. i had learned a lot from roy, who was taught by our father, but a little practice couldn't hurt, right?

i walk past the knife-throwing station and see asher, who is whipping the lethal weapons like mad and getting every single one in the center of the target. my eyes widen. if you glance at asher, you definitely won't expect him to be that good. he is tall and lanky, his arms skinny. but his lack of visible muscle doesn't stop him from lodging every single thing he throws into the center of the target. he certainly has a gift for this.

asher sees me watching him out of the corner of his eye, his lip lifting in a smirk (i notice he does that a lot; smirking) and twirls the knife between his fingers before reaching his arm back and launching it at the human-shaped target thirty yards away. the blade cartwheels through the air at an incredibly fast speed before hitting its home- the "heart." all the shades of green and brown in asher's hazel eyes seem to conflate as they watch my reaction. i fight to keep my face neutral and give him a small nod before walking to the archery section. there is no need to say anything of praise to him. he knows he's good.

the district seven girl is already at the station, a focused look on her pale face. her lips are in a small pout of concentration, her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail that her arm brushes against when she draws the string back. adjusting her fingers, she waits a second before releasing the arrow. it lands a few inches away from the center.

the girl groans in frustration and picks up another arrow. i decide to stop being creepy and watching her so intently, stepping up onto the second small platform. i'd been taught archery when i was little by my father, but i never stuck with it, and neither did roy. we both like knives better.

this is probably why the bow feels foreign in my hands, its sleek material cold on my skin. i pick an arrow out of the container and set it into place. i do this all very slowly as to not attract attention to myself. my eyes stay locked on the target, squinting slightly. i draw the string back towards my face and hesitate a second before letting go. my hand slips, the bow wobbles, and the arrow flies to the left, completely missing its target.

"either you suck at archery or you're just nervous." i jump at the sound of the district seven girl's voice from beside me. i don't look at her and pick up another arrow.

"it isn't my strong point," i admit, setting myself up for another try.

"what is?" the girl asks as she, too, knocks another arrow into her bow and lets it fly. this time it hits the center.

i decide telling her won't give too much away. after all, she won't know how good i am or anything about my form.

"knives," i say as i let my arrow go. it hits close to the home.