The elevator ride down from the roof was silent. The weight of the promise I had just made to Finnick hung in the air, but as soon as the doors opened back onto the twelfth floor, I shifted into a different kind of focus. There was no time to dwell on the "what ifs."
I walked over to David's room and knocked softly. "David, hon? Please change into your training outfit. We're going down to the training room so I can teach you some survival skills tonight. That way, we can focus on spying on the other tributes tomorrow, okay?"
"OK mama!" his voice came through the wood, muffled but eager. "Give me four minutes so I can take a bath first."
"Alright then. I'll wait by the couch."
I sat on the edge of the plush velvet sofa, my fingers tracing the sleek fabric of my training gear. I wasn't just preparing David for the Games; I was preparing him for the long journey back to the Manor once the "trick" was played.
True to his word, David emerged exactly four minutes later, his hair damp and his oversized training jumpsuit zipped up to his chin. He looked small, but his jaw was set with a quiet gravity.
We headed down to the training center. At this hour, the massive gymnasium was a cavern of cold steel and long shadows. The only other people there were the stone-faced Peacekeepers stationed at the exits. Ordinarily, they might have questioned why a District 12 girl and her partner were training so late—they were strict about the schedule—but as we walked past the main gate, I caught the eye of the guard on the left.
He looked like all the others in his white armor, but as he shifted his spear, his sleeve rode up just an inch. Wrapped tightly around his wrist was a fine silver chain, the links catching the dim light of the hallway. He was one of the men from District 12, a silent member of the family I had built back home. He gave a microscopic nod, his posture relaxing just enough to let us pass without a single challenge. I felt a surge of warmth. Even here, in the heart of the Capitol's fortress, I was protected.
"First things first," I said, leading David to the Herbs and Foraging station. "Survival isn't about who has the biggest sword, David. It's about who knows what to eat and what to avoid."
I spent the next hour showing him how to identify the silver-leafed medicinal plants versus the jagged ones that caused paralysis. We moved to the Berries station, where I made him recite the "rule of three" for wild fruit. He was a quick study, his small hands carefully turning over the wax replicas of nightshade and blackberries.
We moved through the stations methodically. At the Knot-tying station, I taught him the bowline and the fisherman's knot—essential for snares or climbing. Then, we moved to the Nature station.
I stopped, my eyes narrowing as I looked at the specific types of moss and the variety of pine needles provided for camouflage practice.
"Look at the bark, David," I whispered, pointing to a sample of white birch. "And the dampness of this soil. They wouldn't provide these if the arena was a desert or an ocean."
"A forest?" David guessed, looking up at me.
"A deep one," I replied. "Likely humid, given the moss types. That's good for us. Forests have shadows, and shadows are where ghosts belong."
We finished the night at the Weaponry station. I didn't want him wielding a heavy spear; he was too small. Instead, I showed him how to balance a small throwing knife and how to use a basic slingshot.
"If someone gets close, you don't fight them," I told him, my voice firm as I adjusted his grip. "You blind them, you trip them, and you run. I'll handle the rest. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Mama," he said, hitting the target's shoulder with a well-aimed stone from the slingshot.
We stayed until late at night, the rhythmic thud of stones and the scent of crushed herbs our only company. I kept a close eye on the clock; he was thirteen, and he needed sleep if he was going to be my eyes and ears tomorrow. By the time we headed back up to the twelfth floor, David's steps were heavy with exhaustion, leaning his head against my arm in the elevator.
I tucked him into bed, the Capitol lights glowing garishly outside his window. "Sleep well, little wolf," I whispered.