—I have news —Gale announced later that afternoon. With a single glance he encouraged her to get down from the bunk and follow him, and, as usual, Nola put up no resistance. It was useless to resist one of her sessions, no matter how much she didn't want to go through it.

Nevertheless, she was getting better. It had been more than a week since they had started the therapies, as they liked to call them down there, and although they were frantic and very shocking to her weakened mind, Nola occasionally received encouraging and supportive comments, often accompanied with satisfied and impressed smiles every now and then. She would respond with a weak smile: if she was really improving, she would soon be able to join the military team they had deployed.

Nola was patient. Or, at least, she had to learn to be by force. She endured the electric currents in her body, in her limbs and in her head, clenching her jaw as tight as possible, and, when she couldn't take it anymore, letting out screams that chilled the blood of those closest to her. She had ended up sobbing a few times, begging for the pain to pass, though she would soon wake up, realizing what was real and what wasn't, and when she looked at Finnick, who nodded, and then looked down at her hands, she understood that that chair was not the metal chair of her nightmares. Other times she had jumped from the apparatus in anger, with an unusual strength, which had previously characterized Nola but to see it now in her was strange. She was trying to rid herself of the bad memories, of the nightmares, of those moments that she had lived one way but now settled in her mind in another. It was Gale, who had refused to move to District 2, who held her tightly against his arms, because no one else dared to touch her in that state.

That was precisely what attracted Nola to Gale. As with Prim, Gale had no expectations of her. He didn't know her personally before the incident, which meant that this version of Nola was the only one they could discover, so the tension and pressure Nola felt with the others evaporated when Gale greeted her in the cafeteria, walked her to her sessions, or just said goodnight from a couple of bunks over.

—What kind of news? —Nola wanted to know once they had left the common rooms. She didn't ask too many questions about her destination anymore, because it always used to be the same, so she just let herself go.

—Well, actually I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want to know first?

—I don't know. The bad, I guess.

Gale turned to look at her briefly over his shoulder—. The bad news is that today's session is a little different.

Nola, who was trying to keep up with the boy, waited for him to say something else, but the explanation didn't come, so she pressed—. Aren't you going to say anything else?

—It's not for me to explain. They think it's bad news because they're going to test more than just your memories, and you might not pass the test they expect. However, the good news is that, if you pass it, your chances of getting out of here and going to District 2 are infinitely greater.

—District 2? —Nola asked, puzzled.

Going to District 2 was a big responsibility. That's where Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay, was, after all. Finnick had briefed her on everything they were doing there; shooting commercials, visiting the sick in the hospital, anything to imply that Katniss was still there, still alive and still eager to give hope to the rebels and ignite the revolution once and for all. However, she was not Katniss. She was a mentally unstable girl who could go crazy at any moment, lose her temper and prove to be more dangerous there than useful. So when Gale mentioned a test, Nola shuddered: she didn't trust herself enough to want to face it. And even if she passed it, what guarantee was there that she was prepared enough to be sent there with the rest of the team?

Gale didn't seem to notice the worry building up in the girl's head, because he simply held a heavy metal door for Nola to pass through. There, everyone was waiting for her. Haymitch, Finnick, Beetee, some soldiers and even Coin. Nola was surprised because she didn't expect a simple test to be important enough to bother her official business. It only confirmed that what was about to happen in that room was not going to be a session like usual.

—How are you today, Nola? —Finnick, as always, was the only one to ask her about her condition. Nola supposed that being around someone like Annie twenty-four hours a day took its toll on the boy.

—I guess I'm fine. What's this all about? Gale didn't explain.

—You don't have to worry —Finnick smiled, but Nola didn't detect the same smile as usual. Or so she thought, paranoia was already taking over her mind—. Let's just say this is the next step in your recovery, not an end point. What happens today won't mark that you're worse, or that you've failed. You just focus on doing the best you can, okay? —At Nola's noticeable hesitation, Finnick moved a little closer to her to calm her down—. They're going to test your physical abilities. They want to see that...

—That there's still something left in me. That I'm still useful, right?

Finnick clenched his jaw, looking away momentarily—. Something like that. But really, don't worry. They're doing this because your recovery is progressing well. You're showing much more positive signs than Peeta, so they think we have a better chance of getting you back on your feet, Nola. You're on the right track. And if you find out today that your body still remembers what you knew how to do, it will almost indicate that you've been a miracle.

—And if not, I'll just be discarded. If I'm not my old self, I'll never be of any use.

—I didn't say that.

—It's all right, Finnick —Nola assured, shaking her head—. It's not your fault. I'm ruined but that's not your fault.

Her voice became so weak that Finnick thought he would collapse right then and there. So many nights without sleep, so many nights staring at the ceiling while he made sure Annie, next to him, her head resting on his chest, did. So many nights feeling guilty because the girl resting a few beds over was not the girl he had seen during her first Christmas in the Capitol, or the one with whom he had had so many discussions about the children they helped in the Hunger Games, or that little girl who, despite their ages and their different characters, had shown a certain liking for him.

No, that was no longer Nola, and he wanted Nola back.

So he simply stood back, hands clasped behind his back and blinking rapidly to keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks.

—Good morning, Nola —Coin greeted her. Nola looked at her with some suspicion; it didn't bode well for her to be present when she had never been before—. I suppose you're wondering why I'm here and what it has to do with the test we've scheduled for you today. Before we begin, I would like to congratulate you on your more than positive results. I'm glad to see that you're putting all your efforts into recovering, getting back to the way everything was before, but I trust without forgetting who the real enemy is —Coin's eyes sparkled, and Nola nodded slowly—. Good. It is clear that you are someone very important to the Capitol and to the rest of Panem, who watched your attempts to warn us of what would happen. Your bravery bought us the time we needed to save hundreds of thousands of people down here. We never thanked you as much as we should have, and I think today we can repay you as you deserve, Nola. Beetee, please.

At the woman's command, Beetee pressed a couple of buttons on the keyboard that charged everywhere, and the center of the room lit up in shocking shades of orange. A bookshelf slid down from the ceiling to the floor, and Nola watched curiously as a set of knives and a huge sword burned for use.

—We feel you've made enough progress to trust you. We want to trust you, Nola, and today is the perfect opportunity to show us that we can. We are concerned about your well-being, and we want to ensure that you will be okay in the event that we decide that you are eligible to participate in District 2.

—And that I'm not a danger to anyone —the girl pointed out.

Haymitch hid a wry chuckle forming in his throat as Coin wordlessly turned to look at the men behind her—. We can't deny that the safety of the other soldiers is also of concern to us. However, you have shown progress over the past few days, so we want to give you the opportunity. You should know that nothing that happens here will be decisive for you, Nola. Whether you pass the test successfully or not, we will evaluate all the circumstances and contact you to let you know what our decision was. If you would be so kind as to approach the illuminated rectangle, please.

Not without first glancing at the people around her, Nola obeyed. She knew it would be pointless to refuse, because she was at their mercy. As soon as she entered the indicated part, it flickered as if it had a life of its own, as if it was waiting precisely for Nola's presence inside.

Suddenly, the space closed. Transparent barriers rose up, surrounding her and blocking her way. She felt trapped and somewhat abandoned by the lack of information from people she should have considered her friends, but she did not complain. Nola had learned not to complain.

—Don't worry about the crystals, Nola —Beetee's voice sounded like it was coming from a loudspeaker—. They are set to protect, but they will fade if we detect danger or any other type of situation that requires our help. As you see, in front of you is a sword. Also a pair of knives. A series of figures will appear that will try to fight against you, they will be your opponents. You can take the sword to protect yourself, or the knives, or do anything to defeat them. If you feel you can't do it, we'll get you out of there, there's nothing to worry about.

Nola mentally pushed Beetee's voice away, focusing on what was in front of her. She walked over to the rack, watching the orange lights, alert in case they started the test without her knowing. She took the sword in her hands, and though there was a feeling of familiarity, the only real thing she could tell was that the sword was too heavy for her hands.

—We can start when you're ready, Nola.

—Okay —was all she said.

As if activated by a spring, the first figure hovered dangerously over her. It was orange, the same color as everything in there, and it had no face, no clothes. It was only a hologram, but its intention to harm her seemed so real that she was simply able to get out of its way in time, before whatever it had in its hands attacked her. Her back hit the invisible wall, momentarily losing her breath, but she recovered again as the figure came at her at full speed from the left, leaving Nola in the center of the rectangle and, with the tip of her sword resting on the ground, she waited for the new attack.

The stealth of the figure was such that she could barely see it coming, she only saw a spear try to sweep her legs to throw her to the ground, but Nola jumped with speed before it could happen. The spear returned to the hands of its wielder, who raised it in a stance. The sword still felt too heavy in her hands, but Nola made the effort necessary to dodge the attack to her right, the attack to her left, and had to duck to keep the spear from sticking in her chest.

It's an imaginary spear, Nola, she repeated to herself.

However, she knew that time was running out. The figure advanced with more speed, more aggressively, as if reflecting the impatience of those who watched it. The minutes ticked by and all the blonde had done was dodge the attacks, albeit gracefully, but the figure remained without a scratch. She almost felt on the back of her neck the inquisitive gaze of those watching her, encouraging her to something, but Nola did not know exactly what: if she seemed too weak, if she did not attack, they would not let her go to 2 because they considered that she would not be useful yet. If, on the other hand, she seemed too bloodthirsty, they wouldn't let her go either because they considered her a danger. So what was it they were looking for from her?

She knew —or, at least, she thought she knew— what Finnick or Haymitch were looking for from her. They wanted to know if behind all those layers of confusion, of apparent weakness, of instability, there was still something of the Nola from before. The girl supposed that for Boggs it was just protocol, for Beetee, a miraculous case of healing, and for Gale, whom she had learned to consider something between a friend and a confidant, she supposed it was mere curiosity to know how far she was capable of going. She did not, however, understand Coin's purpose. She didn't understand anything about Coin and that made her hair stand on end.

—Watch out! —Nola had unknowingly stood in the middle of the room, sword dangling from her hand and unresponsive to the stimuli around her. Nola turned around when she detected Finnick's voice, camouflaged behind the glass, indicating that there was something that endangered her well-being in there.

And Finnick was right, though from the looks he'd gotten from the tech team, the boy needn't have warned her. Two orange figures were advancing towards her at full speed, hoping to inflict the damage that the previous ones had failed to. Two heavy swords suddenly appeared in their hands, and one of them lunged at Nola, its sword pointed at her neck. Quickly, as if it were only a reflex, Nola dropped to the ground, resting her hands on the floor as if she were doing push-ups. The imaginary creature stood still for a moment, as if it had not been programmed for this to happen, which gave Nola time to roll on the ground when she was attacked again, the sword sticking into the matted floor. Despite not being real, Nola sensed it would act as if it were a real enemy, so she slid her foot, causing the figure to stumble, hit the ground and disappear, shattering into pieces.

Still on the ground, Nola dared to look through the glass, trying to analyze by the looks if her attitude was as expected, or at least as desired. Coin's countenance, as expressionless as ever.

Her senses sharpened as she heard as if a real sword were being brandished. Her ear twitched imperceptibly, sensing something moving behind her, and she reacted by raising her sword in the nick of time. Its metal clashed with that of the orange figure, which loomed over her. Gritting her teeth, she struggled and managed to force the creature back. Nola leapt to her feet, brandishing her sword and unconsciously remembering the tricks Enobaria had taught her years ago: one foot slightly forward to exert pressure and have a good defense, the sword raised at chest level, ready to tackle any attack. And that's what she did, blocking all the thrusts until the last, lethal one passed just inches from her ear, which Nola took advantage of to tilt her head slightly to the other side and thrust the metal into the figure's non-existent chest.

A horn boomed in the room, as if signaling that the test was over. It was, for Nola saw the crystals fade around her. It was at that moment that she realized that her hands hurt. She saw how they were bandaged up to her wrist, still affected by the incident triggered by Peeta's words, and guessed that because of the adrenaline she hadn't noticed anything.

—I think we got what we needed —Coin spoke, and Nola thought she saw a twinkle in her eye and a soft pursing of her lips. No one else raised their voices until she spoke again—. Have a good day, Nola.

—How the hell did you do that?

At dinner, a boy slightly older than her approached her. He sat down in front of her, and Nola raised her fork, not knowing what to say—. I don't know what you mean.

—Come on. It's on every TV in District 13 —the boy smiled broadly and slyly. Nola blinked—. At first it looked like you were going to get beat up, but then all of a sudden you did that and... How the hell did you know they were going to attack you like that? When you hit the ground and when you got up again... Wow. You have to show me that.

Nola was puzzled for a few moments, but then she understood. Her test had been televised, which might even had been a public humiliation if her reflexes decided not to work. She had been exposed to everyone's opinion without her knowing it and, she didn't know why, but she feared that this was Coin's decision alone.

—I, uh, I don't know. I just did it. I don't know how.

More people began to approach her, and suddenly the mashed potatoes looked like the most interesting thing in the world. She tried not to raise her head from her plate, but the constant questions about her skills and the spectacle that had occurred earlier in the day would not stop. The voices were becoming irritating, they wouldn't leave her alone and Nola had to take a breath and count to ten if she didn't want to lose her cool.

—Leave her alone.

Gale pushed his way through the young men, and Nola sighed visibly. The mere presence of the boy around her seemed to calm her substantially, and she didn't know whether to attribute it solely to the fact that he was the one who discovered her once she got to 13, or if there was something else beyond that that she liked about Gale.

—Oh, come on, Hawthorne —a girl complained. She was probably younger than them, with dark eyes and olive skin. Nola thought she would have been Gale's neighbor in District 12 months ago—. Let the girl talk. We've seen what she's capable of. I don't think she's shy enough to keep quiet now.

A part of Nola told him she was right. She had high hopes for the rebellion, and even if she wasn't Katniss, being Nola in this war wasn't easy either. She felt that, after the battle that had happened, she owed them something. As if she had to explain in detail what she had done, why and how, because training people like her would be the way to end it all once and for all.

—It's okay —Nola stood up from the metal bench, receiving a skeptical look from Gale—. I don't quite know how it all happened. I thought I couldn't remember everything I supposedly knew how to do before, but it seems my body hasn't forgotten. You have to train frequently, but using a sword requires more skill than strength. It's just a matter of movement and experience when it comes to fighting.

—What about the moves without a sword? We thought we were watching the careers train for the Hunger Games —another boy pointed out, rising up through the people milling around him.

—Oh, well —Nola shook her head—. That's just reflexes. I've spent years training and I guess the body doesn't forget. It's the same with big guns: it's not just about hulking or strength, it's about mastering the situation, understanding the enemy. You will never defeat your opponent no matter how big you are if you don't understand the weak points you can exploit.

—How did you know the weaknesses of a machine? It wasn't a real thing.

—When someone wields a sword, they usually aim for the chest or even above. You won't be able to hurt an opponent with a sword if you aim at their legs. Also, you expose your entire torso if you tilt the sword downward: you expose your maximum weakness to any opponent. That's why I threw myself to the ground, I guess. There was the possibility of it attacking me in the limbs, yes, but combat also involves risks that you must take and that you must judge based on experience.

—Teach us something! —someone said in the crowd, and the idea was so well received that howls could be heard throughout the dining room, cheering for Nola Bernacci to show her true abilities.

Nola sank into her position, feeling suddenly overcome by the situation. She shared a glance with Gale, who had a slightly raised eyebrow, as if to ask her what she really wanted to do. The answer was that she wanted to be quiet and alone, but she would never get it if she didn't succumb to the desires of the crowd.

—Okay —Nola hesitated—. Just... just know who you're dealing with. Be observant of their weaknesses and know what we can take advantage of. The corpulence is often a disadvantage. It's more important to know how to move and know how to read a fight than brute strength.

—Try it with Hawthorne.

—Yeah, come on —agreed another person—. Gale is bigger than you. We want to see what you can do.

—No —Gale said, imperative. His voice echoed, and many of the other voices were muffled by the strength of his own—. You know we can't exert force on anyone here. We are soldiers and we have to be professional.

Nola knew what was going on. It didn't take a long acquaintance with Gale to know what was going through his mind. If Gale won, he would be known for beating a poor girl tortured by the Capitol. If Nola won, Gale would be known for being beaten by a little girl. No, neither option suited the District 12 boy, so Nola decided to change strategy.

—Why don't I try it with you? —she suggested, referring to a rather tall and slender guy, the young man who had suggested she try it with Gale.

The boy smiled incredulously—. You don't know me at all. Your tricks of knowing your opponent won't help you this time.

—I don't need to know someone to know their weaknesses. You have a knee injury —Nola pointed with her hand—. I've seen you limp as you balance the weight on your legs. You like to fight and try new weapons while you're down here, so I assume you have a bandage on your right leg and have probably been advised not to overexert yourself. You don't have too much muscle, so I assume you'd rather handle a firearm than learn self-defense, and your comment makes me assume you want me to try Gale because you have some score to settle with him and you want him to look bad, otherwise your fragile masculinity will be damaged until someone manages to defeat the one you think is the alpha male.

The whispering became more and more noticeable. Nola saw the whispers and the wide eyes of some and knew she had hit her target. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gale's winning countenance and Nola felt good.

—You have no idea what you're talking about —the boy professed, feeling vexed. He had blushed slightly, but Nola thought it was out of anger and helplessness rather than embarrassment.

—Prove me wrong.

Nola thought she had covered her daily quota of dealing with predictable beings, but that boy proved her wrong. He took a long stride, reaching out to try to grab her by the arm with force and catch her by surprise, but Nola had already seen how he had started with his right leg so as not to endanger his healthy leg, so she took the opportunity to slip out of his grip with ease, twisting his arm, and tripped him, causing him to fall to the ground and howl in pain, revealing a somewhat yellowish bandage covering his skin.

The soft mocking laughter, incredulous and admiring, slowly dissipated as heels clacked against the ground, making their way through the crowd. Coin appeared in front of them, and Nola automatically tensed.

—Nola —was her only welcoming gesture. It was her fixation on her and her ignoring others so simply and plainly that made Nola stand so alert around Coin—. I think it's time we had a talk.