CHAPTER SIX
LEARNING NEW THINGS

training centre, two years prior

The idea of being shoved into an enclosed space, merely days away from when they'll all be forced to fight to the death, sends a shiver up Arella's spine. There's a weariness that has washed over the room, several of the tributes flicking their gaze from one person to another in fear. She does her best to not look at any of them, today is all about learning things that will help her in the Arena — she doesn't need their attention.

Malcolm is standing to her left, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding the eyes of others as best as he can. He'd practically attached himself to her side when they left their floor this morning, seeking out the comfort of her presence and happily following her lead in the meantime. It's almost as if Arella has gained a shadow, the boy seemingly too frightened to wander off on his own at the moment. She doesn't mind so much, if this is terrifying for her she can only imagine how it must feel for him.

"In two weeks, twenty three of you will be dead, one of you will be alive. Who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next couple of days. There are a few rules. Firstly, no fighting with each other, there will be plenty of time for that when you get into the Arena," The woman before them speaks, acting as if sending children off to their death is a natural thing.

Arella feels Malcolm move a little closer to her, his body tense as the woman's words begin to properly sink in.

"There are four compulsory exercises and the rest will be individual training. Make sure to not ignore the survival skills, more than half of you will likely die due to natural causes — infection, dehydration. They kill just as easy,"

They're all dismissed, sent off to go and do whatever they please to start the day. It is safe to say that Arella has absolutely no idea where to start, the weapons looking rather menacing in their respective stations. Malcolm hasn't moved yet either, unsure of what skills would best suit him at this moment. It's then that Arella decides to start off lightly, the survival skills a less harrowing alternative.

"How about we go learn to start a fire, yeah?" Arella says quietly, looking down at Malcolm who nods his head in response. The District Five duo make their way over to the empty station, most of the tributes deciding that it would be better to start with weapons.

Arella sits down on the floor across from the instructor, Malcolm taking the spot beside her. The man is still setting things up so he tells them he'll be with them in a moment, grabbing some of the sticks and other materials that may be found in the arena. It's not a particularly hard task but as the time trails on, Arella finds herself growing more and more confident with starting her own fires. It's the little intricacies of it that are more challenging, where to place her hands and how to rotate the stick so that it actually catches alight.

"I can't really teach you much more, the positioning is great and you've started a fire successfully," The instructor speaks to the two, nodding in approval.

Arella doesn't particularly want to spend so much time on one thing either so she thanks the man, albeit very quietly, before deciding to go off and try something new. Her plan is still to avoid the more populated stations, especially the ones with the careers. The girl is more than happy to join some of the outlying district tributes, they're less likely to actually try and start any issues with her.

"What about the medical station?" Malcolm asks lowly, nodding over to the table. There's a lady dressed in nursing clothes, setting out all her medical tools onto the surface and looking rather lost as she waits for somebody to join her. "I don't know how to do any of that,"

"Yeah, okay. I mean, my mum taught me how to wrap a bandage but that's about it," Arella shrugs, following after him.

Malcolm turns his head back to look at her and runs into something as a result, stumbling back and Arella catching him. Arella doesn't even have time to react before the girl moves in closer and glares at the younger boy menacingly.

"Watch it, Five. Wouldn't want to go making enemies now, would you?" The girl from District One hisses out angrily, her tall frame towering over a frightened Malcolm.

Arella gently grabs Malcolm and pushes him behind her, going toe to toe with the intimidating career. She may not be massive in terms of muscles and doesn't possess the power of some of these tributes, but Arella is still a rather tall girl. So much so that this career tribute is smaller by a few inches.

"How about you back off, yeah? It was an accident," Arella speaks, shielding her District partner from the group of careers. "I'm sure you have more important things to worry about,"

"Like what? How I'm gonna kill the little runt?" She responds, face pulling up into a menacing grin.

"I'd like to see you try," Arella seethes.

A confidence that isn't usually so prevalent with her is beginning to simmer to the top a little bit, angry at the situation but also at this girl who seems to take pleasure in the fact she's going to kill other people.

The blonde steps forward with a deep glare, tilting her chin up so that she's looking into Arella's chocolate brown eyes. The sound in the room has dropped and none of the Capitol people have stepped in yet, seemingly too curious to stop what's happening. Perhaps it's the adrenaline, Arella is not sure, but she's never felt this confident about something — especially an interaction with a girl who will be more than happy to stick a knife in her back.

All this has achieved is putting a target on her back, she knows that, but Arella had made a promise to herself to keep Malcolm safe. She's not going to let some bitchy teenager shatter the little faith he has in himself so early on.

"Remi, she's not worth it," The girl from District Two mumbles, grabbing the blonde's arm.

"You better watch your back, Five. I'm going to enjoy killing you," Remi hisses angrily, pulling her arm away from her ally and storming off.

Arella watches her go with a scathing glare, Malcolm gently grabbing onto her arm so that he can either get her attention or help calm her down, she's not sure. Remi's District partner gives her a look, one of utter amusing before turning around and following the two girls who had gone already.

"Alright everybody, back to training!" The trainer yells.

"So what's this I hear about you starting a fight today?"

Arella looks up from her food to see Sierra standing there with her arms folded and an unamused expression on her face. The brunette doesn't respond, merely shaking her shoulders and continuing to eat her dinner. She doesn't owe this woman any sort of explanation, Sierra more than likely wouldn't understand anyway.

"She was just standing up for me," Malcolm says quietly, pulling in their Escort's attention. "One of the girl's was picking on me,"

Sierra's face does soften slightly, her blood red lips turning down into a frown. "Well that's simply ludicrous. None of the tributes are allowed to attack another in any way before the Arena. I'll speak with the Peacekeepers instantly!"

In her own way, it's Sierra showing that she cares for the two of them. Arella even finds herself smiling lightly as she watches the fancy woman stomp away to file her complaint.

"You didn't have to do it, you know?" Malcolm addresses Arella in a low tone, using his fork to swirl his food around on the plate. "She's going to hunt you down now,"

"She already was going to, Malcolm. I told you that we were in this together, I'm not just going to stand by and let her be a bitch to you," Arella scoffs lightly.

The next few days at training go by fairly easily, Arella referred to as 'Guard Dog' by Remi as she sneers at her. It doesn't bother her too much, she's definitely been called a lot worse. Malcolm and Arella have both been learning how to use some of the 'easier' weapons, the smaller ones that they can hold without falling over at their added weight. The brunette still has no idea what she's going to use in her private session, there's not one in particular that she has excelled at.

"Arella Sinclair,"

The brunette looks up at the sound of her name, pushing herself to her feet and making her way into the room where several other tributes had disappeared to previously. The Gamemakers are all sitting in a viewing section above, already seeming to be a little restless, sipping on their wine and chatting amongst themselves.

The girl looks at the available activities and bites her lip, looking to pick out something. She spots the knives in the corner and sighs, shrugging to herself and picking a few up. In training, Arella has managed to hit the target several times, not always quite in the centre but at least on the actual target.

Taking a deep breath, she hurls several of the weapons towards one of the targets. None of them are perfect, not one even grazes the centre, but they all hit the actually board and that's all she cares about. Gazing up at the adults, she sees very few of them actually watching which probably works out better for her — they'll just give her a score and move on.

After a few moments of awkwardly standing there, Arella leaves the room and heads back to their floor. Malcolm is already there waiting, sitting in front of the monitor as they await their final scores. Just like normal, Jack is absolutely nowhere to be seen as the duo sit beside one another, more than likely off drinking to his heart's content.

Sierra is with them though, Arella still isn't sure as to whether or not that's a good thing, encouraging them with her over exaggerated smiles and gestures. This continues all the way up until the television switches on and Caesar Flickerman appears before them.

To nobody's surprise, all the tributes score nine and above, the scores dwindling after that. District Three and Four have scores below Five and it makes an uneasiness rise within Arella. Who knows what awaits them, Arella isn't even sure what Malcolm did in his session.

"Malcolm Burton, from District Five, with a score of five,"

Arella smiles at the boy who looks rather giddy at that, like he didn't expect it. He's beaten most of the tributes that aren't careers at this point which is an achievement in itself. They turn their attention back to the screen just in time to see her picture come up.

"Arella Sinclair with a score of seven,"

Seven? Shock runs through her body at a score that most would see as mediocre, the Careers are probably laughing at it, but it's so much more than she thought she'd get. Arella didn't even hit the centre of the target, she can only assume most of the score comes from them watching her during the other sessions.

Malcolm bumps her shoulder with his, giving her a toothy grin and congratulating her. Arella can't help but return it, his happiness contagious as Sierra claps excitedly from behind them. "Oh dears, you did so much better than I imagined. Well done! Well done!"

Arella is sitting in her room that evening, staring out the window and down at the Capitol below. These people are already beginning to party, the day the tributes are dreading looming closer and closer. Tomorrow night will likely be worse, they'll have massive gatherings in the street the night before the Games and celebrate the fact they get to watch people kill one another for sport.

A light knock on the door drags her attention away. "Come in,"

Malcolm sticks his head around the corner before shuffling his way in, a stuffed animal in his grasp as he walks. Arella greets him with a gentle smile as he sits on the other side of the windowsill with a solemn look on his face.

"Can't sleep?" Arella asks him quietly, pulling her knees to her chest.

"No, they're too loud. I'm also really nervous about the interview tomorrow night," Malcolm admits, leaning his head back. Arella takes not of his trembling hands with a saddened frown.

"What's there to be nervous about? They're going to love you," Arella promises, hoping that some reassurance will help was the fear away — even if it's only momentarily.

Malcolm hums softly, expressing his disbelief that way, before fiddling with the bear in his hands. Arella looks at the worn out thing, it must be the token he's brought from home.

"What's the story there?" Arella asks him, diverting the conversation to make him more comfortable. "He looks rather old,"

"He was my dad's when he was little. He wanted be to have it for good luck," Malcolm replies.

"That was nice of him,"

"Yeah, I don't think he'll be getting it back though,"

Arella gets what he's implying, he thinks he's going to die in there and it cracks her already fragile heart even further. "You don't know that, do you? You've already proven how strong you are, Malcolm, you cannot give up before even going in there,"

"Those kids are so much larger, stronger — I get caught, I'm dead. I accepted it,"

Arella shakes her head. "I've told you so many times, you and I, okay? I've got your back,"

"What if I can't have your's? W-what if I'm too scared to even fight? I don't want you to die for me,"

"Malcolm, I grew up with the sentiment that we don't leave our own people behind. We're going to do this together,"

Malcolm holds the bear closely to his chest and nods, the two then allowing a silence to settle over them. He may have come to terms with an apparent fate but Arella has settled on her's — Malcolm is the one who comes out of this alive, not her.

It's just the way it has to be.