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The arena was cold. It was the kind of cold that bit through Black’s skin, penetrating until it was in his bones. He hadn’t experienced anything like it in the warm valleys of District One. It was definitely orchestrated by the Game Master to keep the last four tributes from sleeping, and urge them into killing.
Black was tired of killing. He’d volunteered knowing he had to, but in theory it seemed easier than losing their house and starving after their parents died in a freak jewellery-crafting accident. He didn’t have the actual training of a Career Tribute, but he had two sisters and a brother who deserved all the luxuries a victor would bring now they were orphans. He’d done well, and he still intended to win, but he was tired of it. Killing was so much harder in practice.
The fire he’d risked didn’t do much to make him warmer. Black was just about to put it out when another tribute stumbled out of the bushes. Black quickly picked up his trident, holding it over his head, ready to launch at the olive-skinned man. He looked far too old for the Games, yet here he was, with his hair slicked back and a mysteriously pristine orange suit. Giovanni, a Career from District Two.
“Don’t kill me,” Giovanni said, holding his hands up. “I’m not armed.”
“I don’t believe you,” Black said.
Giovanni smiled strangely. He pulled a sheathed carving knife from his jacket and tossed it aside. “There. See?”
“What do you want?” Black demanded.
“Not to freeze to death,” Giovanni replied. “Which we are both likely to do, even with your pretty little fire, unless we do something about it.”
Black didn’t reply, but he didn’t throw his weapon either.
“In these situations, it’s best to, ah, huddle for support,” Giovanni explained.
“That’s sick,” Black snapped.
“Just for tonight,” Giovanni urged. “Just, for tonight, until the sun comes up and they make it warm again. Then we will return to the game as usual.”
Black read between the lines. He’s met enough Careers in his life to know how. Keep me warm for tonight, and then when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll kill you and be on my way.
“Okay,” Black said, lowering his trident. “Just for tonight.”
He was surprised by how easily he fell asleep in Giovanni’s arms. Something about having human contact beyond killing or being killed was nice. It made him miss home, miss his siblings, and all the more determined to make it back to them.
So when the sun rose and Giovanni was still fast asleep, Black picked up his trident and stabbed him in the back. Taking the metaphor and making it literal somehow made him feel more okay about it.
But he didn’t have time to feel, really. Black turned away as Giovanni bled out and walked away. He had a game to win.
