You had no hope in surviving the arena, but that didn't mean you weren't gonna die fighting. It was the first day of training, and tensions were thick enough to cut with a knife. As usual, the Careers were a tight group, intimidating the rest of the less experienced tributes.

You kept your head down, not having any interest in making any friends with your fellow tributes. As advised to you by your mentor, you were told not to show off your talents to the playing field. So, you currently practiced with a bow and arrow. You strung your bow, aiming at the bullseye about five yards away. You exhaled carefully, releasing your arrow, letting it fly.

It wasn't even close.

Your arrow bounced off the wall behind the target, hitting the floor with a clink. You could already hear the snickers and mutters exchanged by the Careers. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, you could already picture the smug expressions of the Careers behind you.

"This yours?" A boy's voice questioned, approaching you with a dimpled smile, carrying the arrow that had just hit the wall a few seconds earlier. You took a moment to look at his face. He looked familiar.

Argent Quill, the male tribute from District 1.