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[Never let it be said that a Career is against learning.

The village provides food-- good food and for free--, but Clove isn't inclined to trust that this will last forever. She assumed her food supply was secure once; three nights of falling asleep with hunger pains were her punishment for that. So, now, she is trying to learn the skills she previously discounted.

Two attempts are already set up. Handmade nets-- string woven together to discourage breakge and tied together in moderate-sized squares-- are positioned. One is laid out in the brush. The other is dipped in the stream, supported by a stick secured on the bank with a small stone structure. It only extends halfway across, and the dark twine shows under the water easily.

She has three other methods with her: more twine and a book on snares, a shoddy hand-made fishing pole, and a sharpened stick to use as a spear. More Cato's style than hers, but he isn't here... So she'll try to learn.

She's talking to herself, muttering as she tries to make a snare. Not as easy as the book makes it look. Her tone is determined, not angry.]

C'mon, Clove. If District Twelve can do it, so can you.

Player Name: Lynn
Are you new?: N
Character Name: Clove
Character Fandom: The Hunger Games

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[She's been watching Clove for some time now. High up in the tree, safe and secure in knowing how much better she knows the terrain over the newcomer. It's been interesting watching the District Two tribute try to make her own snare. She doesn't have any of Gale's grace, or even any of Katniss' own skills.

Rue, at twelve years old, can do a much better job.

But Rue also has the advantage of having Katniss as a teacher. Interaction with the new tribute has come at great reluctance. Something that she's slowly realizing she can't do forever.

Quietly, Katniss climbs down to a lower branch so that she doesn't have to shout as loudly. Once secure in her balance, she calls out:] What are you trying to catch?

[Katniss surprises her. To Clove's credit, the reaction is minimal, but the instincts are still there: if you aren't always prepared, you're dead.

Where the knife in her hand comes from, who can say? Probably a strap up her sleeve. Pulling it out is a reflex, not a threat, and once Clove actually sees the other girl, the weapon disappears again.

The people she's familiar with run in a separate circle than she does. Her interaction with them is limited at best.

There's a mild embarrassment on Clove's face, mixed with the frustration of knowing how poor of a job she's doing. But, she was trained in different kinds of traps-- more ambushes than anything else. She was taught to fight, not to hunt. In all her years of schooling and "athletic" training (because it was cheating if they were being trained for the Games), no one had ever tried to impress upon her that she might need to supply her own food.

She looks up, squatted down by her work rather than sitting. Easier to get to her feet if someone who meant her harm or something that thought she might be a good meal came along.]

Don't know. [Lying won't help her out here, even if she's sure her answer is laughable.] Fish. Rabbits. Anything.

[Even though Clove's knife only makes a quick appearance, it's enough to bring back a flash of memories. For a split second, she's back in the arena. Trying to get Peeta's medicine. Being tackled by Clove, the girl's knife biting into her neck.

Her own bow is drawn quickly and an arrow strung just as fast. It's not until the knife is gone that she rests the bow and arrow on the branch in front of her.

There are no apologies. A reaction like this doesn't need one. Not in front of another tribute. Instead she shakes her head.] Different animals get different snares. Don't treat them all the same.

[Tributes understand.

It's that simple.

They've been in the Arena. They've played the Game. They know what it's like, hearing a branch break and whipping around to kill someone set on killing you. Even kids who never even thought about the Games learn quick to react with survival instinct.

So she doesn't take the drawn bow worrisome. Not when it sinks down when her knife is gone.

Okay. They're on the same page.]

And the nets. [It's almost a question. Not that she's asking for advice, District Twelve. Don't get that idea. She's just... something.]

[There's a nod. Not that she's helping. Clove nearly killed her in the arena. Would've, if it wasn't for Thresh. That's not something you forget.

But they're not in the arena anymore. And here, Haymitch's words might ring more true than they ever did during the Quarter Quell. Remember who your enemy is.

Clove's a prisoner in this game. Just like she is.]

Different sizes. There's no one net fits all.

[She tried that, once. Before Gale taught her better.]

[For now, they aren't enemies. Is it possible they could be? Yes. If two tributes from District Twelve can be co-Victors? Anything is possible.]

Trial and error.

[And practice.

Because she won't ask for help, even if she's committing these... statements? to memory.]

You'll go hungry that way.

[She always had her bow and arrow to back her up when the snares failed. Before Gale came along and taught her better. Before their partnership.

It's not something she likes to think about a lot now. Not since... She shakes her head. She's not going to think of that now.]

I have my knives. And that. [A small gesture to the spear.

If Cato could learn to (poorly, but he did learn) fish with something like that, she could, too.

And:] Why I'm working on it now. Don't need it right away, so I've got time to learn.

[Clove and her knives.

If anyone could take down a rabbit like that, it'll be this girl. She doesn't question it at all.]

You're not going to learn if you keep doing it wrong.

[She sets down the twine that will not tie properly. She's kind of tempted to just burn it. It wouldn't help, but it'd make her feel better.

And she picks up the book and shows it.]

I'm trying.

[But copying something like this out of a book is difficult. Why didn't she go to the trapping station during training?

Oh. Right. Never thought she'd need it.

She sets the book back down, abandons the should-have-been-a-rough-snare she was mutilating and picks up the roll of twine to start over. She isn't asking for help. She wouldn't from this girl, and she'd be highly against doing if even if it wasn't District Twelve.]

[She frowns at the book. They're useful for some things. What would she had ever done if her dad hadn't filled her mother's book of medicinal plants with information about edible ones as well? But she can't imagine learning to hunt or snare game from a book.

Katniss is reluctant to give up her perch. She's safe in the tree, far from the reach of the girl's knives. But not so far away that her own arrows cannot fly true. But people helped her here. Even when she didn't ask for it. And maybe... maybe if she helped the girl from District 2, some of her own nightmares might ebb.

She climbs down slowly, never taking her eyes off of Clove. Once on the ground, she picks up the abandoned snare and starts to fix it.]

[Clove is ready to snap something at Katniss. Some indignant remark in reply to the mockery she expects. She knows how bad the snare is and knows how good District Twelve is at them.

It's the same thing with climbing. It's why her knees are scraped and her hands are a little bit, too. There are skills the Academy neglected to teach her, she knows now. Skills that, here, could save her life. She might not have the Games to live for any more, but she is alive.

There might not be a purpose for her now, but she doesn't want to die.

...But she's not making fun of her. She's reworking it.

So Clove sits quietly and doesn't bother to hide that she's watching the work.]

[She's not as good as the training instructor that the Capitol provided before the games. Katniss has only ever really been taught and has never actually tried passing her skills to others. It's been little bits with Rue here and there but it's different then. An act of companionship, not just a lesson.

Still, she tries. She makes sure that Clove can clearly see her movements, the way she twines the rope and turns it into a clever snare.

Once done, she walks over to the tree and carefully ties it to the branch so the loop rests right above.]

For a squirrel.

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[Faith really wasn't one for nature walks. She was a city girl, through and through. But the village was kind of a laugh, as far as civilization goes, and she's got an itch for being somewhere that isn't under Buffy's control. Not that there'd been much that wasn't civil said, aside from a veiled remark or two, but the other slayer knew too much. Faith was still busy trying to prove to herself that she had her head together, without proving it for Buffy, too.

So the woods it is. Slayer grace makes up for lack of experience, and she eventually comes across Clove and her makeshift hunting tools. One eyebrow arches as she steps out into the clearing to see the girl flipping through pages] Hate to burst your bubble, kid, but I'm pretty sure they ain't handin' out girl scout badges, here.

What's a girl scout?

[She gives a cursory glance up, might even check up her sleeve to make sure the knife is still there... but, all in all, Clove tries to give the impression that she's barely noticed the woman who approached her.]

Guess that's not your bag. [the girl's no amateur at cool. She'll give her that. Faith's seen enough to recognize the careful check as Clove takes stock of her weapon, smooth enough that she would have missed it if she'd been almost anyone else.

Rather than approaching, she leans against the nearest tree, arms crossing in front of her] One of those girly clubs back home, where they teach you about tying knots and cooking and managing all those warm fuzzy feelings.

Sounds useful.

[And she means it. She can sort of tie knots-- that's part of what she's learning more of right now. She can cook-- not great, but enough that she didn't poison anyone when they had to live off her cooking.

And managing "warm fuzzy feelings"? Well, she doesn't know the expression, but she can guess. Of course, "managing" to her means learning to blanket them, quiet them into almost non-existence.]

[she shrugs] If selling cookies and dressing up in a uniform's your thing, I guess it is.

[a few years earlier and she might have made a crack about the only thing a uniform was good for, but she lets it slide, now, her gaze returning to the shoddy traps]

What's with the GI Jane act, anyway?

Cookies?

[Okay, now she's confused. Uniform? She gets. She used to wear one, after all. A couple. The academy, training, and the Games.

Three parts of her life, three uniforms.

...And she doesn't know who "GI Jane" is, but maybe that's a girl scout? The G for girl scout and the I for... something?]

Learning how to feed myself. For when there's not unlimited, free food.

["When," not "if."]

Guess you really aren't from Kansas.

[actually, it's not a bad idea. She'd been skeptical of the free food, too, but her survival skills were meant more for city streets than wilderness. Traps hadn't occurred to her.

Of course, she had the feeling hunting wildlife would be a bit easier than hunting demons, so she's not too terribly worried]

Me, I'd rather fight something than trap it.

[she gave the traps a skeptical look] ...and besides...I've got nothing to do and I can still think of better ways to spend an hour. [okay...that part might be a lie]

Hard to fight when you're hungry.

[Simple experience talking. Never mind that this girl is a bit older than her.

Sure, sponsors meant she didn't starve during the Games, but after the food supply was gone? She'd spent more than one night trying to sleep while her stomach was cramping from hunger.]

Learned to be prepared.

I did alright.

[one eyebrow goes up at the Girl Scout slogan as Faith searches the younger girl's face for some hint of a joke...but it's not there. She's completely serious. Faith shakes her head a little]

So what got you thinking survivor-mode? Don't think I've heard anyone so much as ask where all this food's coming from, before this. [hell...even she'd wondered where the price tag was, but not the source]

[She's comparing her snare to the one in the book and...

Anyone can see she's messed up. Big time.

She tosses it down. and looks up.]

This place can change anything it wants at any time. And they can send us to battle any time they want.

The food won't last.

I'm not going to be begging for scraps when it disappears. I'm going to learn to feed myself.

Fair enough.

[moving almost lazily, she pushes away from the tree and walks over to pick up the book Clove threw. Flipping through pages, she skims until she finds the instructions the girl had been working from....and snorts.]

Damn. If that's what people have to do to eat, the whole damn village will starve.

[a sideways glance] You ever think about just straight-up hunting?

[Not all of them.]

That's what the spear is for. [Okay, more for fishing. But she could hunt with it.]

And I have these. [She opens the vest she's wearing... and the inside, against the chest and stomach, is lined with about ten sheathed knives of various sizes.]

But hunting is one animal at a time. Snares and nets can let me catch multiple at once.