The rest of the morning was a bizarre dance of shadowed alliances. Now that I had whispered into the ears of the wolves, the air in the training center felt electric, humming with a frequency only we could hear.
I didn't stay with the Careers. To keep the Gamemakers' eyes deceived, I drifted back toward the "weaker" tributes, taking David's hand. We spent time at the edible plants station with Cachesta and Bytemer. While the kids poked at mosses and berries, I watched the Pack from afar.
They weren't mocking the other tributes anymore. Rufus was lifting again, but I could see his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm I'd commanded. Bellona was practicing her lunges, but she was lower to the ground, her weight centered, her eyes flicking toward me every few minutes as if checking for approval.
"They're watching us differently now, Mama," David whispered, his small fingers stained purple from a non-poisonous berry.
"They're looking for a leader, David," I replied softly. "They just didn't realize it until they saw one who wasn't wearing a Capitol uniform."
During the lunch break, the tension peaked. We sat at the long, polished tables, surrounded by food that could feed a Seam family for a year. The Careers usually sat in an impenetrable block, but today, the lines were blurred. Cordelia, the girl from Four, actually walked over and set a bowl of fruit down in front of David.
"Eat," she said, her voice rough like sea salt. "You'll need the sugar for the afternoon sessions."
She didn't look at me, but her fingers brushed against my shoulder as she turned away. It was a contact of solidarity.
By the time the afternoon session began, the Gamemakers had grown bored of us. They had moved on to watching the District 11 boy smash wooden dummies, their laughter echoing through the glass. They were so convinced of their own narrative—the starving girl and her tag-along child seeking shelter—that they missed the way the Pack began to shield us.
When a stray spear from a clumsy District 9 tribute flew too close to David, it wasn't a Peacekeeper who stepped in. It was Rufus. He caught the shaft mid-air with a sneer, but he didn't throw it back. He simply snapped the wood in half and looked at David with a nod that said, I have you.
As the bells rang to signal the end of the second day, I didn't head for the elevators immediately. I waited until the Careers were gathering their gear.
"The roof," I said, my voice barely a tremor in the air as I passed Organza. "Midnight. If you want to know how to survive the cold that's coming, don't be late. Tell the others."
Organza's hand tightened on the hilt of her gilded sword. She didn't look at me, but she didn't walk away either.
"We'll be there, Zinnia," she muttered.
I took David back to our suite, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The second day was over. The masks were starting to slip, and for the first time, the "wolves" were following the "ghost" into the dark.
I just had to hope the roof was big enough for all of us.