A Garden of Fleurs {Azaleah} {Blitz}

Winter's kiss was fading, the spring is coming. Slowly, but it's definitely coming. I've noticed buttercups growing by the foundations of our house, and it's the first sign of spring. For me, at least, solely because it is always what I notice first. Simple things, pretty things—they mean a lot to me.

"Hey Moka," my sister calls out. "I was wondering if you'd be up to training with me today. I mean, I always go alone, so it'd be nice to have someone like you with me. What do you say?" I consider the consequences of each choice. Winter's kiss was fading, meaning that it is only a matter of time before I find myself stuck between the other girls, the better girls, the career girls my age. It takes only a glance between them and I to determine that I am the rose between two thorns.

But thorns are what the Hunger Games like; thorns stay alive.

"I say: yes." I realise I've given my answer before weighing up the consequences of saying no. It doesn't matter; I can always sit at the side and inhale air thick with sweat and grit if training doesn't happen to be my cup of tea. "It might be fun." I tell her.

Fun. Using the word in such brutal circumstances makes my bones feel as if they are glass.

I guess going to the training centre would make me find out if they are.

"Awesome!" Sana says, quickly rushing to the doorstep to slip on her shoes and head outside. Her arms find their way into the arms of her coat and I follow suit, putting on my outerwear to protect myself from the cold's bite. "I'm ready to head out to the training center when you are." 

A quick tie of my laces, I tighten my ponytail and we are ready to go.

"Let's roll," I tell her, heading outside into the busy streets of One. There are people all around heading to the training center, young and old, boys and girls; careers come in all shapes and sizes but no matter what, they are always strong. Part of me thinks that is what training does to them, it hardens them up, makes them like stone statues that cannot be weathered by any storm, but another part thinks that you are bred for that kind of greatness.

A glance shot as Sana and back to my own self --- part of me thinks that we weren't bred for that kind of greatness.

The two of us walk together, world slowly passing us by. The sun begins to burn through the hollow grey clouds above, creating a bright vast sky that extends for miles and miles. I smile; warmth is coming to blow away winter's kiss. I turn to Moka, the two of us walking side by side, stride by stride.

"What is it like, Moka? Do you get scared, is it fun, what is it like? I want to be prepared." I might see the best, but with the best comes the worst.