Not-So-Lucky Number Thirteen {Riven + Sage}

Thirteen knives, laid out neatly on the table when he entered the Training Center that morning. He didn't think much of the number thirteen. Some people saw it as unlucky, but Sage had bad enough luck that it didn't even faze him. There weren't very many other tributes in the room yet, as it was quite early, so Sage figured he wouldn't embarrass himself too much if he did terribly in his attempt at throwing knives at the targets that were lined up.

He picked up the first knife, trying to figure out just how to throw it. He'd never thrown any sort of blade before, so this was new for him. Lining up his sight, he aimed for the ten-point section in the center of the target. He threw the knife, and it completely missed the target. The boy sighed in disappointment, but grabbed another knife. Throwing the second knife, he managed to get it into the single-point section of the target.

One point it better than none at all, he thought. Sage's hand reached for the third knife, and again, he scored better than before; two points this time. As he threw each knife, most of them hit the target in some way, while just a couple of them missed. In the end, he'd scored thirteen points. Just as many points as there were knives. He didn't think about the number itself, other than the fact that it meant he hadn't done well.

Sage went over and collected each of the knives, removing them from the target or picking them up off of the floor near the target. He brought them over to the table that he had originally retrieved them from, laying them out again neatly.

Always leave a place in a better state than when you found it.

When he was about to walk away from the table, he spotted another tribute that almost seemed like they were worried about something. That was when Sage wondered if he'd done something wrong.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. "It seems like something is bothering you."