Look Ma one hand ( Minerva)

The training center was packed with tribute hopefuls on this particular day. For the most part, they were older kids training for next years games, probably the same kids that envied Penelope Libertine for being Reaped and hated Fitz Ripley for volunteering before they could. They were all entranced by their stations, self absorbed and pitifully unaware of their surroundings. But if any of them had bothered to look up, they would have seen a girl, young, suntanned, and freckled, swinging flawlessly amongst the rafters. This was perhaps the one place in the Training Center where Piper Kiehl loved to be. Sure, she was great with a bow, but then, everyone was always watching you at the archery station. Up here, on the ropes course and in the rafters, no one ever took notice. There was never any competition. Most of the older careers didn't like climbing and swinging about like monkeys. They were either too big and bulky to be good at it (and heaven forbid that you do something which might embarrass you in front of other careers but improve your skills overall), or they simply didn't care about it. Most careers were more concerned with power than agility. So up in the rafters, it was just Piper, her thoughts, and her observations. And there was a lot to observe.

Today for instance, there was that boy who Piper had last seen when she almost shot a girl. Gotham, the boy with the arm gift. After much thought, this is what Piper had decided to call him. The sight of his disfigured arm had haunted her at first, it was so strange, so dead hanging there at his side. But then Piper had done what she always did, she talked to her father about it.

"Piper," he had said. "I know it might scare you, but try to think of it this way: that arm is a gift. Because of that injured arm, every other part of this boy's body will grow stronger than was previously possible. And more, if what you tell me about him is true, than that arm is improving who he is as a person. You say he's determined to learn to shoot again? Good! He is learning determination, courage, perseverance!"

"But Daddy!" She had protested. "It's still so awful, and it doesn't change the fact that he'll never be able to use that arm the same way again!"

"Yes, Pip, it is awful. And this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sympathize with him, but it does mean you shouldn’t pity him. More likely than not, he doesn’t want to be pitied. And how do you know, how can any of us know, that in the end, the exchange, arm for strength, won't be worth it?"

Piper was still sorting all of this out, she didn’t quite know what she thought. But for today, she just decided to observe the boy with the arm gift. And that was when she was called forth from her reverie by a peculiar and amazing sight. Gotham was actually holding a knife with his bad arm! Piper looked around at the other Careers to see if they had noticed. Of course not. But maybe Daddy’s right. And that was when the knife clattered to the ground.

Piper could see the pain and embarrassment in Gotham’s eyes, even from this far off. With Gotham, she waited until all the other Careers had averted their eyes. And then she swung. From rafter to rope, rope to vertical beam, vertical beam to rope bridge, and then scrambling down the monumental rock-climbing wall, Piper swiftly made her way to the knife throwing station. Jogging over to the target, Piper dislodged Gotham’s last knife from the bull’s-eye and timidly approached the older boy. She didn’t know why, but she did know she wanted to talk to him. Holding the knife flat her palm, Piper spoke softly and averted her gaze. “Hi Gotham. I’m Piper Kiehl. We met that day I almost shot the snarky Tanner girl.”