A/N: So this is my first attempt at writing a Hunger Games story because I'll be honest with you guys, tackling anything that Suzanne Collins has written is like make a movie with the same material (March 23rd! Ahhhhhhh!). There's such a large fan base that it's intimidating as hell to write for you guys. But it's awesome pressure and this story will probably take me a long time because I want it to be one of my best, so you're gonna have to stay with me for a while. Anyways, I love love love Katniss and Peeta (foreva!), but I am somewhat obsessed with the dark side via Cato and Clove. So that's how this story emerged. It's from Cato's POV, and kind of reflects how easily he and Clove could have ended up as the winners if fate and destiny had not intervened. That being said, this follows the plot of the Hunger Games closely and is more of an introspection of Cato's emotions, feelings and thoughts about his situation and Clove, in particular. I honestly believe Cato and Clove were who Collins wrote them to be because of where they grew up and the pressures of District Two. After all, in the end, the tributes are still just kids. And even if you've been raised to fight and be cocky and to just survive by any means necessary, there's still a little bit of humanity inside of you. But if I do get a little out of character, I apologize. There's not a ton of info on these two character wise. just a lot of glares and snarky comments. At least that's what I believe. Anyways, that's enough from me and this novel before a novel. On the the story! Drop a review if you like it, but don't feel obligated :)

Already Over

Chapter One:

The Tributes of District Two

"One thousand miles away, there's nothing left to say, but so much left that I don't know. We never had a choice; this world makes too much noise. It takes me under; it takes me under once again."

Survive – Rise Against

I can see The Nut as I crest the hill, arms and legs pumping, face dripping sweat. As usual, when I'd left this morning I'd beaten the sun. Now, the glowing orb hangs overhead, radiating heat. Slowing to a stop next to a huge pine tree, I rest my palm against the rough bark and wait for my companion. It won't take him long to catch up. He'd peeled off two miles back, and I can only guess that he'd caught the scent of a deer and decided he was hungry.

Just as I turn, the soft thump of paws greets my ears and then he's sprinting towards me, tongue flopping in the wind. His muzzle is red with blood from his fresh kill, blue eyes alight with energy.

I smile faintly and bend down. The large wolf slides to a stop in front of me. I offer him my hand and his ears flatten against his head as he inches closer to me, nose sniffing and taking in my scent. Seconds later he licks my palm and presses his nose into my hand. When he was little he must have had the world's white's coat, but now, from years of running through the wild, it is streaked with mud and dirt. His eyes, a sky blue color, always hold childish vigor. I named him Boaz, meaning swiftness, because he's all but a blur through the thick foliage of the forest.

I found him five years back, whining and stuck in a hunters bear trap. Normally I'd let nature take its course, but it seemed unfair that such a powerful creature had to die by an unnatural means, so I freed him. Maybe he reminded me a little bit of myself, because that's what I am. Caught in the Capitols control. Except the difference is no one is going to help me get free.

He'd scampered off into the woods without so much as a thank you. I thought I'd seen the last of him, but apparently I'd made somewhat of an imprint on the young wolf. Later that same day I was outside eating and wouldn't you know it, Boaz came sneaking out of the woods, eyeing the chicken leg in my hand.

And if there is one thing you need to know about me, it's that I do not get to have attachments. I do not get to have relationships. I do not get to love. I do not get trivial things. Being a citizen of Panem and growing up in District Two guarantees me either a life in the Games or a life as a Peacekeeper. Neither option offers long, healthy years. So I've done my best to distance myself from things that might make me weak. Might make me care.

But no one, no matter how strong, can live life alone. And that's something Boaz has taught me. Ever since I fed him that chicken leg and he licked my fingers, we've established a mutual companionship. I feed him occasionally and he keeps me company. It's as simple as that. I might not show up for a week because of training, or he might be off hunting something for a few days, but we eventually reunite and everything goes back to normal. We aren't dependent on one another, nor are either of us needy. We're both self-sufficient.

I scratch him behind the ears and the smile grows on my face. I can allow myself this one vice for today. Because this is the day of the reaping. And that is the only thing in life that can shake me. Not being in control of my own future is infuriating, but it's something I've learned to deal with. Being born in the districts forces you to deal with it. And while District Two is considered in high favor with the Capitol, most of the families here still starve, and in the end we still have to participate in the Games. So I ask you, what person would send their best friend to war and not participate in it themselves? And really, districts might be favored by the Capitol, but none are considered its equal. I tell you District Two is wealthy, but we are not guaranteed a win. We, for some earthly reason, still have to prove ourselves to the capitol every year just like the rest of them.

"Cute pet."

My head whips sideways and Boaz is up and growling.

A girl steps out from behind a tree and saunters forward, unafraid of the snarling wolf at my heels.

There is a moment when my heart jumps to my throat, not out of fear but pure human instinct. Once I realize who the new figure is, however, I relax. I should have known she'd do something like this.

"Clove," I nod once to her. "Shouldn't you be at home getting ready?"

Clove gives a shrug and walks forward, running her hands along the rough bark of a tree. "I could say the same thing about you."

Boaz has continued to watch her, eyes sharp and narrow. I'd tell him to calm down if I thought he'd listen to me, but he's a wolf. When Clove is but two steps from us, he nips at her, showing his fangs.

"Would you quit it?" Clove snaps, voice firm and hard and intimidating as hell. And there's something in it that shifts Boaz. He shuts his mouth instantly and tilts his head at her with curious clear blue eyes. She takes another step forward and he's suddenly on the forest floor, rolling over and showing her his throat. A submission, I realize in shock.

Clove grins, kneeling and offering her hand. Boaz shoots to his feet and is in front of her in seconds, pressing his nose into her palm.

"Like I said," she flicks her eyes towards me, "Cute pet."

Her brunette hair is pulled back in a side braid and her green eyes seem to be laughing at me. It's then that I notice her sweat drenched face and soaked clothes. "Did you run all the way up here?" I ask, slightly unnerved that I never heard her.

She gets to her feet and brushes off her hands. "I followed you." She says, glancing around the small clearing we're in. "Figured I should stick close to the one person I know before everything changes."

I frown at her. "Why do you say that?"

We'd talked about the games during our daily training sessions. Clove had been around ever since I could remember, and, well, she's kind of like gravity to me. I got pulled into her. Now don't tell me why I was drawn to her, she's about as charismatic as a feral dog and has the dangerous attitude to go along with it. But she's strong. Determined. Powerful. Clever. She doesn't take peoples shit. And that's something I admire. She takes control of the things that she can control, but also readies herself for the things that she can't. Like the Games. She's trained hard her entire life. If she were to get picked, she'd be hell for the other tributes. And I wouldn't mind causing a little trouble with her. I'd prefer it, actually.

It is considered an honor to participate in the Games. Kids fight for the two coveted positions every year. There are no written rules about who volunteers and who doesn't, but as a collective district, we've decided to send tributes that are sixteen and over. The older you are, the more experience you have. The more likely you are to win. At sixteen years of age, my name has been throw around the district for as long as I have been training. I had been a natural with any kind of weapon since the age of twelve, and it was decided early on that I would only volunteer if I was not picked at eighteen. They were saving me for a time when I would practically be the winner once they pulled my name at the reaping. So really, I have nothing to worry about. I won't be picked because it was decided that I'd be sent to my death by eighteen.

Clove, on the other hand, wasn't as lucky. She is a force to be reckoned with, no one argues there—Actually, one boy did, but he can't talk anymore. She'd cut out his tongue the moment the word "small" left his lips. Regardless of how vicious her temper is, or the fact that she can hit pretty much anything with a knife, there are just girls who are physically bigger and stronger. And I think that gets to her. It must be frustrating to have all this talent and not be recognized for it. Still, her name had been put on the "let-them-go-if-they-get-reaped" list since she turned sixteen three months ago.

Clove lets out an emotionless laugh that makes me frown. "What I mean is, Cato, my names in there seventeen times because of the tesserae I've pulled and besides, my mother told me if I wasn't reaped then there was no point in coming home after." She glances to me and for a second—a split second—blue locks with green—and then she's looking down to Boaz who's started to lick the hand that's dangling at her side. "I'll volunteer if I don't get picked."

I get over the fact that the district is not going to like it if she volunteers and focus on the subject of her family. Her family is…not pleasant. Growing up in the districts is hard, and it'll make or break you. And Clove's parents are about this close to letting life break them. It's maddening because these parents are supposed to be the strong ones. The ones who know what's going on. But Clove's parents can't fend for themselves. Her father is a drunken Peacekeeper who is almost never home and her mother, well her mother wants nothing to do with her because Clove isn't her real daughter.

"He doesn't know how to keep it in his pants," She'd told me one day, too nonchalantly for my taste. But I figured if she let the fact that her father was a drunken man-whore rule her, then she wouldn't be as strong as she is today. So in a way, I should thank the old man, because I wouldn't have the hard edged Clove that I do. And whether or not Clove denies the fact that she cares somewhat for the woman she has to legally call mom, she still takes out two tessera every year to cover for food so they don't starve.

I drop to the ground, lie on my back and place my hands behind my head. With a quick contraction of my abs, I sit up. "Then I'll volunteer with you," I tell her between breaths. I don't say it because I feel like there is something between us. She's barbed wire and I'll get shredded. But there is a certain amount of respect that I hold for her. And I would much rather die in the Games than waste away or die young somewhere else alone. At least in the Games, I'll either get a gladiators death or a victors fame. Both I'll get to share with her.

She rolls her eyes and plops to the leaf covered ground, rolling a small rock between her fingers. "No you won't," she says, and it sounds so much like an order that the tone makes me pause.

"I won't?" I ask her with a hint of skepticism and a raised eyebrow, grinning at her. Egging her on. We have this dance that we do. We try to see who can piss the other off first. And I have to say, I've gotten pretty good at it.

"You won't. Because first, the district wouldn't like their golden boy dying before his time." She locks with my eyes and lets a feral grin spread across her lips. "And second, because deep down you know that if it came down to the two of us, I'd slit your throat in a heartbeat."

It's true. But I don't care. Killing me isn't her choice. It's human nature to put your own survival above anyone else's. And that's what the Games thrive on. The carnage. The backstabbing. The complete and utter destruction of formed partnerships. And it's sad but I think I'd try and kill her too. What's worse is that I think I would succeed.

My smile only grows. "I'll remember that."

She snorts and turns her head away. A squirrel scampers on a nearby tree branch and Clove tracks it with her eyes before she hurtles the rock in her hand at it. The rodent lets out a small squeal when it's hit, but the rock's done its damage and the animal falls from the tree and hits the ground with a small thud. It doesn't get up.

Boaz's ears perk up and he trots over to retrieve the dead animal. He returns and lies down between us, tearing into the furry flesh of the squirrel.

"What?" Clove lifts an eyebrow at me. "You haven't taught him table manners yet?"

I roll my eyes. "Bite me."

She sneers and the look makes her absolutely dangerous.

Boaz lifts his head away from his meal, ears dancing and twitching.

Clove is getting to her feet, eyes scanning the horizon towards The Nut. "Do you hear that?" she whispers as she gets to her feet.

I don't say anything because I know exactly what it is. The hovercrafts carrying the Capitol citizens to our district for the reaping emerge from behind The Nut just as I get to my feet.

"I'd almost forgotten…" Clove mumbles.

"We should get going," I say to her.

She nods and turns back towards the way we came, jogging. I take stride behind her, eyes cataloging everything that I see. After all, this might be the last time I run through this forest. I memorize the colors of the foliage, greens and browns and grays. I take a deep breath, smelling the crisp air mixed with the slightest hint of wood smoke and stone dust. And Finally I look to Boaz, watch his powerful strides and revel in how majestic he is.

And there, over that fallen tree was where I had found him in the bear trap.

And over there, past the clearing filled with buttercups and primroses, is a timber forest full of tracker jackers.

And I twisted my ankle on that rock.

Climbed that tree to find jabberjay eggs.

This is as close as a goodbye as I'll ever let myself get. This forest was a small, tiny, miniscule, part of my life, I know that, but it's the only place I ever felt alive. My training center comes a close second. Fighting and grappling and combat is still so me but I am so much more than just violence. I am strong. I am powerful. And I am as menacing as the gods.

It's when we slow to a trot outside of our village that I realize Boaz is still at our heels. I stop just outside the entrance to our mine and turn to him. "Go. Git," I tell him. "Boaz, you can't come in here."

He's never followed me into the village before. Normally he'd sneak around and use the forests to reach my house. He's never been out in the open. He'll stick out like a sore thumb.

"He doesn't normally follow you this far?" Clove asks. There is a hint—a tiny, minuscule hint—that she is worried. We've both seen what happens to wild animals that wonder into the village.

We take a couple more steps and Boaz follows, ears flat against his head.

"Shoo," Clove hisses, swatting at him. "Get outta here!"

But it's too late. A shriek splits the air and suddenly Boaz in crouched and snarling.

Clove and I turn sharply to find an old woman clutching her small child to her side. Eyes wide and frantic, she screams again and then yells for a peacekeeper.

I curse under my breath and turn sharply back to Boaz. "Git!" I snarl. He looks at me, confused, ear flat against his head. My heart gives a painful thump and then I'm shooting forward, kicking at him. He's fast and retreats, snapping at my foot. I pursue him until he's full on sprinting away from me.

There is a moment when I lock eyes with the wolf and the betrayal is so poisonous that I cannot breathe. Boaz makes it to the tree line but stops to look back at me. And I get this overwhelming sense that he's realized what today is. Realized what I'm doing. That he somehow knows that this is the last time we will ever see each other. It's sad because this relationship that we had, I think I might miss it in the future.

I can feel a Peacekeeper at my back and Clove close to my side, but all I can see is Boaz's sky blue eyes.

"Run you stupid wolf," Clove mutters from beside me.

The Peacekeeper to my left knocks a rifle against his shoulder and takes aim. I cannot look away. I did this. Befriending Boaz in the woods all those years ago lead to this. I should have known this would be the endgame. I am not awarded companionship. This is the universes way of reminding me of that. The sudden deafening crack of the rifle makes me blink and I watch Boaz yelp as bright red blooms across his hind leg.

He scampers off into the forest and I am frozen, watching him go. The peacekeeper curses and drops his weapon.

"You alright, kid?"

"Fine." I say.

The Peacekeeper shrugs at me, unaware of who I am. He must me new. "Hurry home. The reaping's at two. You don't want to be late."

I nod and he turns to leave. There is a long moment where I just stare at the treeline, empty, emotionless. Finally, I pull my gaze away from the forest and look to Clove.

Her eyes are dark and stormy. "I'll see you in the square." It is not a question, but a promise. And I almost laugh because we're all required to be there. It's not like I'd skip out on my own party. Especially if what my gut is telling me happens.

The grin that crosses my lips is dangerous and feral and my last homage to Boaz. "I'll race you there."

In the distance a wolf howls.

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