Reaping Day

He was ready for this. Cato's eyes narrowed at the target, before reaching back and launching a spear that flew directly into the target's chest. He nodded once, satisfied with the throw before making his way to the locker rooms to clean up before going to the Reaping. There was no amount of doubt in his mind; the Hunger Games were his this year.

The moment he stepped out of his house, he could feel the energy pulsing. In District 2, the Hunger Games were just what they sounded like, a game. Rather than a curse, volunteering was a pride that happened for nearly every single game. The crowds chattered loudly, as they sat, waiting for the District 2 Escort to arrive and the tributes to be chosen. He quickly registered and pricked his finger for identification before looking around. He grinned when he and Clove met eyes. Clove. He made his way over to her, having to push his way through the swarm of the crowd.

"Cato!" she yelled, jumping onto him. He grinned, hugging her and lifting her into the air before letting her back down.

"Hey Clove, are you ready?" Cato asked. It wasn't like he didn't know the answer to this.

She laughed, high and clear, "How dare you even question that, Cato. It's not like we've been paired together since the beginning of our dear Academy days."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course Clover," he said teasingly, ruffling her hair.

It was almost comical, the difference in height between them. His broad 6' 2" frame towered over her 5' 4" one, and while they were a good 3 years difference in age, she was his closest companion. Back at the academy, children in the district were trained vigorously. From the tender age of 5, they learned survival skills, and through the years were taught and trained in more of the offensive ones. Cato himself had always been one of the larger ones, he was the one everyone feared on the courtyard. Later, he had taken advantage of that power, realizing what it could do for him. Clove had been only 7, but had already taken a reputation. She was feisty. Her mentors had all but refused to work with her, after she had been the instigator of multiple fights during sessions. The only one that ended up working with her was the weapons instructor, who was both strict enough to deal with her, and appreciative of her skill with throwing knives. Interestingly enough, that was the only class that Cato had any appreciation for. Why learn to camouflage yourself when you could just intimidate everyone else or kill anyone that came in your way? (He managed to scrape by in his other classes, but still.) They bonded over weapons, later over grudging respect for each other, and after he had saved her from a fight, a mutual pact to protect each other.

Clove pushed his hands away, laughing a bit, "Stop it! My mom just braided my hair before I came." She grinned, showing off her white teeth and the light, sprinkling of freckles over her cheeks.

"I think your hair looks just fine, four-leaf," he teased again, patting her head before turning back to the stage. She rolled her eyes, and smoothed out her hair. Cato looked, an unreadable look on his face, "Are you going to miss anyone?"

She frowned,"Not really, I mean. There are my parents, but they're… too busy showing me off to care."

They both avoided the inevitable, one of them was going to die, if not both of them. Cato just hoped that it wouldn't be his hands that resulted in Clove's death. He pulled her into a tight hug, pulling away when the microphone squeaked and the Reaping started.

"I'll see you on the stage," he said, winking.

She laughed again, "Count on it."

Hey everyone, this is my first fanfiction that I've officially published. Peeta will probably come in the next couple of chapters, after they end up going to the capitol. I'd appreciate any criticism that anyone has, please review! Thanks! And I don't own any of the characters or the idea of the Hunger Games in this fanfiction, all this belongs to Suzanne Collins who created these wonderful characters. :3