My eyes follow Cato's arm as his sword slices the dummy in half. How much longer will we have together? I wonder. Tomorrow's the Reaping, the Reaping for the Games the thing that we've been training for so long. My heart gives a painful twinge at the thought of it. We both want to go, we both have a fighting shot at actually going, but what are the odds are slim that we will both make it. If we both end up in that arena... I give an involuntary shudder. He's my only friend, and I don't want to lose him to the Games, or to have to kill him myself. The vision both repels and entices me. I try to imagine the feel of his blood on my hands, hot and bitter, its coppery stench rising up in my mouth..
His voice, rich and deep, snaps me out of my daydream. "Clove," he asks, his face a neutral mask, "can I talk to you? Alone?"
"Sure," I say, pretending to ignore how tired he sounds. Cato never shows weakness. In a way, that's made him an Academy outcast, just like my deeds have made me. Most of the others are chattering, laughing, casually throwing spears and swinging axes. Some are mediating, working on their skills in solitude, fluid motions ringing through their bodies. The latter are the only ones that will matter tomorrow, yet I don't worry about them like I usually do. Somehow, Cato's presence calms me down, anchors me to reality.
The mentors are sitting in a corner, relaxed, carefree. The night before Reaping Day is one of the few in which they let us do as we please, more for their sanity than ours. They realize that the skills we have been honing for years will not disappear overnight, and let us have a rare day of freedom as we ponder our fates. I am, for once, grateful as we slip out the door quietly, unnoticed, unheard.
He leads me over the grassy field of the Academy grounds wordlessly, the storm clouds brewing in his eyes scaring my into silence. We walk in silence for what seems like an eternity, his arm lightly brushing mine as we continue on towards the cave. He surprises me by going around it, and gestures for me to sit with him, flopping down with surprising agility. I lower myself into the earth beside him, suddenly aware of how big he is, how strong.
"So."
"So," he responds, a smile cracking onto his face.
I push him gently, laughing when he pretends to fall. He responds in kind, and soon we are wrestling, giggling like fools, enjoying the heat of summer like we used to, so many years ago. I finally manage to pin him down and he surrenders, the words squeezing out of his mouth painfully. I help him up, and he stays there, looking into my eyes intensely, their blues searching my face for-what?
He speaks, voice low and rusty. "Look, Clove, the Reaping's tomorrow, and I..." he pauses, looking away, into the sunset
"Yeah?" I ask, my curiosity threatening to overflow. I had never seen him like this, and it was unnerving.
He looked back at me, an unprecedented sadness filing his face, drowning him in a rare grasp of emotion. "I have a feeling that one of us is going to get to go, and I just-oh, I don't know, just- wanted to.. say goodbye."
"Cato, I-"
My words are cut off suddenly as he leans forward and kisses me softly, more gently then I ever could have thought possible from him. Before I can react, he stands up abruptly, and heads back to the Academy without a backwards glance.