Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and all it's characters belong to their respective owners. This was written for fun, not for profit.
A/N: Just to clear things up, Cato is not a mutt, but in Katniss' eyes, he's just as bad and might as well be.
She could feel his eyes on her, predatory, like she was being stared down by one of the mutts. Cato grinned; a flash of white that cut through the glossy red that coated his face from his last kill. The sword in his hand gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the clouds, sharp as the teeth inside the mouths of the mutts from the woods surrounding District 12. His golden hair was darkened slightly in the front, a dark rusty color reminded her of the muttations snarling over a kill, dried blood permanently staining the fur around their mouths. He advanced towards her, each step deliberate, meant to intimidate his prey.
She felt a bolt of fear run through her, but she couldn't let it show. She notched an arrow, trained it on his chest, just over his heart. His initial reaction would be to pull it out: Katniss was counting on that. Once he ripped the arrow from his chest, there was no going back, Cato would be dead and Katniss would be crowned victor.
Cato's grin widened as he read her intentions, intentions that she had lain out in front of him for all the world to see and flipped the handle, readjusting his grip on the sword. Any arrow coming his way would be knocked aside with that blade.
As the District 2 Career descended on her in a flash of steel and blood, Katniss wondered if there was a man behind the mutation that was Cato.