The Sharp Knife of A Short Life
Summary: Clove the ruthless career tribute of the 74th Hunger Games appeared to live a short but simplistic life. She killed, so that she could live, that was it. But behind every twisted soul is the person who contorted it. Cato and Clove POV. I suck at summaries, just read…first fanfic. Clato.
Disclaimer: I wish I had the right to claim the Hunger Games and these characters, but that only lies with the lovely Suzanne Collins!
Chapter One: Deception
Clove's POV
"Hey, girl!" shouted a crude voice, normally I would be above responding to the title "girl" but this rough call came from the head trainer of my academy. The academy that will train me so that someday no one can call me by "girl", so that someday they will all know my name. And so with a muttered string of insults I turn and put on my best attempt of a smile, although I know its looks more like a grimace. He has called my attention to let me know it is my turn to spar. I get to my feet and walk across the mat, for the first time taking in my opponent. She is of stocky build, no doubt better fed then myself, but I was use to that here at the academy. Where most of its students came with full stomachs from the homes of peacekeepers, while I was the daughter of a quarry miner. Most would think it's of my disadvantage but I am determined to prove them wrong.
As I approach her I recognize a girl of whom I have shared few, very brief encounters with. She is strong no doubt; probably able to beat some of the males in our own age range, but that is where her advantages end. She is stupid and arrogant. I am not surprised as these are traits that many of students here possess. All rage, no rational thought. And as if she is determined to prove her point to me, when the whistle blows she immediately charges. No thought, no strategy, what a brute. I roll my eyes, and quickly dive out of her way. She looks back stunned and furious. And to fuel her further a smile tugs at my lips and I wear my trademark smirk. I register the stark disbelief, as she cannot believe my nerve. This thought has probably crossed the minds of all those who observe in the sweltering gym. They have never seen me fight, and judging by my small stature they believe this fight is grossly unfair at best.
Cato's POV
This fight was grossly unfair at best. I turn to the boy on my left, grinning and say "I bet she lasts no longer than a minute." I see the challenge register in his eyes, and know like all the others at this academy his pride would win out. He breaks and replies "Fine, but you owe me 10 bucks if she lasts past a minute and a half." I agree, sealing the deal with a rough handshake. My attention is brought back to the mat when I hear a grunt of frustration coming from Kaylin, the hefty girl with a mass of red curls. She seemed to almost have charged off the matt in an attempt to tackle the small girl. The girl had enough smarts to narrowly escape her charge, I shrugged unimpressed and awaiting the real fight to start. But it seems I am waiting in vain, as for the next minute the girl seems to escape her clutches every charge. It actually proves to be quite comedic. Kaylin, red in the face, baring her teeth grows more exhausted by the second. She looks almost moronic, like a cat lunging for the string only to have it torn from its grasp at the last minute. This goes on for at least half a minute more and I sense Cabe, the head trainer becoming restless with the lack of violence. She must sense it too and as Cabe yells at the girl to stop playing with her, she doesn't seem to need to be told.
She is already moving with a swift run, covering the space between them before Kaylin can even register what is happening. This is when the small girl pounces on her and holds her to the ground, as if she has been pinning giant bodies all her life. Kaylin snarls angrily, but it is laced with a trace of defeat. We all sense it, we are careers. Hell, we can smell it. That's when Cabe trots over and announces the victory to the girl. I look at her more closely with a new sense of interest
. Her wide brown eyes are alight with victory that only the conquering of another can bring. Her small body heaves with deep breaths and her hair has come undone, parts clinging to her damp forehead. She was eerily beautiful. And that smirk that was ever present- a confidence behind it that had seemed totally unwarranted before now- had been earned. Maybe it had been warranted all along; I had only taken notice of her skill now. I knew that I had underestimated her –a dangerous thing- although I knew I was not alone. The disbelief was etched and undisguised on the faces of all those who had witnessed the fight, and she seemed to relish every one of them. I was brought back by the boy beside me announcing my own defeat and demanding his payment. I shoved the bills in his hand angrily and shoved him to the side.
Cabe announced that we had been released for lunch break, but as everyone trudged through the gym door I lingered, watching as girl inspected her set of knives. Carefully arranging them and ensuring they were all accounted for, and once she was satisfied she turned to leave. Suddenly she stood stationary, her hand poised on the door handle, sunlight streaming through the small crack. She turned to face me, as if she had known I had been there observing her all along, and simply asked, "Do we have a problem here?" As I concealed my initial shock and plastered a cocky grin on my face, "Yeah," I replied, "I never caught your name."
"Clove," she said, and departed with that single word. Later that night I could not help my wandering thoughts. Of Clove, who's name, and dusting of freckles upon her nose, and tiny figure created her own deadly deception; a deception of innocence.